hommesdechires:
Valjean nearly burst out laughing at Javert’s obstinance.
“Defend yourself, hm? Javert, dear, you make it sound like I’m forcing you to have a Christmas present.” An urge to kiss the other man’s cheek surfaced, which Valjean quickly suppressed (they weren’t under the mistletoe anyhow). “Have you not considered it might actually be something you’ll like, or want? Thank you for this, though— may I open it?”
This holiday in particular raised his defenses without even trying. Yet another foreign country whose customs he didn’t know, let alone understand; but this one came with expectations. He couldn’t just coast along in the wake of others. Javert’s scowl stayed in place— the glacier moved in fractions of an inch. “Well, that is the point.” The closest he would come to a “yes” for now. But something else equally unexpected squeezed through: “Thank you. For the gift.”
“It is the point, yes. I didn’t know if you wanted me to open it in private or... something like that.” Valjean fiddled with the box, rough fingers tracing over a patchwork of wrinkled paper. At least he had tried (somehow, he could not find the courage to say how endearing he found this to the other man’s face).
“There is no need for thanks, Javert. It is Christmas, and it’s a gift, one you deserve. Why don’t we open ours at the same time, hm? Then we won’t be staring at each other.” A soft package was placed gently in Javert’s hands, a hand-tied bow placed on top.
