A/N: The pr0n bunnies told me to. There really is no other justification for this. It's my crack pairing of choice for Les Mis (although less crack-y than some).
Also I was told by a certain party to write more smut, and that party had a bad day yesterday. You know who you are. I hope this helps.
"Mon dieu!"
It was worse than she'd feared, much worse. The entire room was a shambles, her little walnut wardrobe thrown open and clothes strewn everywhere. And in the middle of it all, holding one of her undergarments in hands grimy with ground-in street dirt, was the culprit. A girl she knew to be a thief.
"Put that down!" she cried, shutting the door and starting forward. But the intruder danced back a few steps, out of her reach.
"Cosette, really. What is this even for?" Eponine laughed. She turned the thing over in her hands; it looked like a small linen pillow attached to an armband. "It's either a bloody huge pincushion, or-"
Having finally reached her, Cosette managed to snatch the item back. She opened a drawer in the bottom of the wardrobe and settled it carefully inside atop a neat pile of other linen and lace underthings.
"It's a sleeve-plumper, for your information."
The other girl let out a burst of laughter, grabbing the bedpost as if for support. "A sleeve-plumper?"
"Yes," came the tart reply. But the blonde was smiling behind her voluminous sleeve. She managed to compose herself before straightening to face Eponine again.
"You thought sleeves stayed this full by themselves?" She tugged at the mound of blue muslin below her shoulder to emphasize the point. The other girl raised an eyebrow.
"S'pose so. I've never wanted a gown like that myself," she replied. "It looks like you're wearing legs of mutton on your arms."
"Well," Cosette said, "we can't all swan around in...what is all that, anyway?" She gestured to the brunette's motley outfit; her companion shrugged.
"I dunno. Odds and ends; they fit and they suit well enough for summer." Eponine picked at the hem of her shirt. "And I've a coat for when winter comes."
The other girl sighed and set about picking up her clothes and returning them to the wardrobe. "I envy you. You probably don't even wear a corset."
"Yes, I do! I'm not completely immodest!" Eponine protested with a laugh. She plucked a bonnet out of Cosette's hands and set it on her head. Juxtaposed with her patched and stained clothing, the confection of straw and silk flowers looked so absurd that the blonde had to laugh. Sticking her nose in the air, the brunette began darting around the room, her arms slightly extended like a ballet dancer's.
"Oh, monsieur," she cooed, "you waltz divinely!"
"Stop that!" But Cosette was laughing as she took one sun-browned hand and settled Eponine in a needlepoint chair. She removed the bonnet from the other girl's head and returned it to its box.
"I wouldn't wear that to a ball!"
Eponine leaned forward, clasping her knees in her hands. Her brown eyes shone through the soot and dirt on her face. "Then what would you wear to a ball? Come on, Cosette, tell me."
"I've never been to one, as well you know," the blonde retorted.
"But you know; you must," came the wheedling reply. Eponine stuck out her lower lip- and, by leaning further forward, her décolletage. "Please? Please, ma belle?"
Though Cosette's expression remained pleasantly neutral, her pale cheeks began to flush. And her breathing was slightly ragged when she said, "W-well, something in silk, perhaps. Or lace. But I think for a ball gown, I'd prefer blue silk. And white gloves, and flowers in my hair, and dancing-slippers. None of which I currently own. There." She snatched the last dress, a red one in a material more suited for winter, off the bed and replaced it in the wardrobe. "Is your curiosity satisfied?"
After a moment of silence, Eponine stood and began slowly making her way towards the blonde. "Yes. That all sounds lovely. But I think…" Stopping before Cosette, she glanced slowly over her, from head to toe, with a spark in her eyes that sent a not-unwelcome shiver through her companion.
"I think what I like you wearing best is nothing at all."
" 'Ponine-" Cosette glanced over her shoulder at the closed door. "Is now really the best time?" she whispered.
"Well," the other girl said, as she removed her shawl with feigned innocence, "if you'd rather I go, of course I can. Just thought you should know my opinion."
"I like you best," she went on, "with no gown." She slipped an arm around Cosette's waist and toyed with the buttons at the back of her dress.
"And no corset." The fingers of her free hand traced lazy patterns on the blonde's ribcage, just below her breasts.
"And no chemise." Eponine stared into the other girl's blue eyes for a moment, taking in their dilated pupils before leaning in to kiss her. A few moments later, she pulled back.
"Still want me to leave, Mam'selle?"
In lieu of an answer, Cosette pressed her lips back to Eponine's with a ferocity that belied her delicate appearance. The latter smiled when next they paused for breath.
"That's what I thought," she whispered. And the hand still fiddling with Cosette's buttons began to slowly undo them. As she worked, her lover gave an impatient sigh.
"Mademoiselle Thernardier?"
"Mmm?"
"I don't think you're being entirely fair."
"All's fair in love and war, cherie." Eponine reached the last button and began to slowly peel the dress from the other girl's body. Cosette frowned.
"Oh no. What you get to see, so do I." And with that, she deftly undid the belt around the brunette's waist and pulled up the overlarge, smudged shirt. After a bit of difficulty, she finally got it off. Eponine made a face and, abandoning finesse, yanked the bodice of Cosette's gown to her waist.
"Now we're even."
Unlacing corsets came next, a tricky business that took the better part of twenty minutes, ("I've often wished I had a lady's maid." "What, for this?") but at last it was done. Eponine stood, bare-chested and shivering, staring in mock resentment at Cosette.
"God's sake, why d'you need all those layers?" She indicated chemise and petticoat. Cosette raised an eyebrow.
"Most women do, you know."
"Huh," the brunette scoffed. "No, thank you. Now come on," she undid the drawstring on Cosette's petticoat and let it fall to the floor. "How else will I visit the little miss?"
With a gasp of mock embarrassment, Cosette playfully slapped her hand away. "Why, 'Ponine! Such language!" Her scandalized expression morphed into a sly smile. "But now you mention it, the little miss has been quite lonely of late."
Eponine traced the curve of her lover's hip through the cotton of the chemise. "Shall I kiss her and tell her she's a good girl?"
"I believe she would like that very much," Cosette replied, her breath growing shallow.
In short order, Cosette's chemise and Eponine's skirt joined the rest of their garments on the floor. As both girls stood naked, the brunette's gaze ran over the blonde's body; Cosette almost felt her stare, as if it left a slight tingling sensation in its wake. Eponine smiled crookedly.
"Yes. Much prettier than any frock could ever be."
She gently touched the blonde's jaw, stroking her chin with just the tips of her fingers- until, that is, Cosette gave a sigh of frustration and pulled her close, causing their lips to meet once more. The heated kiss somehow carried them to the large bed against one wall; the blonde leaned back as her lover gently pushed her down onto the mattress. Breaking the contact, Eponine glanced briefly at the door.
"Can we be expecting any company?" she asked quietly. Cosette laughed.
"It's locked. And the house is empty. We won't be disturbed."
Her announcement was met with a sly grin. "Good." Eponine's brown eyes examined the blonde once more, travelling across her skin in anticipation. And then up to meet the other girl's blue ones, which continued to show her frustration.
" 'Ponine, if you're just going to stare at me all day…"
Now it was the street girl's turn to laugh. "Of course not, sweetheart. I'm just trying to decide whether to kiss you here-"
Her lips touched Cosette's collarbone.
"Or here…" She kissed the blonde's breast, pausing to worry the nipple with her teeth and smiling at her lover's gasp.
"Or here." The last kiss fell just below Cosette's navel. "What d'you think, ma petite?"
"I think that whatever you're going to do, you had better stop prevaricating and do it," Cosette managed, her breathing still shallow. Eponine stroked the outside of her thigh.
"As you like," she replied. And proceeded to begin trailing kisses slowly lower, down the other girl's torso, until she reached the regions polite young ladies were not supposed to even think about, let alone kiss. But in love as in fashion, what "polite young ladies" did was often overrated.
For Cosette, the world narrowed to the sensation of Eponine's lips and tongue and, on occasion, teeth. Her hands fisted in other girl's brown hair as the feeling of pleasure built, swelling and growing more acute with each lick, bite, and kiss. She became dimly aware that her lover was speaking in the moments when her mouth wasn't otherwise occupied.
"D'you like that? Talk to me, Cosette."
And it was all she could do to gasp, "Yes. Mon dieu, don't you dare stop."
"Good," came the reply. And then it seemed as though Eponine had redoubled her efforts and there was nothing but sensation that grew more and more intense, building until it reached the breaking point.
It was a very good thing, Eponine reflected, that the house was empty. Even the newest servants knew that Mademoiselle Cosette seldom screamed like that over clothing.
A/N: And there you have it. An excuse to write femslash and bash 1830s fashionable clothing (which I hate); what more could be asked for?