In many ways he reminded her of a cat; silent, lithe and oddly beautiful. How he'd managed to find a way into her locked apartment was a mystery, and yet there he was, lounging against her kitchen bench waiting for her.

"Get out," Cosette growled, carelessly dropping her bag on the floor. She was not in the mood for any of Montparnasse's shit today. Work had been long and painful, and all she really wanted was a nice hot shower to wash it all away, not deal with her ex boyfriend.

He smiled at her, revealing his perfect, white teeth, "And why on earth would I want to do that?" he drawled, his dark eyes lazily drinking her in.

"Because I'm tired, work was hell and I can't deal with you right now," Cosette said, walking right past him to get to the fridge, which thanks to her father, was currently jam packed full of home cooked meals. He never let her leave his place without an abundant supply of food and other 'necessities' he was worried that she was missing out on.

Montparnasse slid up behind her, shutting the fridge door before Cosette even had a chance to look inside. "Too bad. I'm not leaving," he said.

Cosette huffed and turned to face him. His face was set in a determined scowl, his thin, wiry arms crossed over his chest. Decked from head to toe in what were no doubt stolen clothes, his dark hair carelessly windswept, eyeing her down with barely suppressed irritation he looked threatening, but no less beautiful. The angry red scar was the only thing that marred his angelic face, yet somehow Cosette found him even more attractive because of it.

With a frustrated sigh she spoke, "In my bedroom, the third drawer down on the left. Take the money and go."

He smirked, highlighting the red scar that ran down his left cheek from just above his eye, "I'm not here for your money, love. Also, it's kinda cute that you think I didn't already know that."

"Then leave, because that's all I'm offering." She mirrored him, crossing her arms and glaring up at him.

For a moment they just stood there, staring at one another. Then, out of nowhere he laughed.

"Pontmercy, Cosette? Really?" He tsked her, "You can do so much better."

She bristled at the cruel, mocking tone. "Shut up, Marius is nice and my dad, who by the way will be here in like fifteen minutes, likes him."

He smirked, a playful twinkle evident in his chocolate brown eyes. "Don't lie to me, love. You and I both know he's out of town this week. Awfully convenient that, don't you think?"

Cosette's stomach flipped. How on earth did he know that? Had he been spying on her? She knew better than to put anything past him, but still.

Putting her worries aside she stood strongly against him, her chin jutting out defiantly. "It's none of your business. You and I broke up remember? We're done. You don't get a say in who I date."

He was still smiling, and for the life of her Cosette could not figure out if that was a good thing or not.

"It's funny, because that's not exactly how I remember it. You asked for space to sort everything out, and I, being the gentleman I am, gave it to you. Four whole weeks! And then I come home to find Pontmercy panting after you like a bitch in heat!"

Cosette flinched under his biting tone, each word was like a slap in the face. He was angry, that much was obvious, but was she imagining the glimmer of hurt in those dark eyes of his?

"Has he fucked you yet?" Montparnasse continued in a deceptively calm voice as he walked to where she stood frozen in her spot. "He certainly seemed eager enough."

He was too close, she realised with a start. She could feel his hot breath on her skin, the light brush of his fingertips against her arm.

"No, he hasn't. Now get the hell out of my apartment," she hissed.

He laughed, and the sound sent shivers down Cosette's spine "Good. I would just hate to drag that little guy into this whole mess, wouldn't you?"

Cosette stiffened against him and with a growl, pushed him away, "You wouldn't dare!"

"I most certainly would. I'm a little possessive, if you hadn't noticed. I don't like people taking what's mine," he said with a smug little smirk that Cosette really wanted to slap off his perfectly chiselled face. It was the exact same look he used to give her whenever he wanted sex, a look full of promise that would normally drive her crazy with need.

With his free hand he gently stroked her cheek. Angrily, Cosette pushed it away.

"He's not stealing anything! You don't own me! We aren't together any-"

"You're still mine-"

"What part of 'breaking up' did you not get?"

"We did not break up, you needed time-"

"YOU KILLED SOMEONE!" Cosette shouted, throwing her hands up in the air, "I could handle the stealing, the robberies, anything… but not that."

Montparnasse's smile slipped from his handsome face and he glowered, "The fucking bastard deserved it."

Cosette stepped back, only to find that she was trapped between Parnasse and the wall. With a frustrated sigh she shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I love you, really I do, but after what you did… I just can't."

He stared at her, agony written over his face. "He hurt you," Montparnasse growled. "Don't ask me to apologize, because I'm not sorry. I'd do it again in a fucking heartbeat."

Cosette shuddered, closing her eyes tightly; she didn't need any reminders about what that monster had tried to do. The nightmares were bad enough.

Montparnasse scowled, clutching the edge of the bench until his hands were white with the strain. "He would have done a lot worse to you, love. Trust me, I've seen what his kind can do more times than I can count," he growled. "What was I supposed have done? If I'd let him live he just would have found some other girl and done the same thing to her."

Cosette snorted, "And you care about those other girls?"

"Not even slightly, you're the only one who matters." Despite his anger he managed to shoot her a small, fond smile, "But that doesn't change the truth of the matter. I did it to protect you."

Again, she scoffed. "No, you did it because you were angry."

Angry had been an understatement. Montparnasse had been gone into a rage fuelled frenzy unlike anything she'd ever seen. He'd been vicious and merciless; unable to stop until the sound of her own hysterical screams snapped him out of it.

He sighed in exasperation, "Of course I was angry! He hurt you Cosette! Do you know what he would have done to you, given the chance? He would have raped you and slit your throat and let you bleed out in that goddamned alley like some worthless hooker!" He paused for a moment, as if the words were stuck in his throat, "You, you were screaming for me! He deserved to die for that," he spat, hatred burning away behind his gaze.

Cosette's head hurt. She didn't want to deal with this now. It was too painful, too raw still. She hated him for being here, hated him for leaving in the first place.

"Why are you here, Parnasse?" she asked tiredly, sagging back against the wall.

He shrugged, "Because four weeks is a long time and I miss you."

If only he knew how much she missed him back.

She sighed, "Parnasse-"

"I brought you something," he interrupted, digging around in the pocket of his jacket. She spied a flash of silver as handed it over, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.

It was beautiful; a silver necklace with a pearl pendant, encased by two rows of diamonds. Real diamonds. She shuddered to think of the price, though, knowing him it was unlikely that he'd paid for it.

"And by brought you mean stole, correct?" she asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Impishly he grinned back, "My girl deserves the best."

It wasn't the first time he'd stolen for her, and if she were to hazard at a guess, it wouldn't be the last. She'd learned a long time ago that it was useless to argue with him about it. He outright refused to return anything, and she'd quickly learned that he'd leave her little 'presents' whether she wanted them or not.

He liked spoiling her with gifts, and that was the end of that.

He was staring patiently at her, waiting for her reaction.

"Do you like it?" he prompted when she didn't say anything.

Cosette turned her gaze from the stunning necklace to Montparnasse, who was standing there awkwardly shifting his weight from foot to foot. If she didn't know him better, she might believe that he was actually nervous.

Why did he have to make this so difficult?

"It's lovely, but-"

"Here, turn around and I'll put it on," he said, snatching the necklace away before she even had a chance to respond. Pushing down the urge to sigh she dutifully turned around.

With incredible ease (one needed nimble fingers to pick pockets) he slipped the necklace on and clasped it, his hands lingering slightly longer than necessary.

Cosette shivered.

"Let me see," he murmured.

Once again she turned back around to face him, feeling a little self conscious when his eyes swept over her.

For a moment he was silent. Then, finally, he spoke, "Beautiful."

She couldn't help the blush that quickly spread over her cheeks.

She adored the way he looked at her, like she was the only woman on earth. Like she was his sun. It never failed to make her heart flutter and her knees go weak, even when she was furious with him.

She never doubted that he loved her, even when her friends told her time and again that he was bad news, that he was just using her.

They didn't understand how she could love someone like that. Even Eponine, whose own record was not exactly sparkling clean, had warned her off against him. He'll only hurt you in the end. He's dangerous, babe.

She'd known that well before they'd started dating. After all, he had robbed her at knifepoint the first time they met.

But she hadn't cared that he was dangerous or that he was a criminal because he was more than that. He was sweet and warm and kind and good. He was charming and quite possibly the worlds biggest flirt (though only ever to her). He loved and adored her more than she ever thought possible.

She was in love with him, and nothing, not even murder, would change that.

But that didn't mean that everything would go back to normal. It couldn't.

As if he could sense her indecision, Montparnasse's arms encircled her waist, gently pulling her towards him.

"Parnasse," she began only to have the rest of her sentence cut off by his lips on hers.

God help her, she melted against him.

Kissing him was heavenly.

All coherent thoughts went straight out the window as he moved his tongue against hers.

It wasn't sweet, or soft, or particularly gentle for that matter. No, Montparnasse kissed her like he was and dying man and her lips were salvation.

His hands, which at one point had been resting innocently around her waist, were tugging insistently at the hem of her cotton tee shirt.

She, somewhat reluctantly, broke away from the kiss.

"You can't be serious," she said, breathing a little harder than usual.

There was a wild look in his eyes as he smirked devilishly at her.

Good god could he be any more attractive if he tried?

"Why not?" he replied.

She gaped at him, "Why not? Why not! Where do you want me to start?"

"Preferably with your top, but hey, if you wanna lose the skirt first than that is A-Okay with me, darling," he said, his brown eyes glinting with amusement.

She wanted to be angry with him, really, but try as she might she couldn't sop the smile that crept over her face.

He was such a fucking dork. She loved it.

But just as quickly as the smile had come, it faded.

Cosette had promised herself that she wouldn't do this. She couldn't just pretend like nothing had happened, like they were the same two people that they were before… before that.

Montparnasse's amusement died down and he frowned at her, "Do you love me?" he asked.

Her heart ached.

"How can you ask me that? I love you more than anything. That's the whole problem! Do you think this is easy for me? That I wanted this?" she said, and then suddenly, without warning, she burst into tears.

Montparnasse stepped forward, and ignoring her half hearted protests, wrapped his arms around her in a comforting embrace.

"Cosette, I don't regret what I did. I'll always choose you, whether you want me to or not," he murmured, kissing the top of her hair. "Sometimes… sometimes you have to do bad things to protect the people you love. Is that so wrong?"

"Yes… No… Christ, I don't even know anymore," Cosette sniffled.

"Then don't think about it. I love you, you love me, that's enough."

"I can't not think about it, Parnasse… You don't understand what it's been like for me. Christ, I haven't had a decent nights sleep since it happened."

As her face was buried against his chest she couldn't see the look on his face, but she could almost feel his frown. "Nightmares?" he asked.

She nodded, biting back another sob.

Montparnasse sighed, "Why didn't you call me?"

"I didn't know where you were. You left because I asked you to and I didn't know what to do, I didn't know how I was supposed to deal with, with… that..."

"I was always close, close enough to see that Pontmercy prick try and get in your pants the very second he thought I was out of the picture anyway," he said with a short laugh, though his words were laced with more than a hint of bitterness.

He must have felt her tense up in his arms because he let out a long sigh, "I'm sorry. I'm a jealous asshole, I know." He kissed the top of her head again, "Come on," he said, breaking away from the embrace and taking Cosette's hand instead.

She didn't say a word as he led her through the tiny apartment, into her bedroom. It was only when dropped her hand and shrugged off his shirt that she finally spoke.

"You're kidding right?" she asked, trying to keep her eyes from wandering down his sculpted, ivory chest. Admittedly, it was a little difficult.

He smirked, knowing exactly what was currently running through her head, "As much as I love you, and as much as I've missed you," the low growl in his voice carried heavy implications. Before she could get carried away with those implications however, he continued, "I think what you really need tonight is a decent nights sleep."

Cosette stared at him, and very slowly, a very small smile crept onto her face, "And you need to be shirtless for that because…?"

"Because it's how I sleep, you know that," he said as he undid his jeans and tossed them across the room.

Cosette, too tired to protest, shrugged and pulled off her own top. Even though it was still early-ish, him spending the night sounded kind of good.

While she had at least attempted to keep her eyes where they belonged when he had changed, Montparnasse made no such effort with her.

He watched was barely concealed delight (and more than a little desire) as she unzipped her skirt and shimmied it to the floor.

Part of her, the more modest part, wanted to turn around so she could maintain some semblance of modesty, but even she couldn't deny that she loved the attention. The weight of his burning gaze made her feel like the sexiest woman on the planet. The growing bulge in his pants didn't hurt either.

Her cheeks flushed red when she undid her bra and tossed it into her laundry basket, giving Montparnasse a fantastic view for all of five seconds before she donned her lacy, floral nightie.

"That's just cruel," Parnasse said, gaping at her from across the room.

Cosette bit back a smirk of her own, "What?" she said innocently, "This is what I've always worn to bed."

He huffed, but the soft smile on his scarred face betrayed his true feelings. "Right. Come on then, you little minx. Into bed," he commanded.

Cosette happily obliged, sliding under the huge quilt of her double bed. Montparnasse flicked off the light and crept into the bed beside her. Her father, god bless him, had bought her a huge bed that probably could have fit three people comfortably, let alone two. Despite this, Montparnasse shifted himself so that he was lying right beside her and pulled her flush against his chest. One arm wrapped around her waist while the other started to play with her golden tresses.

"What are you doing?" Cosette asked, sleepiness already weighing down her voice.

"Nothing," he whispered back. "Now go to sleep, love."

Wrapped protectively in his embrace Cosette found herself drifting off. The last thing she consciously remembered was Montparnasse's lips pressed against her cheek and a soft murmur of words she couldn't quite comprehend.

xxx

It was naïve to think that just because Montparnasse was beside her that she would sleep soundly. Just like every other night she jerked awake with a piercing scream, gasping for air as images of blood and death swirled around in her mind.

In an instant Montparnasse was cradling her against his chest, gently soothing her as she wept.

"It's okay, it was only a dream. He can't hurt you anymore," he whispered, kissing her again and again as her tears slowly subsided.

She clung to him like a frightened child. The feel of his arms around her, the smell of him (his favourite cologne, mint and a hint of cigarettes) paired with his soft voice had a calming effect on her. He was warm, familiar, and even in the dark she felt 1000 times safer than she had in a long time. He had flaws, big ones, but he would rather die than let anyone hurt her.

"Are you okay?" he asked after a while.

She took a while to answer him, "I think so."

He didn't ask her what she meant by that, merely nodding as he placed yet another feather soft kiss against her pale cheek.

"Do you want anything? Water, or I could make you a hot chocolate or something?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I only want you."

She snuggled up against him, resting her head on his chest as he gently played with her hair.

"Good," he said, smiling in the pitch black darkness of her room, "Because I'm not going anywhere."