Crossing her arms, a brunette sat up just a little straighter, shifting her glare between the barren stage in front of her and her sister, immediately to her left. Dust particles were evident as they danced against the sunshine pouring in from the solitary window in the dank bar they occupied. "You know what Sarah -"
"Bloody hell Alison, what? Please, by all means, gift us with your suburbanite wisdom." The second brunette rattled the table they shared as she lifted her feet up, anchoring her ankles together before settling them on the wood. She leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable as she returned her sister's withering stare.
"I was simply going to say that if you hadn't -" She paused, looking around anxiously, as if someone in the spectacularly empty tavern could hear her next words. Even without another soul in the room, apart from the two others at the table, she whispered the ending to her sentence conspiratorially. " - if you hadn't had sexual relations with our last two drummers, we wouldn't be in this predicament." Sarah snorted angrily, pulling her arms more closely around her chest and avoiding Alison's gaze as if she were Medusa. "And you," she turned to the third woman, landing a poke against the dreadlocked woman's sternum, "really shouldn't be smoking so much."
Cosima rolled her eyes before stamping out the joint she'd nearly finished, silently debating whether to save the remainder, or roll an entirely new one once she was released from the hell hole that was new drummer auditions. "Yeah, totally. It's not like your constant bickering keeps me on edge or anything, I mean -"
"Hello?" A tentative voice rang out from behind them, the door to the bar opened once again by a slender blonde whose general appearance screamed 'rock band' about as much as Sarah's screamed wholesome. She held up a flyer, shifting her attention from it to the group of girls and back again. "I am looking for the auditions for the Clone Club. You need a drummer, no?" Cosima's ears perked up as the woman continued speaking, detecting the lilt of her accent and immediately determining France, perhaps Paris. "Is it an all female group?"
Sarah snorted again, setting the front two legs of her chair back onto solid ground before turning to face the woman in the doorway. "Our lead singer is our brother Felix, but it's still pretty much all-female." Cosima smirked, covering her chuckle with a cough to avoid yet another reprimand from Alison while the blonde's face scrunched in confusion and she looked back at the flyer a third time, fidgeting uncomfortably. "So you're a drummer, yeah? Show us what you got." She gestured noncommittally to the stage and leaned back in her chair again, her facial features drawn tightly in criticism of the woman's seeming lack of confidence and tentative nature.
Settling in behind the large kit, the mysterious auditioner spun the stick in her right hand several times before connecting the pair three times in the air to signal the beginning of her set. Three jaws dropped as the woman's hands moved flawlessly across the drums before her, her expression one of relaxation and ease. Her foot pounded away at the bass drum while the sticks she loosely gripped made simple work of the snare and tom-toms, occasionally passing over the cymbals for an accent. Her movements were precise, though not contrived, and an impressed grin colored Sarah's cheeks when the blonde finally pulled away, standing hesitantly and facing the trio on the floor.
"Not bad, Frenchie," the brunette replied, as close to a compliment as she would deign necessary. Her hazel eyes flickered left and right, seeing similar amazement on her sister's faces. "Welcome to the Clone Club."
Cosima leaned against the bar, a goblet of wine dangling loosely in her left hand as her hips swayed to the music unconsciously, watching their new band mate try to win Felix over with wide smiles and Parisian charm. "You gonna try and hit that Cos?" Taking a slow slip of the dark liquid, she shook her head, her dreadlocks swinging dangerously, nearly taking out another patron's half-empty beer. Delphine turned, as if she could feel the girls' eyes on her and wiggled her fingers in greeting before her free hand was grabbed by their brother and she was pulled into the fray of the writhing bodies. "You think she's hot though, yeah?"
"Yeah, totally," Cosima nodded, a light flush tinting her cheeks, "totally. But your genetic predisposition to rash decisions when it comes to your genitalia and how it's affected the band so far -"
"English Cos, yeah? Just fuckin' speak English."
The other brunette flashed a self-deprecating grin toward her sister, her hands flailing in the air while she tried to gain purchase of a new explanation. "Paul and Cal didn't work out, so why should I even try with Delphine? She's the best drummer we've ever had, and besides, I mean -"
"We don't even know if she's down with the twat," Sarah finished unceremoniously, throwing back the dredges of her whiskey and Coke before signaling for another. She turned, running her fingers through the top of her hair before leaning back against the bar to mimic the other woman. "Just give it a go," she finally said, nodding in Delphine's direction, where the blonde was waving them both over to the dance floor. "You never know, do you?"
It was without thought that Cosima's legs began moving her through the crowds, her dark eyes not leaving the lightened hazel peering at her carefully. The drummer gestured to her glass, silently asking for an explanation. "Siobhan, Sarah and Felix's foster mom, owns the bar. As long as we don't drive, she doesn't narc on us."
"Narc?" she echoed, her head tilting to the side as she pursed her lips. Cosima's knees weakened beneath her, and she silently cursed Sarah for planting the idea of a romantic entanglement with their new drummer in her head.
"Um, yeah," she grinned, her neck snaking in the thick, musty air before she straightened up, cocking her head and grinning. "Like, she doesn't rat us out – she doesn't say anything about it, so we don't get in deep shit with the cops." She mentally berated herself this time, rather than her sister, unsure if "deep shit" was in the realm of euphemisms the blonde was familiar with.
"Ah, oui," Delphine agreed, smiling slightly with understanding. "We wouldn't want to get into deep shit with the cops." Her emphasis on the phrase was purposeful, and had Cosima's knees trembling further. "Does that mean -"
"You're with the band now, aren't you?" The brunette's cheeky, almost lopsided smirk was all the confirmation the other woman needed, and she deftly, and rather bravely, if she'd look back on it, intertwined their fingers and led their newest drummer towards the sticky, wooden bar. "What's your poison?" Delphine's features went blank a second time, and Cosima felt sure that the look of confusion was one that she could stare at intently for hours – the furrowed brows, slight pout of lips, and the quirk at the edge of the French woman's mouth was quite frankly, in a word, one that she very rarely utilized, adorable. "What would you like to drink?" she amended, a shiver running through her thin frame, despite the tights adorning her legs and the loose, long sleeved top she wore.
"Whatever wine you're drinking is fine." The words were close to her ear, despite the crowded bar not boasting its usual raucousness that Friday night; the sentence, as innocent as it was, was accompanied by a slight squeeze to her hand, the cause of the tingles flooding her spine from the base to her brain stem. Cosima ignored the sudden rush within her body, chalking it up to dopamine and serotonin and flooding chemicals that made it far easier to separate herself from the nerves she felt coursing in her veins. She waved at Siobhan, holding up two fingers before pointing down at her nearly empty glass, receiving a stiff nod and a motherly glare in response. "She doesn't seem to like us drinking, even if she doesn't, as you say, narc."
"No, no, it's fine," Cosima automatically rebutted, her right hand itching to join her left in the air, but the rest of her body refusing to release Delphine's fingers. "Alison ended up ralphing in the rose bushes last week because she and Donnie had gotten into a fight, and now we get silent warnings to watch our alcoholic intake." That same slightly dazed expression crossed the blonde's features, shifting Cosima's into a wry grin. "Donnie is her -" she shook her head, laughing quietly. "You know what, you don't even want to know. It's a long story, and it's not even super exciting, so -"
"Mais, j'aime à vous écouter." It was the brunette whose features twisted in confusion this time, provoking a quiet chuckle from Delphine as she nodded at Siobhan, retrieving her glass and gesturing towards the second, notifying the woman whose hand was still firmly grasping her own. She hadn't pulled away, and while she wasn't sure why, she had an inkling that the warmth that radiated up from her fingertips to her forearm to her bicep, finally settling in her chest, was reason enough. "I like listening to you," she translated, a shy smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I'd also like to dance with you. Felix is lovely, mais -"
"He can be a bit much sometimes," Cosima offered, almost stumbling over her words as both hands were encumbered at this point and the thought of dancing with the woman inches away from her was enough to have anyone tripping over themselves. Delphine allowed the conversation to end there, despite wanting desperately to clarify her statement, because the brunette was now tugging on her hand, leading her back toward the dance floor and their group of friends, who'd carved out a small niche in the masses.
Hazel eyes scanned the crowd around them, noting that Sarah had latched onto someone who looked very much like Cal, with golden waves and a well-kept beard. Felix, so much like his foster sister, was pressed closely against a man of similar stature and appearance, and it wouldn't have surprised Cosima in the slightest if the two men were twins. Alison held a cup in the air, occasionally spilling it on unsuspecting patrons as she danced on her own, loudly belting along to the music pouring through the speakers. She'd surely be throwing up into the rose bushes again if she weren't cut off soon.
The brunette shook her head, deciding that tonight, it wasn't her concern. She'd allow someone else to deal with the Alison Hendrix Hot Mess Express, while she tended to the blonde who was now slowly swaying about a foot away from her, multicolored eyes hooded and a lit cigarette dangling from the end of her lip. Somehow, in the scant few seconds Cosima had turned her attention to her clones, still such a strange word even to think, thus the use of the word sisters, their hands had separated and despite the warm, humid air of the tavern, she felt a coolness against her palm, as if it too missed Delphine's anatomy. Once she'd gathered her thoughts a second time, she looked up, finding a man nothing short of lecherous closing in behind the blonde, who was none the wiser. Cosima was frozen, a foreign feeling building up in her stomach and making her far more nauseous than she'd ever been, even after a night of tequila shots with Sarah – one for each time Alison yelled above the noise, "I love this song!" She'd lost count after number nine.
So instead, she stood, unmoving, watching as his hips pressed up against Delphine's, gauging her interest so sparsely it seemed as though the blonde hadn't even noticed his presence. He pushed more firmly against her and Cosima watched as her eyes widened and she spun on her heel, jabbing an angry pointer finger at his chest and prattling in a frustrated mixture of English and French. Once he'd backed off, both hands hanging in the air as if in surrender, the blonde crossed the few feet between them, sighing roughly and shaking her head. "I hate that." Cosima waiting, as patiently as she could, rocking from one foot to the other, for an extrapolation. "I hate when men assume that because you are dancing alone, that you are in need of their company. Mon Dieu!"
Knowing it was a bad idea, a horrible idea even, but also strangely in tune with the fact that while she was nearly brilliant in the sciences, and more than fair on a bass guitar, she was laughingly inept at making wise choices when it came to women, she pressed her palm against Delphine's collarbone, leaning in next to her ear. "I'll pretend to be your girlfriend for the night. Problem solved." Just as she'd known it was far from the best idea, she knew her words were dripping with things they shouldn't be dripping with – a hint of seduction and a drop of lust. Still very near the blonde's ear, she felt a cool cheek slide against hers several times, the product of a vigorous nod on the drummer's part, as she whispered her gratitude in her native language.
Cosima decided then, that once she'd made what could be a fatal mistake, she might as well commit. What is a theory without experimentation? Why develop a hypothesis if you have no intention of testing its boundaries? So she slipped her free hand once more into Delphine's and began swaying her hips gently, just as she had been earlier at the bar. She was more than surprised, however, when the blonde followed her motions without missing a beat, slipping a slender thigh between Cosima's own and pressing minutely closer, as if testing the waters. Craning her neck back at an admittedly awkward angle, she lifted her gaze to meet Delphine's, finding an intensity that shocked her once again, bringing back the tingles in her spine in full force. Either there was something flooding the space between them, something neither woman was anticipating, or they'd both translated from musicians to award winning actresses in milliseconds. Cosima refused to allow herself the opportunity to hope.
"You are a very convincing girlfriend," Delphine spoke, several songs later – the first words either woman had uttered since the brunette's courageous offer. Her words were hoarse, perhaps due to lack of use, but the hope that Cosima had forced to flat line reared angrily in her chest, bolstering her next words and reminding her of a singular phrase she'd repeated to Sarah many times since they'd first met, their freshman year of high school. Genetic predisposition to rash decisions.
"I can be more convincing, you know." She tilted her head to the side, though her typical cheeky smirk was absent; her features were set seriously, tiring of tip-toeing around what she had thus far interpreted as sexual tension.
"Can you?" Delphine's words struck chords in her sternum, the hoarseness of her tone not disappearing and her eyes meeting a similar pair, as if passing an unspoken challenge through the air between them. It was all Cosima could do to nod slowly, tilting her head up as she lifted onto the balls of her feet before untangling their fingers and wrapping her now free hand behind the other woman's neck.
"Is this okay, or am I about to make a huge mistake as your fake girlfriend?"
She heard no response, but the lack of was even better than any verbal confirmation, because Delphine's lips surged against her own, whispering just how okay it was, without actually using words. She felt a soft, satiny tongue slip into her mouth and a sigh escaped her own lips as she clung more desperately to the back of the blonde's head, wanting nothing more than to allow this heady, intoxicating feeling absorb her completely. Her limbs, once tingling, were now buzzing dangerously and she had to pull away to ground herself; the breathlessness had made her lightheaded and she swayed slightly as her heels touched down on the sticky, cemented floor of the bar. Cosima chanced a glance upward a second time, finding a soft smile gracing Delphine's features as the fingers once wrapped around her own neck traveled, brushing her bottom lip with nothing short of tenderness.
"I knew I smelt lesbian on her!" The brunette twisted in the drummer's hold, flicking a single middle finger into the air in Felix's direction, despite her beaming smile. As Delphine gazed down at her, she couldn't help but think that a smile that bright, that brilliant could possibly light every lamp in every home in the world, all on its own. Unable to help herself, she tilted down again, twisting Cosima's face back in her direction and applying precise pressure to plump lips, ignoring Sarah's cat calls as they entangled themselves in one another again, this time with far more confidence.
AN: This will be a multi-chapter fic, for the record. I hope you enjoyed the first installment, and I'd love if you'd let me know either way, via review or PM. :)