Warnings: Men in love, total fluff, domestic schmoop, no good explanation for AU-ness despite being movieverse. Javert would probably arrest me for this.
"Shhh. You'll wake the children," Javert whispers, half-laughing in the darkness, but Jean will not be silent:
"Don't stop!"
This is madness, at their age. It would be madness even if Cosette's children were not asleep in the next room - the bedroom meant to be Javert's, though Javert has not spent a single night in it save the time Jean decided that since they'd involved nearly every other piece of furniture in the house in their lovemaking, a spare bed should not be wasted. But it is particularly mad with three little girls now sharing that bed just on the other side of the wall into which Jean is bumping the headboard of their own bed with the force of his rocking.
"Please, my love, almost -"
The words end in a cry that could rouse the dead, but Javert does not stop. For the past five years, he has rarely been able to deny Jean Valjean anything, certainly not this. He tries to silence Jean with a kiss, but Jean groans loudly against his lips and Javert is too breathless to cover Jean's mouth with his own.
When Jean responds to him this way, it takes all of Javert's will not to cry out himself.
Surely Marius would be horrified if he knew how they behaved with his children in the house. Though Cosette would forgive Jean for anything - there is no secret history that he hides from her now - Marius remains bashful in his father-in-law's presence. Javert suspects that the fool is still ashamed of the way he sent Valjean away after learning that the man had been a convict, not knowing that it had also been Valjean who had saved him at the barricade, something Javert has since described to him in painful detail to be certain that Marius understands just how much he owes to Jean.
Whether it is affection or embarrassment that prevents Marius from commenting on the peculiarity of his wife's father sharing a house with the man who was once his captor, Javert has no wish to arouse further suspicion. Not that that has stopped him from arousing Jean's passions this evening.
"Faster," Jean grunts. "More, please -"
Jean knows that he doesn't have to plead, though he also knows that it makes Javert wild when he does. Perhaps they have no need for fear. Who would guess that two men as old as they are would have such vigor? The bed bumps hard against the wall, once, twice, then Jean cries out again, and his sounds and convulsions shatter Javert's control. He has had no defenses against the love that Jean offers him so readily since that long ago night when Jean twice set him free.
He pants, his throat raw, and hears Jean chuckle softly, making their chests vibrate together. "You're always louder than I am in the end."
"That's your fault." Now that he can breathe again, he captures Jean's mouth in a hungry kiss. He never tires of kissing that mouth, not even when their faces start to chafe from it. Not even when their bodies stick awkwardly together in the aftermath of sharing what it took many months for Javert to call an act of devotion and not depravity.
It had made no more sense to him that he should want to praise God after such an act than that he should have let Valjean go free in spite of the law. In both instances, Jean had refused to allow Javert to despair. "If you must go, take these," he had said, handing Javert a pair of silver candlesticks, though it was not until Valjean had explained how he himself had come into possession of them that Javert understood what the convict was trying to give him. Javert had no further proof of God's forgiveness than what Jean showed him; he needed no further proof.
"We should wash -" Jean is whispering when they both hear footsteps, the squeal of a door being opened, the creak of the floorboards.
Quickly they lunge for their nightshirts. Javert grabs a stocking instead, wipes off the mess on his belly, struggles to find clothing with which to cover himself while Jean rises, going to the door of the room they share. The girls believe that Javert is asleep on the sofa in the room beyond so that they can share his bedroom. Whether or not Cosette and Marius believe it, they do not need one of their daughters to blurt out that she saw Javert in Jean's bed.
He tugs his nightshirt over his head just as Jeanne comes in, pushing past Jean as if this is her home instead of his. She is carrying a doll with the head of a rabbit. "I had a bad dream, Pepere," she whimpers. All the girls call Javert as well as Valjean "Pepere" - something Cosette has never tried to correct, nor, to Javert's surprise, has Marius.
"So did I," Javert tells her with a serious expression. "That is why I shouted, and why I came to sleep in here." Jeanne climbs onto the bed as if this is an invitation, crawling toward Javert, who quickly shifts so that he is lying on the damp spot in the center. "Wouldn't you rather go back with your sisters?"
"Marie's feet are cold and Fantine takes all the blankets," she protests. Even though the room is dark, Javert can see that Jean is smiling as he too returns to the warm bed, lying on the outer side so that the girl can sleep by the wall where she will not fall out. But she will not rest, choosing instead to cuddle against Javert's side. "When is Mama coming back?"
"Soon," Javert tells her, petting the soft hair that falls in tangles over Jeanne's back. "Not tomorrow, but the following day." Marius has taken Cosette with him to Rouen to deal with the affairs of some ancient Gillenormand property. Having spent so much of her life in a convent, in hiding with Valjean, then at home with small children, Cosette is eager to see as much of the world as she can.
His answer satisfies Jeanne, who burrows her face into Javert's chest like a mouse nosing its way through a pile of scraps. "You smell funny," she says sleepily. Behind him, Jean shakes with silent laughter.
"Now, when it is too late, you manage to keep yourself quiet," Javert mutters to him. "Now you have me trapped here, you and the child."
"Don't pretend you aren't perfectly content," murmurs Jean, brushing his lips against Javert's ear. And it is true. On this cold night, with Jean wrapped around his back and the little girl drowsing against his chest, Javert feels warm. Satisfied. Safe. Cherished. Blessed.
"I am perfectly content," he agrees, reaching back with one hand to find Jean's. "For which I thank God and I thank you."