Title: Two AM
Author: Night Of The Land
Category: Les Misérables
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Victor Hugo, rest his soul, owns it all.
Summary: Oriane comes to Javert for a little late night laugh
A/N: Hi guys! First Les Miserables fic and I'm very excited. I decided to try my hand at a series of challenges, and I think I've managed to create quite the adventure. Most of the story is complete, however I will be updating once a week until it is done, so I anticipate being done in 64 weeks, maybe more if these characters speak to me.
The candle flickered, the low burned wick making a desperate attempt to keep the meager light in the room. Outside a snow storm raged on, the wind howling around the corners of the tenement house, the occasional gust down the chimney causing the weakly glowing coals to flare up.
Seated at his desk, back to the window and to the world, sat a darker skinned man, his grey streaked brown mane was pulled back into a severe queue at the base of his neck. He was devoid of his normal dark long coat and hat. Instead he was in simple shirt sleeves, the cuffs rolled up past his elbows. He still wore his heavy boots, his dark pants tucked into the knee high supple leather. His dark eyes reflected the light, as they scanned the hand written page before him. The writing was careful and calculated and neat and even, yet all that did nothing to aid the man in the reading of the dry material.
Closing his eyes, feeling the well-known ache making itself known behind his left eye, he set the paper aside, reaching for the wine glass he had set to one side several hours before. Knocking back the last bit of the bitter watered down red wine, he pushed himself away from the desk, the chair legs scraping loudly against the already scared wood floor.
Bracing himself on the arms of the chair, he pushed himself up to stand. His body protested the abuse he had put it through over the last few days. He gave a ruefully smile at the thought, he wasn't getting any younger.
A sharp knock at the door drew a fierce frown, and he moved quickly across the floor, his boots clicking on the hardwood. He threw a sharp glace to the window then to his pocket watch. It was a snowy Wednesday morning at 2 am, who the hell was at his door?
He cracked it open just enough so that his body filled the door way. Standing before him, covered head to toe in snow was a tiny, tawny headed woman with striking hazel eyes and a sharp smile. She was wrapped in several layers of cloaks and her boots that were worn at the heels came to her knees. When she saw that the door had been opened, sharp featured face broke out into a smile that showed a row of perfectly white teeth.
"Oriane…" Javert ground out between clenched teeth, before he grabbed the girl by her shawl and dragged her inside. She had to be freezing.
"Damn, Javert, is that anyway to treat a lady?" she groused, as she righted herself from where she had stumbled into the room. She cast sharp hazel eyes at him in inquiry.
He stalked over to the hearth and opened the flue, stoking the dying fire back to life. He cast her a withering glance. "What the devil are you doing out in a snow storm at this time of night?" he inquired, "I know you don't have any customers during this type of weather."
Tossing a piece of loose hair from her eyes, she joined the good inspector at the fireplace, her lips pursed in disapproval before they upturned into a down right lecherous grin. "If I recall, you didn't do much complaining, monsieur, when you were my customer."
His glare did nothing to cow her. She simply gave another smile, as she shed her multitude of shawls and cloaks, draping them over the still pushed back desk chair. Under all her outer wear she wore a simple skirt of torn and patched material. Her bodice was dirty and spotted, the material so thin you could see her nipples erect from the cold. She had no shame as she lifted her skirt to over her knees to unlace her boots. She left them by the chair; a fine puddle of water was beginning to form under her cloaks that dripped with melting and melted snow.
Javert must have gotten the fire restarted, because she turned back to a warm red hot blaze roaring away in the hearth. The man was nowhere to be seen though. She looked around, before she felt arms around her from behind. She gave a giggle, before she leaned back into him.
"You must have been lonely, these last few nights, either that or just abnormally horny, Monsieur l'inspecteur." She said as she felt his hot breath on the back of her neck.
He pulled away abruptly, before giving her a withering glare. She could see the dark of his desire in his eyes. They were after all, kindred spirits.
"What do you want, Oriane?" he demanded, leaning nonchalantly against the side of his desk, apprising her with dark eyes that reflected the fire light.
"Can't I just come for a social call?" she asked.
He gave a noncommittal grunt, before shaking his head, his long mane coming loose from its queue. She turned back to the fire, warming her hands, feeling a shiver work its way up her spine. Clenching her teeth together, she repressed the tremors that were a result of her now thawing out. They stood like that for several moments, she warming herself by the fire, her outer coverings drying over the chair, he standing watching her every moment.
Javert was accustomed to watching, simply observing his mark, only this time his mark knew he was there. She pulled her long hair from its tight up do, and ran her fingers through it. She craned her slender neck to one side, stretching her lean body and shaking off the cold. Outside the storm was beginning to ebb, the snow not falling as hard against the window pane. As he stood watching Oriane, he couldn't help but feel the stirrings that always happened whenever the woman was around. His blood seemed to boil not with anger or rage, but with a passion that he was rather ashamed to admit he had felt for no-one before, save for one… No. He cut off that thought before it could even completely form.
Oriane, her hair and boots now completely dry, turned from the fire to look at her inspector. He stood gazing at her with dark eyes that sent a shudder down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. She had slept with a lot of men in her life, after all it was her job, however none of them affected her the way her dear inspector did. The way his brown hair, that used to be so dark and thick, but was now thinning and was streaked with silver, fell over his shoulders. The dark color of his skin that was so typical of their people. The way he held himself even now as he just stood there. It all served to make her heart burn.
"What did you need, 'Riane?" he asked, his voice breaking the silence.
She gave a small smile before she stepped into his personal space, her face coming to within mere inches of his, her breath sweet on his face. "I couldn't just stop by for a social call?" she asked again, her arms finding their way around his neck. She was forced to stand on tip toes to look him in the eye.
He raised a cynical eyebrow at her, making her roll her eyes, "Fine, just wanted to drop by with the normal report. Figured with the snow, you wouldn't want it at the station like normal." She stepped back and dug a sealed envelope out of an inner pocket of her patched and worn skirts.
She held it out to him. He reached for it. She pulled back with a mischievous look in her eye. "Oriane." His voice left little room for playing, but she knew Monsieur l'inspecteur better than he would ever want to admit.
She stepped back away from him, holding the envelope away from her body. He wrapped a strong arm around her waist, pulling her close, attempting to grab the envelope. She treaded her free hand through his loose hair and pulled his head down. Her lips pressed to his, and she felt him stiffen. 'In more way than one.' She thought with a slight moan, as she relented to him, allowing him to grab the envelope.
He tossed it onto the desk and wrapped both arms around her slender waist, pulling her closer to him, deepening the kiss. His fingers found their way to her threadbare bodice and began to deftly unlace the back of it. She pulled the tie from his hair, letting it fall around his shoulders, running her fingers through the silky strands. He moaned into her mouth, letting her push him backwards in the direction of the bed that was situated in the corner of the room. She forcefully pushed him onto the bed, where he sprawled in a decidedly undignified manner. Her hazel eyes were dark with desire as she lifted her skirts enough to climb onto the bed straddling him. She leaned over him, his hands coming to rest on her hips, as she felt his desire against her thigh. She gave him an evil smirk, before whispering in his ear.
"I forgot, monsieur, you don't take part in carnal desires." She kissed him deeply on the lips before she sprang from the bed, gathered her over coats and was gone before Javert could even sit up.
The police Inspector narrowed his eyes, as he watched the door slam behind her. He really hated that woman. Allowing himself to fall back onto the bed, he slung an arm over his face telling himself to calm down, willing his desire away. The crackle of the fire threatened to lull him to sleep. Sitting up and shaking himself, he pushed himself off the bed, knowing that he needed to look over the report Oriane had brought him before sleep could even be an option.