Jean Valjean hummed quietly to himself as he ate his dinner at a small wayside inn, staring off into the shadows. Cosette had already been safely tucked into her covers and was asleep, so he was enjoying a quiet, late dinner. There was nobody else up except the innkeeper, and even the man was dozing at his counter.

The front door blew open, snow barreling in fast enough to form miniature drifts. A tall man was standing in the doorway, having been blown in by the blizzard. Valjean groaned. He knew that man. "Javert," he called, raising the mug of warm barley beer he had, "Come in from that blizzard and have a mug of beer with me. You are frozen from the cold." The police officer plunked himself down into the chair beside the ex-convict, glowering out from under blonde brows, his dark skin glowing red from wind-chafing.

"What makes you think I wish to share a mug of beer with you, 24601?" Valjean sighed and almost rolled his eyes. Of course Javert would refuse to let go of their two-decade rivalry for a night.

"For gods sake, Javert. You were just caught in the middle of a blizzard. For one night let go of whatever grudges we have so you don't freeze to death." Javert hesitated, and Valjean could see the glow in his eyes as he eyed the beer. He had to be freezing after tramping after the convict all the way through that blizzard. "And tomorrow, you may arrest me. But I do not wish to wake up tomorrow and find that I am being arrested by a dead man." Valjean almost wanted to snicker at his own joke, brown eyes glowing with humor, but all Javert did was scowl and bundle himself tighter into his snow-drift of a coat.

"This one night, Valjean. Simply because I want to be alive to arrest you tomorrow." Valjean chuckled, and pushed over the mug of beer he had recently been drinking from, and Javert downed it in only one gulp. Valjean was glad that he had taken a table next to the fire, because a mug of warm beer simply would not do it when it came to a blizzard-chilled inspector. Javert glowered up at his enemy from under blonde brows, and then sat up into his usual perfect poise, back straight and head up. Valjean was small and stocky with mussed silvering-brown hair and brown eyes that were warmer than the fire even to his enemy, and in comparison Javert was tall and muscled like a cat, his blonde hair and dark skin windblown. His green eyes were unreadable. Valjean placed his hands on the table and leaned forward, his brown hair sparkling in the firelight. The gray strands were clearly visible. After ten years chasing each other, Javert was in his late thirties or early forties and Valjean was about fifty. He didn't remember his own birthday anymore, so he usually just judged off of how long he had been running from people. Or in jail. "What are you looking at?" Javert grumbled, shrugging back into his coat and glowering, lips downturned into a frown. "I am not your friend. I am the man who will arrest you when he isn't nearly frozen."

Valjean sighed and shook his head, shoulders slumping slightly. He waved a hand. "Javert, I am just thinking back. We have known each other for twenty nine years now, and the two of us sitting across a table during a blizzard is familiar somehow."

"Six years ago." Javert said softly, placing his hands on the table and leaning over enough that he and Valjean were on somewhat of the same level. "Near Marsielles, remember? You were caught in a snowstorm, and happened to stumble upon where I had ensconced myself in an inn." Valjean chuckled.

"I remember now. I had promised you that you would arrest me in the morning, and when the morning came, I was long gone." Even Javert smirked slightly at that, but grabbed the ex-convict's hand and pulled him close until they were nose to nose.

"That will not happen again." He said softly, voice grating in his throat. Valjean pulled his hand back and relaxed against the table.

"Tomorrow, Javert. I promise that you may arrest me tomorrow, when we are both adequately unfrozen." They fell silent then, the inspector playing listlessly with a sou until he called the inkeeper, ordering himself a hot tea. He shrugged out of the greatcoat, and Valjean remained his companion, the two men sitting at the table.

"Get to bed, Javert." Valjean finally said, staring up at the woodwork of the ceiling. "You should be adequately rested to arrest me tomorrow morning. Wouldn't want anything to go wrong, now would you?" Javert grunted, stood up, and grabbed Valjean's arm. He started to drag the older man upstairs, flipping a franc onto the inkeeper's counter.

"One room." He grunted, and then dragged Valjean up the stairs, the older man flailing and expressing extreme distaste at being dragged by his captor.

"Javert--!" he flailed. "Let me go!" Javert ignored him, and hoisted the smaller man over his shoulder, and dumped him on the floor as soon as they reached the room he had rented. The door was locked in seconds, and Javert pocketed the key, leaving Valjean to surge to his feet and try to open the door fruitlessly. "Javert, let me out!" He yelled, turning on the younger man with anger deep-set in his brown eyes. "I have a child to take care of, you cannot just--" Javert cut him off by turning back around, hat in hand. The snow that had until recently been covering his hair had melted, leaving the gray-streaked blonde to shimmer with water. His eyes were hard.

"She can, I am sure, handle herself for the last night she would have with you." Valjean once more tired the door, growling unhappily and tugging on the knob. He knew that he could force his way out, being the stronger of the two of them, but doing so would be of extreme insult to the inkeeper. So he was stuck. Grunting his annoyance, Valjean slid to the floor, sure in himself that he would be spending the night there.

Which was, until a jacket-less Javert came over, swinging his handcuffs. "No way you are getting away from me tonight, Valjean." He said, and grabbed the older man's wrist, wrenching him from the floor as they were cuffed together. Valjean stumbled, yelped, and found his footing, scrambling after Javert and fighting uselessly at the cuffs. He had ben stuck to Javert like this before, and it had never once been comfortable. But in this case, it meant they would have to share a bed. And Valjean did not like the idea of that. But, he was stuck to the inspector, and there was nothing he could do about it.

For a moment the two men stood there, embarrassed, and they each realized that they were still almost fully dressed.

"Shoes." Valjean said, and at the same time they knelt and pulled off the offending items. It went that way until both men were in their shirtsleeves, and Javert pointed to the bed.

"No funny business, 24601." He only called Valjean that when he was stressed now. They had known each other far too long. They were in no condition friends, but they could (occasionally) speak in level tones. Valjean muttered to himself why would I want to do any funny business and crammed himself onto one side of the bed, the closest to the window. The inspector lay down, and they were left back to back, cuffed hands getting in the way. Grunting, Javert huddled more into the covers, and licked his fingers, the candle hissing as he put it out.

They lay in silence, unmoving, both too embarrassed by their current situation to say anything. Time passed, and the snow that Valjean was watching out the window began to abate some. However, neither was asleep.

Grunt. "Valjean."

"What, Javert."

"Move your hand."

"No. You cuffed us together, you can deal with the uncomfortable problems that would clearly arise." Valjean felt a shifting in the bed, and then found himself pinned down by the rather impressive bulk of Inspector Javert, his hair spilling over his shoulders. For a moment, he had the oddest urge to run his hands through that mane of hair, to pull down the Inspector--

but he pushed it away.

"Javert, get off me." Valjean said slowly, starting to wiggle from under the Inspector. But, it was hopeless. He may have been the stronger of the two by far, but he still was smaller. Javert was a huge man, and Valjean had no hope of getting out from under him.

"I would prefer that if you and I are to remain cuffed together--which we are--that you at least comply in the simple act of making this more comfortable for us?" Valjean sighed.

"Fine." Javert moved off of him again, and they once more settled into silence, staring in their respective directions silently. And still sleep would not come.

"Javert?"

"What, Valjean?"

"Do you honestly have any reason to follow me anymore?" Silence greeted the question, and Valjean looked over his shoulder to see glittering shards of gray-green staring back at him, questions in the depths. Neither said anything, until at last the niggling thought in the back of Valjean's mind was impossible to quell. Inching his body over to be facing the Inspector, the older man slowly reached out a hand and tangled it in the hair at the back of Javert's neck, just above the ribbon, and pulled the other man into a kiss.

Needless to say, the reaction was immediate and extreme.

Javert shoved Valjean back, spitting fire, yelping curses left and right. He remembered too late that the two men were connected and the 'shoving' method backfired, pushing them back together on the whiplash and their lips connected once again. This time, Valjean was ready, and grabbed Javert's wrists when the Inspector attempted to break the kiss. It was inexpert, yes, but Valjean knew what he wanted. His lips manipulated the other man's, until at last a groan was wrenched from Javert's throat, the deep noise sending shivers down his spine. Slowly, oh so slowly, Javert's hand came up and tangled in Valjean's gray-streaked brown hair, clutching at the back of his neck. He arched upward, lips pressing needily into the convict's.

The broke apart for breath, brown and gray-green eyes locking for a moment over heaving chests and disturbed hair. Neither man said anything, but Valjean started to undo the tie in the Inspector's hair, the blonde locks pooling on the pillow. He started to lean down when he felt the press of a hand against his chest, and stopped.

Javert was silent. The look in his eyes was more than enough, but Valjean had to ask. He reached up one scarred palm and took the Inspector's face in his hand, cradling it, feeling the press of his sideburns against his palm. The convict could feel emotions reeling inside him. There were so many things he wanted to say, wanted to do.

Finally, Javert spoke.

"24601, what in the hell do you are doing?" Valjean sighed softly. Trust Javert to ruin the moment. "Get off me now." He wrestled hopelessly against the man on to of him, but Valjean used his superior strength to pin him to the bed. Two could play at that game. He was getting his way for once, and damn Javert if he tried to stop it.

"Kissing you." Was Valjean's blunt reply, and a sour expression was what the Inspector gave him back.

"We are both men. Get off of me, Valjean."

"No."

"I'm arresting you in the morning. Things are complicated enough as it is without you kissing me."

"No."

"I'm not arresting you?" Javert was confused.

"No," Valjean said slowly, "I'm kissing you." And with that he leaned back down and took the other man's lips once more, and this time Javert had little he could do to fight back. He was trapped--and although he was beyond loathe to admit it--he actually liked the kissing. Neither man had been given much time for relationships, but what limited knowledge they had was mostly Valjean's. Which was why he was the one kissing Javert. The tables quickly turned, though, and Valjean found himself pinned down with a sudden reverse of position, Javert kissing him for all he was worth, enjoying the feeling of the convict's beard on his face.

And Valjean liked it.

Arching his back with a soft groan against the other man, Valjean wrapped his arms around the Inspector, a convict falling under a spell. It was all he could do to keep from clawing his way through Javert's shirtsleeves to get at the hard body he knew was beneath. Javert seemed to be rapidly loosing his carefully schooled control, and they both knew it.

The next time they broke apart for breath both men were panting. Valjean tugged gently on the wrist he was cuffed with, glowering. "Javert, take it off." A steely-eyed look was the return, and handcuffs were grudgingly removed.

From the Inspector, at least.

Jean Valjean found himself suddenly handcuffed to one of the bedposts, and writhed, trying to get away. "Javert!" He yelled, surprised, and unable to use either hand. How Javert had handcuffed both his hands to a bedpost with one pair of handcuffs he was pretty sure he didn't want to know. Probably some policeman trick of the trade. "Let me go this very instant!" His voice was starting to become shrill, but he quieted at the sight before him.

Inspector Javert of the Paris police was stripping.

His vest came off first, tossed carelessly off the bed and onto the floor, followed by his shirt, which he tugged easily over his head, giving his prisoner a very good view of his chest.

Well, for the amount of time he had been on the police force, it was obvious that he would be in good shape. Valjean shuddered as he looked over the leanly muscled chest and arms, the exact opposite of his stocky build. Javert was like a cat, both in personality and build. Long and lean lines, sharp and straight, made up his physique. His dark skin glowed in the moonlight, and a multitudes of scars covered his chest and arms, not a few of which Valjean remembered giving Javert himself. He swallowed, tugged against the constraints more, and bucked his hips in an attempt to get some leverage to be free of the blasted handcuffs.

That was a bad idea, as it soon turned out.

Both men groaned, Javert's eyes falling closed, as their groins touched. Valjean whimpered, he had not been expecting that. That had been sudden. He looked up at Javert, and saw that the Inspector was trembling, his body under strain from clearly wanting to grab the convict's hips and grind until they both reached climax. But he did not. Instead he leaned forward, his large hands undoing each button on the other man's vest, until the cloth fell back, followed shortly by his shirt. Valjean sucked in a breath, his chest open to the air.

Javert smirked softly, the expression making the ex-convict shudder, his brown eyes wide. Valjean knew what was coming next, he had always known that it would happen eventually. The Inspector's steely eyes stopped their view of the well-muscled chest before them as they came to a rest on the number tattooed onto his chest.

24, 601.

Javert skipped it, pretended it was not there, and grabbed Valjean's lips in a kiss that was somewhat tremulous, but fully passionate. He knew what he wanted. They both did.

"Javert..." The name was unbidden, but it was needed. The Inspector grunted, pushing off his pants in a move that the older man was almost sure was impossible. but there it was. Valjean swallowed when he at last saw the Inspector's lower half, the same lean-muscled legs that tapered down to where they vanished into the bed...and then upward, where they joined together in a covered area that...Valjean groaned, arching his back and bucking his hips against that stiff member in the other man's pants, Javert's response a choked-back gasp of need. He grabbed Valjean roughly, dragging their mouths together into a fiery kiss that sent both of them trembling. Who knew how long this had been building--perhaps more than the two decades they had known each other, perhaps just the day that Javert had set out to capture Valjean. It was time it all came to fruition.

Valjan's pants came off in the space of a breath. In the space of another, bare skin was pressing against bare skin, sweat making their bodies stick as the older man clawed fruitlessly at the bedpost he was cuffed to, Javert breathing softly against the skin of the convict's neck, face tickled by a well-trimmed beard.

There were muscles there, made thick and strong from years in the quarries at Toulon, before that as a pruner, and since then being on the run. For a man aging, Valjean was in very good physical condition, and often his strength was what allowed the Inspector to pick him out from a crowd. But now, all his muscles were useless. Handcuffed to a bedpost, underneath a larger man, and writhing in pleasure.

"Javert..." He groaned, bucking his hips, precious friction his reward. Javert groaned, large hands fisting in the sheets as his mask slipped down. The Inspector and the Convict, the Hunter and the Hunted. It was almost preordained. "Javert, please!" In the back of his mind, Valjean marveled at the fact that he would ever be begging the other man to anything. Javert looked up, gray-green eyes glowing with lust. He tangled a hand in the loose brown locks of the other, fisting there in order to pull them both into a passionate kiss that said more than words ever could. Valjean, for his part, simply kissed the other man back and pulled helplessly at his constraints. He was trapped, but that was beginning to not look like such a bad thing.

"Valjean..." The breath was soft against his cheek, ruffling the convict's brown beard and some of his graying hair. "Either we stop now...or we let this go somewhere..." he swallowed "Somewhere I am sure we can never return to." It was a truth. A naked and bare truth, but a truth. Javert was right. They could stop this now and pretend it never happened, but that would leave feelings lingering that were best removed.

"Javert, we have to fall." Valjean replied, his chocolate brown eyes connecting with gray. Emotions were raging in both their eyes, half of those emotions impossible to name. "We have no choice in the matter." Their voices were both husky with arousal. The older man smiled softly. "But if we are to fall...I would want to fall with you."

It was unspoken, but underneath their enmity, they were truly close friends.

Javert was silent, he said nothing, simply watched Valjean. Finally, he hung his head, blonde and gray mane slipping over the muscled stomach of the man below him, tickling Valjean in a way not unwanted. His chest was heaving as he held himself back, his mind spinning.

"Valjean, why are we like this?" For a moment, both men were silent while they pondered that question, and at last the convict thought he had an answer.

"Because it should be so." Gray eyes once more met brown, questions hurtling through both depths like so many birds in flight, but eventually settled.

"Then it should be so." That was final, when coming from Javert. He leaned forward, face nuzzling the side of Valjean's neck as he breathed in the other's smell, and the older man leaned his head to give him more room, especially when teeth began to nip at the pulse thudding beneath the skin there, drawing another moan out of the ex-convict.

"Javert, I want to fall." He whispered, and it was all he had to say. The handcuffs came undone, and instantly Valjean's hands were onto the Inspector's back, bracing there, pulling the younger man into another burning kiss, searing fire through both their souls. Valjean felt his entrance being pressed on by something deceptively small, but when it entered him he arched his back, groaning in pain. He knew it was just a finger, but it hurt. So much. "J-Jav...Javert..." His voice trembled, his strong hands clawing at the other's back.

"Relax." The Inspector softly said, his free hand rubbing the older man's side soothingly. If nothing, Javert was a creature of opposites. One moment he could be ready to kill Valjean and the next he was soothing him while they prepared to become one. Distracted from the initial pain by the sudden change in the other man, he gasped as a second finger was inserted inside him, but then...Javert touched something.

Moaning out loud, Valjean wriggled, wanting to have that place pressed again. Just again...one more time, oh god...Javert scissored his fingers and brushed that spot again, sending the older man writhing against the bedclothes, his erection throbbing. He wanted release, and each time that spot was pressed...

the fingers left the warm embrace of Valjean, and the Inspector leaned down to press a kiss onto waiting lips as he thrust his hips, and himself, into his newfound lover. The older man stiffened, grunting in pain at the intrusion, one hand fisting in Javert's loose mane and the other clawing at the sheets. Above him, he could hear Javert groaning, his breath coming in gasps as he held back. It amazed the convict that a man, who would usually have given about as much thought to any pain of Valjean's as he did to tying back his hair, but in this case was holding him lovingly and whispering nonsense, soothing breath on the side of the elder's neck, his sideburns brushing Valjean's hyper-sensitive skin and sending a tingle up his spine.

At last, at last, he was ready. "Javert," Valjean gasped, moving the hand on the sheets onto the larger man's back, attaching to the broad shoulders like they were his only link with life, and then he felt a thrust and his mind reeled.

The Inspector was propping himself up with one arm, the other curled around his prey's neck, pulling him into a kiss. Names flashed between them as their lovemaking increased in fervor, until at last Javert felt a rippling in the pit of his stomach.

"Jean!" He growled, hips shuddering into thrusts that were just twitches as he buried himself hilt deep in the smaller man, his blonde hair falling into his face. He stiffened as he reached his climax, while beneath him Valjean had a moment to ponder the first time that he had ever heard the younger man say his first name and then the Inspector's frantic thrusts hit his spot perfectly, and the elder man felt his whole world white out, his mind blanking.

"Javert..." The name passed his lips softly, the whisper a link to life. The two men stiffened, their whole worlds nothing more than each other, the grip of their arms and their bodies and their breath, clenching and gasping.

Javert's arms collapsed, his large body dropping to rest on the smaller man. Valjean's breath started to even, his vision still white around the edges, and he rested his shaking hands on the broad back of the man who currently lay on top of him, breathing in a breath of fresh air. Air that smelled of their deed.

Minutes passed in silence, their joint breathing the only two sounds in the room, until at last the Inspector had his strength back and rolled over, staring almost sightlessly up at the ceiling. They had both been celibate for so long that this moment of coupling had been fast, but no less powerful for either one. The last time the Inspector had been with another in his bed had been at two decades before, before he even came to Toulon. Valjean did not truly remember the last time he had been with another in bed. Both had just broken their celibacy.

"Javert, scoot over." Valjean finally mumbled, and a grunt was his reply, although his request was quickly complied with. Sighing, the aging man flopped down beside his younger companion, his gray-brown hair pooling on the pillow, mixing with the long and tangled blonde strands of Javert's mane. Neither man could really understand what had just happened, but were content enough at the moment to just leave the issue for later. Once comfortably ensconced, Valjean sighed happily and lay his head on the broad shoulder beside him, his small but compact body fitting next to the long and wiry body perfectly. They were like two puzzle pieces cut from the same block. Javert sighed, and looked out the window, sleep and post-coital afterglow clouding his mind. "Go to sleep."

Well, when faced with Valjean giving him an ultimatum like that he was just going to go along with it.

The Inspector closed his eyes, sleep weighing them down, and wrapped his strong arms around the man next to him. It was all the two could do to bask in the afterglow.

"Tomorrow, Valjean, I arrest you. Remember."

"I remember." The ex-convict chuckled into the chest of the other man, his own body vibrating. "Tomorrow, you arrest me."

Satisfied that tomorrow their two decade rivalry would end, Javert closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him, the warm body beside him comforting him, wrapping him in the very essence of Jean Valjean.

The older man stayed awake longer, carefully cradling the sleeping inspector, his heart thudding in his chest. He hated Javert for all the man had done to him, and yet...Valjean knew, deep inside his chest, that he loved Javert more than anything else in the world. Those words would never pass his lips, would never be shared. The events of before would likely never repeat themselves, but he knew once was enough. Their issues--that sexual tension--had been relieved. For now, at least.

With that thought in his mind, Valjean curled up against the broad chest of Inspector Javert, and fell asleep.

When he woke up the next morning, he almost didn't want to move. But he knew he had to. So when Javert woke up and found his bedside companion gone, he could only blame himself for wanting him to be there. For more than one reason.

Everything had changed.