Jean Valjean was a worried man. He had not seen the Inspector Javert in weeks now, and he hadn't liked the look of him when he had last seen him. The man was thin. He wore his charred great coat, which hid the worst of it, but before the man had stopped delivering reports himself, he had taken his coat off to sit down and talk with the mayor.
Valjean was worried more than ever that the man refused to see him. Officer Bernard was a wonderful man; he was kind and always happy to repeat any part of his report. He had been stabbed in early summer, trying to keep Javert out the way of a knife. The man was not bitter about it though, and he happily spoke of how good the inspector was.
The mayor now had to rely on Bernard to know how Javert was doing, to know if he had lost anymore weight. The man did not really seem to understand what was being asked of him though, and Valjean was getting sick of it. He had once tried to express his concern to Javert, to get the man to see he needed several good meals, but he man had seemed so hurt at the comment that Valjean had allowed him his distance for a time.
However, it had now been too long a time. He had inquired when Javert's work hours were, and had been surprised to learn the man never left before 10 in the evening, and was often working as early as 6 o'clock in the morning. He asked Bernard why Javert worked so much, but the man had simply replied the inspector did not seem to sleep well anymore.
The mayor of Montreuil sur Mer planned to rectify the situation. He would not; he could not allow this to continue.
The air was cold, even inside the police station. It was late in the evening, and there were few officers about. They saw the man walking with determination towards Javert's desk at the back of the station, and scattered, shouting they were going outside to smoke and keep an eye on people.
Valjean barely spared a thought as to how he must have scared them if they were willing to smoke outside, where it was raining. His focus was on the inspector sat with his head resting in his arms.
"Javert, I need a word." The man mumbled, his head rolling slightly, but he did not sit up.
"Javert! Wake up!" The inspector did so, lifting his head to blink sleepily at the angry man before him.
"Huh?" he murmured.
"For goodness sake, Javert. What is the matter with you?"
"Monsieur le Mayor?" His voice was rough with sleep. It was a tone that would usually set Valjean's heart fluttering, but his annoyance kept it in check. "What do you mean?"
"The problem that currently holds my attention, Javert, is you."
"I don't understand..."
"Javert. I do not wish to speak here. There are too many ears."
"Monsieur?"
"Come, get your coat. We shall go back to my home and discuss this there."
The man glared at him, as though it would deter him. Valjean grabbed the inspector's great coat and helped the protesting man into it. They left the station, stepping out into the rain and hurrying through the streets. Javert tried to trail behind, but Valjean kept a hand on his arm and did not let go.
Once at his home, the housekeeper took their coats and insisted they went upstairs to change. Javert had objected, stating he had nothing to change into, but Valjean told him to get upstairs anyway.
Once in Valjean's room, Javert stood with his arms clamped across his body and his head bowed, as though waiting to be scolded. The older man simply left him standing there and stripped off his clothing, grinning at the flush the spread over Javert's face as he kept his face turned away.
Valjean kept his back to the wall anyway. Lash marks could easily be explained away as remnants of an overbearing father, but he preferred to avoid the topic altogether. He dropped his soaked clothing by the door, and pulled on dry trousers and a dry shirt. He then turned his attention to the man stood dripping wet in the centre of his room.
"Shirt off."
"What?" Javert shot him a startled look.
"Remove your shirt. It is soaking and you will make yourself sick." Javert shook his head, glaring at him again.
"A little rain is hardly going to hurt me. I'll manage." Valjean stepped towards him, trying to find some patience within himself.
"Off." Javert stepped away, flattening himself against a wall and curling low. He reminded Valjean of a cat, hissing at someone in fear. He took another step, though it was more wary. He did not actually want to appear a threat.
Javert made no move to remove his shirt though, and Valjean stepped close. The inspector straightened up, head still tilted to the side, as though he could not look the mayor in the face. Valjean raised his hands and removed Javert's jacket. He dropped it over a chair, and began to unbutton his shirt.
Javert was gasping, he noticed, his usually blank face flooded with various expressions. Valjean stopped. He wanted to make a point, but he did not want to terrify the man.
"Javert, calm down. It distresses me to see you like this."
"M-Monsieur, I think I should just take my leave."
"Javert..." he was unsure of what to say, of how to settle the man. "Javert, I do not care what you look like. I just want you to be healthy. Come, let us get you into something warm and dry."
Javert gave him an uncertain look, but permitted the man to remove his shirt. Valjean managed to hold in a gasp, but only just. The inspector was as thin as the men who wasted away in prison. His ribs rutted out and his hips were clearly visible, pale skin stretched over them. Javert's blush was fierce; it went down his chest and into the soft hair there. Valjean ran his hand gently across it as he went to push the shirt off Javert's shoulders.
He held his tongue for the moment, simply handing the man one of his old shirts. Javert quickly pulled it on, focussing on buttoning it up while Valjean unfastened his trousers and uncovered more skin. They fell down, but remained tucked into his boots. Valjean winced slightly at his thoughtlessness, but took a moment to stare at the skinny man, drowning in a shirt that fell to mid thigh. There was something quite lovely about Javert in his clothing, however Valjean chose to push the man to sit on the end of his bed while he bent down to remove his boots and the remaining wet cloth.
He did not say anything as he retrieved trousers for Javert to wear. He waited until the man had pulled them up and applied braces to keep them in position before he spoke.
"I want you to stay here."
"Monsieur?"
"I want you to live here with me. I am sorry to be so blunt, but please."
"Why?" Javert gave him a puzzled look as he stood staring at Valjean in his baggy clothing. Valjean stepped forward at took Javert's hand, trying to decide how to phrase his thoughts.
"I... I want you here." He muttered, unable to make himself say it, remembering how he had hurt Javert last time he had commented on his size. Javert gave him an odd look, it was nervous, perhaps frightened, but there was a certain amount of hope in it. Javert took a small step, so that he stood chest to chest with Valjean. He was twitching slightly, and he could not look the mayor in the face but the look on his face was now definitely both terrified and hopeful.
Valjean could not help himself. He pressed a kiss to the man's cheek. This wonderful, foolish man. He was aware that Javert's eating habits were not the only reason he wanted the man to live with him, but he had thought they would be easier to voice than this.
Now though, he brought his arms up to embrace Javert. The younger man returned it, but did not manage to relax.
"Javert, please." He whispered.
"If I must." He responded, but Valjean grinned at the words.
"Have you taken your evening meal yet?" he stepped back to look at Javert. The man frowned slightly and shook his head.
"I do not eat an evening meal."
"Nonsense. Come, we will share one together." Javert's frown remained, but he allowed himself to be pulled out of the room and off to the kitchen. The housekeeper had left two bowls of broth out, and the mayor smiled. She was a thoughtful woman.
He sat Javert down at the thick wooden table that stood in the middle of the room, thanked God for his food and began to eat. Javert pushed his own broth about in the bowl.
"Do you not like it?" he said, softly.
"I have already said I do not eat after lunch."
"That cannot be good for you. Why ever not?"
"It is a waste of money." The man stated, scowling at his meal as though it were a personal insult.
"If you move in here, you do not need to pay for whatever rooms you had. Now, you can afford it." he stated bluntly. His head swirled with thoughts though, was Javert not paid enough? He had never received any complaint from the police; he only ever saw them for reports on what work they had done, never about the way things there administrated.
Javert slowly forced a few mouthfuls down, his face long and sour, and the food sat a long time in his mouth before he could bring himself to swallow. When he pushed the still mostly full bowl away, Valjean could not bring himself to object. He would just have to work on it.
"Shall we head to bed? There is a spare room beside mine. I am afraid I use it to store my books, and it is a bit of a mess, but even so..."
"That is fine." Javert responded. Valjean handed him a nightshirt, kissed his forehead and left the man for the night.
In the middle of the night, he was awakened by the noise of someone moving around. He stood and hurried to stand by the kitchen door, listening as Javert moved outside to go to the toilet. He was about to head back to bed when he heard the man retching.
Valjean sighed and went out to sit in the small room beside Javert; he said nothing, simply allowed the man to lean against him when he exhausted himself.