Work Text:
1. Jean
“Brother, must you wear that dreadful hat out? God knows, you’re burned already,” Jeanne laughs and runs from Jean as he growls and begins to chase her around the front room.
“Sister! How dare you!” Jean cries and misses a swat on the head from his passing mother by centimeters.
“It will hardly help you, I mean!” She manages to gasp out as he hugs her, already strong from labor at fifteen, “And besides, no light but that of God will be in the church!”
“And that of the fair Therese, of course,” their mother, now leaning on a nearby table adds, smirking as she watches her son stagger in surprise. Jeanne, taking advantage of his weakened state, manages to fight her way free of her brother’s embrace.
“Look at him, all dreamy-eyed! Well, I suppose if I were a lad, I’d be too. Hair like corn and mouth like a peach. Come on, now, we’ll be late! Mother, will you braid my hair?”
Jean smiles and pretends to think of the girl whose face he can't quite recall.
2. 24601
“Brute, you’ve torn another one? Fuck it all, 24601, you’re costing us a whore’s keep with the way you destroy your smocks. Javert, go fetch me a new one!” Vorant yells, sharp cheekbones coloring with irritation.
He’s keeping up the line, he knows. All so that they can make sure he appears no different than the rest. Rather inefficient, but who is he to complain?
“There you are! Go on, give it to him” He turns to see the young guard has returned bearing a new smock and a bloodless face. The man approaches him confidently, then stops just out of his reach.
Vorant looks ready to burst. “You’re a guard, Javert, not a bloody maiden with a handkerchief! Worst comes to worst, he’ll wear some new scars and you get a little rest in the infirmary. Come now!”
The guard (Javert) closes the gap between them slightly, holding out the smock, well, rather like a lady bestowing her favor. He takes it and quickly shucks it on, realizing the guard is watching him, nearly rapt.
“Well, that ceremony’s over and done. Let’s get ‘em chained up again and out.”
That night, all he will be able to think of is the guard’s round face and dangerous eyes.
3. Madeleine
“Monsieur le Maire, you have forgotten your overcoat!”
Madeleine freezes mid-step. That voice will never be easy to answer to or answer.
“Why thank you, Inspector. Bring it here and we may walk together to my house. I believe my housekeeper is preparing dinner, if you would join me.”
Javert clears his throat and hands the garment over, almost reverently.
“I am yours, then, Monsieur.” The raspiness of his voice makes Madeleine glad for the added cover his overcoat provides.
It’s a dangerous game, he knows, and one he cannot let himself win.
“After you, Monsieur le Maire.”
Madeleine looks sharply away and tries not to picture the Inspector lounging in only the recently retrieved coat, bare except for his superior’s marks.
4. Jean Valjean
“Papa, you can’t wear that waistcoat anymore! It’s falling apart!”
Valjean smiles across the room at his daughter as she happily eats her breakfast, thinking no doubt of her recovering beau. He approaches her and kisses her pale head, thankful as always that, even now, she never flinches from his touch.
“Well, I suppose it’s been worn quite often. Will you be visiting Marius today, my dear?”
Cosette lights up at the mention of his name, even after eight months of courtship. “Of course, papa! It’s Thursday! And I’m bringing Catherine.” Valjean’s expression must denote his confusion at why Cosette would bring Marius her childhood “lady”, as her gaze then drops, and she is suddenly sober.
“I’m going to tell him about it today. I want him to know about everything, since we’ll be married. I-I can’t imagine my life without him, but we have to start with the truth.” Tears glisten, cheeks flush, and Valjean is holding his daughter like a child again.
“He’ll love you no matter what, my darling girl. My brave, sweet, gentle girl.” Cosette ducks her head and sniffles into his offending waistcoat, and he chuckles. “But I believe Catherine may fall in love with him. You’ll have to be careful.” Cosette giggles and straightens back up.
Valjean smiles and gets up. “Now, let me go change. You’re right, there’s more holes than fabric in this!”
Valjean can’t help but keep the grin on his face as he goes back to his room, giving the pile of blankets on the bed a gentle shake before he sits down.
“I-I’m up. Oh God, did she hear us? Valjean, stop smiling like that! Answer me!”
Valjean moves to lie on his side, facing Javert. He barely resists kissing the man on the nose just to frustrate him further, but sense prevails.
“No, Javert, she didn’t. Though one of these days you’ll have to have a proper conversation with her.”
Javert snorts. “I’ve had many with her-every night at dinner! It’s not my fault she believes lawyers are actually servants of the Law.”
Valjean sighs. “Well, perhaps tonight you could discuss with her how these holes were formed in my waistcoat? She certainly was worried about that.”
“Dear God, she didn’t?! What did you say?”
“It’s been worn quite often.”
Javert smirks, and Valjean feels a wave of heat ripple through him.
“Well then, you’ll have to change. I’ll supervise to ensure Cosette won’t have to worry about her papa looking like the old fool he is.”
Valjean laughs and allows his thoughts to fly apart as his fingers work at the buttons.