- Title: Really bad things
- Rating: M (explicit scenes. Kind of?)
- Characters: Éponine, Enjolras, Les Amis (Grantaire, Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Bahorel, Jehan), Cosette, Marius
- Words: ~2.300
- Genre: Humor, Smut (I guess it’s right to label it under smut too)
- Author’s note: I have no idea what this is, but it was fun writing it. Here, have some drunk!Enjolras and sexually frustrated!Éponine. Enjoy! :)
“Your girlfriend is going to kill you,” Courfeyrac stated, a way too serious expression on his face having into account it was him.
“Wrong!” Enjolras exclaimed, pointing at his friend with a shaky finger. “She’s going to kill R. I’m innocent as a kitty.”
Combeferre opened his mouth, probably to tell the other guy to keep his mouth closed if he did not want to embarrass himself anymore, but the roaring laughs of the rest of their friends eclipsed his own voice and he decided to give up on trying. It’s not like he would listen given his state, anyway.
“How many drinks did he have, anyway?” He chose to ask instead, his eyes flicking between Courfeyrac and Grantaire. The latter, meanwhile, was amazed by their friend’s drunkenness.
“I don’t think he even had too many, actually,” Courfeyrac explained. “He’s not used to drinking, though.”
“I’ve created a monster,” Grantaire whispered astonishingly, a proud smile on his face as he spoke. Courfeyrac face palmed.
“She really is going to kill all of us,” Combeferre muttered.
Éponine was not one to dress up too fancily or spend hours in front of the mirror or put on too much make up or give that much importance to her physical appearance, but things changed completely when Cosette decided to drop by her place, and what was going to be a quick change of clothes and putting her hair on a ponytail for hanging out with her friends turned into a complete makeover.
“But I don’t like straight hair,” she complained as the other girl worked on making her ‘do look pretty, as she had nicely put it.
“You’ll like it when you see yourself with it, silly girl.”
Éponine rolled her eyes. Cosette’s positivism was almost sickening.
“We’re just going to hang out. It’s not even a special occasion so I don’t get why I should take so much time on getting read—”
“Come on, Ep, you’re to look fabulous! Isn’t that enough of a reason for you?”
“Do you want the truth?” She inquired sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at her friend.
“Enjolras is going to want to do really bad things with you. Does that sound better?” Cosette whispered after a while, and Éponine could not help laughing out loud at her wording.
“Did you really just say do really bad things?”
“Shut it,” the blonde retorted, narrowing her eyes and glaring at the other girl for a couple seconds before going back to her naturally cheerful expression. “You’re lucky I appreciate you so very much.”
Éponine sighed deeply, having been staring at her reflection in the mirror for nearly two minutes. She did not like the way she looked—or rather, she did, but she was not used to wearing that kind of fancy clothes, nice hair and even make up.
“Are you sure it’s not too much?” She inquired, swirling around to have, one more time, a look at the skirt she had—forcefully—borrowed from Cosette. She was surprised it fitted her having into account she was way skinnier than the blonde (actually, she was sickeningly skinny), but it did, and the truth was she could pull it off rather well.
“You look beautiful,” Cosette affirmed with an enormous grin in her lips. “Come on! We’re so late already.”
Éponine merely groaned, looked at her reflection one more time and shrugged at herself before grabbing her bag and leaving the house behind Cosette.
“I got it!”
Enjolras’ random shout in the middle of the other guys’ conversation managed to startle them. They had not even had time enough to forget about how drunk he was, yet he had decided to catch their attention again. He was even standing up, just like he did whenever he wanted to speak about something serious. There was something different this time, though: he was probably not going to speak about anything serious.
He literally waited until each one of his friends was looking at him expectantly, and then he flashed his biggest grin at them.
“Let’s play karaoke. I’ll pick one of Ep’s favorite songs and dedicate it to her when she’s here. She’ll love it so much she won’t even be angry.”
Les Amis’ reactions were different depending on which one of them—Combeferre kept shaking his head and wondering how he had allowed for this to happen; Courfeyrac, Grantaire and Bahorel burst out laughing again; Marius did not even seem to know yet that Enjolras was completely wasted and, surprisingly, Jehan approved of the karaoke.
Their conversation had become more like a session of bickering with one another when Cosette and Éponine stormed in. The blonde wore a grin on her lips as she waved at their friends, but the brunette was half-hiding behind the other girl because she did not want to be seen yet.
“Hey guys!” Cosette exclaimed and, as Marius quickly approached her, she pecked her lips tenderly.
“Oh my God,” everybody could hear Enjolras say this time.
Éponine was slow to realize he pronounced those words because he had seen her hiding behind Cosette. It would have been endearing to know he had been the one to notice her presence, if it were not for the way he was shamelessly staring at her like he wanted to do really bad—okay, no, she was not going to think like Cosette.
“Hi,” she faked an awkward grin as she waved her hand at her boyfriend, and Enjolras merely approached her in silence. Her cheeks were flushing red because he was literally gaping at her, and she punched his shoulder lightly when he was close enough, bringing him back to Earth.
“What—you—” he started, unable to find the words as his eyes went down and fixed on her legs. “You’re wearing a skirt.”
Éponine groaned to herself. Yes, she was wearing a skirt and it was the most ridiculous thing in the world. She did not need to be reminded of it, let alone by her boyfriend. Hell, a part of her just wanted to go home with him and take off all these stupid clothes and make up and just lie in bed with him, because she knew he liked her in anything she could wear and that was what made her feel most comfortable about herself.
Enjolras, however, seemed to like her outfit very much.
“You look hot,” he spat when he saw she was not going to say anything on the matter. “Like really hot. Is that Cosette’s? You should keep it. I don’t see Cosette wearing clothes as sexy as this. You can pull them off better.”
He was speaking so much and Éponine was speechless and embarrassed, and Cosette would have been offended if it weren’t for the fact that she was happy that her friend’s boyfriend was actually reacting the same way she had planned, and Les Amis were, again, too amused for words.
“Shit,” he breathed out, “seriously, you know I normally love your jeans but why don’t you wear skirts more often? You have amazing legs and—”
“Enjolras,” she caught his attention, her eyes wide open and her face still burning with shame.
“But I’m speaking the truth! You know what they say, children and drunk people always say the drunk or something.”
She was confident that he was still talking but she could not help but zoning out when he said that, her eyebrows furrowed. It was only a few seconds later that she realized what he meant.
“Oh my God you’re drunk,” she muttered, flashing a glare at Grantaire.
“Wha—oh shit,” he swallowed hard, realizing he had screwed up. “I’m fine, though. I’m completely fine, I’m just—” Enjolras was about to keep talking, but as he stepped towards her once more he stumbled and was about to fall, were it not for the fact that Éponine grabbed his arm and he leaned against the table.
“Of fucking course, you’re perfectly fine,” she said sarcastically after sighing. “Let’s sit down, come on.”
It was not that Éponine cared about her boyfriend getting drunk. Hell, she was the one to get drunk at least half of the times they went out with Les Amis, but she had learned not to be a burden to Enjolras. If she turned into an annoying drunk, which she often did, she just forced herself to stay away from him unless he approached her. Enjolras was not too used to getting drunk, though, and whenever he did he was not able to control himself like that. It was hilarious and even endearing the first two or three times, but she eventually learned she simply could not deal with drunk Enjolras most of the time; and so, she punched Grantaire’s arm when she was in her way to take a seat.
“Ow! What was that for?” He had inquired.
“You know what that was for.”
The night was oddly calm; the girls had been rather late so they had been drinking way earlier, and when Cosette and Éponine arrived they were over it. That is, everyone but Enjolras, who was still being an annoying little shit.
Éponine decided not to be too hard on him because it had been probably all R’s fault—after all, it always was—, but things changed completely when she felt his hand on his thigh. She cleared her throat and sent him a questioning glance, but he was smirking widely and she just gave up. If he wanted to fucking touch her thigh, fine. What she did not expect was for him to bring his hand up, playing with the hem of her shirt and then slowly sliding it beneath.
“Enjolras,” she whispered, nudging him, but he shushed her and pretended to be paying attention to someone else’s conversation, even with his hand busy down under her skirt. Even when he was drunk, he was fucking good at pretending.
The best solution she could come up with in the first place was ignoring him, but soon enough there was nothing she could do to keep her mind busy from his touch. His hand was moving slowly and she could not tell whether it was because he wanted to tease her or because he was too drunk to move faster, but she was dying there. He traced circles with his fingertips all along her thigh and every time he went a little further, until the point where his hand was nearly between her legs.
Éponine’s lips were pursed and her arms were crossed as she tried her best to keep it together, though eventually she had to stop herself from talking because her voice was shaky and she did not want anyone to notice.
“I know you’re loud but stay quiet this time, yeah?” Enjolras whispered huskily after tilting his head towards her ear.
“I’m going to kill you,” she responded quietly, narrowing her eyes.
She would have done something about it, but right when she was about to shove his hand away from her, he started rubbing his fingertips against the fabric of her underwear and she lost it. Licking her lips, she glanced around and it surprised her how no one had noticed about their little show, but her thoughts were somewhere else when Enjolras applied a little more pressure to his movements, and she let out a small fuck before clearing her throat.
He went on for a while, apparently not wanting to rush anything, and Éponine would have loved to say she eventually got used to the sensation and, therefore, could ignore it, but the truth is that did not happen. In fact, with every circle his fingers traced around her clit she had to fight so hard not to jerk, and her lips were tightly pressed because she knew she could let go a moan at any moment and she did not want to embarrass herself. A part of her, though, wanted so badly to do it, to expose herself and Enjolras even if just in order to make him stop or embarrass him instead, but she knew deep down that it would take much more than that to embarrass her boyfriend, and she even doubted that would make him stop, so she quickly rejected that plan.
Enjolras was enjoying way too much, so much he even felt like he was not drunk anymore, and he could not help licking his lips as he tugged at the waistband of her panties and attempted to slide his fingers inside.
Éponine had had enough, though, and she quickly stood up, grabbing Enjolras’ arm and forcing him to stand up with her.
“We’re going home, we’ll call tomorrow!” She exclaimed all of a sudden and in a rush, waving her hand and storming out of the café under their friends’ surprised glances.
Enjolras let out a snicker when they were outside, pretty much sober now although he was still feeling a little dizzy and it was not so easy to walk properly.
“We can finish it at home, you know,” he said in an attempt of sounding tempting.
“We’re not doing anything,” she exclaimed with frustration, walking probably way too fast for Enjolras’ preference. “I’m not having sex with you while you’re drunk,” she added, reminding him one of the rules of their commitment. It normally worked the other way around, because Enjolras always refused to do anything with her when she had had a few too many drinks even if she always wanted him, drunk or not; but now it was her time for revenge.
“Oh, come on! I nearly got you to come back in there,” he pleaded, throwing his hands in the air.
Her face turned red again, and she avoided looking at him. Enjolras snorted again, satisfied with her reaction.
“Shut the hell up.”