A/N Okay, I've had this buzzing around in my head for a while but it's taken me until now to get it onto (metaphorical) paper. This is my first attempt at a song fic, and also my first attempt at a harsher Eponine. If you would be so kind, reviews would not go unappreciated.
Anyways, hope you enjoy this!
The song is Always a Woman to Me by Billy Joel. I do not own it, just as I do not own Les Miserables.
She can kill with a smile; she can wound with her eyes. She can ruin your faith with her casual lies. And she only reveals what she wants you to see. She hides like a child, but she's always a woman to me.
One of the things that Julien Enjolras always prided himself on was his ability to read people. He could discover so much more about a person by sitting and watching them, rather than engaging in mind numbing small talk, finding that every person gave away details about themselves without even realizing. He could sum up a person and their character within a few minutes of meeting them.
That was until he met Eponine Thenardier and he found himself at a complete loss. Every message she gave off would be turned on its head by the next one. Every detail contradicted itself. She said she didn't care about politics, said she preferred to leave it to bossy rich boys with nothing else better to do, then tore his speech on benefits for the underprivileged to shreds, smiling as she did so.
Her smile hid words that stung like thorns and her eyes flitted from emotion to emotion so fast it left his head spinning. Yet at the end of the evening, when everyone else had gone and he was sat alone with only an unconscious Grantaire for company, he realized that despite her cutting words and her street smart attitude, she also had a vulnerability about her that, once again, was a contradiction to the rest of her.
Oh, she takes care of herself. She can wait if she wants, she's ahead of her time
The rally ended badly, with the police called in a few of the more violent protestors being arrested. Enjolras always felt so frustrated whenever this happened, knowing that violence would turn many people against the message the group was trying to spread. Because of this, he always ensured that none of the Amis ever got involved, no matter how tempting it was to cause a ruckus, a fact Bahorel did not appreciate.
So when he caught sight of Eponine nursing a split lip, a bloodied nose and a set of well used knuckles, he took his frustrations of the day out on her, despite knowing it wasn't very fair of him.
"If this is how you are going to behave at our rallies, as the leader of this group I can forbid you to come with us!"
After he had finished shouting, ranting, and snarling, she simply quirked an eyebrow at him as she stood.
"I can take care of myself, Apollo, I know my way around a street brawl."
He huffed out a breath in frustration. Had she genuinely misunderstood him? Or was she trying to wind him up? If it was the latter, it was working.
"At the risk of sounding callous, Eponine, I am not particularly worried about you. I am more worried about how it reflects on our group as a whole when one of our members is seen fighting the police when we stand for peaceful change. If you wish to continue as a member of this group, you will have to follow the rules and guidelines that the rest of us follow. By acting as you did today, not only do you risk your own wellbeing, but also the reputation of the group."
Her eyes narrowed. "Well we wouldn't want to tarnish the name of 'the group' now would we?" she snapped, the fire rising in her dark eyes, "Fine, I quit the group. Now I'm no longer your problem." She turned on her heel and stalked away, long dark hair catching the chilly breeze, leaving Enjolras fuming and strangely disappointed that he would never see her again at meetings. Who would he argue with over pointless topics now? He was somewhat surprised when he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder as Bahorel punched him. "What was that for?"
"She wasn't fighting the police. She was beating the shit out of the some arsehole who was laying into Jehan." Another punch. "The meetings will be boring again without her."
"She didn't tell me!" he protested an uncomfortable feeling rising within him.
"You didn't give her the chance," Combeferre said from where he was tending to a bruised and bloodied Jehan. His friend's voice was soft, but held a note of accusation that prodded at the uncomfortable feeling of guilt slithering around under his ribs.
Oh and she never gives out. And she never gives in, she just changes her mind
He was surprised to say the least when she turned up at her usual time for the meeting (ten minutes late) the next week. He was also slightly pleased but he told himself it was only because he could stop feeling guilty now. "I thought you quit?" his tone was sharp and he internally winced. He really could be a jackass couldn't he?
She didn't seem to notice his tone, simply smirking and stealing a drink off Grantaire, "I changed my mind."
"So, do you agree to my conditions to stay? No more fighting at rallies?" He could see the face Combeferre was pulling at him, saying he should be apologizing, but chose to ignore it.
"No, I don't agree," Her voice was as cool as his had been, "I've simply revised my personal guidelines."
For the first time, he allowed himself to chuckle at her gutsy attitude and was relieved to see her smile slightly in return. The rest of the room didn't know what to make of it.
She will promise you more than the garden of Eden.
The first time she kisses him, it catches him completely off guard. One minute they're sitting at his table in the back corner of the café, talking over the meeting after everyone else had gone, and the next all he can feel is her slightly chapped lips on his and her hands buried in his hair.
For a moment he doesn't react, shocked into stillness, but apparently his limbs work faster than his brain, as he pulls her up so that he is standing and she is sat on the table in front of him, one leg on either side of his waist.
He feels her smile slightly against his lips, chuckling gently at the groan that tears its way out of him, before she starts another assault upon his mouth. This time his is ready though and matches her move for move, nipping, sucking and nibbling in response. She tastes like a forbidden fruit that, up until then, he had been denied.
After a few minutes of this heaven (which actually feels more like hours to him) she pulls away, gives him a light peck on the cheek, then strolled out of the café with nothing more than a devilish smirk in way of farewell.
Okay, now he is really confused.
Then she'll carelessly cut you and laugh while you're bleeding.
This confusion turns to anger when he finds her wrapped tongue to tonsils with some creep in the alley behind the Musain a few weeks later. When she sees him standing there, she isn't embarrassed, she simply unhooks her legs from around the man's waist and makes to stroll back into the café. Before she reaches the door, he grabs her arm, trying to ignore the way she flinches in momentary fear, and all but hisses at her, "What the hell was that?"
"A make out session, Apollo, you know, like we had a few weeks back?" she smirks as he glares at her, the smirk only getting wider as she realises what his reaction is about, "Aww, is Enjy jealous?"
He drops her arm as if burned and mutters something saying of course he wasn't jealous and he was only worried about her as a friend.
She moulds herself up against him, tugging gently at the soft hairs at the base of his neck, "Did you really think you were the only one, Apollo?" He pushes her away upon hearing her words but she takes the rejection in her stride.
"You may be a god, but you're also marble. Marble looks pretty, but it doesn't warm the bed at night," she tosses the cutting comment over her shoulder at him, but freezes when she hears his next words, words that are uncharacteristically vulnerable.
"But even gods require love."
She doesn't respond.
But she'll bring out the best and the worst you can be. Blame it all on yourself 'cause she's always a woman to me
As much as she irritates him, confuses him, and even occasionally slips past the marble façade with her sharp words, she is good for him.
After the little talk they had in the alley, she seemed gentler, less acerbic, more engaged with the group as a whole and not just him. She encouraged him to speak from the heart, to speak to the people instead of at them.
She is still fiery and frustrating though, knowing how to poke and prod at his temper until he snaps. Twice the outburst ended with him punching a wall. The other time, when they were alone, it ended in another make out session. He can't keep away from her, because despite her hurtful words, her mixed signals, her inability to trust, he is beginning to piece her together. He is beginning to understand. His is beginning to see past her façade, just as she sees past his, and see the clever, passionate, and brave woman that hides behind the sarcasm and the anger.
She can lead you to love, she can take you or leave you.
When he asks her out for a date the first time, she laughs in his face, not realising that he spotted the moment of surprise fear and longing that flew through her eyes before she put on her mask.
The reaction the second, third, and fourth times are similar though less pronounced. The fifth time (he is nothing if not determined) she sighs slightly, hooks her arm through his and says in a long suffering tone, "If it gets you off my back."
She can ask for the truth, but she'll never believe you.
In fact, she ends up on her back, laid out under a flawless night sky, stargazing.
"Do you actually care about me?"
Her question is blunt and once again she catches him off guard. Had he not been obvious enough already? Damn, he knew he should have taken Jehan's advice about the poetry! Taking a chance and a deep breath, he says, "I care more about you than anything else in the world."
She shifts so that she is on her side with her head pillowed on his arm and gives him a sad smile, "No you don't."
And she'll take what you give her as long it's free.
"I don't want your money, sir!" she spits at him, her defiance completely at odds with her underweight physique, "I don't want to be in you debt. Debt does nasty things to people."
"Take the food then!" he replies, exasperated and very worried. He hasn't seen her since their date under the stars and has been fretting about her wellbeing for weeks. The amount of weight she has lost and bruises she has gained in that time do not help to ease that worry.
"No!" she insists, battling against the grip he has on her forearm, "I'm not a charity case!"
"Oh for the love of…," he releases her arm and, surprisingly, she doesn't run away, "You can't have it both ways, 'Ponine! You can't insist you don't want to be a charity case, but refuse to accept the money as a loan!"
She reacts slightly at his use of her nickname but says nothing.
"This," he gestures to the bag of food he carries, "is not charity. This is a me trying to help someone I care very deeply about! Now take the goddamn food!"
He doesn't know if it is his inadvertent declaration or that she realises he's not going to give up, but she takes the food.
Yeah, she steals like a thief, but she's always a woman to me.
Somehow, feeding her occasionally turns into her crashing on his sofa some nights, which in turn becomes her rooming with him.
This is mostly because of the time she came back to his apartment beaten black and blue from her boyfriend's fists. After that, he said she was never seeing the bastard again and that he would go with her to collect her stuff so she could move in with him.
Surprisingly, she made no argument which was a statement in itself of how bad the relationship had gone and how desperate she was.
It was one evening, when she had stolen the remote off him and put on some ridiculous romantic film that had her crying by the end, that he muses about how she has somehow managed to sneak into his life and his heart with such ease.
She's frequently kind and she's suddenly cruel.
She was sat on his lap, carding her fingers through his hair and occasionally nibbling on his neck, knowing he had had a bad day the moment he stepped through the door.
"I still mean what I said that time." She stilled at his quiet words, remembering his declaration under the stars. He pulled away to look into her face, "I want to be with you Eponine, I want you to be mine." Her face was unreadable as she hurriedly stood up from his lap and moved into the kitchen. He followed her.
"I know things ended badly for you with Montparnasse, but I'm nothing like him, you know that…"
Her expression is one of fury, but now he can see the fear and uncertainty hiding behind the anger stamped onto her features.
"Why do you have to ruin things! Why can't we just stay friends, it's simpler!"
"Oh, so friends regularly kiss each other senseless, do they? I don't know quite what we are. We're more than 'just friends', we're not together, and we're just toeing the line of friends with benefits. What are we Eponine? What do you want us to be?" he circles the table and heads towards her, his voice low and calm.
"I hate you!" she hisses out, flinching away from his offered hand.
"That isn't going to work with me, Eponine. You're scared, I understand that, but please," he reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, glad that she was finally listening to him, "don't run away from this. Don't run away from me."
She doesn't answer him with words. Instead, she launches herself at him, wrapping her legs around his waist and bringing her mouth firmly down onto his.
She can do as she pleases, she's nobody's fool.
"Just because we're now together doesn't mean you're in charge," she glares at him from her place in the crook of his shoulder.
He snorts ironically, "Oh, of course not."
"Don't laugh at me."
"I'm not."
"If I want to do something, I'm not always going to come to you for approval. I'm a grown woman."
"Just as long as you give me fair warning if it will impact me. Like the time you decide to paint the apartment and moved all of my schoolwork the night before my assignment was due."
She grinned as she scrambled out of bed, "Courfeyrac still has the photo I took of your face as his screensaver." She sashayed towards the bathroom, "Oh, and don't try to hide presents from me. It just clutters up the back of the wardrobe."
He stretched languidly, "Okay…wait, how did you know?!"
And she can't be convicted, she's earned her degree.
"Don't try and bend my words!" he shouts. Their first real couple fight is unconventional, just like the rest of their relationship. He brought up the topic of moving to a larger apartment. She is now accusing him of wanting her to leave.
"What is there to bend? You don't want me here anymore, that much is obvious!"
"Oh, course I want you here, I LOVE YOU!" His confession renders them speechless, a fairly impressive feat in itself. Then, she smiles, like the sun appearing from behind the clouds, before closing the space between them to give him a gentle kiss, "I know. I just wanted to hear you say it out loud."
He wonders if he will ever get one step ahead of her and rapidly decides no.
And the most she will do is throw shadows at you. But she's always a woman to me
Her past is dark and plagued with insecurities. He is uncertain, still new to the tangled wonder that is a relationship, but he is determined. She doesn't trust easily, not even with him, so it takes two years of her dodging, weaving, and changing the subject before she says yes.
The wedding is simple but so filled with her that he never wants the day to end. All of their friends are there and even his parents make the effort to attend, even if they don't approve of his choice of wife. He couldn't care less about what his parents think because all he can focus on is her, every irritating, wonderful, vulnerable, feisty, beautiful, crazy, irrational, brave, and kind part of her. His wife.
He sits in quiet contentment as Courfeyrac sends the room into hysterics with his best man's speech, committing every moment to memory. The way her face lights up as she laughs, her fingers lightly intertwined with his where they lay atop her thigh. No longer does she have to be untouchable, unbreakable, and alone. She has him now.
He raises her hand to his lips on a whim, secretly pleased at the surprise and tenderness that flashes across her face. She leans in to whisper in his ear, her breath ghosting across his skin.
"I can't promise it will be easy," she murmurs, "and I can't promise you will always want to love me."
He gives her a pointed look and insists that will be impossible but she shushes him gently.
"But no matter what happens, no matter where we go, I just want you to know that I love you with every atom of my existence." Her eyes are warm and full of affection and he knows that she is never going to be a person so say those words often so he simply kisses her.
He doesn't care about the catcalls and shouts of approval from the wonderful group of lunatics he calls his friends. He doesn't care what others may think of her. She is his and he is hers.
That is all that really matters.
A/N I wasn't quite sure how to end it but was relatively happy with what I came up with.
In other news, I AM GOING TO SEE LES MISERABLES IN THE WEST END ON SATURDAY! I have been dreaming of this since I first found what Les Miserables was and now I AM REALLY GOING! It's a present to me for doing so well in my first year at college (I came out with a predicted grade for next year of AA*A*) and so me, my mum, my grandma and my little sister are going to see it, and I AM FREAKING OUT WITH EXCITEMENT!