A/N: So, I went to see a production of Les Mis at Scotch College Adelaide a few weeks ago, and I was completely blown away, so much so that I just had to write a little dribble-drabble. It was performed entirely by students, all in about year 10, but still the amazing actors that played the Thenardiers had such chemistry. I'm a little obsessed ahahaha.

I was also struck by how a reviewer on one of the professional performances said 'Thenardier's songs seem to darken without his wife', as though she is the light in his life that keeps him more-or-less sane (or insane!)

Anyway, enjoy, and I don't own any of the characters. (:

xx

God was dead.

Thénardier knew that much. And it wasn't just that he believed it; he knew it, accepted the cold, hard truth that no one else was willing to believe. How did he know it? Well, the Lord is meant to love every one of his children, to forgive them, to help them in their times of need. Thénardier had once prayed, and where had that gotten him? No where. And so he had turned his back on God, on the one everyone else called 'Father' and had instead worshiped money.

He would never admit the other alternative, the thought that had only once crossed his mind, but which he had immediately banished and had never allowed himself to so much as think of since: that he deserved to be ignored.

But who needed God anyway, when he had his wife? Everyone said that he was incapable of love, that his life was one big hunt for wealth and fame. Well, the latter was true. But the former not so much.

Of course, it may be true in some cases. Most cases. Every case but one. He hadn't even cared for Cosette enough to learn her name; he hadn't recognised his own daughter when he had seen her outside Valjean's residence. Yes, it was easy to say that Thénardier didn't even know what the word 'love' meant.

But then there was his wife. His partner in crime.

She was the only one that matched his greed, his selfishness, his narcissism, his cruelty, his incredibly crude sense of humour and, to be quite honest, lack of dignity. She was willing to do anything for money, just as he was. In every way, she was just as horrible as him. She was the only one able to put up with him, and he was the only one willing to tolerate her.

Yes, they were the type of couple that fought viciously over the blanket in bed, with him never being enough of a gentleman to give it up for the lady.

They were the type where Thénardier would purposely provoke her when he was bored, then grin and chuckle when she screamed at him and mocked his accent, before silencing her with a slap on the ass.

They were the type that would leave their only daughter to fend for herself when she was old enough and never spare her a second thought afterwards, forgetting they even had a child even when she was in the house.

And how did they put up with each other? How did they not run away from each other at the first chance? They knew every dark, horrible secret about each other that would make anyone else turn up their nose in disgust and walk away.

But not them. Oh, no, not the Thénardiers.

Because they knew the truth about each other, and they loved each other despite it. They were in love with each other despite it, and always would be. No matter how much they infuriated each other, no matter how much they insulted each other. Others called them dysfunctional, but really, they were the most functional of all. They were, despite everything, best friends as well as lovers. While other relationships would falter and eventually fall apart, they would stay together forever, grow old together in that Inn that, realistically, was all they would ever have, and terrorise the local children. Together.

And if that's not true love, I don't know what is.