Javert resumes his work, knotting the cravat in as perfunctory a way as he can, though his whole body has flushed, now, and he is too aware of how close he is to M. Madeleine. He is afraid to breathe too heavily, for he does not want to know if his breath would brush against M. Madeleine’s face like fingertips. ~ stonecarapace
Stone was nice enough to respond to my prompt with a really lovely, tense clothesporn short fic here, so here’s a little Valvert sketch..?
(Also haha headcanon!Valjean isn’t that much shorter, he’s just hunching in on himself a little)
EDIT: Earlier draft of this silliness here