#vgault883

You know we belong together, you and I forever and ever, no matter where you are you're my guiding star

Rimmer: Isn't that the theme tune to that earth sitcom home and away?

Lister: Is it?

Kryten: I'm afraid it is Sir

Lister: Smeg it its true anyway

Have truly missed these two.

This ficlet’s also on AO3!

ALWAYS

“Let go.”

He stared his companion down with what he thought was a fierce gaze, but paled at the look LeFou sent him in return. He did not loosen his fingers on Gaston’s sleeve, clutching at him like one of his steel hunting traps, laying wait in the forest for an unsuspecting beast.

“Listen to me, Gaston.” LeFou’s voice, once so cheery and buoyant, effortlessly spreading sunlight and warmth to his cold limbs on crisp autumn days, was now icy. “If you go up there, you will die. He will kill you. I am sure of it.”

“You know nothing” - he tried again to wrench his arm away, but his grip did not falter - “you know nothing of what fate has in store for me. You do not know of the glory that will come when I sever that monster’s head from its body. You don’t know - you’ve never known - as if you care; as if you’ve ever cared.”

“You have no idea how wrong you are,” LeFou hissed.

Gaston spat in his face.

He regretted it instantly, watched LeFou’s visage darken, watched him open his mouth to finally cast Gaston out of his life once and for all. He waited for the blow, but it did not come - for they were both suddenly reminded that they were in the middle of some strange sort of battle, as a chandelier came swinging at their heads - and they both crouched down, thanks in part to LeFou’s continuous hold on Gaston’s arm - looking up only to find a vaguely harpsichord-shaped object soaring through the air towards LeFou - and Gaston reacted instinctively, smacking it aside with brute force, a snarl curling at his lips - and - and it was like they were - on the hillside again, mere children, their faces caked with mud and their eyes sharp with panic and the… the hunger, the dull ache… and his fear, his absolute terror, for LeFou’s safety…

He came to, gasping for LeFou as a drowned man flails for air, and his knees buckled somewhat, and he sat shakily upon the steps leading up to the west wing, choking on the tears seeping down his cheeks, as LeFou held him close, his face pressed to the fabric of the broad brown overcoat, his weeping eyes soaking the cloth, soiling it, but LeFou did not seem to mind.

“Forgive me,” he sobbed, later, into LeFou’s chest: when the fighting had ceased; when townsfolk and servants alike came to the common ground of realizing what a terrible idea this had all been after all; when Gaston expected them to turn ‘round and tear him into tiny little pieces, but instead watched, helpless, awestruck, as LeFou stood tall and kept all of them at bay.

“Forgive me,” he repeated once more, as the courtyard he’d been led to began to empty, and the fog around the castle lifted, and the wreckage became clear. “Please forgive me.”

LeFou looked at him, his head bandaged, his loose curls matted and sticking to his temples, and then -

1) i don’t change relationships that are originally gay into straight ones