Work Text:
Grantaire was sitting on the fire escape outside the spectacularly shady apartment building in which he happened to live, breathing in the fumes of the city and smoking – or getting some fresh air as he liked to call it. It was a cold night, first hints of winter already present in the air. He was gazing idly at the sky, trying to distinguish constellations with little success, as the street lights drowned out any possible hint of starlight. So Grantaire stared at the moon instead, breathing out smoke and steam and pulling the sleeves of his hoodie down to cover his hands. He stubbed what was left of his cigarette on the wall of the building and was just about to get back inside when he heard raised voices from the alleyway beneath him.
The alley was very narrow, squeezed between the shady apartment building and an even shadier bar, and it was frequented only by drug-dealers and intoxicated couples stumbling out of the bar in search of something resembling privacy. This time there seemed to be a whole group of people crowding the alley, and Grantaire leaned over the railing, curious to see what was going on. He was too high up to see or hear much, and so he quietly climbed down the fire escape stairs until he was close enough to the ground to properly observe the situation. From what he could tell, the situation in question seemed to consist of a young girl being cornered by a group of men of varying ages. Not an uncommon sight in these parts of town, but already from a brief moment of observation Grantaire could tell this wasn’t your usual attacking-a-helpless-young-girl-in-an-alley –scenario. For one, the girl being cornered wouldn’t stop throwing insults and witty comebacks at the men who had her cornered; laughing terribly every time they tried to talk her down or attempted to physically silence her. She had no weapons that Grantaire could see, and yet the men seemed almost hesitant to approach her. Only once the youngest (and best-looking, Grantaire couldn’t help noticing) of the men managed to grab her arm only to be rewarded with a slap on the face so loud Grantaire could hear it all the way to his vantage point above them.
Grantaire was duly impressed, but regardless of how well the girl was doing she was still only one girl against four men and so Grantaire felt it to be his duty to do something. Also, he was bored to death and what better a cure for that than a little late night trouble. So he leaned over the railing once again and called out.
“Need any help?” he asked loudly, with an amused tone. The five people huddled up in the alleyway looked up, freezing where they stood. Before any of the men could say or do anything, the girl shot an annoyed look at Grantaire and snorted.
“Doing just fine, thanks. Now get lost,” she said. Grantaire laughed and the men frowned and muttered quietly among themselves, probably estimating whether or not Grantaire’s presence was a threat or not. Grantaire ignored them and focused on the girl instead. Now that Grantaire could see her face, she appeared even younger than he had estimated. She had a long dark-brown hair which would’ve been flowing freely around her face had it not been so badly tangled. Her clothes were ragged as well, and she wore no coat even though it was already late autumn. On her face she wore a sullen, angry expression, her lips only curving up in a mocking smirk rather than an actual smile. Grantaire could immediately tell he would like her.
“You’re calling that fine? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re currently cornered by four men in the shabbiest alleyway you could hope to find in this godforsaken city. You’re telling me this isn’t a text book example of ‘damsel in distress’?” he asked, still smiling. The girl rolled her eyes.
“I’m a damsel, I’m in distress. I can handle this. Have a nice night,” she said and promptly ignored Grantaire, turning her attention back to the men surrounding her. They were all just staring at the two of them now, clearly struggling to decide whether they should run for it or end both Grantaire and the girl where they stood. The girl smiled at them, as if to say “please carry on”. Grantaire, however, wasn’t done yet. Instead of leaving he leaped down another flight of stairs onto the lowest level of the fire escape.
“Did you just quote Disney at me? I love you. Now I’m just gonna have to come down and rescue your butt,” he informed her. She turned to glare at him again.
“Did you not just hear what I said? Get lost, prince charming!” she snapped at him, but Grantaire could tell she was a tiny bit amused by the situation. The men perhaps less so.
“You heard the girl, scram!” one of them shouted at him. Grantaire threw his hands in the air.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I see a poor unfortunate soul and I have to help them. It’s what I do, it’s what I live for,” he said with a grin, and to his surprise the girl responded with a grin of her own; a real one this time.
“Now who’s quoting Disney?” she remarked. Grantaire threw his legs over the railing and jumped down as elegantly as he could (so not very elegantly at all). He landed right next to the girl and in front of the men who were clearly furious to the point of bursting now.
“Sorry gents, I’m gonna have to interfere here,” he said. The men fidgeted restlessly, and Grantaire could see a few of them reaching for what he assumed were hidden knives. “And before you attempt to take me down I think it’s only fair to let you know that I’m something of a semi-professional kickboxer. So I’d think twice if I were you,” he said and cocked his eyebrow. The handsome one stared at him very intently for a moment, and he and Grantaire seemed to recognise each other simultaneously. Grantaire didn’t know his name, but he’d seen the guy around in bars and several other suspicious occasions. He seemed to remember him being a part of a street fight or two as well, so he ought to know Grantaire was not bluffing when he mentioned kickboxing. Grantaire was good. The other men seemed less convinced.
“Oh, and I called the police before I came down here,” he added matter-of-factly and with a pleasant smile. “So you might want to disappear presently if you know what’s best for you.” He was bluffing this time, but apparently the men decided it was not worth the risk and so one by one they backed off, shot the last angry glares at Grantaire and the girl (who stuck her tongue out at them in return) and walked hastily away, leaving Grantaire alone with the damsel no longer in distress.
“I could’ve dealt with them just fine by myself, you know,” she said somewhat defensively, but she didn’t seem angry anymore.
“I’m sure you could’ve,” Grantaire affirmed with a nod.
“Thanks anyway, I guess,” she said and smirked.
“You’re welcome, I guess. What did those guys want with you anyway?” Grantaire asked. The girl snorted.
“Oh, they were my father’s goons, ‘s all. Apparently I haven’t been helpful enough with his criminal endeavours as of late, so he sent his henchmen to reason with me,” she said indifferently, as if it wasn’t a big deal at all. Grantaire raised his eyebrows.
“Riiiiight. What father wouldn’t,” he said. The girl shrugged.
“It’s no big deal. Those guys are all afraid of me anyway. I’m lucky he was too lazy to come himself, he doesn’t mind beating the shit out of me,” she informed him cheerfully. Grantaire nodded slowly. The girl shot a sharp look at him. “Hey, don’t you dare feel sorry for me; I won’t have any of that. I’m not some kid that needs sympathy because of her sad, hard life, believe you me. I’m doing just fine,” she said. Clearly this was something of a sore spot for her.
“Oh don’t you worry, I’m too busy feeling sorry for myself to bother with anyone else,” he said, which wasn’t that far from the truth, to be honest. “Everyone’s got their own crap. You don’t have to tell me how much life sucks.” The girl nodded, apparently content with this reply.
“Good. You don’t happen to have any cigarettes on you, do you?” she asked spontaneously. Grantaire dug out a ragged pack of cigarettes, gave the girl one and offered her a light.
“You’re probably too young and this is probably all sorts of illegal, but I’m almost sure I don’t give a fuck,” Grantaire said, and the girl smirked.
“Good thinking,” she congratulated him. She inhaled, satisfied, and proceeded to blow the smoke at Grantaire.
“So, what’s your name then, prince charming?” she asked.
“I’m Grantaire,” Grantaire said and offered his hand. The girl placed the cigarette between her lips and grabbed Grantaire’s hand with a grip that was probably intended for crushing bottles rather than greeting new friends and gave it a firm shake.
“Nice to meet you, Grantaire. I’m Éponine.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Éponine,” Grantaire said.
“You bet it is!” Éponine said, grinning like the Chesire Cat and winking at him flirtatiously. She then glanced at the mouth of the alley, as if to check if the coast was clear. “I should probably get going. Not that I have a curfew or anything, mind,” she scoffed. “In fact, I’m pretty sure dear old dad wouldn’t let me in even if I wanted to go home, so no worries there,” she laughed.
“Where are you going to stay, then?” Grantaire asked. Éponine shrugged again, seemingly unconcerned.
“I’ll find some place to stay, I always do. Maybe if I’m lucky my baby brother will let me crash at his hideout, it’s pretty nearby” she pondered, taking a few steps towards the main street. Grantaire felt like the fact that her little brother had a hideout in these parts of town could’ve used some further explanation, but he didn’t press it. Clearly Éponine’s family situation was more than a little problematic, and Grantaire if anyone knew that explaining shitty family situations was about as fun as a stomach flu. Regardless, he wanted to do something for her.
“Well, I’ve got the most uncomfortable couch in the city at my disposal, so if you ever need a place to crash, you know where to find me,” he said, gesturing at the building right next to them. Éponine gave her a genuine smile.
“I’m sure I’ll take you up on that offer at some point,” she said, rubbing her hands together in a desperate attempt to warm them.
“Fifth floor, the last door on the right. It has my name on it, you can’t miss it,” he told her and she nodded.
“Thanks Grantaire.”
“Absolutely no problem!”
“Anyway, I should probably go. You probably have better things to do chatting up strangers in shady alleyways,” she said. Grantaire laughed heartily.
“You couldn’t be more wrong. I’m an avid procrastinator; nothing is more welcome than a distraction, especially when it comes in the form of a mouthy girl who quotes Disney at me.” Éponine punched his arm, laughing.
“Who are you calling mouthy, asshole! I wasn’t the one who started sassing four presumably armed men in an alleyway, thank you very much!” she remarked.
“Fair enough.”
Éponine dropped the remains of her cigarette on the ground and trampled it with her shoe.
“I’m going now. It was nice meeting you Grantaire. I’m sure I’ll see you around!” she said, gave Grantaire a mocking curtsey, turned around and dashed back to the main street, leaving Grantaire standing alone in the alleyway. Grantaire laughed quietly to himself and lit his last cigarette. See you around, he thought and smiled. This could turn into something interesting.
And sure enough, four days later he got home to his flat to discover Éponine sitting cross-legged on his couch with Grantaire’s laptop in front of her (He was pretty sure both the door and the laptop had been locked when he left). Éponine looked up when he opened the door, and gave him a dazzling smile.
“Come sit down with me, asshole, we’re having a Disney marathon!”