A/N: For hihiyas at tumblr who prompted me with one of the reunited AUs where the otp is in this situation: "our best friends are dating; you're still the spawn of satan though"

"It's just a fling, I'm telling you."

The tightness in his voice made her look at him. His lips were set in a fine line, as he skimmed through some academic treatise listlessly. Raising a brow, she peered at what he was reading and saw that the paper was entitled Rebel Governance and the Politics of Civil War by Didier Péclard and Delphine Mechoulan from the Swiss Peace Foundation. Crinkling her nose and turning away from him, she shrugged, letting the comfort of the soft beanie bag warm her and take her mind away from hearing Combeferre and Grantaire going at it. They were going to be stuck in the balcony for quite a while until those two stopped fucking.

"You sound as if you're jealous, hmm," Éponine commented lazily, looking at some dormitory pegs she saw posted at Pinterest. "Conscience bugging you this time, Enjolras? Since you turned R down?"

She swore she could feel his blue eyes narrowing at her before it happened, and when it did, the satisfaction of seeing his irritated face made her look at him. True enough, the scowl was apparent in the deep curve of his lips as he breathed through his nose. He appeared to be trying not to let her get to him, but was failing spectacularly.

Oh, he is so easy to annoy, she thought, a smirk already present on her mocking visage.






"I just think that Combeferre is wasting his time with that drunkard, and no amount of 'Change, but with Compassion' arguments by my best friend will change my mind about the propensity of that person to err and use alcohol - a less than stellar way of coping with the fact that I can never return his feelings. So he tried to get it on with my best friend," he retorted, his blue eyes flaring. Gritting his teeth, he moved farther away from Éponine and held his phone more tightly.

She gasped loudly, and smacked his forearm. "What the actual fuck? I really wonder what exactly it is that R saw in you. You must think the sun shines out of your derrière!" Crossing her arms, she couldn't help the venom in her voice as she snarled, "Is that what you think this relationship for him is? You think he's that shallow? Ha! Fucking ha! I pity you, and I pity Combeferre that he has a best friend like you who thinks that way!"

Enjolras stood, putting his phone in his pocket, as he glared at her. "You just don't get it, do you? He drunk-texts me sometimes! I already blocked his number, but for some reason Bahorel thinks it's all right to let him continue doing that!"

The fury Éponine felt for her best friend made her gasp inaudibly as she stared at this fair-haired connard, vitriol making her ball her hands into fists.

"Our best friends are dating for about a year now! I thought you would've changed! But no! You're still the spawn of satan!" she spat tersely as she rose up to meet him, throwing her phone to the beanie bag. A certain spark of electricity crackled in the air, but she ignored it as she matched his fierce stare with one of her own vindictive glares. The kind that says, Bitch, I'm so going to ruin you.

He drew nearer to her, until she could almost feel the wrath that emanated from him with the way he looked at her. "Huh, that's rich coming from you." The usual silkiness of his voice grew raspy as he hissed at her. "You used Montparnasse to get over that booby Marius Pontmercy who chose Cosette Fauchelevent over you. I? Shallow? Look in the mirror, Éponine. Look." The way he said her name made it seem as if he dragged it on a muddy patch of earth and repeatedly stomped on it with gusto.

Her breath shook with anger, and she struggled to compose herself. She stabbed a finger to his white polo-covered chest, and advanced towards him. She ignored, once more, how it was unbuttoned slightly and that if her eyes dropped to that particular area, she would be able to perceive a bit of his skin. That was not the focus, however, and she treaded nearer to him as the hostility in her adenoidal voice became apparent when she harshly retorted, "How dare you bring that up again? I thought we could be friends, but no, monsieur, you fucked us up again. We agreed to have a truce for them, and in that agreement, if I may so remind you, we decided not to bring that up! What's the matter with you? Why are you doing this?!"

"You're such a connard!" she growled, stabbing another finger to his chest.

Enjolras walked towards her rapidly, forcing her to back up to the ledge of the balcony. Éponine swallowed, willing herself not to be afraid of the ferocity of his strides and to stop certain traumatic events from clouding her vision. Brows raising, she taunted him with a laugh. "What's this, huh? Resorting to this level of persuasion?"

"I don't even know why I bother explaining," he responded, and the sudden deadness of his voice alarmed her. He neared her again, and this time, she felt some sweat prickling at the back of her neck as his lips almost touched hers. "I am a demisexual. I know you understand what that means, but I also am biromantic. Grantaire knew these, and he has tried to interact with me a lot of times. But it was all just surface-level conversations. I was too busy and focused with my work to form any sort of bond with him, or anyone else for that matter. In the end, when he confessed, I just could not return it. After that, he drunk more. I tried to talk to him about that. But no - the man is a sceptic to a fault. So I asked Combeferre to help, being the reasonable man that he was, and what did R do? He kissed Combeferre, who was too kind of a person to push him away! So do forgive me for thinking that their relationship will end badly and shortly."

Éponine grabbed his collar, and saw his eyes flash with something undecipherable to her at the moment. Heat. She filed it away for later, as she shot back, "Let them try! For fuck's sake, Enjolras! Didn't it ever occur to you that maybe it started as a rebound, but evolved to something real? Huh? Is that not something to check out first? Shouldn't you not judge them for trying to heal together?"

Enjolras neared her again, and a certain swooping sensation in her stomach almost weakened her knees as her eyes suddenly drifted to his lips. She briefly noted how plumped it was, until she realised where her thoughts were going, and it made her stand erect immediately. What the actual fuck? she thought, her grip tightening on his collars.

"I'll have you know that I have," he scoffed, and he turned his head away for a bit as he put his hands on the railings beside her arms. She stilled for a bit, but shrugged it away as his fair curls caressed her cheeks. He didn't appear to realise how Éponine released a deep breath as she eased her hold on him, and she noticed the way his shoulders stooped lowly.

Fighting with Enjolras drained a lot out of her. It frustrated her a lot because she really wanted to keep trying to befriend him. He was difficult, but his honesty and sincerity always managed to level her tenacious personality. She also treasured the way he held her sometimes when she cried, especially when her brother died. On that doleful day, he had looked at the way shadows were present below her eyes and simply put a hand to her waist to lightly beckon her to him. A sob whimpered out of her lips, and he took her in his arms, embracing her fully. He was quiet, even as he tried to pretend that he didn't drop a kiss to her hair. But she felt its warmth, and it was enough to lessen the weight in her chest.

In the end, they made quite a pair of friends, and she treasured his friendship, so having this kind of discussion with him stung.

Nonetheless, she agreed that even she herself found Combeferre and Grantaire's relationship odd at first, but when she saw the gradual change and desire for redemption in her best friend, she relented. It finally made sense. Combeferre was always so understanding and caring towards him, and she guessed that was why they worked so well.

If only Enjolras would stop being so stubborn, he would see this kind of reasoning, but it would probably take more time. It was nice that he was incorruptible, but sometimes, this made him dogmatic when it came to people whom he perceived were not as steadfast as he was towards their goals in life.

Eyeing him from the corner of her lids, she saw how firm the curve was forming on his lips. Mirroring his frown, she felt her eyes tear up a bit. It always sucked when they fought. She bowed her head in exhaustion, feeling the argument deflate within her.

"I just wish that people would understand -" he began again, facing her as she was raising her head, and accidentally met her lips in a kiss.

The silence in the night grew more immense, and the two found themselves stuck in the position as they stared at each other in interest. His blue eyes flickered as she felt her eyes widen at the contact.

A certain lightness thrummed within her heart as a rather peculiar feeling of serenity filled her whole being.

Éponine blinked, and was about to move her mouth away to scream at him when he jolted away from her, his hands grasping her waist in an attempt to break his fall. But that was not to be, and so they began the quick descent towards the ground in the balcony.

Quite clumsily, she would say, as he fell to the floor and dragged her with him in a PLOP, his back meeting the beanie bags. Her head lay on his chest, and Enjolras grunted from the slight ache. She felt a bit winded, but she continued to stay still so she would not make it worse before looking up at him. His eyes were focused towards the night-time sky, and she noted that his cheeks were incarnadine from embarrassment.

"It really had to come to this," Enjolras muttered to himself, his voice low, and she became aware of his hands on her waist once more. A line of warmth spread itself across her visage as she processed what his statement probably meant. Maybe it would finally clarify the reasons she has been making up in her head to avoid fighting with him.

There was a reason why she was known for her veracity, as well, though, so she rose up a bit by putting her hands by the sides of his head. She bit her lip and tried to resist the urge to slide her fingers through his curls. It was just so near to touch, and she found herself aching with the desire to do it.

I want to finish that kiss, her traitorous mind whispered, and she mentally nodded in agreement. She just wants to know something first.

"Are you saying that you're in love with me, Enjolras? Or something, hmm?" she challenged, eyeing him as he closed his lids before opening them to meet her gaze.

She felt his hands curl at the small of her back, and it was a while before he responded clearly. "I suspected it already, and I'm not ashamed of it, really. But I don't know about you. You are so hard to read sometimes."

Éponine rolled her eyes, sliding her fingers to his blonde curls and watching his eyes flutter at her touch. "Say it," she demanded, straddling him suddenly, not at all minding that her emerald dress drew up and showed him a bit of a peek of what's down there. If he did, that is. Well, she's not wearing anything. She's in their apartment, so to hell with social conventions. It was freer that way.

A low moan escaped his lips, the raw desire present in the hoarseness of his voice. All the same, it did not deter him from quipping, "What do you want? For me to quote Victor Hugo's love letter for Adele Foucher in 1821?"

She moved her hips above his denims, and smirked as she felt something rise beneath her. "No, I want you," she teased, "but tell me, anyway."

Rolling his eyes, Enjolras decided that they could play this game together and cupped her arse before squeezing it. She hummed with approval.

Do that again, please, she found herself wishing, and it must have shown on her face as a smirk found its way on his lips. He regarded her with heavily lidded eyes before he relented.

"Fine," he said, amused as he watched her sigh happily when he caressed her buttocks through her dress before gripping it tightly. "He wrote to her: 'This union is love – genuine, complete love, such as few men can imagine. It is a love which is a religion, since the object of love is regarded as a divinity, with all the devotion and affection which turn the greatest sacrifices into the sublimest joys. Such a love you inspire in me, and such a love you will someday feel for me, although to my sorrow you do not feel it now. Your soul is incapable of an angelic love. It may be, therefore, that only an angel can inspire such a love'."

Éponine knew it was romantic, so it turned her on a bit. Words just sounded so good when it came from his lips. It was just so fucking hot. Fucking. That was it. They need to fuck.

Stretching her body a bit, she raised a brow, a fond curl forming on her lips. "Cool. I'm on the pill. Wanna fuck?"

Under the moonlight, his blue eyes darkened with pleasure. He placed a finger beneath her breast, tracing its path gently. The thinness on her dress made the gesture satisfyingly sweet and arousing, and she shivered as he asked, "Already, Éponine?"

"Well, in case, you're blind, I have been rather in love with you, too. We could talk about feelings later, though," she said in a blasé tone, a fond curl on her lips. The way her heart swelled, however, told her that it was the opposite of that. Nothing about Enjolras was. But she did not want to be eloquent right now because the heat starting pool in her stomach was making her sweat with anticipation.

"So yeah, wanna fuck or just dry hump?" No one ever did say that she wasn't shy from blurting out what she wants. "I firmly believe that you and I will find the former more... enjoyable."

"Why do I find your crassness appealing?" The playful lilt in his tone made her smile unabashedly as she gazed at him.

But of course, she has to balance the floating feeling with her candidness. "You're supposedly in love with me, so yeah, naturally, you would find everything I do appealing."

His chuckle widened into an all-out smile, as he murmured her name softly and stroked her arm tenderly.

Grinning at his ministrations, Éponine moved away from him for a bit before she unbuckled his belt, put his fly down, and released his cock from the tightness of his underpants. Stroking the length of it, she gripped it and put the whole damn thing in her mouth. She did this while he stared, his surprise giving way to excited and satisfied moans.

"Éponine," he whispered lowly, his fingers slipping through the ends of her hair.

Convinced that his dick was wet enough, she stood up a bit and lifted her skirt up, letting his eyes see underneath her dress.

"Y-you're not wearing anything beneath that?" he spluttered, his voice cracking a bit as his hands caressed her thighs.

"How astute of you, Enjolras," she sassed, placing herself above him until his pole was just a hair's breath away from her throbbing centre.

Enjolras grabbed her suddenly and entered her smoothly in her stupefaction. He pounded on her rapidly until she was panting and feeling herself slowly being taken apart. She gasped as he squeezed her breasts through the thinness of her garment.

A fond curl formed on his lips as he put a finger to play with her clitoris. Upon circling it, she shivered, and he laughed as he continued to thrust within her. He repeated all these ministrations until he felt her quiver and collapse on him. He dropped a kiss on her head, and slid a finger by her spine. He heard her sigh in contentment. It did not matter that he was not able to release. Yet.

"You are so terrible," she muttered fondly, exhausted but still not moving away from their position. She fingered the buttons on his polo, admiring the way it set his blonde curls to focus.

"I am," he acquiesced, threading her hair with his fingers. "Wanna keep fucking? Or do you want to talk more about this?"

"Neither. I just want to lay down here for a bit with you," she responded, finally releasing his dick from within her. He let her help him dress himself silently, and when they were done, he took her to his arms and let her lips stay on his neck.

"How long do you think have they been fucking?" he asked, tracing a line on her collarbone.

Éponine hummed, greatly satisfied with his affectionate gesture. "Ugh. I don't give a fuck anymore. It's been so long."

"It's good that it's still summer, then. If it's winter, fucking outdoors is a bad idea."

"I'm of half a mind to try that."

Enjolras laughed into the night, and pressed his lips upon hers once more.

A/N: The title is inspired from the song "Goodnight Moon" by Shivaree. It's such an amazing song, guys! All the noir feels and stuff like that. Also, Rebel Governance and the Politics of Civil War by Didier Péclard and Delphine Mechoulan from the Swiss Peace Foundation is a legitimate piece of work. If you're into that kind of stuff, I can send that treatise. Nonetheless, do tell me what you guys think! ^_^