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Javert was waiting patiently for Valjean to arrive back home. His head rested upon the floor, large paws covering his eyes as he sat curled up in the main room.
It was like this every few weeks. Javert, a large beast of a wolf, could not easily venture out into the streets of Paris as Valjean did, considering that he easily surpassed the height of the average man just by standing on his four feet. Valjean often travelled to be with his daughter, though it never was for more than a few days. A week, at most.
Javert spent the time hunting in the woods, or walking through the trees. He ate for himself and kept the cabin clean and tidy, but he missed Valjean immensely. He found find himself curling up in Valjean’s bed, smelling the remaining scent and whimpering like a domesticated hound. He was, at this point. Months in these woods with Valjean had made him lazy.
He had gotten used to being a hound. Since that cruel night in June had he been this way, but with Valjean it hadn’t been that bad. He enjoyed the keen hearing and eyesight, being able to run twice as fast than a person. At first he had seen it as an ironic twist- the ever loyal hound of the law, brought to heel to a convict as a true one!- but being a companion of Valjean’s left little room for self-loathing.
When Jean was home, they would sit together and talk of nothing in particular. What to grow in the garden, how Cosette was. Other times they read book until they fell asleep and the fire burned down.
Summer was fading into fall. The leaves fell from the trees and a warm orange had overtaken the forest, contrasting with the bright blue skies. Javert did not particularly care for seasons and colors; Valjean thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Javert hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep until he was startled awake by the sound of the opening door. His ears perked up, his head turned as Valjean came into view. Against the autumn background of the forest, he looked beautiful. His cheeks were red from the cold and his white hair tossed about, unkempt but not that bad at all.
“Javert,” he said, a stupid grin forming on his face as he dropped his suitcase at the door and all but tackled the wolf. He fell to his knees, unhurt by the soft carpet beneath them, and wrapped strong arms around the hounds neck.
Javert, too, managed to raise his arms to encircle Valjean, claws tucked in to not risk ripping any cloth.
“I have missed you, mon ami,” Jean breathed as he held onto him tighter. He stroked the dark fur back, thick and soft as it was, and relished it in his hands. He had been away from a week.
Javert’s tail wagged excitedly behind him as he took in Valjean’s scent. He suddenly jumped to his hind legs, using his strength to pounce over Valjean and send them falling onto the floor. The man laughed, his voice deep and shoulders shaking. Javert could hear whines coming from himself, a pathetic sort of thing, really, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the present moment.
After a while he settled back, resting his head ln Jean’s chest. “How was your journey?” He asked, keen eyes tracing his face. The man smiled wider and kept a hand at Javert’s head.
“Uneventful, really. Cosette is doing well, as is her husband. Paris is awfully crowded and busy.” Jean replied, fingers massaging a specific spot behind Javert’s ear that made his mind go blank for a moment.
“Stop that,” he growled harmlessly, jerking his head a little to regain his thoughts. “I was hoping you and I could take a walk through the woods. If you are not too exhausted after your trip back.” He got to his feet and carefully grabbed hold on Jean’s sleeve through his teeth, tugging him towards the door.
“Yes, yes,” Jean laughed as he got to his feet. He followed Javert out the door and closed it behind him, quickly falling into step beside the hound.
“The days are getting colder,” Valjean remarked when a particularly swift current of wind passed by them. It sent a shiver up Jean; Javert hardly felt it pass through his coat at all.
“So they are. I do not know why you have not gotten a thicker coat by now,” Javert says with a huff, ears twitching as a nearby bird sings.
“And why would I need one, when I have you by my side?” Jean replied. “You do not even sleep on the bed with me and yet I can feel the heat radiating from you.”
Javert’s mouth conformed into a toothy grin, sharp teeth gleaming. They continued to walk in quiet, peaceful banter as the wind howled around them and the sun began to set.
-
By the time they return to the cabin the moon is high in the sky, sending an eerie glow upon the forest. They enter the room, shivering.
“I fear I will never get warm,” Jean groans as he takes a seat in front of the fireplace, legs and scars aching. Javert comes up behind him, laying down next to the seat and wrapping his long body around it. He gets comfortable, tilting his head at an angle on the floor.
"Perhaps you should retire early. I will keep the fire built high for you." Javert offers, looking up at Jean when the man turns to look at him in turn. He waits for him to respond, and in the meantime begrudgingly gets up from the floor to throw a log into the fire. It roared and grew, lashing out at Javert's face before retreating back into its territory. He turned back to Jean.
"That would not be disagreeable," Jean decided. He got up from the seat and began to unbutton his shirt from the collar. Javert respectfully turned his head as he changed into a nightshirt. When he returned, Javert felt a hand trail up his neck, silently asking for something.
"What is it? Speak your mind." Javert snapped, chest bubbling a little in fear when he saw the unreadable expression on Jean's face.
"Will you join me?" Valjean asked quietly, ceasing for a moment to allow Javert a response. He found it comical how lenient Javert had gotten with pets and scratches. At first he had found it bothersome, stupid and clear evidence that he was the dog he was always told to be. But as time went on, and their relationship grew more comfortable, he didn't mind them so much. Often times while they read together Jean's hand would find a place upon his fur, and he did not even think twice about it.
Javert lifted his head. "In the bed?" He asked.
"Well, yes. The weather is not getting any warmer, and it feels awfully cold tonight," Valjean explained with a face red from embarrasment. "You are not obliged to, I only thought- Well, I thought it would be nice. It cannot be fair for you to sleep on the floor while I get the bed."
"It is, given what I am," Javert rolled his eyes. "But I suppose, if you are unable to be warmed, I will join you." He got to his feet and followed Jean to the bed, waiting for him to get in before hesitantly following. Laying down, he took up half of the bed and then some, Valjean’s arm buried beneath his thick fur.
“Are you sure I will not suffocate you in your sleep?” Javert deadpanned, shifting a little and wincing as he heard the bed creak once. Jean laughed and wrapped his arms around his neck, holding him close.
“I’m sure I will be fine, Javert,” he grinned into Javert’s coat, rubbing his hands through it and holding him tighter. Javert’s tail began to wag once again, beating against the frame of the bed.
“I have missed you so,” Jean admitted as he began to scratch Javert all over, aiming for the spots behind his ears once again. Javert whined, dropping his snout over Jean’s shoulder, as much of a hug that he could make.
Javert used to be ashamed at how easily his hands affected him. He would have looked upon the scene in disgust, vowed to never get close to the convict to let it happen. But that Javert was different, far long gone, and left in his place was a wolfhound who, for the first time in his life, had someone to call his friend, and a place to call his home.
He could barely register those doubts as he relaxed at Valjean’s hand, shivers wracking his body as he curled up closer beside him.
“You are as hot as a furnace, you know,” Jean said in a low voice, hands slowly but not stopping.
“You wanted me here, no?” And just to prove his point he leaned in closer. “You wanted to be warm, so you will be warm.”
“I cannot say I find it disagreeable.” Valjean decided, voice getting softer until it was no more than a whisper. His hand continued the motions through Javert’s fur, slow and serene. Javert’s tail, too, began to slow as conscious began to fade.
In Valjean’s arms, he was in perfect bliss. Perhaps he missed being a human, sometimes, but those thoughts were always short-lived when he stood by the man that made him feel more human than he ever did in a man’s body. He fell asleep quickly, snuggled close into Valjean’s side. A hand laid upon his head, kept there even in the grasp of sleep.