Who They Are

Summary: All it takes is one phone call – well, one eight and a half hour phone call – for Éponine to fall for Gabriel Enjolras. This is how a wrong number became the best conversation she has ever had (inspired by Hihiyas and Elizabethtown)

AN: Hiyas, you are amazing! I might have taken this in a slightly different direction, but I hope the feeling is still there. These guys didn't peak on the phone, though.

8:25 PM

The strange number showing up on her phone's brightly lit screen should surprise her more than it does. As it is, she knows that it is probably her sister calling from another mark's number because she still refuses to get a phone plan of her own. Azelma is trying to stay away from jail, but not doing anything real to end her criminal activities.

She picks up the phone, hoping that her sister did not get in any more trouble.

"Where are you," an exasperated male voice sounds on the other end.

"At home, as I should be," she tells him, not sure who it is.

There are not very many males who would have this number, and this definitely does not sound like her little brother or like her friend Marius. While something in this voice sounds vaguely familiar, she cannot identify him as anyone she knows.

"Didn't Marius ask you to come along with him," the man is still pissed.

"Why would he ask me when he can ask his girlfriend," she rolls her eyes, even though angry guy won't be able to see it. "Cosette must be there already."

She has no idea where Marius is at this point, because they only see each other about once a week, when he comes by her work between going to class and seeing his girlfriend. She knows she is not very high on his list of priorities, which means that she doubts Marius would ever invite her to hang out with anyone else he knows. She knows that he is probably ashamed of her, the trailer trash from his past.

"You're not Cosette," the guy sounds both happy and disappointed at the same time.

"Obviously not," she does not get why the guy would be happy with that. "My name is Éponine. I'm Marius' friend. Now why are you calling me?"

It seems like this guy is actually trying to reach the other woman in Marius' life. He is trying to reach the blonde one; the one Marius is not ashamed of. Cosette is the pretty and rich girl that his parents always dreamed he would date – they never did like their friendship all that much, back when his wealthy grandfather still hated them.

"My apologies, miss," he is turning quite formal.

"Why are you calling me," she repeats, hoping to get an answer out of him.

"My name is Gabriel Enjolras," he finally introduces himself, and she now understands why his voice sounded familiar. "I am waiting for Marius and Cosette, but I guess that they are not going to show. Your number was on a note from Marius."

So this is the guy that Marius has mentioned to her, the one who she would get along with. He has been trying to get the two of them to meet for a while now, but Gabriel always seems to be too busy for any kind of social event, and Marius always seems to be too ashamed to invite her to any place where his group of friends might be.

Gabriel runs some anti-poverty programs, and she is sure that is why Marius wants the two of them to get in touch. He still thinks that she needs help, and she doesn't. He just never bothered to talk to her long enough to find out she's doing well now.

"You can throw it out if you want to," she offers.

"Do they stand you up like this as well," he still sounds frustrated.

She has not seen Cosette in a very long time, and she really only sees Marius when she's working, because the second he can be with Cosette instead of with her, he takes off without a second glance. His priorities are all with Cosette, and she does not doubt that this is showing in his real friendships as well as their one, which has long ago ceased to matter anything. She stopped mattering when he got his money.

"Cosette does not like me all that much," she tells him, pretending that this does not hurt her. "I knew her when we were kids, and I wasn't very nice to her back then."

The idea that she was not very nice is an understatement; she knows that much. Her parents made it all right for her and Azelma to tease Cosette, and they shamelessly took advantage of that. Still, she was only about ten years old. It was a long time ago.

"And she's still holding it against you," he seems outraged at the thought of it.

"Of course she is," she can almost understand the grudge that the Lark holds. "I was awful to her, and so was my sister. I can't really blame her for hating me."

This conversation has quickly become something much more than a simple wrong number, as he is getting to the root of some of her issues with just a few simple questions. This is worrying, but she knows that he is soon going to get sick of talking to her – he obviously has important things to do – and hang up on her.

"People have forgiven each other for much worse," he seems to be on her side in this.

"You don't even know me," she reminds him with a scoff.

Why would a practical stranger defend her for childhood stupidities when the people who do know her still condemn her for it? Of course, she has heard the stories from Marius about his obsession with justice and equality, but she highly doubts that this has anything to do with childhood stupidity and forgiveness. At least, she does not think that it has anything to do with it. Perhaps he made a mistake in childhood as well.

"You could always tell me," he makes the offer sound so casual and simple.

"Are you a shrink or something," she questions.

"I just think telling this kind of stuff to a stranger is easier," Gabriel makes a good point there. "I know it feels that way to me. I promise to tell you some things as well."

Why not unleash her burdens on this eloquent stranger? He will not tell anyone she knows, because he knows very few people she knows and they have both expressed annoyance with Marius and/or Cosette already. This stranger, Gabriel or Enjolras; he has so many words to say to her without knowing her – she can only imagine what he has to say to her after she reveals even the slightest things. She is curious.

"Then why don't you start," she wants to see how he'll respond to her teasing.

"I am widely known as the marble lover of liberty," he muses, and she is immediately drawn in by his voice. "Even my friends think I'm made of stone, and that I do not feel emotion the way normal people do. Maybe that's true; because I always feel that my emotions burn so brightly that I am easily burned by them. I try to stay stable."

She recognizes that feeling so well; the sense that she has to keep her emotions hidden behind this aloof wall because strong emotions can get people hurt – she learned that lesson young, because that was how things worked in her house.

"You still miss the mountains," she understands, because she feels that way too.

"My mother is bipolar," he tells her, and she tries to respond normally to that, only she finds it very difficult to do so. "Her experiences taught me well. I don't ever want to do that to anyone, the way she and my father fell apart. I would rather be stable."

The word stable is used with a dismissive ease, as if he has heard the word used so many times before that it has lost most of its meaning to him. His mother has probably been referred to as stable so many times that it ceases to mean anything – she is the exact same way with the word safe. Her life has been pronounced safe many times.

"Safe was the watchword at my house," she breaks a few bricks from her thick and tall wall and shows him more about herself. "Mama always used to tell us when it was safe to come home, or safe to talk to dad, or safe to speak. She used the word for everything, and she said it whenever. Dad was never safe, and neither was she. There was always something wrong, and we always paid the price. I'm weary of the word safe."

There are harsh breaths coming from his side of the conversation, and those breaths are the only things that tell her that he is even still there. He just lets her talk without interruption, because she really does need to get all of these things off of her chest – she has never been able to tell anyone about this, because she was the oldest child and she always needed to be there for her younger siblings. They always needed her and she never had anyone who she could need, who was there when she needed someone.

"The lies our parents tell us," his voice is sharp when he finally does speak.

"The stories we believe," she replies, feeling understood for once.

She settles on her couch, because she feels like she should be in a more comfortable position for a conversation such as this one. There is nothing for her to do at the moment but talk and listen, and she can do that in whatever position she wants.

"I hate talking about this to my friends," he exclaims, and she can picture him gesturing dramatically as he speaks, trying to hold his phone to his ear.

"I hate the pity they get when you try," she responds softly, remembering select occasions from years ago, when she bothered to try and explain her story. "I would rather do it all myself. I can do it all myself. I don't need anyone."

It is not easy to continue believing that she does not need anyone when she has not been touched with love in years. She has fucked and has been fucked, but while she has loved, she has not been loved in return. She wants to be stable and strong and alone, but she misses the mountains of loving and of trying to be happy. She even misses the pain of heartbreak, if only there is happiness and love in return – but there is none.

"Can a solitary existence even really work," he hates even considering it.

"It has worked for me so far," she is trying not to lie to him too obviously.

Only lately she is feeling as if this no longer works for her. She wants to see the smile on her little brother's face again; the one he used to have for her on every miserable day that she was forced to be home by her mother's use of the word safe.

"Just as much as it has worked for me," he has seen right through her lie.

No one has been able to work his or her way through her strong walls, until he waltzed right through the tiny hole she gave him and made his way into her soul like he actually belonged there. He has somehow made himself a part of her life without them meeting in any kind of official capacity – sure, they have seen each other around time, talking to Marius perhaps, but there has been nothing of meaning until this phone call.

And that scares the living daylights out of her.

"What's your favorite color," she makes a desperate attempt to change the subject.

"Red," he tells her, as if the change in subject has not surprised him. "And yours?"

It is somewhat of a surprise, because most men his age start to spout nonsense about the color of their girlfriend's eyes – Marius, when she cared enough to ask that stupid question – or the dress on a woman passing the street – Montparnasse, who is the most pervy boss that a girl will ever have. She doubts that Gabriel's favorite color has anything to do with any woman he's falling all over.

"I don't have one," she announces.

"That's ridiculous," he tells her. "You need to figure that sort of stuff out."

With the way he is speaking, you would think that she did not know what her last name or blood type was, rather than something as silly as a favorite color. She never bothered with silly things like that, even though she probably should.

"My brother's eyes are blue," she ponders. "That is a great color."

When she does remember little Gavroche, she remembers his bright blue eyes that always seemed to shine with some kind of mischief. Shit, that makes it sound like something terrible happened to him, which really is not true. It's just that he is not the carefree little kid she tries to remember him as. He's a rebellious teen now, and he refuses to be considered little – even though she practically raised him when they still lived with her parents. Cosette's stepfather, of all people, has adopted him.

Of course mister Fauchelevent is a wonderful man, but she knows that Gavroche is a bigger fan of Cosette now than he has ever been of her. That hurts.

"I'm glad you're making progress," he puts on a fake formal tone, and she giggles.

"Okay, so what is the next stupid question we have to address," she asks him.

It is easier when it is just stupid questions and a stranger making her laugh. There has not been a lot to laugh about lately, but one call from the Marble Man – as he is known around the city – and she is a changed woman.

"I wear boxer briefs and I sleep in nothing but those," he is surprisingly open.

"Are you trying to kill me," she wonders out loud, imagining what a sight that would be – and what she would do with that. "I mean; death by imagination is a nice way to go."

While he is usually called Marble Man because he refuses to show emotions and to fall in love or lust like most guys his age, she has privately used the nickname because of different reasons. She has heard him speak on a few occasions, and she was more than a little drawn in by his voice and his magnetism – and he has a body that really should be immortalized by a sculptor with talent for marble work.

"Quid pro quo," he tells her, and she is surprised at his audacity.

Well, she is surprised and more than a little turned on at his audacity, because while this is still a part of their little game, it is definitely not something that they can freely discuss without going into phone sex territory. She could potentially be interested in going that route, but she never expected that he would be as well. It is probably a slip of the tongue.

"I did not mean to say that," he quickly rectifies the situation.

"For me, it depends on the situation," her voice sounds hoarse, and she really is trying not to go too far with this. "When I'm alone, I usually sleep in a big shirt and some panties. I prefer to sleep naked though, when I have company."

This is all the honest truth, because she is not going to ruin this little game by lying to him, but she has never stated this so honestly. She does not tell him that it has been a while since she left the shirt in its designated drawer – she has not had any kind of real relationship in the longest time. Still, it seems to have plenty of effect on him.

"Fuck," a crash and then again his voice. "Jesus, 'Ponine!"

The nickname kind of makes it even hotter, but what really takes the cake for her is that his voice has lost its typical cultured edge and has gone right into growl mode. His voice is deeper and darker now, and she is severely tempted to take off her silly lounge pants because it is getting hot in here and it is all because of him. Honestly, she does not even know how they got to this, but she wants him and it is showing.

"Favorite children's book," she changes the topic again, making it worse.

"Matilda by Roald Dahl," he answers immediately, making her envious of his ability to change gears so very quickly. "She was super smart and had super powers!"

She giggles, because he is really charming and enthusiastic – the voice has gone back to normal, she regrets to hear. Still, he continues to interest her.

9:57 PM

"It's your turn," she tells him.

"So, I did mention my friend R before," he starts, already amused before he even starts his latest story. "He's a bit of a womanizing drunk, as I've said before. So, back in college, when we were roommates, I would just come home to the strangest things."

They've been on the phone for over 90 minutes, and she is already feeling sorry for him because the phone bill that he will next receive is probably going to be pretty darn astronomical if they continue to talk like this. She is not feeling sorry enough to tell him to hang up, though, because she has not had a conversation like this one in ages – she cannot even think of any conversation she has ever had being like this one.

"Such as," she simply has to know more about this.

"One time he liberated the lab animals," Gabriel starts to laugh at the memory, making her chuckle as well. "I came home after a long day of classes to find him feeding a lab monkey my portion of dinner while the mice made a home in my closet. We kept finding disgusting droppings for months after that. Still, it was a nice idea."

Of course he would approve of an idea like this one – because he likes all kinds of actions against the Man, and he likes people who stand up for what they believe in. No doubt R's plan was ill thought-out and a big mess for him to clean up, but she has no doubt that Gabriel also found it incredibly amusing – and he was probably more than a little bit proud that his friend showed this new side to himself.

"R got found out within the day," he continues. "But he still thought it was worth it."

She cannot help but laugh as she imagines that chaos that is inevitably tied to such a thing, and she just knows that he probably handled it with all of the grace that he has already displayed with her. It is getting hard to believe that he is even real.

11:11 PM

"Make a wish," she tells him, checking the time.

"I wish you get everything you want out of life," he is completely serious. "And I also wish for some evidence of the removing of clothes you've been talking about."

Okay, so maybe her teasing about removing some pieces of clothing has been a bit too much, but she is falling for him more with his every word, and she really just wants him to feel the same way about her that she is starting to feel for him. He responds well to her teasing, and she really does want to continue with this thing.

"Yeah, so that's not happening," she gently lets him down. "In this day and age, pictures on a phone are pretty much forever. I will promise that I'm only wearing my sleeping clothes. I'm alone, unfortunately. No nudity so far."

He must have known that it was not going to happen, but he probably still wanted to tease her, so she is going to let this go with relative ease. The fact that he is teasing her at all just makes her so happy, because she thinks that this means that he is letting her behind his wall as much as she has let him behind hers. It is getting hard to continue her wall in any way, and she hates that with a passion. She needs that wall.

Still, she thinks that Gabriel Enjolras just might mean more.

"I don't even know what you've done to me, Ponine," he sounds happy.

"Same here, Gabe," she tells him, grinning from ear to ear. "Same here."

1:32 AM

"I should probably get some sleep," she hates herself for saying it.

"Me too," he sounds as sad as she feels.

She takes another look around her pathetic living room, willing it to change into something happier and into a place that has him in it. It has been over five hours since they started talking, and though her throat aches, she does not want to stop.

"I'm just going to hold on to the phone while I get in bed," she leaves her clothes as they are, strewn across her living room floor – cleaning is left for the morning.

"I really don't want to go to sleep yet," he mutters in a voice that is much more sleepy than he intends it to be. "Wow, I'm sorry, I did not mean to sound like a child."

If only she could see what he looks like when he's sleepy and talking in that rough voice that tells that he is halfway to dream land. She imagines him walking around his apartment wearing nothing but boxers and holding his phone in his hand because he does not want to stop talking. She could listen to his voice forever.

"I feel the same way," she confesses before she knows just what she admits too.

4:47 AM

"We made it to the eight hour mark," she tries to find a comfortable way to sleep again, knowing that it will not be any good when she's still on the phone.

"I don't even care what my plans are for tomorrow," he tells her. "There is just no way that I'm going to fall asleep now. My phone might be trying to explode on me because I've never called anyone for this amount of time, but I don't care."

Her phone is way too hot in her hands, and she might even be getting some mild burns after this night, but she will wear those proudly as a reminder of the night during which she had the best conversation of her life with this curious contradiction in terms that is Gabriel Enjolras. Shit, she almost wants this night to be the whole story of their interaction, because nothing else could ever be this perfect, not ever again.

"I'm too wired to sleep," she sits up straight in her bed. "I'll just stay awake and finally watch the sunset thing that seems to be going on here on this planet."

She has never had the time to actually sit still and watch the sun come up over this beautiful city that she loves so much. Sure, she has been awake at this hour before, but that was usually a busy time during which she either had to finish an assignment – or she was just heading home and just wanted to get to her bed.

"Where's the best place to watch the sunset," he asks her, suddenly.

"The rooftop of my apartment building," she speaks with conviction. "It's pretty high up, and you can see almost everything from here. I'll take the phone with me."

Maybe it will be possible for her to describe it to him, so that they can finish this night together in a way that would suit this odd relationship that has sprung up over the course of the last eight hours. Watching the sunset together, but separately, that would definitely fit the bill for their new relationship – though she is still unable to define what kind of relationship it is. It is not platonic, because there have been too many comments about underwear and other articles of clothing for this to still be considered in any way platonic. Still, there has not been a real chance for more either.

"What if I show up instead," another question, one that startles her.

"Are you talking about coming to my apartment," she is trying to work through the fear that is shooting through her at the mere thought of his idea.

This is simply terrifying and incredibly exciting at the same time, because what if she does not live up to his expectations of what kind of person she is – based on their phone conversation. There are so many what ifs that she can think of.

"Only if you keep wearing what you're wearing," his voice is darker again.

"If you can get here within thirty minutes," she offers him a chance, at least. "I will be waiting on the roof. I might even bring a blanket and some pillows."

There are a few things from her apartment that she can bring upstairs to make things more comfortable for the both of them – she is already making a mental list of what she has and what could potentially be useful for both of them. Well, that and thinking of ways in which she can get him to succumb to the lust she occasionally hears in his voice – trying to make sure that it happens right on her favorite blanket.

"Trust me, I'll be there," he vows with a strength that surprises her. "And I won't hang up on you. We have got to keep this record going, don't you think?"

5:15 AM

It is not as cold as she expected it to be on the roof. She has been waiting for him for ten minutes – after preparing both herself and her spot for another ten minutes or so. The oversized shirt barely covers her panties, and that puts a smile on her face – hoping that he will notice that and act on whatever he's feeling for her.

"Are you almost here yet," she breathes into the phone.

"In the elevator," his voice is crackly, but still there. "Hold on just a bit longer."

The ratty old blankets that she used as the first layer seem to hold, and the old favorite blanket that is the second layer is stroking her skin as she continues to wait. The few pillows that she managed to find that would stand the test of going outside are divided into two piles – one for her and one for him. The top blanket is soft and warm, and probably should not be exposed to the elements – but she does not care.

"I'll hang up when I see you," he continues to talk, the feedback from the elevator now gone from his voice. "Close your eyes, and just listen."

That makes the excitement grow even more, and she listens to him and quickly closes her eyes, listening for every signal that could possibly tell her that he is close and in her line of sight. There is the sound of semi-heavy breathing in her right ear, and then a creak from the door – and what follows is the dial tone. He is here.

"That is quite the set-up," his voice and his footsteps get closer and closer. "I'm honored that I warranted the good blanket. You look amazing, by the way. Open your eyes."

His voice does everything to her that those Fifty Shades books promised to do, but could not live up to. When he whispers those last few words, his breath is practically caressing her ear. Her eyes fly open without so much as another thought, and she finds that he is kneeling on the blanket, facing her with little distance between the two of them – any move made will put the two of them in real physical contact with each other.

"Hi," she whispers back, wrapping her arms around his neck and tugging him close.

His lips fit on hers perfectly, and while they start out awkwardly – not used to each other – he is a quick study and soon figures out moves that drive her out of her mind with want for him. There's this thing he does with his tongue… Fuck!

"You're driving me crazy," he tells her as he breaks their kiss.

"Ditto," she yanks him back to her, scratching her nails on his scalp.

He moans, and that moves everything into high speed. His t-shirt is discarded in between kisses, and so is hers. While she attempts to take off his pants, his hands move to her breasts, with clear intents to worship. As soon as the pants come down, and they are both only wearing bottoms, he covers the two of them with the pretty blanket and covers her body with his. She was right about the marble – and the impressive hardness against her thigh only confirms the story.

"I want you," he whispers in her ear.

She is pretty sure that she is in love with him. That and they forgot about the sunrise.

9:02 AM

"Éponine," her wonderful dream about Gabe is interrupted. "Are you up here?"

Her eyes open quickly as the voice of her sister sounds out, ready to come in and ruin a perfect morning – because it appears Gabe being with her was no dream.

"Wait just a minute," she shouts out, knowing the noise will wake Gabe.

The man in question is stretched out on the blankets, pillows long gone and lying several feet away from them. She sees that his eyes are open, and as she sits up, she notices his eyes following her every move – they are both still naked, but Gabe has managed to at least partly cover himself up with the blanket, while she is completely uncovered.

"I was already awake," he grins boyishly. "I was just admiring the view."

She giggles softly as she puts on her big shirt and yesterday's panties. She then steals the pretty blanket from him, as he has enough clothes to cover himself up, and she does not want her sister to get too suspicious of her – and of him, if she finds him.

"Get dressed," she orders, tossing him his pants.

"Yes dear," he jokes, and complies – after stretching and giving her another glimpse of what she was working with last night. "I know you're going for inconspicuous, but I can tell you that it is not going to work. There are too many hickeys giving you away."

There is no mirror anywhere near her, but she has no reason to disbelieve his words, seeing as some of the skin on her neck and around her collarbone does appear to be very sensitive. Her sister is not stupid at all, and she is going to notice every single hickey that Gabe has left on her skin. But then again, the many hickeys she has left on his skin are bound to be obvious to her sister as well – and she is glad.

"The same goes for you," she is proud of her handiwork.

"This is not over," he promises, watching her walk away from him.

If she does not start moving now, she is never going to be able to walk away from him, for however brief it might be, and they are going to be caught by her sister – and that is not a position she wants to be in. She just has to steel herself and move.

"See you downstairs in a minute," she winks at him over her shoulder.

The brief look of surprise on his face tells her everything that she needs to know – especially when surprise quickly turns to happiness.

"I'm going to miss your lips," she mutters loudly enough for him to hear, feeling only slightly ridiculous. "And everything attached to them."

She is keeping him. The phone call might be the best mistake he ever made.

AN: Aren't they adorable?! Last spoken line is actually from Elizabethtown. Also, the title is from a conversation in that movie, when Claire and Drew wonder who "they" are, when people say "that's what they say".