i'm french, you idiot!

“Nonsense!”

Aeleus tsks softly as Gaston starts his tale, all but rolling his eyes though he doesn’t stop tending to the hunter.

“You take too many risks sometimes.” He scolds, checking the size of the tear by putting his fingers through it. It can be salvaged with a little effort, but it will never be Gaston’s Sunday Best after this. “Going after a boar on your own. I know you’re a hero but you could have called on Tom, Dick and Stanley to help you!”

He catches Gaston’s chin before he can start to fuss, turns his head and kisses the corner of his mouth gently. “You could have been hurt…” He adds softly, wrapping his arms around Gaston’s chest and heaving a sigh against his neck. “I worry, that’s all. We can certainly toast your victory, mon loup, and you can pick the bottle.”

He huffed at the chiding, puffing his chest out indignantly. Those lips caught his own before he could make his argument-- but he wouldn’t be so easily silenced.

Even if those kisses upon his neck made his cheeks warm a soft shade of pink.

“I handled it just fine on my own--- those three would have gotten in my way. Besides, LeFou was there-- fretting as he does.” Gaston was quick to reassure the male that he hadn’t been alone-- not that Jacques could have done anything should things have gone wrong.

Gaston didn’t doubt himself, though. Doubt led to mistakes. Confidence led to clarity.

He takes the ribbon from Gaston’s hands, setting it aside so that he can comb through the black strands with his fingers. Not a proper brush, but it helps to fluff out the thick hair and help it bounce back from the tie.

Then his hands move to Gaston’s neck, thumbs at the base of his skull to start finding tension points.

“A long day of being heroic?” Aeleus asks with a laugh. A small joke at best. He knows Gaston is trying, and the life of a hunter is very hard work; there’s more to it than just shooting and people call on him regularly to attend to problems all around Villeneuve. “Perhaps you’ll tell me about it while you relax before dinner. I’ve stewed a hare, and paid a visit to the baker earlier…”

The gentle pampering was just what he wanted-- he knew Aeleus would supply it as well. The man was loyal to a fault and terribly affectionate. He made no attempt to suppress the groan that escaped him as Ael took to looking after him, gently teasing him whilst giving his shoulders a rub.

Who needed a wife when he had those strong hands working out all his troubles?

“I don’t know what that means.”

Gaston’s lucky he’s cute when he’s needy. Aeleus ends up sitting with the hunter in his lap, thankfully on one of the pelts scattered around the man’s home, comfier than the bare floor since he insists on not giving Aeleus time to find a proper seat for himself.

Oh-- he is content now. The man’s arms around him leave him feeling secure in ways he scarcely drew attention to while in the public eye. So long as he was here in his home he was safe to be himself-- a self he had spent considerable time and effort excavating from underneath all his ego.

And Aeleus was responsible for this-- he’d been the one to instigate this change, to offer him the rare opportunity for acceptance.

He could ignore the pouting.

Could.

Instead he leans against Gaston’s back and puts his chin on the top of his head.

 you  misspelled  ‘beauty’  .            three  times  .            what  am  i  to  expect  from  someone  who  CAN’T  READ  .

I’ll have you know I can read-- and write as well.

I wrote you a letter

imprison me

He was not happy. Having been shackled up by this strange visitor. Naturally Gaston had lept to the forefront, defending Villeneuve from those monstrous shadows. Yet when this lance-wielding man appeared, he should have done as LeFou insisted and retreated. Yet he gave chase and wound up caught by the larger male.