Work Text:
"Enjolras!" Bossuet yells from upstairs, and it sounds vaguely serious, so Enjolras puts down her book and trudges up to the second floor.
She finds Bossuet, alone with Bahorel, sitting in the room Jehan shares with Feuilly as Jehan peers into a mirror and starts to do her makeup.
"I swear to god, I will fuck her shit up," Bahorel is saying when Enjolras walks in.
"What fight am I breaking up this time?" Enjolras asks, sounding put upon as she takes a seat on the bed. It's not as if she's out of place. Six days out of seven, Enjolras is breaking up some fight between Bahorel and that asshole who cut her in life for coffee, or that one girl who looked at her funny in lecture.
Jehan sighs, sounding more annoyed than Enjolras.
"She wants to fight Montparnasse." She answers, and Enjolras is confused. She knows Montparnasse by reputation if nothing else; everyone does. Nobody knows if Montparnasse is a student or a local or both, but she's around their age, and last Enjolras knows, she's part of some all-girl street gang, but that could just be a rumor.
"What did she do?" Enjolras asks, and the answer she receives is not the one she expects.
"She's taking Jehan out on a date."
Enjolras can't help it, her jaw drops a little. "Are you serious?"
"It's true," Bossuet answers, looking like she really wants to say something else, but holds back for Jehan's sake.
Jehan steps back from the mirror and turns around on her heel. "How do I look guys?"
She's wearing mustard yellow tights and a periwinkle dress patterned in little roses. She's got on brown boots and a maroon coat, and on anyone else it would look ridiculous, but somehow Jehan makes it work. She has a few necklaces on and a thick silver ring on one hand. The phrase "boho chic" comes unbidden into Enjolras's mind, and she refuses to admit to herself that she may have come across that in a fashion magazine once. Enjolras only reads novels and political pamphlets for fun, and she will go to her grave swearing that.
"Like you're about to go on a date with the most notorious woman at this university!" Bahorel shouts, and Jehan says, "Well I'm not actually sure that she goes to university…" and the situation only goes downhill from there.
"She's beautiful," Jehan sighs wistfully, and Enjolras catches Bossuet muttering, "Here we go again."
"Her eyes are set underneath brows like ravens' feathers, and her gaze pierces me like the arrow of an insidious cupid, and I am stuck fast." Jehan proclaims dramatically, and Enjolras will give it a B+.
After that, Enjolras tries and fails to keep order as Bahorel rants about everything she's going to do to Montparnasse if she sees her and Jehan pulls at her hair, frowning.
"I just can't get it to sit right," she mutters, and Bossuet grins.
"That's why I don't bother with that anymore," She says as she runs a hand over her shaved head. She'd done it at the beginning of term and kept it that way ever since. It actually looks fairly badass.
Jehan eventually just braids it to the side, and her phone buzzes.
"She's downstairs, I have to go!" She says before practically skipping out of the room.
Enjolras thinks she's no longer needed until Bahorel glances meaningfully at Enjolras, then the door. Come on, she seems to be saying, talk to her.
And though Jehan is an adult, just like the rest of them, Enjolras can't help but feel protective over her. She's protective over all her sisters, and Jehan is such an idealist that Enjolras is genuinely afraid she will get hurt.
She walks down the stairs, calling out for Jehan to wait a moment. Jehan stops by the door, an impatient look on her face.
"Are you going to lecture me now too?" She asks, and Enjolras winces. Jehan is probably the sweetest one out of all of them, and she doesn't usually have a harsh word for anyone. She can tell it hurts not to have anyone trust her judgement, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't worried.
"Does Montparnasse even have a first name?" Enjolras asks instead of giving an answer.
Jehan sets her jaw. "She says she can't tell me. For legal reasons."
Enjolras raises a brow, as if that answered her question.
"What?" Jehan says defensively. "Nobody knows Grantaire's first name either!"
"That's because it's embarrassing, not because she's in trouble with the law!" Enjolras is exasperated.
"Okay but technically she's never been charged with anything."
They're silent and Jehan refuses to meet Enjolras's eyes.
"Look, she's waiting outside for me. Can I go?" She asks, even though she doesn't need Enjolras's permission.
Enjolras sighs and nods. "We're just worried about you." She says.
Jehan's gaze softens.
"I'll bring her over for dinner later this week. She's serious about me, I promise."
"That's all I ask," Enjolras says, pulling Jehan in for a hug. "I don't want her to hurt you."
"Please," Jehan rolls her eyes. "Montparnasse talks a big talk, but she's a big softie."
And with that, Jehan bounds out of the house. Enjolras watches her get on the back of a motorcycle, and takes in Montparnasse's shiny black helmet (at least she's wearing one, Enjolras's mind supplies) and leather jacket, studded at the shoulders. Jehan looks so small and sweet clinging to her like that, sandy blonde hair peeking out from the spare helmet she's glad to see Montparnasse gave her.
It's too dark for Enjolras to catch the soft look that Montparnasse gives Jehan, or the way she places one hand over Jehan's and squeezes before setting both hands back on the handlebars. But Enjolras sees the way the corner of Jehan's mouth quirks up in a smile when somebody mentions Montparnasse, like she wants to keep this just for her, unspoiled and private. Enjolras is disappointed in herself and everyone else for trying to take it away. Jehan sees the good in everyone, and it's not just because she's a romantic. And if she sees good in Montparnasse, it must be there, and that's enough for Enjolras.