author's note: I write random prompt ideas on twitter, and generally end up writing something tiny if people like them. And while I don't usually write Cophine, this one just fit with the characters too well to let go.

"Excusez moi? Do you have a light?"

Another Friday night, another night working behind the bar at the club. Cosima Niehaus was merely on a smoke break in the club's designated outdoor smoking area, luxuriating in the warmth of her inhalation in the slight chill of autumn, as she allowed the smoke to swirl in her lungs. Objectively, she understood that the smoky chemicals of the cigarettes didn't actually swirl in plumes, like clouds, in her body, instead going through her lungs, into her bronchi, only to dissolve, in all their toxicity, into her bloodstream (not to mention all the horrible side effects of the high amounts of tar that were probably causing indeterminate amounts of damage to her cilia and alveoli), but she appreciated the poeticism of it all as she rolled another cigarette, staunchly ignoring the negative health side effects that came with her smoking tobacco in order to get that damned smoke break. There was no way she could get away with weed at work, sadly, and she needed the job until the next bit of grant money came in.

The lilting, European voice to her right had her turning, an irritated scowl on her face. It was her break, after all, and she wanted to enjoy it. But at the sight of the beautiful blonde woman with voluminously fluffy curls framing her face and a slight smile gracing her visage, Cosima's scowl flew elsewhere. Blowing the smoke out of the side of her mouth, she reached into her baggy wool sweater, pulling out a tiny, metal, gun-shaped lighter.

"Here."

The blonde woman graciously accepted the ridiculous butane lighter with a chuckle and a soft, "Merci," before pulling out a cigarette of her own. Cosima practically had to wrench her eyes away from soft, pink lips closing around the tip of a generic filter as the blue flame engulfed the far end of the cigarette. The blonde took a long first drag, discreetly peeking out of the side of her eye with distinct amusement at Cosima (who hoped she could blame the cold for her blush) before releasing a slow, thin stream of smoke to fly into the night air.

Moments passed in silence as Cosima stoically looked out across the street, attempting to ignore the attractive blonde standing beside her, as they took drag after drag of their cigarettes. It was only when she felt cold fingers grasp hers, before sliding something slightly warmer into her palm, that she turned back towards the woman, head tilted in slight curiosity and a slight smile on her face.

What she didn't know was that that singular moment with a complete stranger would turn her life upside down.

The next morning, it was the repetitive screech of her cell phone that had Cosima snapping awake, much earlier than she had anticipated. She blearily reached by her bed for her glasses, sliding them on before reaching for her damned phone.

"This better be frickin' important," she murmured as she turned on the phone, angry snarl on her face.

52 text messages, 8 voice messages, 16 emails and overflowing social media notifications.

And all of them had something to do with Cosima "getting it", which merely had her resting her forehead on her hand, brow furrowed in confusion. She knew she could trust one person to tell her what was going on, so the next time he called (which was blessedly right as she was about to call him, finger itching over the "call" on her screen), she was quick to answer.

"What's going on, Scott?" She sat on the edge of her bed, tapping her fingers on her leg. "Why is everyone blowing up my everything?"

"Wait, you don't know?" Even through the tinniness of the phone, Scott's disbelief is palpable. "Get on your computer, like, right now."

Cosima wedged her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she got up to grab her computer (having to sweep some half-finished research notes from the top of it). "Can't you just give me the short version?" Her face scrunched up in impatience as her computer thrummed to life, loading slower than she'd like.

"This is one of those, 'You have to see it to believe it' kinds of things." Cosima rolled her eyes, displeased by the distinct melodrama that Scott was putting into the whole thing.

"Whatever, it's not like I won another research grant…" This made her pause for a moment. "Right?" Scott's negative response made her sigh piteously. "Ok, I'm online, what am I looking for."

"Search Delphine Cormier, and limit the search parameters to the last 24 hours." Cosima did as he instructed, not recognizing the name at all, and swore colourfully when she saw the pictures that appeared on google.

"That's me. And that hot chick who asked for my lighter on my smoke break." Clicking through the link, she saw caption after caption of ridiculousness, all stretching the truth for what was within the pictures.

Recently out French singer, Delphine Cormier, seen getting cozy with another female.

Bisexual beauty, Delphine Cormier, seen smoking outside a club with girlfriend.

Beautiful Bombshell, Delphine Cormier, and other girl holding hands. Girlfriends? Or just friends?

There were hundreds of these...

"Oh my god." Cosima lowered her head into her hands, phone still miraculously wedged on her shoulder, if only by force of habit, as everything sunk in. "Are you kidding? This isn't even good reporting! This is entirely conjecture, and the fact that these…" Raising her head, she allowed her hands to wave ineffectually through the air, as if she could snatch the right words from in front of her.

"Papparazzi and gossip vultures," Scott provided, amusement lacing his voice.

"Thank you, I was going to go with asshats. Or ignoramuses." She shook her head, pursing her lips in discontent. "Anyway, none of it is true. Well, none beyond the fact that I met her. And we were smoking." She needed something to drink. It wasn't even nine in the morning, and she was already going to have her first glass of wine. It was going to be one of those days, it seemed.

"Was she as beautiful in real life as she is in her music videos?" Cosima paused as she stretched for a wine glass, wine bottle in hand, amused by Scott's question.

"Are you asking for purely scientific reasons?" Her toothy smirk translated well enough in her tone of voice, apparently, because Scott had merely laughed, slightly embarrassed. "You know as well as I do that I had no idea who the woman was last night, so there's no way I've seen her videos." She didn't have to add that there was a very low likelihood that she would be interested in watching them either, what with her admittedly obscure taste in music. But, since Scott asked, "She was incredibly gorgeous."

"Cool."

"Yeah," Cosima mused, taking a sip of of her wine. "If I had to be saddled with a fake relationship, I guess she's not so bad."

a/n: Fic Title from Lady Gaga's "Paparazzi"

Also, this fic has been edited for more scientific accuracy thanks to the indomitable Rei :D