Chapter Text
When LeFou returned, back charged with a sack of hard-boiled eggs, bread and cheese, and a filled waterskin, Gaston had fallen asleep, much like the sun had disappeared behind the horizon.
Making as little noise as possible, LeFou organized the food onto the small table between their beds, before lighting up a lamp in the corner of the tent. Then, he sat down on the edge of his bed, and wondered whether or not he should wake up Gaston. He should eat, but if Gaston needed a full night of sleep, perhaps it would be better to grant it to him.
Gaston never liked to be woken up, anyway. It always put him into a bad mood, and LeFou would rather avoid that in such times. Gaston had gone through enough as it was, and his men had more than enough to deal with without having to put up with an injured, moody Gaston—by now they all knew better to stay out of his way.
Watching Gaston lay there peacefully set a comforting feeling inside LeFou’s chest. Sometimes, he felt like Gaston wasn’t the one who watched over him, but the other way around. And it was true, really; LeFou protected Gaston from himself, and Gaston protected LeFou from the world. Not that he needed protection all of the time, but there were things which he didn’t have much power against, while Gaston did.
Bitterly, he thought back to the day when that protection had been needed, more than any other time before that. Two years into the war, and rumors had begun to grow so big that there was no way that they weren’t going to explode, one day or the next. It came a few days after Gaston had been promoted to Captain. Soldiers wondered why someone like LeFou had been chosen to be Gaston’s second in command.
Weren’t there more deserving men?
They shared a tent already, were never apart from each other—wasn’t that strange?
Did they lie together?
No one would have dared to accuse Gaston of such a thing, and LeFou found himself at the center of both the jealousy for his rank and the rumours circling amongst the other men.
It all came to an end when one of them caught LeFou being a bit too close to Gaston—nothing he’d never done before, merely a touch to Gaston’s lower back, a gesture like many others in which they shared ever since they were children. A way of saying ‘I’m here, and everything’s alright.’
He’d looked up at Gaston and smiled. When Gaston had walked away, LeFou had sighed but hadn’t let his smile falter, mentally cursing at himself for how much he loved Gaston, and how good it made him feel, though he wished these feelings would be reciprocated.
Later that day LeFou had been back on his way towards their tent, humming to himself, until the soldier had confronted him. He had hit first without asking any questions, but said, loud and clear, that he wouldn’t allow someone like LeFou to corrupt their captain. LeFou hadn’t had the time to fight back, too taken aback by the sudden outburst of violence.
Everyone in the camp knew what had happened next.
Gaston.
He had never asked for any explanations, never brought it back up again, and LeFou was thankful for that. He wouldn’t have known what to say. He could barely find the words to explain it himself.
All he knew was that rumours had stopped as though they had never been there before, now that Gaston had spoken up, in more ways than one; doubting LeFou was a sign of disrespect, and anyone who openly did would pay dearly for it.
A quiet groan resonated across the tent, and LeFou was snapped out of his thoughts. Gaston was turning onto his back in his sleep, his hand unconsciously finding his bandaged wound.
LeFou sat on the chair by Gaston’s bed, and caught Gaston’s hand in his before he could press it without care against the wounds. Then, LeFou checked on the wound, making sure it wasn’t bleeding too much through the stitches, applying light pressure where he knew he could around it to ease Gaston’s discomfort.
LeFou glanced at the food on the bedside table. He was hungry, but not enough to not be able to wait longer—besides, he always preferred to share dinner with Gaston.
Sighing once more, LeFou went back to his bed, hoping to either find sleep quickly, or for Gaston to wake up sooner.
In the end, it was sleep who found him first.
He didn’t know for how long it had lasted until Gaston started to talk in his sleep, causing Lefou to wake up.
“Oh, no,” LeFou whispered to himself. He was out of bed within seconds, pushing back the chair and kneeling next to Gaston’s side. He knew the drill; he’d had to deal with it many times before.
Nights like this weren’t kind on neither of them.
It started with Gaston speaking incoherent words, names, warnings, and threats directed at people LeFou couldn’t see. LeFou had made it his job to make sure it didn’t go any further than that. If Gaston started thrashing around in his sleep, there was nothing LeFou could do without getting hurt somehow, be it by a lost punch or Gaston instinctively reaching out for the knife under his pillow.
“It’s alright, Gaston,” LeFou murmured, hoping Gaston could hear him somehow. “You’re safe.”
Gaston’s hand abruptly caught LeFou’s wrist. LeFou gasped, but didn’t attempt to free himself from Gaston’s grasp.
“Gaston,” he called, “Gaston, wake up.”
LeFou repeated the same words, over and over again, voice comforting and reassuring in its steadiness. The more he spoke, the faster Gaston’s breath found a steadier pace, and the faster he stopped moving, sweating, wincing.
Eventually, Gaston calmed down enough to comfort LeFou into the idea that perhaps, this night would end well after all, and thus, allowing LeFou to breathe a little better.
But Gaston didn’t wake up, nor did he let go of LeFou’s wrist.
Two hours later, when the moon was high up in the sky and the lamp in the corner of the tent had dimmed a little, Gaston opened his eyes.
LeFou heaved out a sigh of a relief; his leg hurt more than before from the uncomfortable position, and he was tired and really hungry, now.
The first thing Gaston looked at was LeFou, and a flash of something indescribable passed over his face. Then, his eyes fell onto his hand, still around LeFou’s wrist in a grip LeFou could have easily freed himself from. He let go at once.
They were silent for a while, LeFou knowing Gaston needed some time to gather his thoughts.
A few more minutes, and Gaston ran a hand across his face. “Again,” he said as-matter-of-factly.
LeFou nodded. “Are you alright?” he asked, for the second time that day. LeFou knew Gaston would never say ‘no,’ but he always asked, no matter what.
Gaston shook his head in disapproval. “Why do you always do... that?” he asked instead, straightening up on the cot, brows furrowed.
“I told you,” LeFou replied, clasping his hands together, but meeting Gaston’s eyes. “Because if I didn’t, it wouldn’t get any better. It helps. Just a little, but it does. That’s enough for me.”
“You’re too soft, LeFou,” Gaston said. He swung his legs to the side and, with two strong arms, urged LeFou to stand and to sit on his own bed. “How can you get better if you don’t sleep?”
“I’ve had other days to rest,” LeFou protested as he started massaging his own knee. Besides, whatever he could do to help Gaston was worth it. He’d do it every night if he had to. “I’ll be back on the battlefield before next week.”
Gaston’s eyes got lost for a fraction of a second.
Then, he said, “No. I don’t want you to come onto the battlefield with me anymore.”
LeFou stared at him. “What?” he scoffed. “I know how to take care of myself! You said so yourself earlier.”
“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m saying I don’t want you to come.”
“Why?”
Gaston’s eyes snapped towards him. “You slow me down. I always have to keep an eye on you. Make sure you’re alright.”
Despite the barely noticeable lack of conviction in them, the words hurt. It wasn’t exactly true, and Gaston knew so. Gaston did look back to make sure LeFou was still there, but otherwise, it was LeFou who kept an eye on Gaston’s back, so that Gaston couldn’t be stopped from moving forward. That was how it worked. How they worked.
He wasn’t a burden. He refused to believe he was.
“You don’t mean it.”
“I do.”
Gaston was an effective liar, but LeFou could read him like an open book. Gaston often forgot that.
So, he asked, “What did you dream about this time?”
Gaston pursed his lips, his look turning into a glare. Though he knew it was unlikely he would get an answer, LeFou didn’t back down.
“You know what I dream about,” Gaston said. His voice wasn’t cold, but there was an edge to it that LeFou instantly recognized; it would be better not to insist further. “Please, don’t make me repeat it.”
There was nothing more LeFou needed to hear to understand; when Gaston didn’t say ‘please’ to keep up appearances, it was not to be taken lightly.
“Gaston, I won’t be left behind,” LeFou said, softer now.
“This is your Captain’s order.”
“And as your friend, I’m saying no.”
For a moment, Gaston’s glare turned harder. But, the longer LeFou held his gaze, the more Gaston’s eyes lost of their fire, and he ended up heaving out a sigh. With another slow shake of his head, Gaston pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You’re unbelievable,” he said, now running a hand through his hair.
Instinctively, LeFou did the same, before pushing back a stray lock behind his ear. Gaston watched, silent but his eyes saying more than his mouth could ever tell. LeFou knew well what was on Gaston’s mind; the forbidden evening in LeFou’s room, years ago now.
LeFou shook the thoughts out of his head. It’d been nothing, yet it was following him even here, in the darkness, into the blood and the mud of war.
Despite the lingering tension of the night, LeFou smiled. “I wouldn’t let you go anywhere I couldn’t follow.”
Glancing at LeFou, Gaston had that look that meant only one thing; Indeed you have, old friend—you’ve proved so many times already.
Then, his eyes shifted to the low table. They stopped on the eggs, and a low chuckle came tumbling out of him. “You know me too well, LeFou,” he said, laughter lines appearing at the corners of his eyes.
But LeFou wasn’t fooled, for indeed he did know Gaston well; still Gaston’s bad dreams lingered in the air, and LeFou missed the carefree days of their youth, more than ever.
“You know me far too well.”