#mariuscosette

Enjolras has passed this bakery hundreds of times, but he doesn't walk in until Marius pulls him in one Thursday afternoon. His new girlfriend's father owns it, and he's only met the girl - Cosette - a couple of times but Enjolras can tell she's sweet and kind but also sharp. She'll keep Marius on his toes when he gets too lost in the clouds. This is where he meets Grantaire.

It's early, and rare, that the bakery is empty, but that's only because it isn't open yet. Grantaire had said something about the Monsieur Valjean kindly allowing him to do this. Just to show a "dear friend" something special.

The second part Cosette had told Enjolras. He hadn't been sure if those were her words, or Grantaire's.

Watching Grantaire bake makes Enjolras notice all kinds of things. He's almost a different person from the flirtatious cashier at the front of the bakery.

The apron is still present, but he's folded it down and tied it across his waist so there's only a table, practically miles of empty space, and one layer of clothing separating their bodies (two, if Enjolras counts his own).

There's flour in Grantaire's hair and on his cheek, and Enjolras doesn't think he even realizes.

Grantaire's giving him instructions on how to make a birthday cake of all things, but the blond can only think of Grantaire's fingers kneading and pulling the dough. For once, he can't think of anything to say, except to describe the slenderness of Grantaire's fingers, the strength in his hands, the flex of his biceps when he rolls the dough across the table.

Enjolras wants those hands on him, wants to tear that shirt off, buttons popping and flying. He wants to wake up one morning and walk into the kitchen, only to find Grantaire making him breakfast in nothing but the apron.

And he'd turn and wave the spatula and give him a cheeky smile and Enjolras's lips would be on his before he could finish saying "good morning." Breakfast would burn, but they'd make it again together.

It's terrible. He may be an excellent speaker, but poetry is Jehan's forte, not his. Maybe if he were Marius, he would know what to do with these feelings... but then again, round-faced, bright-eyed Marius has probably never even imagined half of the things Enjolras wants to do to his...friend? Rival? In what? (He settles simply on "Grantaire," but he won't admit to loving the way that sounds - his Grantaire.)

Cosette wasn’t sure whether she wanted to scream or cry. She did neither.

“But, Papa,” she whimpered.

“Cosette, I know you want to go to Prom with him, but the fact is the the Pontmercy boy’s grandfather and legal guardian has requested that he be banned from the dance.”

“But you know he doesn’t live with his grandfather! He’s been living with Courfeyrac for the past six months and you know it! Please, Papa! I know very well this is really about me. You just don’t want me to have any fun!”

“Cosette, this has nothing to do with you. I will admit that I’m not adverse to this turn of events, but I have no control over it. Principal Javert has already agreed to this, so there’s really nothing I can do about it.”

“He’d let Marius come if you reasoned with him.”

Cosette was pouting now, crossing her arms and thrusting out her lower lip. Nonetheless, her father stood firm.

“You know I try to avoid Javert whenever possible. It’s a miracle he hasn’t already recognized me.”

“Papa, what are you talking about? You always say things like that. If you’re so worried about that Javert is going to recognize you, whatever that means, why are you teaching at his school?”

Her father said something under his breath, which might have been “I want to keep an eye on you.”

“Please, Papa. I just want one special night with my boyfriend. Can’t you at least try? For me?”

“No, Cosette. This conversation is over.”

“Fine!”

She took the stairs two at a time, retreating to the safety of her bedroom, where she collapsed on her bed, trying not to cry.

When she grew tired of feeling sorry for herself, she picked up her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she found Marius.

He picked up on the second ring.

“Cosette! My love! How are you?”

“Bad news,” she told him. “Papa refuses to talk to Javert.”

“It’s okay,” he said with only a tinge of sadness. “I’ll take you out for dinner instead.”

“Can’t. Papa’s insisting that I go anyway. He’s chaperoning, and he wants me where he can see me. As usual. I’ve told him I don’t want to go alone, but he won’t let me stay home.”

“Pretend you’re sick?” Marius suggested.

She laughed.

“He wouldn’t believe that.”

“You wouldn’t happen to want to take an eleven year old kid, would you?” Marius asked.

“Are you joking?”

“Not really. Eponine told her little brother Gavroche she’d take him, but then Montparnasse asked her and now he’s really disappointed. He’s really sweet. You’d like him.”

“You’re just worried I’ll take someone my age and like him better than you,” Cosette teased.

Marius made a series of amusing sounds as he tried to form words.

“I’m teasing you, Marius. I wouldn’t want to go with anyone else anyway. I’d love to take Gavroche.”

  The night of Prom, Cosette was just finishing her hair when she heard a knock at the door.

“I’ll get it!” she shouted, not wanting her father to scare her date away before she could even meet him.

She raced to the door, still barefoot, and threw it open. She was just fast enough to see Eponine’s car driving away.

A young boy was standing on her doorstep in a neat but clearly second-hand suit.

“You must be Miss Cosette,” he said.

“And I presume you’re Gavroche?”

“At your service,” he declared with a slight bow.

“Come inside,” she told him. “I’m almost finished getting ready.”

He entered the house.

“I got you a corsage,” he said, blushing slightly. “That’s what ‘Ponine told me I should do.”

Cosette accepted the slightly crushed corsage and slipped it around her wrist.

“Thank you.”

“Your dress is pretty, miss.”

Cosette smoothed the lavender satin of her skirt.

“You think?”

There had been a gorgeous pink dress she’d tried on, but her father had objected to the low neckline. She could have convinced him to buy it for her, but she’d still been hoping he would change his mind about talking to Principal Javert. No such luck. Still, the lavender dress was nice enough, and probably much more appropriate for a date with an eleven year old.

“It’s lovely. You’re lovely.”

Cosette sighed dreamily. Marius had been right. The kid was a sweetheart.

“I presume you’re the one taking my Cosette to Prom?” her father asked, entering the room.

Gavroche grinned.

 “Yes, sir.”

“I’ll be keeping a close eye on you, kid.”

But he seemed to genuinely like the boy.

Cosette slipped her feet into her gold sandals and bent down to fasten them.

“Allow me, miss,” Gavroche requested.

She smiled and held out her foot. Kneeling, he fastened the strap, making sure it wasn’t too tight or too loose. She set that foot down and held out the other one and he did the same.

“I think we’re ready to go,” she said.

  Forty-five minutes later, after getting horribly lost in the city, they finally made it to the hotel where Prom was being held. Gavroche held the door and helped Cosette out of the car.

“I have to go around to the back entrance,” her father said. “Will you two be all right, or should I escort you in?”

“We’ll be fine, Papa,” Cosette assured him with a laugh.

“I’ll look after her, sir,” Gavroche promised sincerely.

“Okay, little man. Take good care of her. You have my number in your phone, right Cosette? Call me if you need anything.”

“I will, Papa. Now go and get to your job of watching kids and avoiding Principal Javert.”

She kissed him on the cheek, then turned away, taking Gavroche’s offered arm. He escorted her inside with a smile.

  The lights were dim, but the music wasn’t too loud from the entrance. Of course, that was certain to mean it was obnoxiously loud near the dance floor, but Cosette appreciated that the size of the room made the noise level manageable from far away. She looked around, searching for familiar faces. She knew most of the members of the school’s ABC Society were here. Marius had told her about the political activist group which he occasionally attended, and she’d seen pictures of the members, although the only ones she’d actually been introduced to were Marius’ roommate, Courfeyrac, and Jehan, who was in her art class.

Eponine approached her, in a surprisingly elegant sky blue dress, her hair pinned up except for a few ringlets that framed her face.

“Thank you for bringing Gavroche,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” Cosette replied, a little unsure where she stood with this girl. It was a well known fact that Eponine was in love with Marius, and resented Cosette for dating him. But right now she had her hand entwined with Montparnasse’s and she seemed genuinely happy.

With that, Eponine was gone, whisking her partner towards the dance floor. That designer suit Montparnasse was wearing had to be stolen, or obtained through questionably legal means, but it looked really good on him.

“Shall we dance?” Gavroche asked.

Cosette listened. She really didn’t like the song that was playing.

“Maybe later. Want to get food?”

Gavroche nodded eagerly. Then he paused. He took her hand and led her to the nearest chair.

“Wait here, miss. I’ll bring your food shortly. Any requests?”

“Surprise me,” she said.

Her father had already shown her the menu, and she knew she liked everything on it.

After he left, she continued to scan the room for familiar faces. She found most of Marius’ friends sitting near the dance floor. Courfeyrac had a girl, who Cosette thought she recognized as Eponine's sister, sitting on his lap and occasionally stopped talking to kiss her. Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta had somehow squeezed themselves into one chair, and seemed to be lost in a world of their own. Combeferre was talking to Enjolras, but the blonde was only giving the conversation half his attention. The other half was focused on the dark haired boy sitting next to him. Their hands were linked between their chairs. Cosette didn’t recognize him, so she assumed he was Enjolras’ boyfriend from another school. She’d never heard anything about Enjolras’ love life, except for its nonexistence, but she wasn’t too surprised that he’d take a guy to Prom, to make a statement if for no other reason. That left Feuilly, Grantaire, and Jehan still to be found.

Jehan was easily spotted, considering that he was wearing a tie-dye suit and a flower crown. He was in the middle of the dance floor, dancing with anyone who approached him and laughing merrily. Feuilly took slightly longer to spot, but she eventually found him chatting with the DJ. Come to think of it, hadn’t Marius mentioned that the DJ was a friend of theirs? Bahorel or something? That left only Grantaire. Where was he? According to Marius, he was never far from Enjolras. Except- oh. Enjolras brought a boyfriend. Grantaire probably hadn’t come after hearing that.

“Your food, miss,” Gavroche announced, returning with a plate for her.

In his other hand he had a plate for himself. He pulled up a chair for himself, and they chatted while they snacked. To Cosette’s immense surprise, the kid was intelligent and fun to talk to. She was actually having a lot more fun than she’d expected.

  “AND MAY I HAVE EVERYONE’S ATTENTION!!” the DJ shouted. “It’s time to announce Prom King and Queen. Personally, I think the whole thing is rather lame, but I’m not being paid for my opinions. So, without further ado, here is Mr. Fauchelevent.”

Cosette’s father stood up on the small stage.

“It is my honor to announce that this year’s Prom Queen is my daughter, Euphrasie Fauchelevent.”

Everyone looked around in confusion as Cosette buried her face in her hands.

“You know her, miss?” Gavroche asked.

“She’s me,” Cosette explained. “I could kill him for using my real name.”

“Well, then you’re Prom Queen!” Gavroche pointed out. “That’s fantastic! Come on!”

He grabbed her hand and dragged her up towards the stage, giving her the final push up the stairs. Her father smiled as he placed a glittering tiara on her head, and Cosette forgave him for the name.

“And this year’s Prom King is a bit of a surprise, as he’s technically not supposed to be here, but I’ve brought him anyway. Marius Pontmercy, ladies and gentlemen.”

Cosette squealed as Marius walked on stage, grinning at her. She waited only until her father had crowned him before she launched herself into his arms.

“Marius! Thank you, Papa!”

“Mr. Fauchelevent, this is strictly forbidden! That student has been banned from school events. You know that.”

Principal Javert stormed on stage, the picture of fury. Cosette clung tightly to Marius.

“Javert, it’s prom and he wants to dance with his girlfriend. Can you let him be for just one night?”

“Wait a minute! Valjean?!”

“Javert, can we discuss this outside? These students are trying to enjoy their prom.”

For a second, it seemed Javert would push the issue. Finally, he sighed in defeat.

“You’re right. Outside. Now.”

“Do you have any idea what that was about, love?” Marius asked.

“None at all,” Cosette admitted.

Honestly, she didn’t even care at the moment. Papa had broken school rules to make sure she had Marius on this special night. That was pretty incredible.

“Well, after that, ahem, interesting display, I think it’s time for a slower song for the lovebirds. On the dance floor, kiddos.”

Marius led Cosette down off the stage, as Bahorel put on A Thousand Years. Cosette might have thought he was sappy, if Marius hadn’t whispered in her ear:

“He’s just playing this to annoy Enjolras. Grantaire drunkenly serenaded him with it a few too many times last year. You should see how viciously he turns off the radio whenever it comes on. Of course, he might not mind so much now that they’re dating.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, apparently they’re dating now. I didn’t know until this morning. I think something happened at Courf’s party last night.”

Cosette thought back to the dark haired boy she’d seen holding hands with Enjolras. That had been Grantaire?!

As if to confirm it for her, she now saw the two of them dancing a short distance away, although making out on the dance floor might be a better term for what they were doing. It was Grantaire, she realized. He looked really different, in a suit and with his wild curls tamed.

She rested her head on Marius’ shoulder, sighing in contentment. This was probably the best night of her life.

  Eponine laughed as Montparnasse spun her around. He really was an excellent dancer, so she let him lead and relaxed in the flow of the music. For once, she wasn’t thinking about Marius, or worrying about her family. Tonight, she was wearing gorgeous clothes and dancing with a gorgeous man who treated her like a princess. Tomorrow, everything would be shit again, but tonight she had everything she wanted.

  Gavroche approached the snack table, grabbing himself another plate and piling it high with cookies. ‘Ponine was happy, Cosette was happy, Grantaire was happy. All in all, the night had gone much better than he had hoped. And if he found Azelma here with her senior boyfriend, he’d treat her to a dance and give the boy a very stern talking-to.

            He’s still healing from the injuries, but his arm is finally out of that annoying cast. Though, he still has to be careful with moving that specific arm around so he doesn’t damage it and make it worse. He obeyed that rule, mostly because he barely has left the house the last few days, spending most his time in bed while Cosette goes and checks on him daily and lays with him to keep him company, cuddling him close and telling him that everything is going to be okay; the worst is all over. But he doesn’t think anything is going to get better at this point.

              He rests his hand over his healing left shoulder to cover the bullet wound, not wanting to even glance at it. Keeping his eyes trained on the wall, he blinks back tears and presses his lips into a thin line at an attempt to hold back a sob. He still doesn’t want to accept the fact that all of his friends are dead, everyone he worked with in the revolution now most likely buried in an overcrowded, unimportant grave.

              Giving up, he lets out a sob, bringing his free hand up to cover his mouth as he shuts his eyes tightly, tears running freely and trailing over his freckled cheeks. He always finds himself giving up like this and weeping, wishing this was just all a cruel joke and he would wake up again and make his way to the café musain, greeting everyone and discussing random subjects and laughing, drinking. But as much as he wishes for this, it would never happen. And he can’t accept that, not yet.

              Cosette is in the kitchen when she hears a muffled sob sound from the bedroom, and she instantly places down what she was doing and made her way with swift steps into the room; seeing a broken Marius clutching his shoulder and covering his mouth.

              “Marius,” She whispers, as if she’s talking to herself, making her way over to Marius and sitting next to him on the bed, placing her petite hands on his bare shoulders; one of her hands resting over his on top of the bullet wound. Marius wants to pull away, wants to curl up and be alone, but he knows that Cosette worries about him. She just wants her husband to be happy, to live life the way he used to. “Marius, I’m here. It’s okay,” She shushes him, squeezing him slightly in her embrace and rocking slightly, as if Marius was a small child and she were the mother. Marius has lost it by now, quiet, shallow sobs escaping him as he hangs his head to hide his face twisted up in self-hatred.

              Marius is muttering under his breath, and Cosette can just make out the word “hate” and “disgusting” out of his babbling, and she hugs him tighter. This wasn’t the first time this has happened to him, the first time he has broken down and allowed Cosette to hold him and shush him like a child. Ever since the day after the barricade, everything for him has been going downhill. His emotions, physical condition, mental stability, and so on. Cosette wants to take care of him every step of the way, want to make sure he’s happy again and living life to the fullest and not wanting to disappear or be one of those bodies in the landfill.

              “Marius, shhh. It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here,” Cosette repeats, placing a kiss on Marius’ shoulder where one of the wounds had ripped open his light, freckled skin. “I love you, Marius. I love you so much, and everything’s going to be okay.” She speaks lowly to him, pulling him closer and kissing over his scarred skin, giving each and every one of those injuries love. Even though Marius is battered, bruised, and scarred she still loves him with all her heart, and she wants to show him. She wants to tell him how much he means to her, but instead of speaking it, she kisses over the wounded skin softly and whispers sweet nothings to him as she does so. He stays silent, muttering to himself here and there as she kisses along his skin, but he clings to her and holds back a sob from escaping him once more, wanting her in his presence, for her to hold him close and make him feel special again.

              Marius listens to her love filled voice as she whispers to him, calming him down so he’s sniffling and tears still run down his cheeks, watching as she kisses the scars on his arms and forearms, and she looks up at him. He can see the care and adoration filling her eyes, her baby blues glossy as if she wants to cry too. But she doesn’t, not wanting for Marius to worry for her and have to calm her down. For now, she wants to focus on Marius and make him feel important and not worthless like he thinks of himself.

              When she goes down and kisses the scars on his thighs and legs, his cheeks flush from embarrassment but he doesn’t move, his eyes focused on his wife and her dainty, pale hands guiding his down so they rest in between hers; giving his shaking hands a small squeeze as her thumb strokes along the back of the right one.

              She kisses every one of his scars and wounds, and the last one that she goes up to his the bullet wound. She runs her fingers along the broken skin and flesh gently before leaning in to place a kiss against it with soft, rose petal lips; pulling back with a sweet smile and glossy eyes as she leans in to kiss her husband softly on the lips. He returns the kiss, the two pulling away after a moment and Cosette getting back on the bed and pulling him into a tight embrace. Marius tenses up for a moment, but allows her to hug him and he does so back, wrapping his arms around her slender waist.

              “Marius, I love you more than anyone or anything in the world. You mean so much to me, and I wouldn’t be anywhere else than here holding you right now,” Cosette starts, speaking lowly with a caring tone in her feminine voice,” You’re not worthless, and these…wounds, these scars, are much more than you. You survived. Papa, he saved you. I know that you’re friends, they’re-they’re gone. But remember the good times. Remember when you laughed and spoke with them, how you spent hours with them together.” By now, tears are running down Marius’ cheeks gain and dampening Cosette’s clothed shoulder. “But Marius, remember this. You’re an amazing husband, and such an interesting, exquisite man. You’re perfect, to me.”

              And with that, she buried her face into his neck and sighed, allowing for Marius to cry on her shoulder and let it all out. She didn’t mind one bit that he was getting her clothes wet, she didn’t even notice or care at the moment. She just wanted for Marius to let it all out and calm down. She ran her fingers through his short hair, shushing him lowly and rocking back and forth as she did before.

              “Th-Thank you, Cosette,” Marius’ voice is muffled, but he pulls back and his hand stay on her hips as he gazes at her through blurry vision induced by the tears. “I love you so much.” A moment passes, and a small, genuine smile makes the corners of his lips turn up gently. Cosette returns that smile and leans in to give him a kiss on the forehead, leaning in to rest her forehead against his. They stare into each other’s eyes, both full of understanding and pure love.

              “It’s nothing, Marius. For you mean the world to me, and I would never lie to you even if I had to,” She rubbed her nose against his, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at how adorable his wife was. The childish innocence that still clung to her as if it wouldn’t let go, her petit face lit up with content and caring and her soft lips curved up into a warm smile.