Eponine fingered the dress that Montparnasse had given her. "Only the best for my lady," he had said, but Eponine could see the dress had a blood stain at the back of the bodice. 'Parnasse had probably mooched it from one of his victims. But Eponine hardly minded. The dress kept her warmer than she would be in just her torn clothes in the cold clutches of winter.

Her father always ordered her to suck up to 'Parnasse, as a way to butter up to Patron-Minette, which Eponine had protested to at first but she truthfully did not mind all that much. Montparnasse was good-looking with his shiny black curls and rosy lips. And sometimes, when they were together, she could fool herself into thinking that someone loved her.

Of course, after she had donned on the dress, 'Parnasse remarked that she looked ugly in it. But he was always saying things like that, and Eponine never felt that the word stung. She was called worse things by other people anyway: slut, filth, shit. She'd heard it all. But she didn't think 'Parnasse meant what he said. He kept her around, didn't he? There must be something appealing about her that he never attempted to slit her neck (though he did threaten before), and that he could hold her without retching (though he was always complaining about the lice in her hair). 'Parnasse always made her feel befuddled.

"Why'd you give me the dress, 'Parnasse?" Eponine queried, looking him in the eye. Though many would cower at the man's piercing gaze and statuesque height, Eponine was never afraid of him. She never felt that he would hurt her.

"So you wouldn't dirty my bed with all your grime," Montparnasse responded apathetically.

Eponine appeared as if she was in deep thought for a moment, then asked, "Why d'you keep me 'round?"

"Because no one else will keep a slut like you around. Foul rubbish like you are repulsive. Hear that 'Ponine? You repulse me. You should be grateful that I let you near me," Montparnasse retorted, smirking. 'Parnasse himself was not sure why he kept her around, and it irritated him sometimes.

"Bet you'll miss me if I was gone," Eponine replied, looking at him through her lashes, ignoring what 'Parnasse had said. She pouted her lips like she'd seen all the lovely ladies do and fancied she looked attractive. But those tainted with poverty do not easily achieve beauty.

"I wouldn't," 'Parnasse swiftly replied, but kissed her all the same.

It was not love, but at least it was a relationship that both could fool themselves into thinking it was.

Author's Note: My first time writing 'Ponine/'Parnasse! :D I like 'em better than Eponine/Enjolras pleasedon'tshootme. I would really appreciate reviews. Oh, and Victor Hugo owns Les Miserables, not me.