#and people thought this 2 pack was pairing them together like.... the heteronormativity in their brain

[anon-exe]

FRANKIE SIDE GLANCE FRANKIE SIDE GLANCE

I adore frankies doll

[hihiyas]

Little of Your Love (Enjonine Fake Relationship AU)

Alternate Title:  5 Times Enjolras and Éponine pretended to be a couple (+1 time they did not have to)

For @textsfromumbridge on the occasion of her birthday last month. (I’m so late, sorry babe!)

Thanks to @lilyismilesaway, @astoryinred, and @kylorenvevo for letting me pick their brains while I wrote this!

Also posted in: AO3 & FF.NET

1. Enjolras

He blamed rom-coms and heteronormativity, to be honest. Why couldn’t two people of different genders hang out without people just assuming something was going on? So what if they were usually seen together? They were friends, of a sort. It just so happened that they inhabited intersecting friend groups, had some similar interests, and therefore spent a lot of time together.

And besides, he had Patria to pour his passions into, and she, well. Isn’t she still crushing on Pontmercy?

Seriously, he wouldn’t even be thinking about relationships if not for the incident with that chit who tried to flirt with him the other day.

He had been sitting alone at a jam-packed Cafe Musain, typing up a scathing response to an inane article about Syrian refugees. He was on a roll too, when someone sits on the opposite side of his table.

“Hi, Gab-”

“Enjolras. I go by Enjolras,” he interrupted.

“Oh! Sorry, Enjolras then. What are you working on?”

“It’s a rebuttal on this stupid op-ed about the Syrian refugee crisis,” he began to type again, missing the glazed look on the girl’s face.

“That’s, er, interesting?”

“Would you like to know more about the subject? We’re having a talk tomorrow at the student council lounge on how we can mobilize the student body to help the refugees. We even invited a resource person coming from Médecins Sans Frontières,” he says, finally tearing his eyes from his laptop to look her in the face.

“Oh, that’s nice. Are you also working on our class assignment in Contemporary History? Do you want to maybe work together?” she asked. She shyly tucked her hair behind an ear and leaned towards him.

He pulled back immediately. “Sorry, uh, I’m waiting for someone right now, uh, pardon, what was your name again?”

“Oh, it’s Marg-”

“Éponine! Here!” he loudly waved over the olive-skinned girl, who was holding a tray and an amused look.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“This is a classmate of mine, Margaux,” he said, nodding to the smitten girl who was occupying his table and pleading with his eyes for Éponine to intercede.

So she did. By sitting on his lap.

That was not what Enjolras had in mind. At all.

(But then again, her lithe figure on his lap wasn’t that bad? He found the sensation more pleasant than disconcerting. Which was something to consult with Combeferre once he got here.)

“Actually, it’s Margaret,” his classmate corrected. She looked sheepish at the casual way Éponine lounged and his reddening cheeks. “I didn’t know you were with Éponine. I’m sorry for bothering you,” the girl squeaked and bade them a hasty goodbye.

The two observed the girl as she all but ran away from the Musain. A beat later, Éponine slid off his lap and sat on the vacated chair.

“…Did you just use me to scare off your fangirl?”

“I’ll buy you lunch everyday for a week if you promise not to tell the guys.”

“Deal.”

2. Éponine

“Did he break into hives?” Cosette wondered after Éponine finished talking. They had been spending Tuesday afternoon working on their respective homework when she had innocuously inquired, “So, what’s new with you?”

Obviously, Éponine’s “I sat on Enjolras’ lap and survived” quip warranted a longer explanation. Bored with school work, she complied and launched a retelling of her weirdest interaction yet with the so-called Marble Man. It was a welcome respite from math equations.

“He’s not exactly allergic to other humans, ya know.”

“True, he did shake my hands the day Marius introduced him to me.” A beat later, Cosette had a different question. “Did he, you know…” she trailed off and made a vaguely vulgar hand gesture.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD! WHAT?? NO!” Éponine couldn’t help yelp out loud at the suggestion.

“So why is he bribing you with food?”

“Because he’s embarrassed about needing help with his admirers? I dunno. I’m just happy to get free food,” she shrugged.

Cosette tilted her head, considering her friend’s reasoning. It was a fact that Enjolras was one of the more popular students in their university. He was handsome, smart, and charming. Usually unflappable too, except when flirted at, apparently.

The subject dropped, the two roommates continued working on their school work. They read and wrote in silence, only to be interrupted again when Marius Pontmercy came knocking on their door.

“Oh, hi Babe!” greeted Cosette as she let him in.

He smiled and chastely kissed his girlfriend on the cheek. “Hey, Babe. Missed you today. Done with your paper?”

Cosette’s dark blonde ponytail swished as she shook her hair. “Not yet,” she replied as she walked back to their dining area.

“Hey, ‘Ponine!” Marius nodded to the girl frowning at her book.

She barely waved in reply, engrossed with her homework but failing to figure it out. Math really wasn’t her forte.

He approached the dining table where the two had camped out with their books and laptops. “Anyway, I dropped by to ask you for a huge favor. Are you doing anything on Friday?”

“What’s happening on Friday? Are you bailing out on our date?” Cosette frowned.

“No! But, see, my cousin Theodule is coming to town for a few days. I kind of promised Grandfather I’d take care of him.”

“So you’re dumping your cousin on me,” Éponine guessed as she balled up another scratch paper.

“Not exactly? He kind of invited himself to our dinner. I was thinking maybe you could come with us so he’s not a third wheel? And maybe talk to him a little?”

Éponine didn’t even look up to shoot him down.“Sorry, busy that night.”

“I’m buying!” bargained Marius. “Just spend two hours with us. And I know you don’t have a shift on Friday at the Corinthe. I asked ‘Chetta.”

“Still busy.”

“Come on, ‘Ponine! Pleeease?”

“Can’t. Have prior plans before you arrived.”

“With??”

“I already have a date, okay!” she blurted the first excuse she could think of.

“With whom?” Marius asked, his tone a little too incredulous that Éponine was a bit offended. She’s not completely undateable, is she?

“She’s going out with Enjolras!” Cosette answered, saving Éponine the trouble of conjuring an imaginary boyfriend. At least, Enjolras was a live, human boy and was an actual friend (!) of Éponine. It’s just that the boyfriend part that was laughably untrue.

At least it wasn’t Montparnasse, right?

Marius, mind blown by Cosette’s declaration, just went, “Whaaaa?”

Éponine thought fast, “It’s new, okay? Barely started. So shut up about it.”

“Huh, and I thought it was just rumors about you guys.”

Rumors? Already? Éponine internally groaned. You sit on a guys lap once…

Marius continued, “I guess you really like him then, huh? Well, I’m happy for you guys! Do I get to do the shovel talk?”

“Babe, that’s so sexist and demeaning. And also: no,” Cosette interjected.

“Sorry. I’m just so excited for Éponine and Enjolras! It’s not an obvious pairing but I think you two would be good together.”

Éponine knitted her brows. “Really?”

“Well, you’re both passionate and outspoken, and when you care about something, you both show it. I guess all that tension when you two argue at the Amis’ meetings is actually attraction, huh?”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” she said before suggesting that maybe he could introduce Theodule to some of the more sociable Amis and ask them to distract his cousin on Friday instead.

Placated and distracted by a new idea with what to do with his cousin, Marius finally left her alone so she could continue with Trigonometry.

(Not that she could get his words out of her head long enough to concentrate.

Argh. Stupid Marius!)

3. Enjolras

By the end of the second week after the lap-sitting incident, the entire campus knew about it. Barely a month after that day, everyone knew that Enjolras was off-limits. What people took as fact and what was true, however, were two different things.

Not that Enjolras was about to clarify the nature of his relationship with one Éponine Thenardier. To his credit, he did attempt to, when Bossuet teased him about it. His friend just smirked and said, “Good friends? Uh huh, is that what you’re calling it now?”

Nevertheless, he figured it was better not to comment about it anymore. For one, it was embarrassing to even have to publicly dispel rumors about his personal life. Why did people care so much about who he dated? He didn’t understand it.

Secondly, he also thought that people might think badly about Éponine if he said it anything at this point. People might think she was a liar or a wanton slut who was trying to ensnare him or something. Like she wasn’t a smart, beautiful, independent woman who could date whoever she cared to.

Thirdly, it didn’t hurt that people had started to back off from flirting with him. He had never felt comfortable with it (and the accompanying fuss of turning down dates and dashing hopes) so it was such a relief not to have that kind of attention on him. He even got more things done now that people thought he’s dating Éponine.Prospective admirers apparently didn’t want to face his pseudo girlfriend’s infamous temper if they tried to catch his eye.

Speaking of her temper, he wondered why she hadn’t dispelled the rumors herself. What could she possibly benefit from effectively letting him using her as a ruse? Did she not care that people had assumed wrong about their friendship? In any case, he felt gratitude for her playing along and some guilt for reaping all the rewards of their fake relationship that he ended up treating her with food whenever they were together.

Like now.

They sat together in the usual Amis table at the cafe on a quiet Friday afternoon. He is reviewing his notes as he waited for Feuilly with their newly printed protest flyers while Éponine was working on equations Combeferre had left her as tutorial material. They shared a plateful of cookies as they worked silently on their separate projects. It was nice to just sit with someone and not talk, once in awhile. It’s peaceful.

Of course, that’s when Courfeyrac decided to disrupt the quiet.

“HELLO, LOVEBIRDS!”

Enjolras rolled his eyes at the epithet while Éponine, startled from her work, made a disgruntled face. “Seriously, Courfeyrac?”

“Please, you guys love me. Well, not in the way you two looooove each other, but you do,” he winked.

“No we don’t,” the couple in question declared in unison.

“Too soon?”

Enjolras, who had flushed red at the teasing, flatly said, “You’re hopeless.”

His friend childishly stuck his tongue out in reply. “Anyway, I’m here because you two suck at answering your phones. Are you going  tomorrow night or what?”

“To what again?” Éponine asked.

“The fundraiser dinner with my fraternity? Everybody else is busy but I need at least two other people to go with me. There’s a buffet and an open bar,” enticed Courfeyrac.

The two glanced at each other with identical expressions of distaste. A beat later, they replied, “Sorry, date night.”

“Come on, there will be lots of alumni coming and you can start building connections for law school, Enjolras!”

He considered this until he remembered something. “Does this mean Felix Tholomyes is going to be there? Isn’t that scumbag your fraternity’s alumni president?”

“Yes, but-”

He shook his head. “Then, no. I might just start a fight and ruin my good suit.”

“And besides, I can’t afford your fancy fundraiser tickets, Courfeyrac,” added Éponine.

“Enjolras can spring for you! Come on, guys, you’re my only hope. Everybody else won’t go with me! Cosette said she’s protesting her bio-dad’s presence, so of course, Marius won’t go too. Bossuet is leaving for a weekend trip with Joly and ‘Chetta tonight. Bahorel just laughed at my face,” their friend pleaded and pouted.

“Sorry, you’re on your own,” Éponine shrugged.

“Hmp, I need better friends,” Courfeyrac groused. He tried again to appeal to Enjolras but the other man shot him down. Desperate for someone, anyone really, to come with him to the fundraiser, he left the two to pester classmates and friends from his other school organizations.

Enjolras sighed and massaged his temples as Courfeyrac walked out while rapidly firing text messages. Sometimes, his friend’s exuberance gave him headaches. “Argh, sorry about that.”

Éponine merely rolled her eyes. “We both wanted an excuse. It’ll be alright. Courf’s just a  drama queen.”

“Did you have plans tomorrow?”

“Catching up on Game of Thrones.”

“But it’s such a problematic series!”

They ended up good-naturedly arguing all afternoon until Feuilly showed up.

4. Éponine

It was a slow night at the Corinthe, a fact that Éponine was grateful for. Sure, there were fewer tips, but a smaller crowd meant she won’t be dead tired for her 9 AM class the next day. She wiped down the bar for the nth time and glanced at the clock. Only 30 minutes left before she could go home and collapse on her bed.

The downside to a relatively quiet shift, however, was that it left Éponine alone enough for her mind to wander. And there was one blond pre-law student that seemed to occupy her thoughts more and more these days.

Enjolras. It was funny how their friendship had steadily become closer due to the misconception that they were together romantically. At first, it had been a quick excuse to get away from undesirable social engagements. By unspoken agreement, they had maintained the ruse in public: sitting next to each other all the time, eating meals together at least twice a week, and even texting each other their daily schedules just in case one of them needed to cover for the other. At this point, Éponine figured that if not for the lack of the more physical aspects of a romantic relationship, they were practically dating for real.

“Except, not really, Éponine. Don’t forget,” she muttered.

But sometimes, Enjolras made it hard to remember how this was all pretend. Once in awhile, he would say or do something really sweet, like casually draping his coat over her shoulders just because she felt a little chilly or walking her back to her apartment after a shift. Or he’d gaze at her with such an intensity that it took her breath away. Sometimes, Éponine could swear he really did like her. Maybe.

This whole situation was becoming even more confusing than trigonometric identities.

“So, you've moved on to the next one, huh?” a bitter voice derailed her train of thought.

“‘Parnasse.”

The dark-haired man nodded and ordered his usual, a rum and coke. “Heard you have a new boy, Enjolras, was it? Didn’t think you liked blonds.”

She turned her back on him as she fixed his drink. “What’s it to you?”

Montparnasse snorted inelegantly. “Come on, ‘Ponine. You used to make fun of him and his friends. Called them idealistic idiots, remember? And now you’re all over their leader? Why, is it because he’s fucking rich, is that it? You’re not so different from your old man.”

Éponine ignored the jab at her. “He might be an idealistic idiot but at least he actually tries to affect change. At least they’re all doing some good.”

“Wow, look at you defending his honor! You really like that Enjolras, huh? Wonder how you’d still like him if I cut Blondie’s pretty face.”

She glared and practically growled, “You even breathe wrong in his direction, I swear, ‘Parnasse, I’ll make you regret it.”

He stated, before laughing out loud. “Oh, you sweet little girl. I can’t believe I’ve seen the day.”

“What?” she demanded.

“You’re in love! Ha, you’re actually in love with this guy! That’s so funny.”

Montparnasse downed his drink and left a twenty to a stunned Éponine.

5. Enjolras

If the story of Enjolras and Éponine being a couple had spread like wildfire on campus, the rumor that they had broken up could be described as a flash flood. Devastating and utterly unexpected.

Hell, even Enjolras was caught unawares.

He couldn’t pinpoint what exactly happened but Éponine started to avoid him. Oh, she was still quick to laugh and talk to him when their friends are around, but the moment they were gone, she would make excuses and leave him as soon as humanly possible. She’d claim school work, or her job at the Corinthe for her suddenly very busy schedule.

Gone too were the emoji-filled text messages from her. It used to annoy him, the way she’d use emojis as punctuation. But now that all he got were late, sporadic and terse responses, he missed them.

He missed her.

Confused and upset, he showed up at Combeferre’s apartment.

“Okay, what’s wrong with you?”

“I think my fake girlfriend is ghosting me and I have no idea why.”

His best friend blinked slowly, before opening his door wide open. “I understood all those words individually, but you made no sense. At all.”

He lied down on Combeferre’s couch, clutching a throw pillow, and rambled for an hour. How Éponine had rescued him from a classmate’s flirtation and how that had somehow snowballed into a rumor that they were actually dating. How they both had taken advantage of the rumor to get out of social engagements, and how that joke turned their friendship deeper. Until two weeks ago.

“I’m pretty sure she’s avoiding to be alone with me like she can’t stand to be near me. I don’t understand at all! Did I do anything wrong? I cannot figure it out,” Enjolras said.

Combeferre rubbed his temple, and replied,“Seems to me that you two need to talk.”

“How does one talk to somebody who’s running away from you the moment she sees you though?”

“You got me there. I do have one question though.”

“What is it?”

“Is she really your fake girlfriend though? Because you two looked like the real thing to me.”

Enjolras distracted himself from the Éponine Situation. There was too much to do, after all than to pine for someone who hated him. Or something. Did she really hate him? Was he just overreacting because of his apparent feelings? He still didn’t know what to think about Éponine’s strange disappearing act.

In any case, there was the refugee fundraising to do. All the Amis were participating: Bahorel had his bake sale, Feuilly and Grantaire had a temporary tattoo and face paint booth, Joly and Bossuet manned a juice bar, and Jehan had his palm reading sessions. And the Amis’ triumvirate of leaders?

A stupid kissing booth.

It was, of course, Courfeyrac’s idea, but all three of them were to take 2-hour shifts at the booth. As head of the club (and mostly to get it over with), Enjolras went first. He was at the one hour mark of his shift and already the line of giggling girls and boys were snaking around the quad.

He sighed and thought about the 100 plus dollars he had already made kissing random strangers on the cheek. Even the other Amis joined in and fell in line to get a kiss from their Chief for a laugh. At least this endeavor was going to raise them a tidy sum.

“A dollar for a kiss?” A raspy voice interrupted his thoughts.

He blinked. Éponine Thenardier appeared before him like a vision in a black tee and ripped jeans. He cleared his throat. “Yes, it’s for a good cause.”

“You don’t look like you’re having fun,” she observed.

“But of course, I’m exactly the type who would enjoy this,” he deadpanned.

“Close your eyes and think of the refugees, I guess,” she quipped.

"Glad you’re laughing it all up at my expense.”

“It’s been fun,” she shrugged before plopping a crumpled fiver on the booth table and grabbing Enjolras by the hair.

He gasped and closed his eyes, all senses tingling at the pressure of Éponine’s mouth on his. She started to pull back but he chased her lips with a kiss of his own and held her close. He dimly heard a thrilled “aww!” and a chorus of disappointed noises in the background, but he couldn’t care less. The world has shrunk into this moment, into this kiss.

If not for the need for air, Enjolras thought he could stay there kissing Éponine forever. Alas, reality intruded and left them both breathing quite heavily.

“Um, hello,” he shyly greeted, cheeks pink and a smile blossoming on his lips.

“Damn, where did you learn to kiss like that?” the girl on his arms blurted out.

“I– That’s the first time I really kissed anyone?”

Éponine shot him an incredulous look, then flipped the On-Duty sign behind him.

“Sorry, guys, my boyfriend and I have to discuss something,” she announced to the line of gawking students, before motioning for Enjolras to follow her.

(+1. Éponine)

Éponine’s words rang inside her head as she and Enjolras walked away from the quadrangle to the Amis’ club room. Her boyfriend, she had called him. Not quite true, was It?

Except, it wasn’t exactly a lie either.

“Are you okay? You got me worried for the past few days,” he said the moment they reached the empty club room.

“Yes- Well, no. Not exactly,” she hesitated. See, I think I’m in love with you, she did not say.

“Anything I can do to help?”

This was the problem with falling in love with this man, wasn’t it? Here she was, ignoring and probably confusing the hell out of him, and still, he wanted to help her. “You’re entirely too good to be true,” she whispered.

“I’m not,” he protested. “If I was, you wouldn’t have spent two weeks avoiding me whenever possible. Which, by the way, did I do anything wrong?” he asked, earnest concern written plainly on his handsome face.

She looked down at her hands and shook her head. “No, no. It’s all me. I’m sorry I made you think you did something wrong. I had something I needed to figure out. You, you were perfect. Too perfect, even.”

“Oh.” He was silent for a while, obviously repeating her words in his head and trying to parse her meaning. “What do you mean, ‘too perfect?’” He sighed, “I swear if you’re gonna compare me to some Greek god–”

“No, no!” she interrupted. Éponine knew how much he hated those allusions about being cut from marble or being called ‘Apollo’ by Grantaire. “It’s just that you played your part so perfectly, I had to get away before I thought this was all real.”

Enjolras looked stunned at her admission. Oh, she knew this was a bad idea. That kiss, though. It made her hope. It made her think she wasn’t the only one in this, but, oh, she was reading into the situation again, wasn’t she?

“Shit, um, forget I said anything. I don’t want to lose our friendship, okay? We can, I dunno, stage a breakup and we’ll tell people we decided to just be friends. And we’ll never ever talk about this, okay?”

Enjolras blinked, and she sighed, heart breaking neatly in half. Great, she broke his brain.

“Okay, I’ll go now. Tomorrow, we can pretend this never happened, okay? Okay,” Éponine said. She turned around, willing her shoulders not to shake as she tried and failed to contain her tears. Damn, her rep’s all ruined now if someone saw her cry.

“W-wait,” he stammered, catching her arm and neatly spinning her into his embrace. “Please, don’t go again. You drove me crazy the last time you ran away.”

It was Éponine’s turn to be stunned silent by Enjolras’ admission. She hid her face, sobbing into her hands, while he spoke, running his hand over her tumbled hair.

“In all honesty, I don’t even know when it stopped feeling like we were just pretending. And then you started to pull away, and I didn’t know what I did wrong. I thought, did I go too far? Did this pretend relationship had gone too far?And I thought, why didn’t you tell me? And I felt so guilty that I’ve driven one of my best friends away. And then you just appeared and you kissed me and, God, Éponine, I don’t want to be just friends. And I’m so sick of playing pretend.” All his jumbled thoughts came tumbling down from his lips, and he could only hope she would understand what he was trying to say. He gently pulled her hands away from her face and dabbed her tears away with his handkerchief. “Please don’t cry, Éponine. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you, please stop crying.”

The declaration just made her cry louder as she embraced him. After a few minutes, her tears stopped and she hiccuped into his shoulder. “We’re a couple of morons, aren’t we?”

“But a couple, right?” he asked, half in hope, and half-jokingly as he continued to stroke her hair.

“Yeah, okay,” she agreed.

They remained embracing for a long time.