A/N: Just a quick one shot idea that came to me while I was out and about today. Hope it's pretty interesting to read. I think it has the makings to be a full story if I feel like stretching it out and making a long plot. But sometimes, things are better left as they are. So please let me know what you think! I am dying to know!

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Of Hockey, Harmonies, and Husbands

Chapter 1 - Of First Encounters

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"Enjolras! Get over here!" Courfeyrac yelled across the back of the bar.

Enjolras had been busying himself cleaning glasses for the customers but dropped his towel and made his way to the end of the bar.

Luckily for them, a Wednesday night was not a very busy one. There were a few patrons spread out across the long bar counter. Some were together and others sat alone. The noise level was suitable with mainly the noise from the above television playing the hockey game.

Enjolras was grateful for a slower night, he was still new to bar tending and was only doing it to get extra money for the apartment he needed. He loved living with Combeferre, but he needed his space, sooner or later. And he chose sooner. Courfeyrac had suggested he bartend with him some nights to help pick up some extra money and grab a few tips where he could.

"Am I doing something wrong?" Enjolras questioned as he approached Courfeyrac who was now snickering with Grantaire.

Grantaire was currently slumped in his bar stool, drowning himself in a Vodka Tonic.

"Yes! Everything!" Courfeyrac laughed with Grantaire.

Both seemed to be amused at something but Enjolras wasn't getting it. "But I've been cleaning and making drinks just the way you showed me. What's wrong?"

"What's wrong is you look so...depressed!" Grantaire jumped in. "You look like you would rather be anywhere else right now."

"But that's true - "

"No, no. You need to have some fun. Talk to some girls, get some numbers, give 'em a free drink," Courfeyrac added with a flirtatious wink.

"But, I just..." Enjolras cut himself off, looking flustered.

"Now, c'mon, it'll be fun." Courfeyrac eyed around the bar counter until he spotted someone. "Look, go talk to that girl sitting over there." He pointed to her inconspicuously even though she wasn't looking their way. "She looks like she could use some company."

Enjolras looked over to where Courfeyrac had pointed. It was then he spotted the girl with thick, long, dark locks. She had her eyes glued to the television above while sipping on her beer. She seemed nice enough, he figured just by looking at her. And she was definitely alone. But still the thought of trying to flirt and trying to be seductive just turned him off. That just wasn't him. He was the type who would spend his time with his nose in a book rather than try and pick up girls. "Er...I don't know," he decided.

Courfeyrac pushed him gently with his hand. "Go on!" he encouraged.

Enjolras gave a heavy sigh and relented. Let's just get this over with, he thought as he headed to the other end of the bar. He reached the end and stopped awkwardly in front of the woman with the long dark locks. His mind was racing. He barely spoke to girls and he was ready for this to be an utter fail. What was he going to say? How was he supposed to flirt?

She didn't take her eyes off the television and so he cleared his throat, not-so-subtly. "Can I get you something to drink?" he offered.

"Already got something," she responded, not missing a beat and even waving her beer in front of his face.

Enjolras mentally slapped himself for being so stupid. So rather than back out now, he figured he'd try a different approach. He'd seen Courfeyrac do this hundreds of times, right? He leaned his elbow on the counter in front of him and gave a crooked grin. "So what brings you to the bar tonight, sweetheart?"

The girl dropped her gaze to him for the first time. She smiled amusingly at him as she lifted up her left hand and wiggled her fingers in his face. It was then he noticed her ring finger bearing a gold band. "Married, hotshot."

Enjolras picked himself up off the bar. His grin fell from his face and he cleared his throat again. "Oh..."

She could only laugh at him as she could tell he obviously didn't do this often and she actually found it rather cute. "Éponine," she stated, looking to make him feel a little less awkward and like less of an idiot.

He half smiled back at her, knowing she picked up on his inexperience in flirting. "Enjolras," he answered with a sigh.

She glanced at the television again. "Well, if you want to know. I came here to watch the hockey game."

"Alone?" He coughed, realizing how abrupt he was. "I mean, like without your husband?" His face was reddening the more the words just fell out of his mouth. "I guess, like, why not just watch it at home?"

She laughed dryly. "My husband doesn't like hockey...he gets mad every time I watch it." Her mind seemed to drift off as she spoke, recurring memories with every word. "So, I come here, and I just don't tell him."

Enjolras grimaced. "That's...sad."

Éponine just shrugged. "It's 'kay. I don't mind."

Enjolras was a little perturbed by this. It clearly wasn't okay. She shouldn't have to do something in secret from her husband. Especially something so small like watching a hockey game. "That's not okay. Why should you have to leave your home just to come watch the game?" he questioned as more of a statement.

She chuckled again to keep the situation from turning serious. "Don't worry. It's okay. I come here often to watch the games," Éponine said as she took a slug of her beer.

Enjolras cooled down and decided to just brush it off. "Alright." He paused, not really knowing what to say in the current awkward silence. "Well then, just consider yourself at home," he concluded, averting his gaze from her.

Éponine's face brightened momentarily. She titled her head to the side and smiled. "Consider yourself...one of the family," she sang.

Enjolras smiled too, recognizing what she was singing. He decided - against his better judgement - to continue. "We've taken to you...so strong."

Éponine's ears perked up and she looked straight at him, smiling widely showing off her deep dimples. "It's clear...we're..."

"Going to get along!" they sang in unison.

Both erupted into a loud laughter. Éponine threw back her head as she laughed and sighed catching her breath. "God! I can't believe you know Oliver! I love that movie!"

Enjolras controlled his laughter, "Yes! I grew up watching that movie all the time. I used to sing the songs all day!"

"Seriously?"

"Not kidding! For such an old movie, the harmonies were incredible! I mean, who doesn't love that little street urchin?" Enjolras was still smiling from ear to ear.

Éponine's expression fell back to one of unhappiness. She looked down at her beer bottle in her hand. "My husband," she mumbled.

Enjolras didn't respond, he didn't really know how to answer that. He stopped laughing, just as she had.

She perked herself up again falsely. "But I love musicals. I have a whole stash of them I keep in my closet." Her eyes became distant again, looking somewhere far off. "Somedays, I take a sick day from work, and I just stay home all day and watch them. I always make sure he doesn't find out though."

Enjolras' face looked puzzled. "He doesn't let you watch them?" he asked bravely.

She sighed, "He doesn't like those kinds of movies. He thinks the music is bad, the plot line is corny, the songs are stupid, and all that jazz..."

Enjolras smiled encouragingly. "Chicago?" he questioned.

She smiled at him in return. "Chicago," she confirmed.

Enjolras leaned on his elbow. "Well, I don't think any musical is stupid," he remarking, returning the grin to his features.

"Then you definitely wouldn't be friends with my husband," she tried to joke. But it just let the conversation lull instead. So in the silence, she looked at the television again. "C'mon! Check 'im!" she yelled at it.

Enjolras turned to look at the game. "Can't believe there's only ten minutes left in the game and they've only taken ten shots on goal."

"Right! They're playing awful tonight. There is no offense, they're only playing defense."

"Seriously, just shoot the puck!" Éponine looked up at Enjolras who was currently watching the game with her. The dim lighting reflected off his chiseled features and his blonde hair stood out against his complexion. His eyes shone a magnificent, sparkling blue that looked so clear, so refreshing. They reminded her of a tropical island surrounded by fresh, blue water. She always wondered what a place like that would feel like. But she knew she would never be able to go to a tropical island and touch the blue water.

The door to the bar slammed shut, bringing a rush of cold air that whipped through the room and brought Éponine out of her daydream.

"Éponine!" an all too familiar voice yelled. Enjolras head turned to the source of the voice and watched a tall, lanky man make his way over to her. With raven black curls, sharp features and dark lips against a pale complexion, his eyes pierced through her like knives. Éponine was visibly shaking now as she winced with each approaching step he took toward her.

She kept her head down, looking at her drink, rather than the impending anger. The man approached her closely as he grabbed her upper arm roughly, making her look at him. "What the hell are you doing here? I've been looking everywhere for you! Brujon told me he saw you come in here, but I said to him, 'No, 'Ponine would be home, waiting for me to get there.' You know how this makes me look?" He shook her roughly when she didn't say anything. Eponine only shut her eyes in response. "Look at me, dammit!" he berated, shaking her again.

She could feel all the eyes in the bar on her, as sure as she could feel the bruises forming on her arms. She peaked open her eyes bravely. "'Parnasse, please. Let me just finish my drink."

"No!" he snapped. "We're going home!" He yanked her up off the bar stool and to her feet.

Éponine quickly gave Enjolras a look. She flashed him an expression of fear mixed with embarrassment and sorrow. "I haven't paid for it yet," she rapidly announced.

Montparnasse growled in frustration as yanked Éponine harder at her insubordination.

"It's on the house," Enjolras thought quickly.

Montparnasse smiled wickedly, looking down at the terrified girl in his hands. "What do you say 'Ponine?" He spoke to her like he was speaking to a child.

She locked eyes with Enjolras. "Thank you," she murmured.

With that, Montparnasse pulled her across the floor, out the doors, and out of the bar.

Enjolras stood there motionless. The buzzer sounded behind him from the television, signaling the end of the game. He was much too in shock to notice anything else in that moment. The last image he had of Éponine haunted him. He would never forget the girl who lived her life in secrets from her husband, the girl who smiled through the pain, and who would never stop loving the monster she called a husband.

He felt guilty for not having done anything more to help her, for not standing up to him, for not arguing back, for not giving her his number, for not protecting her. And what did he do? He paid for her drink. Pathetic. He kept thinking how the end of the night meant a warm bed for him. But for Éponine, she'd be lucky if she would see tomorrow. The guilt consumed him, but there was nothing more he could do.

Still he never stopped thinking about her. He prayed he would see her again, that one day she would show up to watch another hockey game, he would scoop her up, take her home, and never let her leave. He would protect her.

But, so far, that day never came.