.clxngyfool:
Truth be told, Victor could easily count on one hand which of Gaston’s friends he actually liked. It wasn’t difficult. Meredith, Patricia, and Nicole. Those were the lucky few that had made the cut. In hindsight, it didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Shouldn’t logic say that he only liked Gaston’s male friends – but, of course, he used the term loosely; As ignorant and bumbling as Lefou presented himself to be (and, frankly, given his degree, it was a little offensive that people bought into his act with such ease), he wasn’t quite oblivious to the workings of the world around him. He knew that things such as sexuality and gender weren’t quite as black and white as they were often presented. Whenever Belle had gone on one of her tirades, ranting nd raving about the male gaze, he’d merely stood by Gaston’s side in solidarity, rolling his eyes and sending her on her way with a snarl. Though, admittedly, that approach never quite seemed to win Gaston’s favour for him either, so he couldn’t quite place where he was going; he was wrong if he didn’t stand by Gaston, and allowed others to talk down to him, but he was also wrong if he so much as dared to look at Belle the wrong way.
It was utterly perplexing.
All the same, he held those three particular women in a higher regard than the rest of Gaston’s friends – or maybe he should refer to them as Gaston’s fans. Meredit had made it all too clear that Gaston was not her type – really, lesbian or not, was she blind? – and so that meant that he never had to worry about her motives. Try as he might, Gaston was not getting into the redhead’s pants.
Then there was Patricia, of course. A little conundrum, he had to admit. Gorgeous as she was, with lon, flowing locks, and the kind of chest that usually left Gaston noticeably hard beneath his tight jeans, his best friend seemed… surprisingly disinterested in the blonde. Well, in that he seemed to hold a certain affection for her that never seemed to be on the cusp of anything romantic or sexual. Though Gaston was unaware of this fact, and Lefou highly doubted even Ms Potts herself recalled, he’d once upon a time had his own encounter with the single mother. It had been back when Victor had first arrived in Cherry Grove on one of his first days at the hospital. She’d come in, blood dripping from her nose, her own face littered with bruises, her wrist sprained, and her expression one of great anguish. It hadn’t been herself that she’d been fretting over, however, but young Charlie, who’d been wailing at the top of his lungs. That had been the dreaded day he’d received that awful scar that covered his face. The memory always stayed with Lefou and, though he’d felt a glimmer of jealousy upon encountering her at Gaston’s side, seeing the two grow close and develop such a bond, his instincts had been nothing but a longing to protect her. He’d never divulge the truth about what he’d seen that day, nor would he break her trust, especially unknowingly, and tell Gaston of the bruises that had coloured her features, but he felt a similar desire as his friend to keep them safe. Any fear of Gaston leaving his side, running off and creating a family of his own, it was a flame long since distinguished and replaced with a love for the two.
And, at last, was Nicolette. Simply put, she was his family. He wanted to loathe her and everything she stood for, just as his hands trembled and his stomach churned at the sight of her with Gaston, the way the bigger man’s eyes raked across her curves, soon to be followed by the hands that roamed every inch of her flesh. God, he wanted to hate her, but he couldn’t. He adored her, and while his own weak desires sickened him to his very core, he knew that there was a level of that same self loathing within the Bingley girl too. He saw it every time she sought to protect her sisters and keep them from Gaston’s clutches; it wasn’t as much jealousy as it was a longing to save them from themselves and their own misplaced affections.
Victor sighed as he stared across the room, his eyes landing on Meredith who seemed engrossed in conversation with two of the undesirables that had managed to land themselves on Victor’s shit list. Had he mustered up the courage, he might have wandered over to the redhead and enlisted her to keep him company, but he had no interest. In all honesty, he had a hard time understanding her on a good day, their accents clashing constantly as they stumbled their way through awkward conversations. But, accents aside, he found there to be something entirely frustrating about keeping her company. She seemed to work the crowd with ease, in a way so drastically different to the ways that Gaston did, and always held the ability to make people laugh and smile. And then, of course, there was the Belle of it all. Much like his best friend, there seemed to be something about the brunette that caught her attention, and the thought made Lefou’s skin crawl. Would he ever be rid of her?
Not to mention, he had no interest in being caught up in a conversation with Charlie or Stanley, if he could avoid it. Of course, the latter seemed to be testing him today because, before Victor knew it, he was making his way over to the sofa and taking up space that didn’t belong to him. Ugh. Could Gaston not hurry up? Christ alive, what did they even need all these people here for? Was Victor not enough? He’d entertained the man himself for many years now, had nursed his bruised heart back to health time and time again. They didn’t need any of these people.
Upon Stanley’s question, Victor merely shrugged. He would remain tight lipped and not say a cruel world, if he could help it. He knew that Gaston thought highly of Stanley, that he enjoyed him – whether that was a merit to his personality, or down to the way his biceps bulged through his shirt, as though desperately trying to break free, his hair softly tousled and begging for fingers to push through it– no. His stomach churned again at the mere thought, and he squirmed with great discomfort in his seat. He’d be kind. If not for Gaston, then for Nicole. He’d be… okay, maybe not kind, but… tolerable.
“Sure looks like it, yup,” Victor noted, dryly. See, tolerable but not kind. Clearing his throat, he opted to stare at the ground, not trusting himself to look at him even for a second. “I imagine it takes a lot of precision to look that good. I’m sure you’d know.”
Shit. The words fell from his lips before he could stop them, and he winced. How could he be such a fool? Such an implication, it was… well, disgusting.
Lefou’s frosty reception almost made Stanley wish he was still caught in between Charlie and Meredith who continued to battle it out across the room. A fiery Scottish temperament coupled with a bewildered blonde Frenchman who hated being told he as wrong was decidedly more desirable than the cold and dry way Gaston’s best friend greeted him. It made Stanley pause for a moment, sitting rigidly on the edge of the sofa, before he decided to push through in the same way he always did: by mustering up a friendly demeanour and treating the other man as kindly as his patience would allow.
“Well, it’s no trouble to wait,” he smiled, even if it was a little strained. He figured Lefou would simply retort with some snappy quip about how they had no choice but to wait anyway.
Blinking in surprise at Lefou’s next words, Stanley took a moment to digest them, wondering if he’d just been paid an involuntary compliment. The mere thought made him blush. His sisters were always telling him about how handsome he was, but he had never found anyone else out there willing to stroke his ego like that. Cosette had told him that there were plenty of women who looked for guys like him, but therein lay the problem. Stanley wasn’t exactly looking for… well, a woman.
Guiltily pushing away thoughts that he knew better than to entertain, Stanley lifted his gaze to Lefou, pushing the corner of his mouth up into a smile.
“Thank you?” he murmured quietly before his eyebrows puckered together and he gently shook his head at himself. He wished that he knew how to act around the other man, but he just felt so at odds with him. He’d no idea what he’d ever done to make Lefou dislike him so much, but he’d told himself that he had to accept it with a defeated resignation. And then Lefou turned everything upside down by saying things like that. Even though it had probably been a slip up and born out of manners if the look on the other man’s face was anything to go by. But Stanley rashly grasped at the misplaced and unintentional act of kindness anyway.
“I’m more comfortable in a baseball jersey, if I’m honest,” he shrugged lightly. Then he gestured to his current get-up. “All of this is the work of my sisters. Nicole’s put so much gel in my hair, it’s probably wise I don’t go near any open flames.”
He was glad that he’d thought to mention Nicole. While Lefou held Stanley in no high opinion, it was clear that he adored Stanley’s younger sister. Nicole was always beaming around him and chattering on about ‘Victor, this’ and ‘Victor, that’. So much so, that Stanley had wondered if he ought to be jealous. But he was too easily pacified by a cuddle from his younger sister to ever let any bitterness cloud his view of Lefou, and simply yearned to somehow find himself on even footing with the man instead.
“I only hope that those two don’t kill each other by the end of the night,” he commented, nodding towards Charlie and Meredith who still appeared to be bickering. It was a cop out to gossip about the pair, but Stanley had spotted the look Lefou had given them earlier and figured that his distaste for them might be as good an option for small talk as any.
