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Cosette watched Grantaire with a firm interest, perched as she was on the edge of the table in the backroom of the Café Musain. She’d engaged in the debate readily when it had still been going on, knocking Enjolras off-balance with arguments and perspectives he did not often come into contact with, and Marius had been beaming, ecstatic, as Enjolras had grudgingly said he was perhaps not so much of a booby as he thought for enchanting such an impressive woman.
Cosette had grinned at him, and when Enjolras had been drawn into a quiet, serious conversation with Combeferre, Cosette had turned her attentions to Grantaire.
"Don’t you join the arguments?"
"Oh, some nights." Grantaire said, putting his lips to the bottle of beer in his hand and taking a slow sip. "Tonight, I didn’t need to. You were keeping him quite occupied, my dear lady." Cosette chuckled a little.
”Is he the only one you argue with?”
"No, but I like to see him red and angry. You’ve seen yourself how pretty he gets."
"Are you two dating?" Cosette asked, tilting her head, and Grantaire laughed.
"On occasion. There’s no standing arrangement, but when I can convince him I take him to a more private area to fluster him and get him all riled up. Are you enjoying your marriage to our dear Marius, Cosette?"
"Certainly. He is a beautiful man." Cosette said gently, regarding Marius with a bright smile where he was settled on the other side of the room, and as they watched, Courfeyrac pulled Marius into his lap, and Pontmercy’s cheeks bloomed into a scarlet more impressive than Grantaire could ever hope to muster in Enjolras.
"Oh, God, I thought he’d stopped-" Grantaire shifted, embarrassed. "I doubt he means anything by it, Cosette." She laughed, the sound a pretty peal of bells in the warm room.
"No, he means everything by it, Grantaire." Cosette said gently. "Marius confessed his interest in Courfeyrac before we married, and now it continues. I have rather an interest in him myself." Grantaire’s lips twitched, and now he seemed more embarrassed than before.
"I should not have assumed. Especially not, well, given Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta-" Grantaire gestured to where the three of them were arguing solidly against Bahorel, who despite being outnumbered, did not give even the slightest appearance of being overwhelmed.
Jehan, seated beside him, only watched the four of them with a dreamy smile, occasionally taking a drag from the cigarette he shouldn’t have been smoking (but Louis would not come into the backroom for a good hour, and Joly was far too distracted to confiscate it).
"No, it’s not like that. We just take who we wish, at the time, either on our own grounds or between us."
"Oh." Grantaire said, quite succinctly.
"Do you only take Enjolras?" Cosette asked, and as she spoke, she very deliberately leaned forwards, taking the bottle from Grantaire’s hand and bringing it slowly to her own mouth, pink lips touching to the lip of the bottle as she drank, her throat bobbing as she swallowed.
"I-" Grantaire’s voice trailed away as he kept his eyes on her mouth. "I, no, no. I like women, I like men, I like many things beyond our blond leader."
"Marius?"
"God, no." And Cosette laughed again, and Grantaire’s cheeks flushed. "I don’t mean to insult him, he’s just- well-"
"I know." Cosette said lightly, full of good humour. "He’s sweet, but not for everyone."
"Right."
"And me?"
"You?" Cosette moved forwards, straddling Grantaire’s lap and putting her hands on his shoulders, and Grantaire’s lips quirked as he looked up at her. "You know, if I were to shift my knees, you would fall."
"I trust you won’t. Or, if you do, that you will catch me." Cosette grinned at him, and took another sip from the bottle.
"Whatever would your papa say?"
"Are you good friends with my papa?"
"Not at all."
"Then he will say nothing, for he will not know." And then her lips were on Grantaire’s, the bottle against the back of his neck where she held it, and she felt his stubble on her cheeks, and he felt her pretty, glossed lips on his own: a welcome warmth.
He deepened the kiss, bringing his knees together and supporting her with one hand on her lower back and the other on her arm, keeping her close and ensuring she didn’t fall. Her tongue was skilful against his, more so than he would have predicted, and she hummed as she pulled back.
A cheer came from the back of the room, begun by Marius and Courfeyrac, fittingly, and Grantaire laughed and hid his face part against Cosette’s chest as the others joined in.
"Oh, fuck off, the lot of you!" He said, and Marius laughed loudest of all, though it was soon muffled by Courfeyrac’s lips on his own.
"The stubble, I like it." Cosette said, running a thumb over the other’s jaw.
"Oh, is that so?"
"Yes, I’ve not really felt it like that before."
"Perhaps I should take you home with me and allow you to sample it in other places." And Grantaire was bold, but Grantaire was always bold, the tendency as much his nature as anything else.
"I’d like that." Cosette murmured, and she didn’t blush as Marius might have at the same invitation not on her cheeks, but where her blouse opened at her neck, Grantaire noted a flush of the slightest red, and felt victory.
"I would too."