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The first time Javert sits on the floor instead of the couch next to Valjean, Valjean is surprised.
"Why are you on the floor? Sit up here with me."
Javert grunts, leaning against Valjean's legs. "Comfortable now." His eyes drift shut, not looking pained in the least, so Valjean leaves him be and goes back to his book.
Half an hour later, he tries again.
"I would feel better knowing you're on the couch and not the hard floor. You may be younger than me, but you are far from being a young man."
Javert cracks his eyes open, blinking as if coming out of a trance. Perhaps he had been comfortable there, so much so that he had drifted off. He gives a familiar sigh of affectionate frustration that Valjean hears several times a day.
"If you insist," is all he says before he raises himself to the couch. Valjean had expected him to make some quip about Valjean's age, but none comes. There is something odd about that which Valjean cannot place. He shrugs it off, dismissing it at Javert simply being tired.
-
The second time Javert sits on the floor instead of the couch several weeks later, Valjean is confused. He says nothing, curious as to why Javert would do this at all.
Javert sits in silence, oblivious or simply uncaring of Valjean's blatant curiosity. After a minute or so, he rests his chin on Valjean's thigh and sighs contentedly. Valjean's curiosity only rises. It is quite unusual behavior. Javert usually likes to be the one in control, both in bed and around the house. It’s a relief sometimes to simply let Javert take care of him in his somewhat unsure, blunt way. Other times it is frustrating and leads to arguments, as they are both stubborn men.
Now, with Javert literally at his knee, he does not know what to think.
"Javert?" he asks carefully. Javert hums an answer like the way he sometimes does when he is satiated and comfortable with his limbs thrown over Valjean in bed. "Are you well?"
"Tired," he replies. He does not open his eyes. "Difficult case. Irritating officers."
That is another thing, the incomplete sentences. It would worry Valjean, had Javert been not so obviously content. Again, Valjean turns back to his book and leaves him be. Occasionally Javert will let out a soft, contented sigh and adjust his head on Valjean's thigh. It is only when Valjean places a hand on his shoulder and stands that Javert gets off the floor.
-
The third time it happens, Valjean says nothing and simply watches him. Like before, Javert seems perfectly comfortable and at ease, the tension draining out of his shoulders little by little. This time Valjean assumes that his concern will be waved off as it had before and keeps his silence. He has rarely seen Javert so relaxed outside of the bedroom, and even then, it is usually because he is asleep.
Valjean is tempted to run his fingers through Javert's hair as he does on occasion in the mornings. Then he figures why not, as Javert has no reservations about telling him what he does and does not like. He tugs on the ribbon that keeps it in it’s neat queue and it falls away, framing Javert's face with iron strands streaked through with grey and silver. When no complaint comes, he runs a hand through it starting at Javert's scalp and finishing at the ends, untangling it as he goes. Javert hums contentedly so he does it again. Like everything else, Javert takes meticulous care of his hair and the result is soft, if thick, long hair that Valjean adores.
Valjean continues to run his hands through Javert's hair in repetitive motions until it is entirely free of knots. When his arm tires, he changes to simply petting him, smoothing his hair back out of his face and tucking it neatly behind his ears. Javert leans into his hand and sighs. Valjean can only stare. Normally Javert brushes off Valjean's caring touches after a few moments, calling him foolish or overly sentimental in a gruff voice with the slightest hint of a smile on his face. Valjean does not cease petting him, relishing the chance to tell him without words that he is loved before Javert asks him to stop. The motions turn automatic as Valjean returns to his book. Like before, Javert does not rise until Valjean touches his shoulder and rises himself. Today, he sits blinking for a moment before following Valjean's example.
-
Javert continues to prefer the floor on occasion and Valjean simply becomes accustomed to it, giving in and purchasing a thick rug for him to rest his knees when he notices how Javert usually winces when he stands up afterwards. They still debate and argue on a frequent basis, something Valjean knows they will always do, but he comes to cherish these times when Javert puts absolute trust in him. He suspects that when Javert is like this, he will do whatever Valjean asks without hesitation or complaint. The thought of taking advantage of his unusual compliance and breaking that trust is one that Valjean does not care to have. It had taken them decades to get to where they are now and Valjean would not, cannot, throw this away for anything.
Occasionally Valjean reads, but more and more he finds himself distracted by Javert and puts his book aside in favor of simply watching him. It continues to amaze him that his once-time hunter now shares his bed and comes to sit at his feet and rest his head on Valjean's knee. How such hatred managed to turn into friendship and then even love astonishes him every day. He is grateful for it and gives thanks to God for giving him Javert to care for, for Javert giving him a second chance, for arriving in time to prevent Javert from taking his own life and damning himself for eternity.
"I have been thinking," Javert says one day. Valjean's hand does not cease petting him. It is the first time Javert has spoken while doing this since Valjean stopped asking him if he was comfortable on the floor.
"What have you been thinking?" Valjean asks softly when Javert does not continue. If Javert asks him to stop touching his hair, he will, but he would very much like to continue.
"I have been thinking that I would like," he pauses, uncharacteristically uncertain, "a collar, if you will, for these times. To wear."
Valjean's hand stills on Javert's head. In Toulon, Valjean had, on occasion, worn a collar. It had been made of iron that dug into his skin painfully, leaving scars that he can still feel today. He knows Javert trusts him completely, even asking this of him is evidence of that, but he would never require Javert to prove it in this way. Like Javert is his prisoner, forced under his care. The thought makes Valjean feel ill.
"If it makes you uncomfortable, I will not press the issue," Javert says when Valjean does not respond for several moments. "I realize it is an....unusual request and given what you were forced to endure in prison, I will understand if you say no." There is a slight flush staining his cheeks, one Valjean almost does not see. Embarrassment is rare for Javert. This must be important to him if he cares enough about Valjean's reaction to be embarrassed about it.
"Why?" Valjean asks. "Forgive me, but I do not understand why you would wish to wear... one." He cannot say it.
"It is a symbol of power."
"I already know that you trust me. There is no need for a symbol." A lock of hair has come lose from behind Javert's ear, hiding his face. Valjean pushes it back carefully, running a hand over it after to make certain it stays.
Javert is silent for a so long Valjean thinks the issue has been dropped.
"I believe I would enjoy it," he says at last. "I wish to place myself in your hands completely. Not all the time, but on occasion." He pauses. "Such as now."
Valjean's breath catches. Javert? Give up control? The thought is almost unbelievable. Javert always prefers control, save for these times when he willingly sits at Valjean's feet and lets Valjean pet his hair. Could Valjean take that responsibility? Of course he can. He already is. When Javert places his head on Valjean's thigh, any thought of doing anything but care for him flies out of his mind. He could never abuse that trust.
"Would it have to be metal?" he asks softly. He cannot bear to see Javert in a collar such as the one Valjean had worn.
Javert shakes his head, his face rubbing on Valjean's thigh. "No. Something comfortable. Cloth, perhaps."
Valjean breathes easier now. As long as Javert is comfortable and willing. He claims to believe he would enjoy it and Valjean wishes him nothing but enjoyment.
The more he thinks about it, the more appealing the idea is. Javert already gives him control in this, but to have him wear a collar, to display that Javert is his and only his... It stirs something in him. Possessiveness. Of course he knows that Javert is his to love and to hold, but to see physical evidence of it would be another thing altogether.
"Do you have a preference?" Valjean asks him after a long moment. "We can find one together, if you would like."
Javert turns to look at him, apparently surprised that he would agree to this. There is still a flush to his face. "...I am certain whatever you choose will be to my liking."
Just that sentence makes Valjean's heart skip a beat. To have control of even what Javert will wear. Just the thought of Javert wearing his collar, one of his choosing without any input from Javert himself, brings him a rush of power and possessiveness. It is not revenge for events long in the past. Valjean can only care for him in the most loving of ways. To hurt Javert would be to hurt himself. Even so, even the thought having complete control causes his heart to pound.
"Then I will purchase one."
Javert stares at him for a moment longer, then nods decisively and returns to resting his head on Valjean's knee like a loyal hound.
-
It is a week later when he works up the nerve to commission a collar from a leather worker. He claims it is for a dog of his, one who once was a fierce tracker but is now older and retired. It is not exactly a lie, considering how often Valjean had thought Javert a bloodhound in the past, but his face still warms when he speaks of it. He thinks of Javert's head on his knee, of how he pets Javert's soft hair and how Javert hums and leans into his hand.
No, what he tells the leather worker is not a lie.
He is nervous when he returns to pick it up and pay for it. It costs him more than he expected, but he does not mind spending money on Javert. The collar is excellent. It is made from soft brown leather, thick but still retaining some flexibility. The buckle is as plain as is the leather save for a embossed "JV" that he had asked for on a whim. On the front, there is a ring made for attaching a lead. The thought of Javert on a lead is far too appealing.
He purchases a matching lead as well, just in case.
The collar is placed on the table next to the couch, the lead hidden away. If this experiment is a success, then perhaps he can set it out next to the collar and see what Javert thinks of it.
When Javert returns home, the collar is the first thing he notices. He stops in the middle of the room, staring at it blankly.
"Do you like it?" Valjean asks, worried despite the fact that Javert had asked for him to choose for him.
Javert drifts toward it slowly, as if in a dream. His fingers hover over it but they do not touch. They stop when they reach Valjean's embossed initials. Valjean's heart is loud in his ears as he waits for Javert's verdict.
"Yes," he answers in a rough voice. "Very much so."
Then he turns to Valjean and kisses him soundly, straddling him where he sits on the sofa. He proceeds to demonstrate exactly how much he likes it, grinding his hips against Valjean's and murmuring quiet 'thank you's between kisses that Valjean very nearly miss.
-
It is another week before Javert comes home to kneel on the floor before him. Every day Valjean had caught him staring at the collar on the table, but never once did he touch it.
"Put it on," he says, and even though it is said quietly it is still a demand.
"Are you certain?" Valjean asks, setting his book aside.
"Yes."
Valjean does not reach for the collar immediately. Javert's cravat is the first to go, then his waistcoat, then his police issued leather stock. It does not escape him that Javert is trading one collar for another. Valjean's fingers stroke his neck of their own accord. The skin there is smooth and soft, as he well knows from kissing it so many times. There are still faint purple marks from the last time his lips had touched that neck.
"Please," Javert asks, shivering slightly under Valjean's touch. His pulse is rapid under Valjean's fingers.
Valjean's hands are trembling when he finally picks up the collar. The leather is soft and warm, the complete opposite of Toulon's iron collar. This will not cause pain nor humiliation. He will make certain of it.
Javert lifts his chin to allow Valjean to slip the collar around his neck and he too is trembling. Valjean hesitates.
"Tell me if you want it off," he says. "Anytime."
Javert swallows, then nods, staring straight into his eyes and leaving no doubt that he wants this. Valjean slips the end through the buckle, fastening it loose enough that he can fit two fingers between Javert's skin and the leather. It fits perfectly.
"Is that loose enough?"
"Yes," Javert answers. His eyes change, becoming softer and more open. Valjean traces Javert's cheekbone with a thumb, watching how Javert's eyes flutter shut and his lips open slightly. He leans in to kiss him gently, then kisses the collar on Javert's neck. This is proof of Javert's trust in him, proof that second chances are worth it. Proof that Javert is his.
"Come, sit," Valjean asks him and immediately Javert obeys. He is like a dog, Valjean thinks, following commands to please his master. Had he not already been treating Javert like a dog? He pets him and allows him to rest his head on his thigh, and now he commands him. It is no different. Javert rests his head on Valjean's knee as usual and Valjean cannot help but praise him.
"Good," he tells him softly, resting his hand on his head. Javert shivers at the praise and sighs, leaning back into Valjean's hand. Yes, he is very much like a dog, Valjean thinks, petting him. Loyal, dutiful, fierce when he is on the trail of his prey. He cannot help but be concerned by how much the idea pleases him.
Other than the addition of the collar, nothing is different than any of the other times they have done this. Valjean still combs Javert's hair with his fingers, occasionally making a detour to run his thumb over his embossed initials or run a hand down Javert's neck. Javert is more relaxed that Valjean has ever seen him, giving himself over to Valjean's care. Submitting himself.
It is the longest time they have sat like this yet, and only when Valjean thinks of Javert's legs arranged on the hard wood floor does he touch his shoulder. Javert sits up and looks at him, at attention.
"Very good, Javert," Valjean cannot help but tell him, stroking the side of his face and smoothing his whiskers. "Good boy," he tries, praising him like a dog. He pets his hair, just as he would a loyal hound.
Again, Javert's eyes flutter shut, and he smiles slightly at the praise.
"It is time for supper," Valjean says, then reaches for the collar.
Javert is perfectly docile under his hands, lifting his chin obligingly when Valjean taps his jaw with one finger. The buckle comes undone easily and the collar slips from Javert's neck. Javert blinks, his eyes losing their previous softness and returning to normal. When he tries to stand, he stumbles and Valjean grabs hold of his elbows to help him up.
"Perhaps not for so long," is the first thing he says, smiling wryly. "My knees are not so young."
Valjean can only look sheepish. "I lost track of time. Next time I will be more careful."
"Next time?" Javert repeats.
"If you wish for there to be a next time," Valjean amends. He should not have assumed that Javert wanted this again. "I enjoyed that more than I thought I would."
Javert glances away. "As did I." His cheeks darken slightly. "You praised me."
"Did you not like it?"
"Quite the opposite," Javert admits, still not looking at him. "It was very strange. I had no thoughts. My frustration about my cases drifted away, as did everything else. There was only feeling. I have never been so at peace." Now he makes eye contact again. "I do not deserve you. You are too good to me, indulging me in this."
"I do it gladly. You deserve happiness, Javert, or have I not told you that enough?" Valjean smiles at him, reaching for his hand and squeezing it.
Javert rolls his eyes. "You are a fool." He does not make to pull his hand away.
"Yet you are still here."
"Then I am a fool as well."
-
Valjean does not show Javert the lead he bought, anxious about what Javert's reaction would be when he is still becoming accustomed to the collar. It was an impulsive purchase, but not one he regrets. The mental image of Javert being led with simple tugs does not leave his mind. It frightens him how much he enjoys this, how much he wishes to use Javert's compliance for other, less innocent things. He keeps those desires hidden, happy to simply let Javert use these times to relax.
He expands the list of commands he gives Javert. Come, sit, stay, up are the basics. 'Kiss me' is his newest one because he cannot resist kissing Javert when he is like this. When takes Javert's collar off, he says, 'it is time,' and Javert will face him and lift his chin. He continues to praise him, abusing the 'kiss me' command to take the opportunity to tell him ‘good boy’ after each one.
Once, when Valjean's hand was resting on his thigh next to Javert's head, Javert licks it. It is strangely pleasing. It is a question of "why are you not petting me", which Valjean remedies immediately, but it does not leave his mind.
After, Javert apologizes, more embarrassed that Valjean has seen him about this yet.
"I was not thinking," he says, nearly tripping over his words. "It is difficult to think normally with the collar on. I wanted your attention and just did that without considering other ways to go about it."
"Javert, I understand. I did not mind it," Valjean explains, reddening himself.
Javert's eyebrows come together in confusion, but he drops it and does not speak of it again.
The next time, Valjean praises him with "good dog" and Javert hums his approval and presses up against his hand. They do not speak of it afterward.
-
Save for this, nothing has changed. Javert still insults him for his charity and Valjean accuses him for being too harsh in his arrests. They squabble and argue and sometimes resolve it with angry sex and Valjean loves him for it. He loves how Javert will rant about whichever officer is irritating him that day and how frustrating it is sometimes to have to go about legally collecting evidence when it would be so much easier to just storm the building and jump straight to arrest. He has become more critical of the law, more lenient with his arrests, but he is still Javert. He is a bloodhound, always will be, a terrifying whirlwind of a man when he is on a case. Valjean knows this firsthand and still he loves him for it. Javert has called him a hopeless romantic on more than one occasion and Valjean cannot deny it.
He has never told Cosette the exact nature of his relationship with Javert, but somehow she seems to just know. She approves of him, somehow, and strangely enough they get along. Marius is a different story and Javert never stops grumbling about the two pistols the boy still owes him.
"How is the Inspector?" she asks every time he visits.
Valjean always relays bits of Javert's cases, if he has singed his coat yet again, and what they had argued about in the previous week. He does not speak a word about the collar, no matter how innocently they use it. She always seems to enjoy hearing him speak of Javert. It is only when Javert himself points out in the relative privacy of a farce that it is because Valjean smiles like a sappy idiot in love and Cosette likes to see him happy.
"So what if I am a sappy idiot in love?" he asks with a smile.
Javert raises his eyes towards the sky. "Then God help us, because I believe I may share your affliction," he sighs.
Valjean grins so wide that he is afraid his face may split in two. Javert takes one look at him and scowls.
"Stop that. Now you look even more an idiot."
-
The first time Valjean starts to become aroused when Javert has the collar on, it is noticed. It is not on purpose. He sits and pets Javert's hair, enjoying Javert's contentment and the peace it brings him. Last night Javert held him just on the edge of release for what felt like hours and he is thinking of a way to return the favor later when they retire to bed. At first, he does not even notice what his own thoughts are doing to him. It is only when Javert readjusts his position on his thigh that he becomes aware of it.
He is not the only one who is aware. Javert licks his wrist in a question. His dark eyes dart between Valjean's own and the growing tent in his trousers.
"I am fine," Valjean assures him, stroking his fingers down the side of Javert's face. He has found that Javert likes it when he lightly scratches his whiskers. It makes his eyes flutter shut and make that contented humming sound that Valjean has come to adore. It makes Valjean think of a purring cat sometimes, save for Javert is so obviously more a dog than a cat.
Javert leans into his hand, content, but licks Valjean's wrist again as soon as he stops. He shifts restlessly, rearranging his legs on the floor.
"Do you want to?" Valjean asks him. He cannot lie to himself and say that the prospect does not excite him. Javert has sucked him off before, many times in fact, pinning his hips down and drawing it out so Valjean is begging by the end of it. With the collar, Javert is different, obeying his every command like a good dog should.
At the question, Javert shifts so he sits in between Valjean's legs and looks up at him with those strangely open eyes that Valjean cannot quite get used to. Slowly, maintaining eye contact, Javert leans in and presses his tongue against Valjean's trousers and licks slowly upward. Valjean moans. There is no doubt in his mind that Javert wishes to take him in his mouth. To have Javert take him with Valjean fully in control.... The very idea is intoxicating. Javert is obviously willing, mouthing at his clothed erection eagerly.
Valjean imagines having the lead on him now, to pull him in and have him suck.
Giving in, he opens his trousers and draws out his cock. He is only half hard, but by the way Javert is looking at him that will not be true for long.
"Lick it," he orders. His breath is already coming faster. Yes, he wants the lead next time. He wants to draw him close, tugging on his collar to remind Javert who he belongs to.
Javert licks and it is already good. He goes slow, taking his time to taste every part of him. They never take their eyes away from each other and Valjean is fully hard from that alone.
"Good boy, Javert," Valjean praises. He take's Javert's face in his hand. "Good."
Javert moans at the praise, leaning fully into his hand with a pleased smile on his face.
"More," Valjean rasps. "I want your mouth."
Javert obeys, taking Valjean's testicles in his mouth and sucking. Valjean knots his fingers in his soft hair, pulling him closer. It is not as satisfying as a lead would be, but close. He wants to pull on Javert's collar forcefully with his fingers hooked in the ring, but he promised himself not to use it against Javert. He will not hurt him, even accidentally.
"Good, Javert, so good at this," he moans. "Take me in your mouth. Suck me."
He is all too eager to slip Valjean's cock straight down his throat. Javert has always been good at this, but this time it is different. Normally, Javert pays no attention to what Valjean begs for just to drive him mad. Now he follows every command. He sucks him hard, taking him deep and swallowing around his length. Valjean moans, careful not to tug too hard on Javert's hair. Once Javert had scolded him for that and he is not keen on a repetition. Instead, he simply pets him, urging Javert on with little thrusts of his hips.
"Good," he says again. "So good." This time Javert moans around him and it is too much, too good. He spends himself in Javert's mouth.
"Swallow it," he orders. "All of it."
Javert obeys, he is so good at obeying when he has the collar on, then carefully lick's Valjean's softening cock to clean every bit of him. When he is finished, he licks his lips. That too is good.
"Kiss me."
He sits up, still kneeling, and Valjean kisses him. He thrusts his tongue into Javert's mouth, tasting himself. Yes. Perfect. Javert is his, marked by this and the collar around his neck. Javert groans against his lips, giving him everything he is asking for and more.
"Are you close?" Valjean asks, pulling away just enough to say the words. Javert nods quickly. Indeed, his trousers are already open by Javert's own hand and his cock is hard and leaking. Valjean takes him in hand and strokes him, kissing him and swallowing his sounds of pleasure.
"You were so good for me. You deserve to be rewarded." he mutters against Javert's cheek. He has a hand in Javert's hair to hold him close. The lead would be better. "Come for me."
Like everything else, Javert obeys. He shudders in Valjean's grasp, spilling himself in Valjean's hand.
"Good boy," he says into Javert's ear.
Javert licks his hand clean without prompting. Once done, he stares at Valjean with that strange too open look on his face. It makes reading him far too easy. In this moment he adores Valjean openly, contentment and love on his face. Valjean can only kiss him again.
He stays kneeling and staring dazed at him until Valjean tells him to sit. His eyes never leave Valjean, but he returns to his customary position with his head on Valjean's thigh, calm and content.
When the collar comes off, it takes longer than usual for Javert to come back to himself. He stares blankly into the cup of tea Valjean handed him for long minutes, long enough that Valjean becomes concerned.
"That was," Javert starts. He does not finish, still not altogether collected.
Valjean waits patiently. When Javert finally speaks, it is not what he expects.
"Never in my life have I enjoyed sucking cock more." Javert's blinking at Valjean, and although his face is closed to the emotions that Valjean had seen before, there is still badly hidden adoration in his eyes. "I would certainly not be opposed to doing it again."
Valjean blinks, heart starting to race again. They could do it again, with the lead. His fantasy could be real, if Javert allows it.
"Stay here. I need to get something," he says, then walks quickly to their bedroom and retrieves the lead. It is a similar brown leather as the collar, but not as soft. He stares at it in his hand for a moment, then returns to Javert. Hesitantly, he sets it on the table.
Javert stares at it with a blank expression. There is no way to tell what he is thinking. Valjean bites the inside of his lip.
"When did you get this?" Javert asks neutrally.
"The leather worker I went to had them for sale when I paid for the collar," he admits. "I was not certain you would want to."
"You have been thinking of this," Javert says softly to himself. He hesitates, then takes a section of the lead in his hands, feeling the texture. "You were thinking of this today."
"Yes," Valjean says. There is heat in his face. It is not often that they keep things from each other.
Javert looks up at him at last and his eyes are full of want. "Next time, use it."
Although he has thanked God countless times for giving him Javert, he thanks Him again.
-
It is, in fact, better with the lead. They do not always use it, keeping a distinct line between their innocent and not so innocent activities. Most often, they simply keep things chaste and simply relaxing together. When they do use the lead, Valjean enjoys it more than he should. He never abuses it, never even pushing the line of what Javert is comfortable with. Neither the collar or the lead follow them into the bedroom, instead living on the table near the sofa. The bedroom is where Javert has control and Valjean knows how precise Javert likes to keep his boundaries.
With the lead on his collar, Javert follows his gentle tugs eagerly; whether it be to suck him off again, to kiss him, or simply to lead him elsewhere in the room. Several times Valjean takes him to his desk so he can write a letter that does not immediately need to be written just so Javert will follow him. At his desk, he will allow his left hand to occasionally drop down every so often to pet Javert's head in his lap. He enjoys it far too much. A gentle pull and Javert is there, ready and willing to do whatever Valjean wishes.
"You look so good in this," Valjean tells him on more than one occasion, sliding his fingers over the embossed JV.
Javert always sits or stands more proudly at this, back straightening, perfectly happy to follow Valjean wherever he goes. Happy to serve, happy to obey; the perfect dog Valjean has always thought him to be.
"Mine," he whispers in Javert's ear. The lead is tight in his hand, keeping Javert in place.
"Yours," Javert breathes back. It is the only time he speaks when the collar is around his neck.
-
At the beginning of summer, Cosette had taken to sending him home with baskets of strawberries from the Pontmercy garden knowing how much he likes him. Javert likes them as well but will never admit it. Somehow, every time, the basket manages to empty itself faster than Valjean knows he is eating from it. He has yet to catch him in the act, but who else could it be but Javert?
Javert, of course, denies all accusations of theft, quickly diverting to talk of the law and Valjean's own original theft. There is no sting in those words now, dulled over time to something more teasing.
Such it is that Valjean has never seen Javert eat a strawberry. Of course, such a thing must be remedied. He has not seen Javert's lips stained red with juice nor a look of enjoyment on his face at the taste. He has not tasted sweetness on his lips after eating one of the fruits.
"How do you feel about strawberries?" he asks once before putting the collar around Javert's neck.
"They are yours to do what you wish with them," Javert answers, and that is that.
If he wishes to watch Javert eat them, then he shall.
The collar slips on and Javert changes, relaxing quickly and making himself at home on the floor beside him. Valjean pets him for a minute or so, just to make him feel safe, then tells him to stay. The latest basket of strawberries is sitting on the table and Valjean retrieves it, returning quickly to Javert. The basket is set aside for now, and Javert rests his head on Valjean's knee and hums in contentment when Valjean returns to running his fingers through his hair.
There is no lead today, as Javert had come home exhausted and barely fumbled out of his outer garments before kneeling at Valjean's feet. Today is for taking care of Javert and making sure he rests. Valjean loves these days when his normally stubborn friend allows him to put him to bed early and push food and drink upon him. Taking care of Javert is one of his greatest pleasures.
After enough time had passed, Valjean tilts Javert's head up with one finger. There are circles under his eyes, but the tension has bled from his face when the collar came on. He has been working on this case for days, ignoring all Valjean's suggestions to rest. This is the least he can do.
He picks one of the smaller strawberries from the basket. They are ripe and juicy, but Valjean is not keen to have strawberry juice stains on his sofa or his trousers, as much as he loves Javert and wishes to feed him the whole basket. The smaller ones will have to do.
"Open," he says quietly, holding the strawberry against his lips. "Eat."
Javert obliges, the strawberry disappearing into his mouth. His lips graze Valjean's fingers. When he bites down, his eyes flutter shut and he hums contentedly at the taste. Juice runs over his lips and Valjean quickly pulls his handkerchief from his pocket and cleans it carefully from his chin. Javert swallows but does not open his eyes, trusting Valjean to tell him what he needs to do.
"Another," Valjean says.
There is something intimate about caring for Javert this way, feeding him strawberries from his hand and wiping away the juice that drips down his chin. He wants to do it every day, to see Javert's contentment and indulge him in the sweet things Javert usually denies himself. He has reason to believe Javert has a sweet tooth that he refuses to acknowledge, given how fast the strawberries disappear and how quickly he finishes dessert on the few occasions they have it.
Strawberry after strawberry disappear into Javert's mouth until Valjean cannot find any more of appropriate size. He will leave the rest for Javert to steal when Valjean has his back turned. The basket is set aside and he turns to clean the sticky juice as best he can from Javert's mouth and his own fingers. He lets his thumb run over Javert's bottom lip, admiring the color the strawberries have given it.
"Kiss me," he commands. He cannot take his eyes off of Javert's red-stained lips.
Javert sits up and leans in, meeting Valjean halfway. His mouth is sweet and Valjean spends several minutes tasting him, keeping the kiss slow and unhurried. There is no reason to rush, no reason to push further. When he finally pulls away, Javert blinks slowly. His eyes are glassy and it takes him a moment to focus on Valjean's face.
"Good," Valjean praises him, smiling. "Very good." He stokes Javert's cheek with his knuckles, not trusting his fingers to be completely clean of juice. That will have to be fixed.
He tells Javert to stay while he finds a cloth and pours a glass of water to wet it in. Then he returns, kneeling in front of Javert and cleans him with the damp cloth. After he finishes with Javert, he quickly cleans his own fingers. Javert will be annoyed with him if he gets strawberry juice in his hair. The glass of water and the cloth are set aside on the table.
"Up," he says, helping Javert stand. Then he has Javert sit on the sofa and lie down with his head in Valjean's lap. The circles under his eyes from too little sleep worry him. A nap will do no harm.
"Sleep, Javert." He pushes Javert's hair out of his face with gentle fingers. Javert's eyes close and he sighs contentedly. Valjean makes certain he is comfortable, then starts petting him. It is his favorite thing to do. Javert, the grey-muzzled wolfhound, loyal to him, deserves rest despite how hard he constantly pushes himself. No one can work forever.
In no time at all, Javert's breathing has slowed and he is asleep. Valjean does not stop petting him, watching him rest. Eventually, he picks up his book that he had set down on the table when Javert came in and continues reading. He will not wake Javert for at least an hour and not even he can watch Javert sleep without getting bored.
It grows late quickly. Javert sleeps for two hours before Valjean decides to wake him for a late supper. He has not moved much in his sleep, proof of how exhausted he is. Valjean is usually woken several times a night by Javert moving around in his sleep.
"Javert, wake up," he says, squeezing his shoulder.
Javert wakes instantly, his eyes blinking open, fighting off the exhaustion that still clings to him. Valjean strokes his face and Javert looks up, a slight smile appearing on his face when he meets Valjean's eyes. He gives Javert a few minutes to return to wakefulness, then helps him sit up.
"It is time."
Javert tilts his head upwards, giving Valjean easier access to the buckle. He slips it off. It usually takes a minute or so for him to come back to himself and Valjean usually plies him with tea, but by now the pot has gone cold. Instead, he settles himself against him and continues reading.
"When I said you can do whatever you wish with the strawberries, I did not mean for you to give them to me," Javert says at last.
"I wished to, and you like them," Valjean replies, setting his book aside once again. "Why else would you steal them?"
"Theft is against the law," Javert says immediately. It does not answer the question. "We have had this conversation, Valjean."
"It is not theft in your own home," Valjean points out anyway. "You are welcome to them."
Javert mutters something to himself. "The point is," he continues, "you fed me. You laid my head on you lap and had me sleep for who knows how long."
"It was two hours, and you needed it." He looks at Javert, daring him to tell him that he was fine.
Javert waves him off. "You were not obligated to do that. I would have retired earlier to catch up on rest."
"I wanted to, just as I wanted to feed you strawberries."
"You were not obligated to do that either," Javert grumbles. "Fine. I liked it. I like it when you take care of me when I have the collar on and cannot think for myself. And yes, before you ask, I liked it when you fed me."
"So you do like strawberries," Valjean says.
Javert huffs, but he's fighting a smile. "I am starving. Give me a damn strawberry, Valjean."
Valjean gives him the whole basket.
"This is only because I skipped lunch and we have no supper yet." He glares at Valjean, as if daring him to even think about mentioning this again.
"Oh, of course," Valjean agrees, nodding. "You do not like strawberries and you do not have a sweet tooth."
"That is because I do not have a sweet tooth."
"Is that not what I said?"
"...be quiet, Valjean."
-
Nothing else changes between them. Once, Valjean forgets to hide the collar sitting innocently on the table when Cosette comes to visit. Javert never touches it save for when Valjean puts it on him, an odd habit that Valjean never asks him about. The lead has no such rules. Javert must have hidden it before he left. Cosette had taken one look at it and looked oddly puzzled for the rest of her visit.
Once Valjean realizes his mistake, he is mortified and Javert is subject to a verbal outline of Valjean's train of thought which eventually leads to Cosette leaving and hating him forever. Javert calls him an idiot and reminds him that if Cosette could forgive him for hiding his past for so many years then surely she can forgive this.
"I will not allow you to lose her so easily," Javert says sternly. "Last time was difficult enough."
"But--" Valjean starts.
"Jean, you nearly died!" Javert interrupts, a snarl on his face and his hands in fists at his sides. Valjean's eyes widen. He rarely calls Valjean by his given name. "I cannot bear to see you like that again! Do you know what that did to me? If I lose you, then I do not know what I will do with myself! Probably throw myself in the Seine. Without you to stop me, I will succeed."
Valjean steps forward to comfort him but stops when Javert holds up a hand.
"I am not finished. I will not see you like that again, and certainly not because of a minor issue like this. Cosette is your daughter. She loves you more than anything. You are making a mess out of nothing and overreacting." He glares at Valjean. "I refuse to be your accomplice in making yourself miserable."
"You are right," Valjean says, finally stepping forward to embrace him.
"I am always right," Javert replies immediately. His hands go to Valjean's elbows. It is not exactly and embrace on Javert's end, but he does not push Valjean away.
"I promise I will not worry you like that again."
"I am constantly worrying about you."
"Even so."
Javert allows the embrace for a few more seconds, then steps away.
"Put the damn collar on me. I need to relax, and this certainly is not helping.
Valjean stares at him a second longer, then retrieves the collar. Today he does not attach the lead. Javert goes still and the tension leaves him all at once. The difference is astounding.
"Come," he says, then leads him over to the couch.
Javert makes to sit in his usual spot on the floor but Valjean stops him with a hand to his elbow.
"Up here," he says, patting the seat next to him.
Javert frowns, confused, but does as he asks. Usually, Valjean only has him on the sofa to take a nap when he comes home exhausted.
"Lie down."
Javert is really too long for the couch, but he makes himself fit anyway. He sighs when his head lands in Valjean's lap.
"Good dog," Valjean praises him. Javert hums contentedly, eyes shut. Always the loyal hound.
Of course, Javert is right. He often overreacts when it comes to Cosette and this is no different. Cosette already knows about their relationship. It's embarrassing that she has probably guessed why they have a collar with Valjean's initials on it, but it certainly is not the end of the world. Besides, they only do that with the lead. It is worth it to have Javert on his lap like this, bringing Valjean a sense of calmness and control.
He runs his fingers through Javert's hair, untangling it. This is where he is supposed to be. He has Javert to argue with and Javert to take him to bed and sometimes wear his collar and follow his orders. Javert balances him, brings him perspective and rationality.
And this, he also brings him this. He looks down and Javert's relaxed face. Yes, this is exactly where he is supposed to be, with Javert as his loyal dog at his side.