a/n: prompt fill for 4horsesatetheworld over on tumblr. the prompt being "backpacking trip".

lay in it - les misêrables - modern au - enjolras x éponine
a series of vignettes as enjolras and éponine backpack across europe

"You don't actually know anything."

"I know plenty of 'things'. I have more than a few excellent marks that could attest to that fact."

"Letters on papers, rich boy. They don't mean shit. What have you even seen?"

lessons learned from experience will never be forgotten

She watched him get jacked in the face at a bar in Barcelona.

Seeing him try to shout broken Spanish over the music was painful, if a little funny. The bartender seemed to be contentious from the beginning, all arched eyebrows and pursed lips.

Enjolras finally moved to hand gestures. Which may or may not have pissed off the bartender more, but at least he seemed closer to getting their beers. The bartender nodding in agreement, Enjolras sighed with a smile, lifting up his hand to give the surly guy behind the bar the "ok" sign.

Suddenly the man began yelling fast and loud, spitting furiously with each vowel. Éponine grabbed Enjolras' arm in a frantic attempt to end the altercation before it began. She wasn't so lucky.

And neither was Enjolras. The bartender's rabbit punch landed the refined college student on the floor, more from shock than actual power.

Éponine was able to push him out the door before the bouncers did. Or the big bald men who she assumed were the bouncers. She pressed her hand against his inflamed jaw and tried her damnedest to stifle her laughter.

"Goddamnit!" The curse sounded odd on his pristine tongue. "I can't believe you threw away my traveller's guide book!"

not everything should be explained

She witnessed him completely speechless looking over La Cité in Carcassonne.

The blue color of the late afternoon sky began to blend with the deep purples of the night, a watercolor painting in progress. They sat shaded under a tree. She leaned against his left shoulder as she picked away at what remained of their purchases for the day, a creamy hunk of fresh goat cheese and some sausage. A fruitful day at the market. They both seemed to be better at speaking rudimentary French than Spanish.

Enjolras, on the other hand, was trying desperately to chisel dried mud off his sneakers.

"Stop." She said quietly. "Look over there."

Through the field, they looked back the walled village. The stone walls wound around the hill, weaving into witch-hat peaked towers that pricked the sky, as if to free the stars that began to pepper the night. A thin fog coated the bottom in what could only be described as magic. Secrets shrouded in history and encased in stone. Solid, strong, and beautiful; a fairy tale live and in color.

His mouth began to work, attempting in vain to form words. Eventually his voice caught up, but not his mind. "I- I can… It-" Finally a sigh. "I don't know what to s-"

It was too perfect of a moment to not kiss him. She captured his mouth with her own, soothing his stuttering tongue and reveling in the surprised hesitation before he returned the favor.

Without completely removing her lips from his, she whispered: "Then don't say anything."

some people don't want your help

She stopped him from getting mugged in an alley in Amsterdam.

Obviously he never listens to her. When she told him not to wander away, he didn't listen. Of course he thought he knew better.

Blonde hair glinted in the street light when he fell to the ground. Hard. With a yelp. Two women loomed over him while a third made a dive for his once immaculate green backpack.

All it took was for her to yell at them. A strong and inescapable "Hey!". The kind that starts at the back of your throat and explodes in the air like rubber bullets.

They lit off into the night without a sound. Enjolras scooped up his backpack and rubbed his palm over his face.

She reached out her hand and he gripped it tight. "I saw that woman being assaulted." Dejection laced through his words. "I just wanted to tell her that I could corroborate her story to the officials."

sometimes you just have to lay in it

She stole a sideways glace of him sleeping while on a train from Munich to Prague.

His head was tipped back against the partition, arms tucked under his armpits. Adam's apple moving ever so slightly with each soft snore. Backpack shoved between his feet on the floor. Glasses smudged beyond recognition.

"What?" he asked, one blue eye sliding open. "Staring at someone while they sleep is quite creepy. In any culture. I assume you know that."

Éponine debated telling him that she was just soaking in the sight of a marble statue that looked like a Raggedy Andy doll. Comfortably, she might add.

But she didn't.

and for God's sake, let loose every once and a while

She caught him kicking cans with kids through a street market in Naples.

You could hardly tell his hair was such a brilliant blonde, the way it was plastered against his sunburnt forehead. He wiped sweat from his eyes, leaving a grubby smudge across his brow.

Five or six young children circled his legs, their laughter rising in the sweltering marketplace, crawling towards the sky. A little leg would kick a busted up old aluminum can and the rest would chase it. They would look to him and point to a far corner of the market, excitedly chattering in their own poetic language, clearly asking the tall man to send the can far away. When he he did, they would run hard, giggles and shouts trailing as they went.

Eventually, the endless energy of the children eclipsed his own. He bent over, bracing his hands on his knees, out of breath and smiling and beautiful.

Who needed Apollo when they could have this?

"So. You think you know a few things now?"

"Enough to know that there are things I don't know."

"Then I guess that makes you a pretty smart guy."