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Chapter Text

   Javert should’ve guessed he wouldn’t have been able to die in peace when he had known Jean Valjean. The man had plucked him from the Seine without a moments hesitation, dragging him back to the world of the living and into a hospital.

   Javert’s stay was less than pleasant. His lungs were waterlogged and took ages until he could finally breathe properly, and his first two weeks there were filled with a raging fever that seemed never to quit. All the while he had begged to die, to please just be put out of his misery. But each time, Valjean denied him and instead changed the subject to something as distracting as flowers or pets.

   Valjean visited every day, of course. When Javert first awoke, he was there by his bedside, and Javert had muttered out some weak, half-delusional instructions about his dog. He had all but begged Valjean to go and feed him, for surely it had been far too long without food for the animal, and the man had immediately agreed.

   Two months later, Javert was discharged from the hospital. Valjean, seeing as he couldn’t (shouldn’t) live on his own, insisted that Javert come stay with him. The inspector had tried to refuse, say that he didn’t need his help and could live perfectly fine in his own, but Valjean did not quit until he was all but dragging him to his house.

   When Javert came to his own apartment to gather his things, he reunited with his Great Dane, Gymont, who pouched upon him on his hind legs, even when Javert had taught him not to do that.

   He had set Gymont on a leash and took his things in boxes to Valjean’s house, a few at a time.

   Gymont was four years old, and already almost three feet tall. He was a giant, with a black shiny coat. One of his eyes was amber, the other a cold steel blue. Javert had found him when he was just a pup, and had felt the need to take him in.

   Javert had decided to get him professionally trained so that he may be useful to Javert’s life. He acted as a guard dog, warding off criminals when they walked at night as well as, in extreme cases, helping Javert when it came to police investigations.

   Gymont was the smartest dog that Javert had ever seen. He was polite and clever, he never got excited (The moment when he saw Javert after his hospital stay did not count), and Javert swore he understood English, for he understood almost everything Javert spoke about.

   They were an intimidating pair, and Javert enjoyed his company more than he thought he would. That is why he was so very reluctant to step foot in Valjean’s house.

   He was standing at the door with Gymont leashed at his side, sitting patiently and looking up at Javert expectantly. Javert had not yet knocked; He felt an invisible force pulling him away, keeping his hands at his sides, balled up into tight fists-

   And then the door opened, and he was met with Valjean’s bright smile. Javert swallowed thickly, unable to be rid of the lump in his throat, and subconsciously moved his hand to lightly scratch at Gymont’s ears.

   “Javert! You didn’t knock,” Valjean greeted with a laugh. “Are you almost done bringing all your stuff?”

   Javert frowned and awkwardly motioned to his car. “The last boxes are in there.” He said stiffly before turning back to Valjean and looking down at his dog. “This is Gymont. Surely you’ve met before… I think.”

   “Oh- yes!” Valjean exclaimed, kneeling down to scratch behind Gymont’s ears. The dog did not react, for he was not told to move by Javert, and sat stock-still until Valjean stopped. “I hope he does not dislike me,” Valjean said to Javert as he got back up on his feet. Javert shook his head.

   “No, I simply did not tell him to move. He is professionally trained.” Javert explained. To prove his point, he clicked his tongue, and Gymont snapped to attention, standing up and beginning to growl at Valjean. The man took a step back, surprised. Then, Javert made a sound similar to the dying of a car engine, and Gymont relaxed.

   “Well! I suppose we won’t have behavior issues,” Valjean said with a chuckle. “Let me help you bring your stuff in.” He went into the driveway and began to unload Javert’s car. Javert unleashed Gymont and told him he was free to go into the house before turning and helping Valjean.

   Javert had been in Valjean’s house before, multiple times. Whether it was for coffee or companionship, Valjean always invited him in. At one instance, his daughter Cosette had joined them for coffee. She was a smart girl, and Javert found himself liking her. She was similar to her father, Javert had realized with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

   Once they got all the final boxes into the door, Javert looked around like a little child, fiddling with his pointer finger and thumb. His frown deepened when he felt Valjean wrap an arm around his shoulders as a man would do with his brother.

   “It’ll be good for both of us,” he said, reading Javert’s mind. “And besides, our rooms are on opposite sides of the house. If you don’t want to, you won’t even see me.”

   “Hmm. Comforting,” Javert said, deadpan. He felt his nose begin to itch as he allowed Valjean to lead him upstairs to give him a tour. Valjean was more lively than usual- not only excited, but probably nervous too- and took Javert by the hand to show him every crook and corner of the house.

   Ten minutes later, Javert felt his nose itching like hell and running like a river. He blew it with a spare tissue in his pocket and glared at Valjean. “Do you have pets?” He asked pointedly. Valjean gave a guilty look, like he had been caught smuggling drugs. How had Javert never realized it? Whenever he had come to visit, his nose would itch, but he always believed it was just a coincidence of the allergies that he always got from the spring and summer seasons. And besides, he never stayed for long anyway.

   But now it was obviously not just seasonal allergies, and judging by Valjean’s reaction, he had caught him.

   “Well?” Javert snapped after a minute. “What do you think I’m going to do, arrest them?” He growled, not in the mood for Valjean’s avoidance. Fortunately, the man yielded with a sigh.

   “Yes, I’ve got pets. I always tucked them into another room, because I thought you’d hate them, and they can be incredibly clingy-“

   Javert cut him off. “ They? How many do you have, Valjean?” He asked, practically interrogating the man. Valjean fidgeted with his hands behind his back and cast his eyes to the side like a guilty child.

   “Three. Three cats,” he said. “I only hid them because I thought- well, since you have Gymont- maybe you hated cats. I didn’t want to risk making you more mad than you already-“

   Javert snapped. “ Cats? Three cats. You didn’t want to make me mad, Valjean? Well it seems that you succeeded in doing that anyway,” he growled before pushing his nose back into the tissue to wipe it again. “Of course it had to be cats…” he muttered under his breath.

   “I’m sorry. Truly, I didn’t know it would be such a problem.” Valjean said, casting his eyes down to the ground. Then, and Javert could practically hear the pieces clicking together in his mind, his head shot up. “You’re allergic, aren’t you? Oh- Well, I guess it’s good that I hid them.”

   “Oh, yes. What would we have done without your clever thinking? ” Javert growled, tucking the tissue away.

   Valjean looked hurt. “I guess Cosette could take them in…” he muttered, gears churning in his mind. Javert waved his hand to dismiss the idea.

   “No, no. You don’t need to get rid of them. My allergies aren’t that serious anyway. Just… keep them away from me.”

   Valjean smiled. “Well, luckily, they sleep in my room. You won’t even know they’re there.” He said as he led Javert out of the hall and into his new room.

   “I doubt that,” the inspector huffed under his breath, but let the subject drop and allowed himself to be led into the room.

   It was small and spartan yet, with blank walls and one window above the bed that was tucked into the far corner.

   “I hope this is alright,” Valjean said hesitantly. “You’ve got a bathroom and a closet over here, and I’m right down the hall. And- there’s enough room for Gymont, if you want to put his bed at the end of yours…” Valjean felt himself rambling, so desperately trying to make Javert see the good of moving in here. Valjean felt guilt wrack his heart, for he felt like he had forced Javert here against his well, and he desperately wanted it to be different.

   Over his visits at the hospital, they had become almost friends, and Valjean did not want to burn the bridge of companionship that they had somehow formed over the months. He wanted Javert to be content here.

   “It’s fine.” Javert said. Then, belatedly, he added, “Thank you.”

   Valjean smiled. “Do you want me to help you bring your stuff in?” He asked, to which Javert agreed. They spent the next hour traveling up and down the stairs, carrying boxes (either solo or together, since Javert’s recently healed leg was still acting up) and putting them into the room. Once they got mostly everything, Javert dismissed Valjean so that he may unpack everything. Gymont ran up the stairs when Javert called for him, almost crashing into Valjean. What a dog!

   When he was downstairs, he found his three cats- Toussaint, Emile, and Pitti- in the main living room, each perched on their usual surfaces that they had claimed their own. Valjean belatedly realized that he would probably be needing to use lint rolls much more often so Javert didn’t have to constantly suffer through his allergies.

   He spent his time doing just that.

   Upstairs, Javert had not yet unpacked anything. He sat at the edge of the bed with Gymont’s head resting on his lap, idly petting his head. He felt out of place, here in the house. His stomach twisted with dread at the realization that he was really doing this- he was really going to live with an ex-convict.

   He looked down at Gymont. During his time at the hospital, Javert had been visited by his superior, M. Gisquet. Javert had all but begged to be dismissed for his actions, but his request had been denied. According to Gisquet, Javert was too important to lose, and so was gifted with a paid leave for three months while he recovered. No amount of pleading or arguing would change the fact, and now Javert was to return to work in two weeks.

   Until then, he decided he’d better get unpacking.

   He didn’t have much with him. Rarely anything personal except for his clothes, sheets, a few astronomy and law books (That he all but threw onto the short bookshelf that rested on the wall), and some other things. Gymont watched his growing agitation and anxiety until his owner dropped himself back onto the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

   The dog tilted his head at the sight of his trembling hands. Slowly, he brought his drooping muzzle to rest on Javert’s knee, watching as his owner gripped at his hair, ruining his queue and struggling to breathe.

   Gymont, alarmed at this new reaction, nudged against his leg, letting out a gruff sound. Javert moved his hands away to look down at the dog with tear-filled eyes. Carefully, he cupped the dog’s face and bent down to put his nose against his.

   Gymont whined, slightly disturbed by this reaction by Javert. He could feel the sadness practically radiating off of him, and he nestled his head in his lap. Javert’s hands moved to stroke his scruff in abrupt but soft movements before suddenly getting up.

   Javert ran his hands over his face, wiping his nose and eyes. “Damn…” he huffed before redoing his hair and deciding to start unpacking again. Gymont laid down on the floor and put his head over his paws, watching as Javert moved around the room. He wondered why he was acting this way, for he had never seen Javert so abrupt and stressed in his movements.

   Later, once Javert was finished with everything, he opened the door and went downstairs into the living room. As soon as he stepped foot inside, he sneezed, his nose becoming congested faster than he thought possible.

   There, Valjean was sitting on the couch with a book in his hands, with three cats circling around him and cuddling. Javert started at the sight, feeling the pressure grow.

   “Oh, Javert! I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come down,” Valjean exclaimed, shutting the book. Toussaint jumped down from the couch and slowly approached Javert with curious swishes of her tail, looking up at him with wide, green eyes. When she got on her hind legs to lean against Javert’s, he sneezed again, this time into his tissue.

   “Toussaint! Come back here,” Valjean said, clicking his tongue to get her attention. The cat jumped off of Javert’s and travelled back to the couch, where she snuggled up on his lap. Valjean looked up at Javert and gave an apologetic smile, saying, “I’m sorry. They’re awfully curious of new people.”

   Javert audibly sniffed his runny nose, looking entirely unamused. “It’s fine,” he said, congested. “I forgot to bring something. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

   “What would you like to have for dinner?” Valjean asked with an understanding smile. Javert was taken aback for a moment- the familiarity with which he spoke, as if they were a couple instead of two men who couldn’t work out their differences!

   Javert willed himself back into the conversation. “I don’t…” He started, but his words died on his tongue. He looked back at Valjean, who was innocently and patiently looking up at him, and cleared his throat. “Whatever you want. I’m not picky,” he replied instead, forcing himself to be civil. He felt the room spin with vertigo as he bent down to tie his shoes, for the pressure in his face was getting unbearable. When he stumbled and reached for the table to balance him, Valjean shot up.

   “Are you alright?” He asked, concerned. Javert rolled his eyes at his tone, but nodded.

   “Yes. It’s just allergies.” He snapped, throwing on his coat on.

   “Sorry again,” Valjean muttered, dipping his head. Javert tightened his hands into fists.

   “Stop apologizing. I am not going to ask you to give up your pets just as I know you would not ask for me to give up mine.” Javert said before stalking out of the door without so much as a glance behind him.

   Valjean watched as Gymont trailed down the stairs, looking more mopey than usual. His loose snout hung in what looked like a frown, and he took a seat at the door, head resting on paws.

   He was waiting for Javert, he realized. Reluctant to startle the poor beast, Valjean slowly approached and kneeled down beside him. Gymont lifted his head and looked up at Valjean, making a huffing sound.

   “You’re a magnificent dog,” Valjean found himself whispering as he cautiously ran a hand down the dog’s sleek fur. He saw the way the dog relaxed under his touch and gently led him to the couch.

   What a dog he was! Gymont almost took up the entire length of the couch when he laid down with his head upon Valjean’s lap. He had not expected the dog to be so trusting with him, but he guessed that it must have been from the few months he had come into Javert’s apartment to feed him.

   Every time Valjean had unlocked the door to Javert’s apartment, he had been met with the sight of Gymont jumping up and to the door, eager to see Javert. Even after the first month, he continued to do so, so very loyal and determined to find his owner finally coming home. Valjean’s heart gave a twist of pity for him, for he could scarcely understand how devastating it was to wait for someone, only for them to never arrive.

   But he was glad that Gymont had warmed up to him. Valjean watched with a smile as Emile and Pitti slowly circled them, watching the Great Dane with cautious eyes. Gymont watched back, unmatched eyes alert and cautious. Then, Emile jumped onto the couch and onto him, traveling over his strong back until she reached his scruff, deciding to take a seat atop of him.

   Valjean laughed at the sight before him- a giant three feet tall dog, becoming a couch for his three cats! Pitti and Toussaint joined Emile, crowding around Gymont and getting comfortable.

   Valjean took his book out and began to read, every so often glancing at the four content pets that rested on his lap. Gymont had relaxed, likely asleep with the way his muzzle moved with every huff of breath.

   Two hours later- though he hardly realized it- Javert unlocked the door and stepped inside the house again, carrying a small backpack that he didn’t have before on his back. When he saw the five beings upon the couch, he froze in surprise.

   “Javert!” Valjean started and looked at the time on his phone. “I lost track of time- I’m sorry!”

   “Do you know any other words other than ‘I’m sorry’? God- “ Javert scowled as he took off his coat. “What’s… going on?” He motioned to the sleeping dog, now covered in cat fur of all colors. Valjean grinned sheepishly and tossed his book to the side.

   “Gymont came downstairs after you left, and I told you that they were clingy,” Valjean explained with a laugh. “He seems to be a perfect bed.”

   “He is a guard dog, not a bed.” Javert growled, but made no move to pull them apart. Instead, he took a seat on the couch that rested on the other side of the living room, sitting at the edge and putting down the backpack on the floor beside him.

   “What did you need to get?” Valjean asked as he subconsciously pet Emile’s head. Javert pulled out a laptop and a file of papers.

   “I had to stop by the station to get my things for work. I had left them there… that night,” he felt the familiar feeling of dread creep back into him. “I need to catch up on some work before I actually go back on the field.”

   “I hope you got some warm welcomes,” Valjean said with a chuckle, knowing how much Javert despised his coworkers.

   “Harold hugged me. Gisquet acted like I just came back from war,” Javert grumbled as he unlocked his laptop and began to open his tabs.

   “I hope you’re alright with sandwiches for dinner. You see, I was going to make something, but,” he glanced down at his lap. “Some seemed to object.”

   “Don’t think much of it. I don’t eat dinner often anyhow,” Javert replied with a shrug. Valjean glanced up at him, mildly concerned.

   “You shouldn’t be skipping meals, especially if you’re still recovering. Have you taken your medicine?”

   When he was discharged from the hospital, he was given a prescription for antibiotics to fight the pneumonia he had gotten after his dive into the river. The hospital staff had been merciless and forced him to take them everyday, even when he thrashed and screamed like a little kid.

   He would never bring the subject into daylight, but he had found himself taking them easier when Valjean coaxed him.

   “Yes,” Javert lied with a sigh, desperate to get away from the conversation. Valjean glared at him.

   “Javert,” he repeated, this time a bit more stern. “Did you have the antibiotics?”

   The inspector glanced his way, scowling. “Are you calling me a liar, Jean Valjean?” He snapped, heated.

   “That depends. I only ask because I know very well that you hate those pills.” Valjean said, crossing his arms over his chest.

   “And what if I do?” Javert growled, refusing to look at the man. He stared at his laptop, furiously typing in the reports that sat to his right.

   “How do you expect to get better if you never take your medicine? You’ll be kicked off of patrol, you know. Tied to your desk. And I know you hate desk duty too,” Valjean said pointedly. Javert twitched, finally snapping.

   “Oh, yes. You know everything about me, don’t you? You think you know me so damn well! ” Javert yelled. Gymont opened his eyes, startled by the sudden rise of voices. He lifted his head and looked at Javert, who had gotten up from the couch and was paying no mind to him.

   “I never meant to make you mad, Javert. I just want you to get bet-“

   “What am I, a child? I know how to take care of myself, Valjean. Just because I’m living with you doesn’t mean I need you to watch my every move. I’m a grown adult.” Javert’s anger quickly died out, leaving a stubborn shell in its place. He shut his laptop and shoved it into the backpack before throwing it over his shoulder.

   He clicked his tongue, immediately earning Gymont’s attention, and made another inexplicable sound that made the dog jumping off the couch- regardless of the cats that rested upon him!- and to Javert’s side.

   Valjean caught Emile and Toussaint in his hands, pulling them away from the edge of the couch. He watched as Javert began to make his way up the stairs, and panicked.

   “Javert,” he called, making the man freeze on the third step.

   After a beat of silence, Javert looked ahead.

   “Good night, Valjean.” He said stiffly before continuing his way up the stairs, backpack in his hand and Gymont trailing behind him. Valjean felt guilt build up in his chest and silently cursed himself for being so pushy and stubborn.

-

   The next morning, they both apologized for their previous behavior and came to an agreement that Javert would allow Valjean to ask about his wellbeing so long as he wasn’t bossing him around all the time. They ate breakfast in pleasant conversation, and Javert spent the rest of the day in the office with Gymont at his feet and the cats placed on the other side of the house from him, working on his reports and  putting them onto digital files on his laptop. Valjean worked upstairs in his room and spent the afternoon gardening outside with his three feline friends.

   For the first time in months, Javert felt content.

Chapter Text

Three months later

   When Javert arrived home after a painfully long shift, he was surprised to see the light from Valjean’s bedroom still on. He rolled into the driveway and quickly slammed the car in park before shoving himself out of the seat.

   It was well past midnight, and Javert’s entire body ached from the case he had been working on since the early morning. He had left without eating breakfast Valjean, sending a text that he had to leave early and would return quite late.

   These three months living together had been better than Javert thought it would be. He and Valjean had set up unspoken rules and boundaries around the house- as well as their friendship- that neither ever dared to cross unless necessary, and lived their lives in peace.

   Javert could still scarcely understand how an ex-convict such as Jean Valjean could afford such a large house. It was ginormous, and surprisingly clean for the amount of shedding pets they had, and Javert found himself thankful for having such a big area where both could thrive, either alone or together, rather than being crammed in a tight apartment such as his own, unable to get a moments rest from each other.

   Unsure how else to show his gratitude for helping him, Javert always ate breakfast and dinner with Valjean, even if he did not want to. Afterwards, they kept to themselves in the living room, working and reading in peaceful silence with their pets by their sides.

   Gymont was accustomed to Javert’s extreme work habit, and was not surprised to find him taking after it in this new house. He laid beside him on the couch, dozing peacefully by his owner. Across the room was Valjean, with his books and three felines, who enjoyed to lay across his shoulders, in his lap, or, much to Javert’s dismay, on Gymont.

   As nice as Javert’s time there had been, his allergies had been unbearable. He spent the entire day congested and sneezing, only finding relief when he was at work. It got better once he got back to the station, of course, but those few weeks when he first got to the house had been miserable.

   Javert silently unlocked the door and slipped into the house, kicking off his shoes and coat and directly going upstairs. It was dark, and there was no life to be seen, man or otherwise.

   Then, when he got to the top of the stairs and moved to open his door, he heard Valjean’s door open behind him, and the quiet mutter of his name.

   Javert turned around and looked at Valjean with tired eyes. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, completely forgetting he had seen the lights on as he had parked.

   Valjean shook is head. “You didn’t wake me. I was already up,” he said with a smile, his voice soft and deep. “How was work?”

   Javert looked down at his hands. “Fine. Exhausting.” He said curtly, thinking he would pass out right there in the halls. Valjean seemed to register his mood and nodded, keeping the smile on his face and the conversation short.

   “You should sleep in tomorrow. I’ll take Gymont on his walk,” he offered. Javert couldn’t find it in himself to argue and nodded.

   “Okay. Good night,” he said, turning around. Valjean watched his slow movements, likely already half asleep.

   “Good night, Javert. Sleep well,” he said before closing his door.

   Javert did not close his all the way, instead keeping it closed without putting it in its socket so that when morning came, Valjean would be able to slip in and take Gymont. He moved in a daze as he tore off his uniform and pulled an old T-shirt over his head before completely collapsing into bed.

   It was fall now, deep in October, and the air was chilly, even in the house. Javert curled up in his blanket, pulling it up to his mouth and turning on his side and away from the window. He was asleep by the time he sunk into the pillow, completely knocked out with Gymont resting on his own bed at the end of the bed.

   Sometime later, something weighted moved against Javert’s thigh, furry and small. The inspector did not stir- he was so exhausted he likely would’ve been able to sleep through a hurricane - and continued to sleep like the dead with his head nestled into the pillows, hair wild.

   The beast traveled higher up the bed, now moving against Javert’s back and unknowingly tickling him. Javert shifted, turning onto his stomach and keeping his head in the same place. The creature took the opportunity to pounce onto his back, weighing nothing more than a pillow. Javert uttered a groan, now finally stirring from his dreamless sleep.

   He opened his eyes a crack of a way and turned onto his back, the cat following until it was sitting on his chest.

   Javert stared at it, unable to comprehend what was happening, until he felt a sneeze surge through him faster than a strike of lightning, surprising him and the cat both.

   He sneezed loud and didn’t have enough time to cover, terrifying the cat. Javert groaned as it dug its claws into his chest before jumping away and off the bed into some shadowed corner of the room.

   Javert was fuming. He wasn’t even fully awake, really- all he knew is that his nose was running again and that there was a cat in his room. He sneezed two more times, one tumbling over the other, and stumbled out of his bed to catch the beast.

   It didn’t fight him as he picked it up and examined it in the dark lighting of the room. After all this time, he still didn’t know their names, but was able to distinguish them from each other. This one was white, the very one who had always caused Javert trouble. It looked up at him with wide eyes and swished its tail around before releasing a purr, pawing at his arm with curiosity.

   Angered and not really understanding what he was doing, Javert threw his door open and walked across the hall, where he carefully cracked open Valjean’s door so that he may slip the cat inside.

   He almost yelped aloud when he heard Valjean’s voice.

   “Javert?” He heard, the voice evidently muddled with sleep. Caught and not wanting Valjean to worry, Javert got up and opened the door, cat in hand.

   “Is something wrong?” Valjean asked, immediately concerned. Javert instinctively rolled his eyes, why did he always think something was wrong?

   “Yeah. Your damn cat was in my bed. ” Javert growled, completely congested. His voice was stuffy and he sneezed into the crook of his arm again before all but tossing the cat onto the ground, where she landed gracefully and ran up to Valjean’s bed and into his arms.

   “Oh- Emile! I was wondering where she was,” Valjean exclaimed, looking down at her before turning his focus back on Javert. “I had no idea she was in there. I’m sorry she woke you.”

   Javert sneered and propped himself against the doorframe. “Just… Keep them in your room, won’t you? That’s all I ask.” He said, still boiling with anger. Valjean dipped his head down in shame, his white curls bouncing with the motion.

   “It won’t happen again,” Valjean swore. “You should stay in extra long tomorrow morning,” he said with a grin that Javert couldn’t see. The inspector grumbled an affirmation before slamming the door shut and traveling back to his own room.

   The rest of the night, he slept, congested but finally alone and undisturbed.

-

   Taking up the offer, Javert slept in until 10 in the morning- otherwise known as an extra four hours for him. When he awoke, Valjean had been true to his word and taken Gymont for his morning walk. Odd, thought Javert, that he hadn’t even registered the movement.

   He gets dressed into a white dress shirt with rolled up sleeves and dark-washed jeans, his usual outfit for weekends. The first time Valjean had seen him in it, he had openly stared with his jaw slack. Because he hadn’t ever thought that Javert led a life out of his uniform , according to the man himself.

   When he came downstairs, Valjean was out in the garden, the curtains brought back from the sliding door and showing the well-kept backyard. It was giant, with ferns and flowers invading every corner of it, with a large garden in the middle that grew any flowers or vegetables Valjean wished.

   From time to time, when Javert was bored during the weekends, he would allow Valjean to drag him outside and teach him how to plant and water the seeds. He was surprised to find himself enjoying the hobby- or maybe it was that he simply enjoyed the company.

   Since Valjean was outside, Javert didn’t bother with greeting him yet and instead went into the kitchen to get his breakfast. There, he found a cat sitting on the counter, turning its head to look up at him. Javert scowled when he realized it was the same cat from last night.

   Emile got up from her loaf and made her way towards him, rubbing herself against his idle hand and purring softly. Javert watched with teeth ground together, nose bunched up in irritation. This time, when the sneeze came, he was prepared with a tissue.

   “Damn cat,” he growled under his breath before snapping his hand away and moving to grab a plate and take two of the waffles Valjean had apparently made this morning. They were still warm, covered by a cloth on the counter.

   Giving one final glare to the cat as he prepped the waffles, Javert decided to take his food outside into the patio. By the sound of the sliding door, Valjean lifted his head and grinned, the sunlight bouncing off of his curls and practically making him glow.

   To the far side of the garden, Gymont was roaming around, sniffing every plant and flower he saw. His tail was wagging fiercely behind him, and Javert almost allowed himself at the sight of his contentment. Before Valjean, Javert had always felt guilty for not being able to give Gymont the space he required.

   “Good morning, Javert,” he said cheerfully, getting up from his knees to walk over. Javert took a seat under the shade of the patio and took a bite into his waffle. “How did you sleep?”

   “Fine once I was cat-free,” Javert replied, crossing his legs. “What are you doing today?”

   “Oh, I’m just gathering a few flowers for Cosette before the winter and exterminating a few weeds. Will you be helping today?” Valjean asked, fixing the gloves on his hands. Javert shook his head.

   “No, I’ve got work to do. I would’ve got in today, but Gisquet insisted I get rest.” He explained with a roll of his eyes.

   “Don’t roll your eyes,” Valjean snapped, frowning at the reaction. “If you had it your way, you’d work yourself into the ground!”

   “Don’t give me the lecture again,” Javert growled, finishing his breakfast and placing the plate on the coffee table. “I need to work. I cannot stay like you, working around the garden and working at home all day. I would go mad!”

   Now it was Valjean’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yes, I remember very well. You were like a caged dog those first two weeks. I thought you’d bite my head off!”

   “And I could still very well do so,” Javert hissed,  baring his teeth just as a dog would do. Valjean laughed and turned back to his garden, walking down the stone steps. Javert watched him go with a short grin curled on his mouth before beckoning for Gymont.

   The dog ran over, barking in excitement at the sight of him. Javert muttered a few words of praise as he scratched Gymont all over, especially behind his ears and under his chin. Both sitting, he was nearly eye-level with Javert, tongue lolling out and tail beating against the ground.

   “I was thinking of inviting Cosette and Marius over for dinner tonight,” Valjean said as he knelt back over his plants. “Would you object?”

   Javert didn’t look up as he responded, “Sure, invite them.”

   “Do you not like them?” Valjean asked, suddenly looking small and embarrassed. After a moment he added, “It’s just that, you seem irritated when I bring them up. Is it Cosette?”

   Javert huffed out a laugh, still playing with Gymont. “No, Valjean. Your daughter is pleasant in conversation and always respectful. I actually enjoy her company,” Javert explained. “It’s that boy. He’s an idiot. Do you really believe Cosette wanted to marry him?”

   Valjean shrugged. “It’s not what I believe, it’s what she feels,” he said, suddenly sentimental. “And she seems happy with him. He is not all bad,”

   “Ha! And I’m not allergic to cats,” Javert barked, his laugh similar to the howl of Gymont. Over the months, At first, it had frightened Valjean, but overtime he had begun to find it charming.

   “Well you won’t need to even say hello to the boy if you do not wish to,” Valjean said as he dug his trowel into the healthy soil. “Just be polite. I know that may be a challenge enough for you,” he joked with a deep laugh. Javert growled his way and got onto his feet.

   “Come inside when you’re finished pretending like you are living in the 19th century,” he hissed with a toothy grin before taking his dirty plate and leading Gymont inside.

   Once the plate was loaded into the dishwasher, Javert sat on the couch, meaning to catch up on some work, only to find his laptop occupied by a brown cat, who seemed to have decided that his laptop was a perfect seat warmer.

   Javert scowled and stared down at the sight, unsure how to proceed. To touch the cat would be to break out in sneezes and tearing eyes, to not would be to ignore his work and turn bored out of his mind.

   Deciding to make the sacrifice, he very cautiously bent down and grabbed the cat, who did not take it lightly. She hissed and dug her claws into Javert’s arm, crawling up him and onto his shoulder. He fell back on the couch in surprise, immediately succumbing to two aggressive sneezes. The cat meowed softly, having calmed down, and toed around his shoulders, snuggling herself against the back of his neck. Javert felt his agony rise as his eyes began to water and nose began to run, stuck in a position that he could not get the cat off of him without sneezing. He leaned forward, trying to shake her off, but it was no use. Her claws dug into him, merciless, and he let out a congested huff of frustration.

   He was stuck like that for a few minutes, constantly sneezing or blowing his nose or wiping his eyes. When Gymont came over to rest his head on Javert’s knee, he got an idea. Gymont had been professionally trained to be a guard dog, and Javert knew how to control him.

   He clicked his tongue and made an odd noise, gaining Gymont’s attention. Suddenly angered, the mutt began to bark, his strong voice reverberating throughout the house. The cat upon Javert’s shoulders jumped in terror, and quickly ran off. The inspector huffed a sigh of relief and sat back against the couch, wiping his nose once more. Taking his chance, he set his laptop on his lap and perched his feet up on the table. Finally, he could work.

   Gymont was dismissed from needing to ‘protect’ and took his seat on the floor beside Javert, idly playing with a tennis ball that the cats had played with before.

   An hour later, Javert was so absorbed in his work that he hadn’t realized that two cats, Toussaint and Emile, had gathered beside him, curled up together and purring at the heat that the laptop gave off. Only when his eyes began to water again did he finally have enough.

   Slamming his laptop onto the table, Javert grabbed the two cats and threw open the patio door, all but tossing them outside. Valjean lifted his head from the bush of flowers he had been cutting at, confusion running over his face.

   “Get your damn cats away from me! I can’t work a moment without them crawling all over me!” Javert snapped angrily, voice audibly congested again. Valjean gave a guilty grin and walked over to pet the two felines.

   “I can’t leave them outside. It’s cold,” Valjean said, looking up at Javert with pleading eyes. Javert crossed his arms over his chest and loudly sniffed his reddened nose again.

   “They’ve got fur. They’ll be fine,” he growled, pinching the bridge of his nose at the pressure. “Besides, didn’t you find them on the street? Surely they can survive long enough in your garden for me to get some work done.”

   “Just because they once lived outside doesn’t mean they should have to again,” Valjean said, picking them up and getting off of his knees. “Why don’t you go into your office?”

   “They follow me around, the damned pests.” Javert snapped.

   “Don’t call them pests! What would you do if I called Gymont a useless old mutt ?” Valjean retorted, hurt overriding his features. Javert upturned his nose.

   “I would punch you in the nose,” he growled.

   “So you do not object to me doing the same to you?” Valjean asked, stubborn as ever. He too kept his head held high, unwilling to allow his children to be spoken of so badly.

   Javert sighed, eyes flickering around. “Just… Let them stay in the patio. They listen to you, and you’re right there supervising them.”

   Valjean didn’t look convinced, glancing at the patio area skeptically. “What if they get hurt by the thorns on the roses? Or get their paws dirty on the mud? Oh- washing them is such a hassle…” he muttered worriedly, and Javert snapped.

   “Oh, for the love of- Fine! Just give them to me,” he snatched them from Valjean’s arms and into his own, storming back inside.

   If he was so allergic to the cats, why did he tolerate them so? To be allergic and still live with three of them sounds insane, irrational. Javert had not examined this question, for he was afraid of the answer; he did not ask Valjean to be rid of the cats only because he did not want to see the man disheartened by the loss of his pets. Javert did not know how long he had kept them, but they were obviously close, and Javert knew well what it meant to have a bond with an animal. If someone was to take away Gymont from him, he knew he would kick and fight with every last ounce of his strength until the dog was safely his.

   He did not ask Valjean to be rid of the cats solely because he cared for the man. This was the answer he was afraid to come to, and therefore steered away from. It was better not to ask it at all.

   The rest of the afternoon was spent in the agonizing presence of the three cats, all poking and prodding at him with curiosity. Gymont slept his feet, unbothered.

   When dinner came, Cosette and Marius visited. If Javert’s eyes and nose were redder and more congested than usual, they made no mention, seeing as though he was not in a mood to be interrogated. Valjean carried the conversation and cooked dinner with the help of Cosette, and the meetup fell deep into the night with wine and laughs.

   Javert took it with pride was Marius was terrified of Gymont. Who wouldn’t be, when face to face with such a canine?

   When Cosette brought Toussaint up to Javert’s face, he once again succumbed to his sneezes, and admitted that he was not sick, simply allergic. Cosette had felt terrible; Valjean had laughed so hard his wine nearly came out of his nose.

   It was a pleasant evening, and a rather important one for Javert. The fact that it had gone so well proved that he seemed to be accepted into Valjean’s family. The next time they meet up, Javert will be surprised to hear that Cosette was hoping he would come.

   As the seasons pass, the flowers begin to grow, and along with them, a relationship.

   Now, three years after being discharged from the hospital, Javert lays in his husband’s arms, rightfully held and protected between the mass of muscle that is Jean Valjean. They share a bed that is pet-free and spend their weekends and nights out in the garden, laughing and drinking together. The occasional annoyance of a cat allergy can be forgiven when one is in love.

   Gymont somehow grows to be larger than before, now standing higher than Javert’s waist. They still take morning walks and work on police cases together, for Javert could never replace nor forget the bond he had forged with the mutt.

   Javert and Valjean know everything about each other, and the pets know everything about them. They are an odd, quiet family, one that would make you stop and wonder on the street. But they are content with each other, and Javert can scarcely believe that he had been gifted this life.