Hi, lovelies! I'm back with part two of my City Love series. Part one is called Wounded Together, and followed Grantaire/Eponine. You don't have to read it first, as this story is going to follow another relationship more, but it can't hurt! Fair warning, this story is going to be smuttier and explore some interesting ideas. I don't really follow the most popular fanons in this story, but please give it a chance!
This is also cross-posted on Archive of Our Own :)
When sky blue gets dark enough to see the colors of the city lights
A trail of ruby red and diamond white hits her like a sunrise
She comes and goes and comes and goes like no one can
The end of a school year always had an interesting effect on college students. The sense of freedom that automatically came with it lowered inhibitions and made everything seem a bit more exciting and meaningful than it actually was. A simple get-together morphed into the gathering of the century, and a keg of cheap beer became the finest of beverages. For most students, even those who had only a weekend before jobs, internships, or classes started again, it was the most liberating time of the year.
For this reason, Courfeyrac rented out the top floor of the Corinth, his and his friends' favorite bar, which was just a short walk from their college campus. There was drama between Grantaire and Eponine, which Courfeyrac hoped was able to be resolved sooner rather than later. The two had been together for the better part of the semester, before Grantaire drank himself sick and Eponine left him suddenly. Courfeyrac liked them together, and although he was irritated with Eponine for leaving, he would do anything necessary to reunite her with Grantaire.
So, Courfeyrac was sick of watching Grantaire stare vacantly at the screen of his phone, waiting almost pathetically for Eponine to show up or text him. Fortunately for Grantaire, the word "pathetic" would never be used to describe him. In this state, "tragic" was the word Combeferre chose to whisper to Enjolras in regards to their friend. Courfeyrac left the party to call Jehan, Grantaire's roommate, who was probably with Feuilly.
Courfeyrac pushed past the small crowd of people, all of whom he knew, most of whom were his friends, and several of whom he had hooked up with. "Boundaries" were a little blurry with him sometimes, and he inwardly groaned as a gaggle of attractive women passed him as he was going down the stairs. He decided that they must be the friends Azelma invited.
Tonight she's out to lose herself and find a high on Peachtree Street
From mixed drinks to techno beats it's always heavy into everything
"Jehan, I just missed the chance to introduce myself to several fine young ladies, you'd better have a good explanation of where you are. And that explanation had better include that you and Feuilly are dragging Eponine here, kicking and screaming if you have to. Also, I'd like to watch if you have her tied up in any way," said Courfeyrac in one hurried breath when Jehan picked up his phone.
"You know, that would have sounded weird if, I don't know, anyone but you said that," replied Jehan. "But yes, we are bringing Eponine."
Inside, a different scenario was unfolding. Enjolras looked like he was planning to murder Combeferre over what was undoubtedly a routine game of pool. Grantaire looked like he was on the verge of tears, at a table with Bossuet, Joly, Bahorel, and Azelma. The girl squealed as soon as she saw Musichetta and their other friends arrive, and jumped up from the table to greet them.
"Thanks for inviting us, 'Zelma," said Musichetta. "This is bound to be better than anything else going on tonight; the freshmen are out of control all over campus. I saw a girl puking in an alley on the way here."
Azelma scrunched her nose in disgust. "I figured as much, Bahorel isn't even at his fraternity house with his brothers yet. He says we can go back later when the freshmen have passed out."
She comes and goes and comes and goes like no one can
She comes and goes and no one knows she's slipping through my hands
"Oh so you two are a 'we' again?"
Azelma smiled. "Yep, it's like we were never apart, really."
"Must be nice," teased Musichetta, but inwardly, she was a little jealous. She flagged down Fricassee, the bartender, and got herself a beer. At the age of twenty-one, she had only been in one serious relationship. It started sometime in high school and she broke it off with the guy a few months into college, when the distance highlighted just how little substance there was to their lackluster relationship.
Musichetta leaned against the bar and sipped her beer, examining herself in the mirror behind the bottles on the bar. Her family had Italian roots and continued every family tradition possible, including looks. Her brown eyes matched her hair, and she carried herself in a way that sometimes was mistaken for arrogance. Musichetta wasn't pompous in the least bit, but it was easy to tell that she came from money her usually expensive tastes.
She's always buzzing just like neon
Who knows how long she can go before she burns away
She was lost in thought, idly wondering if she could find a summer fling that would be worth her while, when she turned abruptly from the bar in search of Azelma. Bossuet, a man she knew only by sight but not by name, happened to cross her path at that exact moment, and she stumbled and spilled her nearly-full beer right down the back of his shirt.
Bossuet jumped from the cold sensation, and Musichetta mentally cursed herself out. "I'm so, so sorry," she said, frantically grabbing a stack of napkins from the bar to help clean up the mess.
He just sighed in a resigned way. "It's not a big deal. This stuff happens." Musichetta was mortified as he mumbled something about having to catch his shift at work anyway, and he walked away as quickly as his legs could carry him. She saw him shout something in the direction of a table of Azelma's other friends, and he nearly knocked another one of them over near the stairs in his haste to exit.
Azelma came up to the bar and hooked her arm around one of Musichetta's. "Come on, it's alright. His name's Bossuet, and I'm surprised he didn't get something spilled on him earlier in the night, to be honest."
Musichetta frowned. "He said something like that. I still feel like an ass. Guess I just blew my chance at getting any guy in this room to go out with me, huh?"
Azelma shook her head. "Really, don't worry about it. Come on, I'll introduce you to some more of Bahorel's friends, they're really good guys. I promise!" Azelma had to half-drag Musichetta back to the table.
Feuilly, Jehan and Courfeyrac were back from their escapade with Grantaire, and seated themselves at a table with Combeferre and Enjolras. The latter two were leaving with Courfeyrac the next day for an eight week study abroad session; only Courfeyrac would plan to throw a rager the night before a red-eye flight. Feuilly and Jehan listened to details of the trip wistfully. They had managed to secure summer internships with a large publishing company nearby, but it paled in comparison to two months in Paris (especially since it looked like Grantaire was bailing on their internship).
Marius and Cosette had joined Joly and Bahorel, and Azelma guided Musichetta into a vacant chair that used to seat Bossuet. Bahorel was the only one of the friends that Musichetta really knew, because of his relationship with Azelma and the fact that he and Musichetta were both physical therapy majors. There were plenty of other people about, especially friends of Bahorel and Azelma's, and the end-of-year excitement was nearly tangible in the bar.
Joly turned to Musichetta after introductions were made and she apologized for spilling her drink on Bossuet for the umpteenth time. "Musichetta, please don't worry. We're more embarrassed for him than anything, I swear," he said with a grin. He placed his hand on hers for a second in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture. It caught Musichetta off guard when the contact sent a jolt of something like desire through her.
"Have we met before?" she asked hurriedly. "Sorry, I sound like a walking cliché tonight, but have we had class together?" She ignored Bahorel snorting with laughter.
"Maybe," Joly responded. "I'm pre-med biology, and so is Bossuet, actually."
"Oh. Maybe we had some freshman classes together; I'm a physical therapy major."
Bossuet didn't return to the Corinth that night, opting to wait at home until it was time to go to his twelve-hour shift at the hospital. St. Vincent Hospital was the hospital in the city affiliated with their university, and most of the students in the medical field had some sort of internship there as undergraduates. Bossuet started college on a pre-law track, but after a semester, he made the radical switch to pre-med with Joly. Somehow, the pair of them had been interns for several months and they counted it as a miracle that the hospital hadn't simply burned down due to Bossuet's bad luck yet.
Joly and Musichetta simply clicked, and they passed their first night of summer vacation going drink for drink. While Enjolras gave a slightly tipsy goodbye speech, (that he insisted everyone stop what they were doing to listen to) Joly suddenly became aware of Musichetta's leg resting against his under the table. `
I can't be her angel now, you know it's not my place to hold her down
And it's hard for me to take a stand when I would take her any way I can
After everyone was drunk enough to start dancing, Musichetta wasn't as surprised as she should have been when Joly's hands found a place to rest snugly on her hips. The loud music flooded their senses and lent a surreal touch to their end-of-year high. When the group started to part ways for the night, she whispered into his ear, "Your place?"
At this, Joly nodded. His brain was scolding him, but the throbbing between his legs was in control. He and Bossuet shared everything else they had with each other, and it wouldn't be the first time one of them brought a woman back to their bed.
"Good thing Grantaire wasn't there, Eponine prob'ly would've had to carry him home," Azelma slurred with a laugh. Bahorel was more or less supporting her, though he was drunk himself.
Joly was walking with Musichetta's arms wrapped around one of his, and the two were in good spirits, as they had been since they started talking. Their flirting had not gone unnoticed (although naturally they thought it had) and nobody stopped them when Joly volunteered to walk Musichetta home.
"Now that we're out of there, I really have to ask, is it still walking her home if you're walking her to your home?" Bahorel asked with an impish grin.
Musichetta moved to give Bahorel a playful kick to the shin, but in her wedges, she tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and took Joly down with her instead. The two of them lay on the sidewalk giggling for a minute before attempting to get up.
She comes and goes and comes and goes like no one can
She comes and goes and no one knows she's slipping through my hands
"Do you think you have a concussion? Are you hurt?" Joly asked Musichetta. He cupped her cheek with his hand and gently turned her face toward his, to see if her eyes showed the telltale sign of a head injury.
"I think I'm okay. I don't feel anything. Well, that's a lie, I actually feel-" Joly cut her off with a kiss. By this time, Bahorel and Azelma had wandered about a block ahead of them, gone in their own little world.
"That. I felt that," said Musichetta as she pulled away from Joly. He returned her smile.
"Let's get out of the rain before we get sick. My apartment isn't far." Musichetta liked the sound of that. Joly softly placed a kiss on her cheek.
She wriggled her fingers through his, squeezing his hand impatiently. Joly led her through the streets for just a few more minutes, before arriving at his building. They barely got his front door locked behind him when Musichetta pressed herself to him and captured his mouth in a kiss.
Joly slipped his hands through her hair, tugging gently while he kissed her back harshly. Musichetta thought it had been far too long since she'd been with someone, and she groaned with anticipation as all the old sensations came back to her.
Feeling emboldened from the alcohol and deprived from intimacy, Musichetta pushed Joly to the nearest furniture, which happened to be his couch. Following her lead, Joly sat on the couch, pulling her so that she was straddling him. She continued to kiss him hungrily, and for a second she wondered if she was even good at kissing anymore. So she decided to try something else she recalled that she used to be complimented on.
Musichetta moved her nimble hands down to Joly's belt. "Is it okay if I-"
"Definitely," interrupted Joly. "As long as you're sure."
Musichetta licked her lips and nodded, then removed his pants in a few quick motions. She dropped to her knees on the old, worn carpet of the living room. She tugged his legs so he was a little closer to the edge of the couch. She tucked her long brown hair over her shoulder, took a breath, and then took Joly's hard dick in her mouth. He let out a soft moan and Musichetta felt her confidence soar, knowing she was giving him pleasure. She took him in her mouth as deep as she could, working her tongue up and down his length. After a minute, she withdrew her mouth and removed her hand from where it was gently holding his base. As Joly sighed to protest the lack of her presence, she swiftly removed her top and bra, and leaned forward again.
This time, as Musichetta pleasured Joly with her mouth, and what he would later refer to as that tongue, she purposefully let her firm nipples graze his thighs as she moved over him. Her guess that this would further turn them both on was correct, and a few moments later she felt Joly dig his fingernails into the soft skin of her shoulders, where his hands had rested. He came, softly breathing her name as she continued to work him through his orgasm.
"Thank you," said Joly almost shyly. He smiled and stood, pulling Musichetta up with him. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling confident in herself for the first time in a long while.
"Don't be ridiculous, you don't have to thank me," she giggled. "Dork."
He laughed and pulled her into his lap, giving her another kiss. "I owe you for sure."
"I'll take some more alcohol, if you have it," said Musichetta boldly. Her haze was starting to wear off, and she wanted some more liquid courage. Joly pulled his boxer briefs back on, and smoothed his polo shirt as if it mattered.
"Anything for you," said Joly shyly. Something about the way he said it made Musichetta think he meant it. He stood for a few seconds, drinking in the way her body looked in the moonlight that was streaming in through the window. He took her by the hand and led her to the small kitchen. She sat on the floor while Joly rummaged in the fridge.
"You don't wanna sit at the table?"
"This was closer," said Musichetta, as if her choice of sitting on the floor, topless, was an obvious one. So he shrugged and joined her, setting down a half-full bottle of tequila and a bowl of limes.
"This is the only thing we have right now, I'm afraid."
Musichetta assumed that 'we' referred to her and Joly. "You keep lime wedges in the fridge? Like I said, total dork," she joked. "But bonus points for the Jose gold, it's my favorite tequila, actually."
The two took shots until the room starting spinning again. "So here's the deal," the girl slurred. "I wanna fuck you, but you can't make me leave after, okay?"
"I'm not sure if you're serious or making a bad joke, but I would never," insisted Joly. He offered Musichetta his hand, and she gladly followed him to his bed. It was nearer to dawn than dusk when the pair finally fell asleep.
She's always buzzing just like neon
Who knows how long she can go before she burns away
So, a few things.
I just picture all of the actors from the movie when I write this stuff. I did read the brick and saw the play prior to the movie, but I adore the cast of the movie, which is why I don't have Bossuet as bald here. As for Musichetta, I have been picturing Leighton Meester aka Blair from Gossip Girl.
THANK YOU to my beta reader, ConcreteAngelRoxHerHalo. Literally this would not exist without her.