It was a mistake. A big one. He'd let himself forget who he was, who she was, for a second. For a minute. For a good - and very hot - thirty minutes, as they made out against the alley wall.

Enjolras stared blankly at the laptop in front of him, something he'd often found himself doing since he'd last seen her two weeks previously. Éponine had gotten under his skin. He'd never acted so recklessly and passionately... he'd never wanted to before she came along.

A cough roused him from his daydream. Enjolras looked to the empty doorway before turning to the open window.

Éponine.

She smiled awkwardly, one hand raised in greeting, "May I?"

He nodded, moving around the papers on his desk just to have something to do with his shaking hands. Why was he shaking? He wasn't nervous, even if Éponine did completely unnerve him.

The girl sank into her old chair, dropping her black messenger bag on the floor with a clunk. Enjolras opened his mouth, only to be stopped with look.

"Before you say anything, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry I haven't been around much. We're friends and I've been avoiding you for the past few weeks. After I... uh... pushed you away, I thought it might be best, but yesterday I realised that was stupid, so I'm here," Éponine exhaled, her prepared speech finished. "That said, what's your opinion of the extent of despotism in 15th century Florence? I've been reading and whilst there's much evidence to support it beginning with Cosimo, historiographically I prefer the argument that Lorenz-"

Enjolras kissed her sweetly. He pulled back, resting his forehead against Éponine's, "You know, I think you talk too much."

"I think you talk too much."

"I can make you stop talking."

"Can you, Professor?"

He chuckled before pulling her back against him, "Oh, yes."

Two hours later, they were picking up the papers that had formerly littered Enjolras' desk from the ground. His desk would never be the same, would never unsee what it had seen when he made Éponine stop talking.

"You never did tell me what the other thing your friend mentioned was..."

Enjolras straightened, returning the scattered papers to a small pile on the desk, and didn't meet her eyes. She sat in his chair, wearing only his shirt and her underwear, and smirked.

"I told them I thought you were attractive... and I'd... entertained thoughts about you."

Éponine burst out laughing but stood, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"If you're going to be my boyfriend, Professor, you might have to work on not being so touchy about telling your girlfriend how you feel about her," she pressed a kiss to his jaw, her hands trailing down his bare chest. "You might also want to tell your girlfriend, which is what you told me to call myself a good hour ago, that you think she's absolutely brilliant and pretty and the best sex you've ever had on your desk..."

"You're the only sex I've ever had on this desk."

She looked at him pointedly.

"You're brilliant and beautiful," Enjolras whispered, his lips very close to hers. "And what do you think about me?"

"Oh, you're alright, I suppose."

"Just alright?"

"Mhmmm."

"Well, I may just have to show you that I'm better than alright."

"If you must, Professor..."

"Are you ever going to stop calling me that?"

"Nope."