#eppiferre

She's not felt good since her last phone call from Azelma, he noticed. She's been quiet and slow and she goes to sleep way too early for usual. She's also not told him what happened, which really bothers him because if it was really bad, she would tell him, ranting about how to fix it and what's gone wrong. She's just quiet now, and Combeferre doesn't know what to do.

He gets out of class early and it's her day off work, so he figures he'll make her a nice dinner and try talking to her. Her favourite meal is pancakes and he has Courfeyrac on standby for if (when) he screws up the recipe. He can cook most things, he just sucks at not burning or undercooking pancakes.

"Ep? I'm home," he calls out when he opens the door. She's not on the couch like he suspects her to be and the TV's not on so he's quickly worried. He deposits the bags on the kitchen table and goes into their bedroom, where he's relieved to see her raven hair poking out from the covers. "There you are," he sighs. He hears her sniffle though, and suddenly he's back to feeling worry. "Ep?"

He walks around and she has her face barely sticking out of the covers but the tip of her nose is red and her eyes are just a little bloodshot. He kneels down in front of her and puts his hand on her shoulder and rubs it soothingly, begging her to not hide from him. "Eponine, what's wrong?" he asks and she coughs to clear her throat.

"It's fucking stupid," she chides and rubs her eyes quickly. "Sorry, it's just--" she stops mid sentence and she looks like she's about to all-out sob.

Combeferre is suddenly kicking off his boots and crawling into bed and under the covers and holding Eponine tightly in his arms and shushing her because, shit, they've been together for six months and he's never seen her like this. He's seen her cry and he's seen her scream, but he's never seen her just sad before and it really makes him worried because what the hell happened with Azelma?

He asks, but it takes her a moment before she can answer and she says, "It's really stupid. But my mom and dad they... they sold all of my old stuff. Including this old blue hat my dad bought me when I was little." She laughs, but there's no smile and a really sick strangled noise that follows. "God that's so fucking stupid. I shouldn't have expected them to keep it but--but it just kind of stings, you know? Like they really don't give a shit anymore--it's like I've finally been forgotten." She buries her face in his neck. "Sorry I'm acting like this."

"Don't," he says quickly and rubs her back. "You have every right to be. Hey, I'm sorry." He grabs her chin and gently nudges her to look him in the eye. "I'm sorry your parents are too dumb to realize you're worth remembering. Every part of you, okay? I'm sorry."

May was finally here, and Jehan and Feiully had jointly decided that the best way to spend the afternoon was frolicking in the park. And because they were the friendly sort, they had convinced (read: forced) the rest of the group to come along with them.

But Muischetta had brought food, and Grantaire had parked his truck near enough to play his stereo, and Cosette had brought a blanket to spread out on the grass, and the day was warm, and there was sweet smelling breeze blowing. So Combeferre wasn't really going to complain too much.

When he was tired of listening to Bahorel and Enjolras argue, something about nationalism in competitive sports, Combeferre looked up and spotted Eponine. She was sitting in the bed of Grantaire's truck, swinging her bare feet and swaying a bit to the music, her eyes closed.

She is so beautiful. He thought, and he felt his heart speed up. Downing the rest of his beer, Combeferre stood up and walked over to her.

"Hey." He said softly, and she opened one hazel eye and nodded in greeting. "Can I sit?" he asked, and she nodded again.

He took a seat beside her, not touching but not exactly far away. Does she know how I feel about her? He thought. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She'd pulled her hair into a ponytail, and it curled attractively down her back. She must know. There was a half full bottle of beer dangling from her hand, and Eponine could hold her liquor, but she was a petite girl and after two or three she got a little... whimsical. 

It was number six on the list of things Combeferre liked about Eponine 

"Tell me what you're thinking right now?" She asked him suddenly, and he blinked for a moment. 

He blinked for a moment. There was no way he was going to say what he was really thinking, so he distracted her instead. "What are you thinking?"

"I asked you first."

"I asked you second."

She grinned, took a sip from her bottle and then she pointed. "I'm thinking that Courfeyrac and Jehan are like a bumblebee."

Combeferre followed her gaze to where Courfeyrac and Jehan were now dancing to the classic rock that came from Grantaire's ridiculously good speakers. Courfeyrac was twirling the taller man, and Jehan threw back his head and laughed.

"A bumblebee?" He echoed, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, like the round fuzzy ones? I read somewhere that they're impossible. Like, aerodynamically. There is no possible way something that shape should be able to fly."

"And yet it does?"

"And yet it does. And Courfeyrac and Jehan are like that. They shouldn't work together, like, at all." Eponine shrugged and took another sip. "But somehow they do."

"That's very good." Combeferre nodded. "Do you have any other bug similes?"

She chuckled. "I have other romance metaphors, I can't guarantee they'll involve insects."

"Well, what about us?" that was not what he expected to come out of his mouth, wasn't what he;d come over here to do, but he couldn't take it back now.

Her shoulders stiffened. "What about us?"

A memory flashed through his mind. A dark club, her in a red dress, Eponine matching Grantaire shot for shot, a dance, a kiss, whispered words under flashing lights, her fingers hot on his skin...

And then, nothing.

"Well, last week at the club," he trailed off awkwardly, his words deserting him in his time of need.

"Yeah." She said, pointedly not looking at him. "And then you didn't say anything. At all."

"You left before I woke up." Combeferre's words were hushed, breathless in his urgency. "I wasn't even sure if it was real or just another dream."

She was looking at him now, really looking at him, her eyes dark with flecks of gold, those eyes were on him now and Combeferre wasn't sure if it was the beer or just the presence of her, but he found himself unable to lie when she asked, "Another dream?"

"You show up in my dreams more than I'd care to admit." he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Usually, you're wearing that dress too."

Eponine blushed, and Combeferre decided that her blush was number eight on the list of things he liked about her.

"Yeah see, that's embarrassing." he said, smiling at bit when she started to laugh. He liked her laugh, it was scratchy and low, and he liked it. "And now you're laughing at me. Great."

She grinned and now her hand was on his, her fingers cool from the bottle, and when he squeezed it, she didn't move away.

"So," he sighed, getting back on track. "You left.

"Yeah dingus, it's a thing I do."

"Well I wish you hadn't." he said, and she looked away in the face of his honesty. "I would've made you breakfast too."

Eponine smiled. "Oh what a gentleman you are."

"Yes, I am." Combeferre smiled back, and his brown eyes were warm and inviting.

They sat there like that for a moment, watching the shadows deepen. When the first fireflies started to appear, he spoke again.

"Would you like to have dinner with me?"

She blinked. "Dinner? When, now?"

"I was thinking maybe Friday? At seven?" he smiled warmly at her and squeezed her hand. "I want to do this right this time."

Do this right. Eponine felt a shiver go over her skin, and it had nothing to do with the cool evening air. She swallowed. Be brave Eponine, he's only everything you ever wanted.

"Okay." she said, feigning nonchalance. It didn't really fool either of them, but Combeferre was gracious enough not to say anything. "Seven. But first," she hopped off the truck and reached out to pull him to his feet as well, that mischievous sparkle back in her eye. "First, you dance with me."

He arched an eyebrow. "Again?"

"Again."