a/n: prompt fill for grantaires-fangirl over on Tumblr, the prompt being 'school'.

sounds like a personal problem - a modern au enjolras x éponine drabble

They only took one class together. It was History 3110: England Through the Glorious Revolution, which they took when Éponine was in her final year of undergrad and Enjolras was beginning the second year of his Master's degree track.

She, of course, needed another humanities credit and he, of course, just needed an elective.

("You're taking it as an elective? Why don't you take something fun, like a bowling class?" She asks, with a bemused frown. He looks taken aback. "What could be more fun than listening to an entire semester about the shortcomings of the monarchy?")

He wanted to sit right up front and she wanted to sit in the very back corner, but they were late more often than not, so they were always stuck in the abandoned back row by themselves.

("I'm not going to class without a coffee. It's too early." He grabs her by the elbow and jerks her into the nearest café. "It's 9 o'clock in the afternoon. That is not early." She slips his wallet out of his pocket to pay and proclaims: "It is 9 o'clock in the AM. That means this is the morning.")

Enjolras always answered even the simplest of class discussion questions in his eloquent, long-winded way, which usually earned his an eye roll from his girlfriend. She, however, amused him to no end with her terribly blunt, and always spot on, observations.

But Enjolras was also a religious notetaker. Every bit of information was jotted down in his pristine spiral notebook with his perfectly legible block handwriting. Éponine, on the other hand, would start out the lecture scrawling notes with the best of intentions and then completely forget to write down anything past the twenty minute mark.

Not that their professor wasn't fascinating, because she was. She able to weave a tapestry of history that was entertaining and informative, lectures that left Enjolras quietly breathless and throughly captivated.

And Éponine wasn't any less captivated, she just preferred something called "enhanced active lecture learning", which Enjolras was completely certain she invented herself. Because all it meant was that every three seconds she was gabbing about something that the professor had said, or drawing lewd cartoons of King William on his immaculate notes. The only response he would give was a shake of his head and an audible exhale, which she knew as Enjolras Code for 'silently perturbed'.

Eventually she grew tired of trying to get his attention that way and would rub her palm on his thigh, only to have her nimble fingers instantly snatched up in his large hands then steered back into her own lap. All of which he would do without even looking up from his notes.

("I'm learning, Éponine." Then she shakes her head in a confused way. "Me too.")

Only once was she able to catch him off guard, trailing her fingers down his side and into the waistband of his jeans. He twitched for just a second and muttered to her to stop tickling him, he was busy for God's sake. Éponine of course pounced on the opportunity and unzipped his pants with deftness that only comes from practice.

The second she wrapped her hand around his cock he let out a strangled cry, which he followed by slamming his fist into the desk and dissolving into a fake coughing fit.

When the classroom turned their attention back to the front of the classroom, Enjolras seized her wrist, his face blazing red, and gave her a funny look.

It was bewilderment, she decided later. It was the first and last time she ever saw that look in his eyes.

("Get out of there!" "Out of whe-" "You know exactly where, knock it-" "Enjolras, I think you need to ca-" "What is your problem!?" "What problem? Do you have a problem, dear?" "Your hands are in my pants-" "Sounds like a personal problem to-")

"Is there a problem?" The two looked back out into the classroom to see the professor raising her eyebrows at them. Éponine retracted her hand from his jeans and mumbled back a few words about how everything was fine. Enjolras rambled on without eloquence about, like, a bee or wasp or something.

As soon as the class the was over, Enjolras placed his hand on the back of her neck and guided her into a janitors closet, where he flipped the lock shut and stripped her from the waist down. He then got down on his knees before hiking one of her legs over his shoulder and shoving his eloquent tongue inside of her.

Just as she was whimpering his name in the sultry was that she does and about to peak, he withdrew, pulled her underwear back up her legs, and stood up. He straightened his glasses as she stared back at him in… well. She supposed it was bewilderment.

("You're not just going to- you… You can't just do that. It's not fair," she pants. He picks his messenger bag back up off the floor. "Sounds like a personal problem to me, dear.")

They never took a class together again.