Chapter Text
When Cosette meets Musichetta, she is immediately terrified and maybe a little in love. The older girl is throwing some bigot out of the Musain, and her eyes are landmines as she fixes the burly man with a glare forceful enough to prevent him from sleeping for weeks. He leaves straight away, opening his mouth to spit out a final sharp word, before catching Musichetta’s perfectly arched raised brows and thinking better of it.
Moments later, Joly is all-but dragging Cosette towards the bar, grinning as he murmurs, “You have to meet my girlfriend, she’s the best!” Cosette gives up her feeble protests as soon as that fiery face turns towards her. Though she’s smiling now, Musichetta’s mouth still burns as she licks her lips and looks Cosette over. They stare at each other for several long moments, before Joly says, “I’ll leave you two girls to it then,” and runs away to find Bossuet, the coward. Trying to convince herself that she’s not trembling, not at all, Cosette reaches out a hand for the other woman to take.
Musichetta ignores it. Before Cosette’s heart has a chance to drop, she finds herself being pulled in for a tight hug over the counter, and then her cheeks are being soundly kissed, even as a stream of friendly chatter is kept up: “I’m ‘Chetta. You must be Cosette. I’m thrilled to meet you, we can always do with more girls in the group, especially cute ones.” She winks and Cosette feels two roses blossom on her cheeks. Smirking slightly, Musichetta continues, “So Joly tells me you’re dating Maria. What’s that like? I can’t imagine her in a romantic situation, as much as she goes on about that sort of shit.”
“Um… it’s nice,” Cosette says, cursing herself. Nice? She’s never been much of a linguist, but she’ll be damned if nice is all she can come up with to describe her wonderful, doting girlfriend. “Maria’s very sweet. We’re very happy together. But um,” her stomach somersaults as she bites her lip, smiling up at Musichetta, “I’m always open to try new things.”
“Well then I’m sure Les Amis will be glad to have you. And so will I,” Musichetta replies, her eyes dancing over Cosette’s body. It’s a searching look, Cosette thinks, but not a crude one. It’s heated curiosity, respectful lust and friendly desire burnt into one explosive gaze. Cosette realises, somewhat belatedly, that one of Musichetta’s hands is still welded onto her arm, and she’s not sure she ever wants it to move. That’s why when Musichetta suddenly pulls away, she shivers.
The other woman begins to walk away, and Cosette freezes, knowing she’s made a mistake. “Wait,” she calls out, attracting not only Musichetta’s attention, but that of Éponine as well, who’s nursing a Jack and coke nearby. The raven-haired girl watches with interest as Cosette opens and closes her mouth several times, before saying, “I’m sorry. I think I’ve done something wrong, misunderstood what’s going on. Maria says that I always seem really confused, and I guess she’s right, but she’s hardly any better so I never listen to her. ‘Chetta, if I made you uncomfortable, I’m really sorry.”
“You didn’t.”
“I know you’re not interested, I’m sorry. I’d like to still be friends, if um, that’s possible.”
“I never said I wasn’t interested.” Musichetta grins as she says warmly, “Chill out, girly. I was getting my coat. And going to tell Feuilly to get his lazy arse up here and stop flirting with Prouvaire. After all, I can’t take a gorgeous girl out on a date if there’s no one to mind the bar.”
“Oh.”
“Be back in a few.” With that, Musichetta disappears into the backroom.
Tapping her fingers over the counter, Cosette beams to herself. She came to the Musain hoping to maybe gather the courage to make a couple of friends, and it looks like she’s done more than that, despite her hopeless shyness and awkwardness. She looks over to where Maria is sitting on Courfeyrac’s lap and tries (and fails) to catch her eye. She can’t quite bring herself to go up to her, not with all of her friends seeming so loud and close-knit. It was hard enough meeting Courfeyrac, Joly, and now ‘Chetta, and she’s definitely not ready to dive straight into the whirlpool that is Les Amis when they’re all together, even if the cheerfully bright atmosphere does tug at her heartstrings.
To her surprise, Éponine – who Cosette has managed to avoid speaking to since she first started dating Maria – stands up and walks over to Maria, touching her on the arm and motioning subtly towards Cosette. Disentangling herself from Courfeyrac, Maria approaches Cosette, though not before she’s received a light slap to the arse. She turns around, blushing furiously, but Courfeyrac just grins and denies it. Grantaire shouts out from his corner, “Wow, Pontmercy, even the ghosts want a piece of dat ass.”
When Maria’s finally beside her, Cosette feels less tense straight away. Maria might be a gangly string bean of chaos, as Courfeyrac once loving dubbed her, but to Cosette, she’s the eye of the storm, calm and kind.
“Is everything all right?” Maria asks.
“More than all right. I’m going out with Musichetta, if that’s okay with you. I know we’re meant to discuss beforehand who we want to date but I just kind of... wow, she’s amazing, and I’d really like to date her and she’s offering to take me out now, so...”
Maria’s eyes widen in shock (and maybe jealousy, Cosette thinks, before wiping the thought from her mind with a jolt of anger at herself), but she nods anyway. “I was thinking of going home with Courf tonight, anyway. You have fun.” With that, she kisses Cosette gently and turns away, back to her friends.
Before long, Musichetta’s returned, wearing a men’s leather jacket, decorated in places with silver spikes. “Hope you don’t mind me borrowing it,” she calls out to Éponine, who shakes her head and goes back to looking gloomily at her half-empty glass. Cosette gulps.
“You look...” She realises she has no idea how to end that sentence. Sexy? Scary? Murderously hot?
“I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘hardcore’. I had to wear something a little tough, can’t wonder around this place at night with you looking like a lost princess. Also, if you get cold, this jacket’s big enough for two.”
Cosette looks down at herself. She’s wearing a frilly pink number, with white tights and ballet pumps. Perhaps it is a little femme. “Sorry. Overcompensating with femininity again. It’s a trans girl thing.” She’s sure that it’s Musichetta’s soft heat that’s giving her this sudden boost of confidence, enough to even say the t word without wanting the ground to open up and swallow her whole.
“Stop apologising. You look fabulous. I just wouldn’t want you to go out alone.” Tucking a stray curl behind Cosette’s ear, Musichetta takes her hand and leads her to the door. “Luckily, you’re not going out alone. You’re going out with me. Let’s hit the town, baby.”
The two leave, neither noticing Maria’s jealous glare. Similarly, nobody at all sees the tempest brewing in Éponine’s empty glass.