#batb30days

16. memory 

lefou remembers villeneuve. he remembers handsome, dashing princes and their kind-hearted, gentle princesses. he remembers furry little sidekicks, always there to lend a helping​ hand. he remembers singing at any given opportunity, finding it to be the easiest way to express his feelings.

mostly, he remembers being alone in his room, longing for the day that he would have his happily ever after. he remembers being happy for belle getting hers, but also wanting a taste of what she had - a royal title with a handsome prince-turned-king by his side.

but lefou also remembers falling, and ending up in this city called “new york” where people were rude and mean and cared for nothing but themselves. he remembers meeting gaston, the one person to offer him some kindness, allowing him to stay in his home with him and his son gil. lefou remembers momentarily comparing gaston’s handsome face and charming smile to another prince back home in villeneuve, before letting all thoughts of his former home go for the moment.

lefou remembers saying goodbye, being whisked back in the direction of home by an insistent prince stanley, who thought he was doing exactly as lefou wanted. lefou remembers tears, shed mostly by gil but then by himself a few blocks later. he remembers a look of sorrow washing over gaston's face, with just a hint of jealousy hiding underneath. he remembers vowing to miss gaston the most, and dreading the moment when the two would separate for good.

he remembers reuniting with gaston later at the ball, where stanley was his date and a nice blonde woman named paulette was on gaston's arm. he remembers feeling out of place in stanley's arms, the dance seeming clunky and uncoordinated. he remembers​ only feeling at home in gaston's arms, and wishing he could stay there forever. he remembers having to leave moments later, tears in his eyes, only to be offered some kindness by a nice old woman who hands him an apple.

next thing he remembers is waking up to gaston's kiss, being told that the man sitting before him was his one true love, and believing every word of it. he remembers agathe appearing out of nowhere, before turning into a dragon and taking gaston from him. he remembers battling her, and winning, sharing another, proper kiss with gaston in the rain on the building's rooftop. he remembers being taken back to gaston's home, his home - their home, dried off and settling in with the man in his big, soft, warm bed.

since then, lefou has remembered other little things, like the first time gil called him “papa”, or when he chose a proper name for himself, settling on “jacques”.

now, though, he prefers to stay in the present moment and let all of those past things go. because now, he's happier than he’s ever been, with gaston by his side, the two raising gil together. he has his true love and a family - he simply couldn't ask for more.

19. cat

when lefou wakes up that morning, he expects for the other side of the bed to be occupied by a little ball of soft, black fur.

what he does not expect is for a large, handsome, strange, naked man to be lying in its place.

“what the--?” he yells, quickly standing from the bed. the man’s startled awake, causing him to roll off of the bed and onto the floor.

“hey, i was trying to--” he begins to say angrily, bolting upright, before his expression softens with realization. “oh shit.”

“who are you and what are you doing in my house?” lefou asks, grabbing the first potential weapon he can find - the TV remote - off of the nightstand.

“i can explain,” the man says, holding his hands up in surrender, feigning his innocence.

“go on,” lefou says. the man sighs.

“you won't believe me, but that stray you picked up off the street last night?” he says. “that was me.” lefou blinks.

“you're insane,” he says, still aiming his remote, though not entirely sure what he plans to do with it.

“it's the truth.”

“how?”

the man sighs. “magic.”

“bullcrap.”

“i’m serious. i have this ability that causes me to transform into a cat whenever i’m under a lot of stress. it just sort of… happens. sometimes i can willingly turn, sometimes i can't control it. that chicken you served me last night was quite good. milk was a little sour, but not terrible.”

lefou sighs, putting his arms down.

“do you believe me?” the man asks.

“maybe,” lefou says. “this is all just--”

“i know,” the man says. “a lot to take in. i understand.” he stands, hands still raised. “i'll just go--”

“no,” lefou cuts him off. “public nudity is a crime, you'll be arrested within seconds.”

“oh, right,” the man says. “do you have any clothes i can borrow?”

the man actually doesn't leave lefou’s house right away, instead staying for a while, discussing his story over coffee with the shorter man. lefou remains in his pajamas, but the man - gaston, as lefou soon learned his name to be - wears a pair of borrowed sweats, a bit too large on his slim frame, but he doesn't mind.

lefou soon finds himself absolutely fascinated by gaston's story, trying to figure out himself how the transformations work. gaston says it's a mystery to him as well, one that he'll never be able to solve, so it seems.

as the day goes on, and the coffee grows cold, the two now discussing more of their own life stories rather than just gaston's abilities, it is revealed that gaston no longer has a home to go to, as he was previously living off paycheck after paycheck, working as a prostitute as that was the only thing he could do, spending his nights in random hotel rooms with complete strangers. lefou promptly offers up his guest room, telling gaston that he can stay for as long as he needs. gaston is grateful, thanking him several times over.

that night, when lefou's falling asleep, he finds a little dot of black skittering across the floor in his dimly lit room. he only smiles, patting the area next to him. the cat hops right on up, curling into a ball once he's found a comfortable spot to settle into. lefou runs his hand over the soft run.

“it's alright, gaston,” he says. “you can stay here with me until you're more comfortable.”

14. blanket

when gaston sees the infant wrapped in a little blue blanket, his eyes well up with tears. never before in his life did he think he would have this - a loving husband, a safe home, a child to care for. he just never thought he deserved it, that happy life that everyone strived towards. gaston is not a good man, he has done some terrible things - he gets praised as a war hero but all the men he killed in battle have haunted him ever since.

but now, he can put all that aside and start anew, focus on the life he wants to build for himself, and be the man he always wished he could be.

“mr. bordeaux?” the nurse asks him. “would you like to hold your new son?” gaston glances towards lefou, who only smiles and nods, tears in his eyes as well. gaston matches that smile, nodding, before he’s suddenly holding his son - yes, his son - in his arms.

“hello,” he says, glancing down at the little guy. his smile only grows as he watches the boy’s small chest rise and fall with his breaths. gaston can't help but laugh for a moment, in complete awe of the fact that this is real, it's really happening to him - what did he ever do to deserve this?

suddenly, lefou is at his side, an arm wrapped around his waist, attention focused on their little bundle of joy. gaston lets his attention stay on lefou for a brief moment, smiling at the love and awe he sees in his eyes, finding his heart skipping a beat just like it had all those years ago when he notices a lock of hair falling out of lefou's ponytail. gaston has the urge to tuck it back, but considering that his hands are occupied, he decides to let it go - besides, its imperfection makes lefou look even more beautiful, despite him clearly being so tired (gaston is too, though - it was quite a long night).

12. dreams

at night, gaston dreams of faraway places and people he’s never met. for several nights, his dreams have taken place in the same location - a little town called villeneuve, buried somewhere in the heart of france. he sees himself flirting with a bookworm who wants nothing to do with him while being followed around by a short, sweet man who mimics his every move.

later, though, the dreams become darker, finding this version of himself on the hunt for a wild beast, spitting in the faces of those who dare to argue against his plan. he sees himself shooting this innocent creature, the screams of the kind bookworm ringing through his ears as the surface he stands on crumbles beneath his feet. his last thoughts are of his sweet sidekick and the pain that washed over the man’s face at the sight of his friend consumed by dark desires before the silence of death overcomes him.

the night of that dream, gaston wakes with a start, moon still high in the sky outside his window. a thin layer of sweat coats the bare skin of his chest while his heart hammers inside of him.

he barely gets any more sleep that night, tossing and turning repeatedly until his alarm goes off at promptly five-thirty. he then heads out for his morning run, doing so a bit more slowly than usual, trying hard to keep his mind clear of the haunting feelings of his dream.

he returns and dresses quickly, vowing to stop for coffee on his way to work as he has no idea how he’ll be able to survive the long day ahead without any caffeine running through his veins.

when he steps into the coffee shop, there's already someone else standing at the counter. sighing softly, gaston walks over, simply taking his place in line.

a few minutes later and the man still hasn't​ moved despite there being a fresh cup of coffee sitting on top of the counter. the barista looks a bit impatient as the man continues to dig through his wallet and pockets.

“i swear i have enough cash,” the man says, though sounding like he's starting to doubt himself. gaston sighs again.

“here, allow me,” he says, stepping around the man to place a five dollar bill on the counter. the man glances up at the sound of his voice, grateful smile appearing on his face.

“thank you,” he says, genuinely meaning it. gaston would smile back, but he's taken aback for a moment. the man looks familiar in a way gaston can't place, before it hits him - the dreams. his faithful sidekick, a shorter, heavyset man who would look at him as if he were the sun, or as if gaston were god’s greatest creation. the man whose eyes were rimmed with hurt tears after gaston turned on him, becoming an all out monster with no remorse for his actions. the same man whom he’d drunkenly kissed inside the local tavern, whose lips were just as soft as any woman's, slotting perfectly with his as if the two were meant to kiss all along. the man who had stolen his heart, if only gaston hadn't been so blind to his own feelings.

“um,” the man says now, bringing gaston back to reality, who glances down to see a hand outstretched with his change.

“keep it,” gaston says simply. “you can probably use it more than i can.” the man smiles again, a bit more timidly.

“thank you,” he says, before stepping away from gaston, towards the exit.

“wait,” gaston says, mind drawing a blank when the man’s warm, brown eyes meet his again. “uh, stay for a little while. i, uh, can, um, use more… friends.” the man smiles again, a soft laugh slipping past his lips.

“okay,” he says, and now gaston's the one to smile.

a few minutes later, the two are sitting at a table by the window, sipping on their beverages whilst talking about their lives. gaston finds out that the man’s name is jacques, though his friends have called him “lefou” ever since he struggled through high school french classes (as a result of his dyslexia). he works for a fashion company, though mostly in making the clothes - his friend stanley will often serve as his model before anything is presented.

20. sick

in his beastly form, adam never got sick. it’s not that he was immune to illnesses exactly, more that his body then was built in such a way that he was less vulnerable to those sort of germs. his body was covered in fur and almost always warm, allowing him to rarely feel cold when stepping out into the wintry air that surrounded his castle, so his immune system never grew weak enough for him to even have a chance of catching a cold. and besides, he was surrounded by nothing but talking objects - the only thing that could carry around an illness would be himself, and since that didn’t happen, he hardly had a chance of getting sick.

only now that he’s human, and germ-carrying people are all over the place in and around his castle, he’s much more vulnerable to illnesses than ever before.

hence how he ended up here, curled up in bed with an aching head, a sore throat, and a congested nose.

he’s groaning as another series of pulsing strikes through his head, causing him to completely miss the sound of his bedroom door opening and shutting.

“oh, you poor thing,” belle says, pouting as she takes in the sight of her miserable husband. through his haze, he manages to send her a lazy smile.

“belle,” he says, face practically lighting up at the sight of her. “i’m so glad you’re here. i read in a book recently that, um, a certain, uh, favor could cure head--why are you laughing?” his eyebrows furrow as his wife laughs, and she can’t help but find his confused expression absolutely adorable.

“because i read the same thing last week,” she says, sitting on the bed and running a hand through adam’s long, sweat-dampened blonde locks. “you only found that book because i left it in here.” adam frowns. “and no, i am not going to have any sort of sex with you when you’re all sick and feverish.”

“but--!” adam tries to argue, but belle only shakes her head, standing to leave the room.

2. jealousy

“gaston!” lefou all but screams as the other man bites down on the soft, sensitive skin of his stomach, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

6. first

smooth silk sits beneath his fingertips as lefou stands in the moonlight, faint shadow merged with another's as his lips remain occupied. there's a slight sweetness on his tongue, a taste he can't identify aside from the fact that it must be quite sugary. his lips feel slightly sticky, but he doesn't mind, only wishing that said texture can keep him permanently attached to the person who stands in front of him, because frankly, he never wants to leave their side.

a light, hardly noticeable layer of stubble gives a slight scratch against his skin, but again, lefou doesn't mind - it only makes the moment that much more exciting.

but alas, his lungs require a certain amount of air to survive, so lefou has to back away, taking a deep breath before trying to lean back in, chasing that addicting pleasure that came from his previous activity.

before he can recreate the moment, though, he hears soft laughter in front of him, so his eyes fall open once again, finding a pair of brown eyes surrounded by pink staring back at him, and sharp cheekbones decorated by a natural blush.

“i’m sorry, mon amour,” the man in front of him says, bringing a thumb up to run across lefou's now reddened lips. “i didn't think the lipstick would leave a stain.”

8. hands

adam isn't used to this. when he was in his beastly form, all he wanted to do was touch belle - but he couldn't. well, he could, but he was afraid to. his hands - paws - had long claws extending from where his fingernails would be, and one wrong move could have sliced right through her skin.

but now, now he's free to touch her all he wants because those claws are gone.

and touch her, he will.

mostly, it's casual touches, holding her hand while strolling through the gardens, resting a hand on her knee while they sit together during meals, an arm thrown over her shoulder while they sit in the library and she reads to him as she always used to do. but other times, it's more than that.

it’s fingers running across her face while they kiss, relishing in the feel of her soft skin beneath his own. it's hands splayed across her back when the kisses grow more passionate, threatening to dip even lower. it's holding her legs apart while they're in bed together, his much shorter nails digging ever so slightly into her skin as his head is buried between her thighs.