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Gaston didn't usually get hangovers, but then he didn't usually mix his beer with wine either.
He wasn't a wine drinker at all, come to think of it.
He groaned, as the very slight task of lifting his head made it pound a bass line that threatened to shatter his skull open. His stomach lurched, and for a moment he thought he might throw up.
He lay back down again, watching the beautiful but swirling (not good for a hangover) patterns that decorated the floor around the bed, and tried to recall exactly what had brought him here in the first place. Wherever here was.
"Ah. You're awake, finally," a voice, edged with amusement, answered the question for him.
"...Adam," Gaston realised. His voice was hoarse, and his throat felt dry and very sore for some reason.
The bed dipped as a weight rested somewhere behind him, and then a hand was on his shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.
"Correct. Can the hunter see now, as well as hear, I wonder?"
Gaston rolled slowly on his back (that felt sore too), and tried to level a glare on the impossibly fresh face that was smirking down at him. Brilliantly blue eyes that gleamed with the promise of something else, far more deviant, behind them.
Gaston wanted to be irritated by the very sight of him, but that was impossible, of course.
Instead he just cursed, and let the prince rush a hand through his tangled hair, in some soothing
motion.
"I'm impressed. You managed to consume three bottles of my finest in less than half an hour last night. What do you have in there, a cast-iron stomach, perhaps?"
Gaston flinched, flashes of recent events reaching his mind like some broken up show-reel. The rest would come back to him in horrifying detail later on, no doubt. And if it didn't, Adam would enjoy filling in the rest of the gaps for him whether he liked it or not.
Gaston blinked miserably at the ceiling.
"That was...a mistake."
Adam laughed at him. "You put on quite the show. Everyone loved it, I promise," then he dipped his head, pressing his mouth to the hunter's forehead. "Just think of your poor abused liver next time, alright?"
Gaston's heart jolted with the kiss, and he smiled weakly in Adam's general direction.
"I shouldn't drink wine, ever. I do stupid things."
"As if you don't already."
"Hey," Gaston nudged him feebly in the arm. "That hurts."
Adam's smirk broadened into something much craftier, and he leaned down a bit more, closing the gap between them.
"I'm surprised you're not hurting in other places, hunter. Or perhaps you don't remember that either."
Before Gaston had a chance to process the words, the prince's mouth was blurring in front of him, and he was caught in a proper kiss. Soft but deep, with an undercutting urgency that always made Gaston's skin prickle, like it was on fire.
He pushed a hand onto Adam's chest, reluctantly breaking them apart.
"...I might throw up on you yet, you beast."
Adam didn't look too fussed about that. "You taste good."
"Hah. I taste of 'your finest', apparently."
"And that you are," Adam leaned over to the bedside table, and picked up a glass of water. "Drink up. You've got...just about an hour to get ready."
"...what?" Gaston blinked at him. "Where are we...?"
"We arranged to meet Belle in the village today. Bright and early. You were very enthusiastic about the idea last night."
"What?" Gaston repeated dumbly, as if the words might make more sense then. His stomach dropped, and he propped himself up on his elbows with a grimace. "I can't do that. Tell her I'm very ill. Tell her I might die, even."
"Gaston-"
"I do feel like I'm dying."
Adam rolled his eyes, and pushed the glass of water to his lips, his other hand slipping around his back. "Don't be a child. Anyway this is a good opportunity for you two to patch things up. She actually wants to see you."
"How is that," Gaston wondered, through a gulp of water. "Did you manage to charm her? With your princely...ness?"
"No, I think you did, actually. I think she's starting to realise you're not such a brainless brute."
Gaston sputtered out some of the water. He wiped his mouth roughly against his arm and settled Adam a wary glare.
"What happened? What did I do last night?"
"Don't worry. Belle left before you'd drank too much of the wine."
"...great."
"But she was there long enough to hear your story about the harpy attacking us. I think everyone decided we were crazy for a short while after that."
Gaston frowned at the glass of water. "Well. So long as we both looked crazy. I can deal with that."
Adam replaced the glass back on the table, his mouth moving into a softer smile.
"I may have mentioned how brave you were, by the by. You know, just offhand. Belle seemed to believe it when it was coming out of my mouth."
Gaston glanced up at him, internally touched. He wanted to say so, but words were lodged and trapped in his throat, along with the rest of those unusual emotions he was still trying to get used to.
He managed a short nod anyway. "At least she still listens to you."
"She'll come around. Give it some time," Adam rubbed his back. "And she doesn't hate you, you know."
"Right," Gaston attempted a brittle smile, but Adam didn't seem to notice.
He was pondering the ceiling with an amused face.
"You also attempted to lift five grown men at the same time. That was quite entertaining. I thought Lefou was going to swoon."
Gaston glared. "You could have stopped me."
"Why would I want to do that? Way too much fun watching you. You didn't do too badly, really. I think you managed four before they nearly crushed you."
"...I suppose that would explain the pain."
Adam's mouth curved a stranger smirk. "I don't think it was that, Gaston."
Gaston stared at him, but didn't think he could deal with more revelations about his bruised body at the moment. He rubbed his stomach, it was still queasy, but at least his headache had dulled a bit.
He looked down and noticed he wasn't wearing much of anything, besides a white shirt that was torn open and missing a few buttons. He bunched the bed sheet tighter around his lower half, hoping he wasn't blushing too obviously.
"Erm. What room am I in?"
"A guest room," Adam stood up with a flourish, the shirt tails of his immaculate jacket swooshing out in a needlessly elegant way.
Gaston pouted to himself. That wasn't fair, the prince always managed to look like perfection, even the morning after some wretchedly wild social event.
"I attempted to get you to the master bedroom, but...one thing led to another," Adam explained rather too vaguely, with a wave of his hand. "And, well...a bed's a bed, isn't it?"
Gaston raised a brow.
"People are going to start talking about us."
Adam shrugged and moved over to another little cabinet. He pulled a hair tie out, before plopping back onto the bed, close behind Gaston.
"So? Let them talk," he said. "Sit up straighter, would you."
Gaston did as he was told, and felt long delicate fingers combing easily through his messy hair, lulling him into a reluctantly relaxed state. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he knew it was all a part of Adam's game.
"And if they do talk about it, well...I am the prince. They'll just have to learn to accept us."
Gaston smirked to himself.
"Will that be your excuse for everything, now? 'I am the prince'?" he paused, taking in the rest of Adam's words with a strange and invisible push against his chest. "...'us'?"
Adam nodded. "Yes, us. Or whatever this is."
"This is a hangover. Entirely your fault, by the way."
"You know what I mean. And I didn't expect you even liked wine."
"I don't like it," Gaston realised, more to himself. "I never have, actually." he tilted his head round, to look at Adam's face.
The prince was smiling at him with a familiar and careless affection that always made Gaston question if he might still be dreaming.
As if he'd ever tell Adam that, though.
His stomach hurt, predictably, with the feeling. Though he'd blame that on the alcohol too.
"What is it?" Adam asked, face lit with concern, and then mild alarm. "Wait, are you going to be sick?" he started to stand up.
"No, I just...it's nothing."
Adam was not fooled (he never was). He angled Gaston's head up to look at him, as if he were admiring every tiny detail of his face. It was enough to make Gaston feel awkward, even if he'd always been a shameless glutton for that sort of attention.
"Gaston. You're great at many things, but I'm afraid you are also a really bad liar."
Gaston stared at him, doubtful words on the tip of his tongue that probably would have come far easier if he was still drunk. And he was fairly sure he'd already said a lot of them to Adam at some point last night, in some drunken haze. It would soon become a part of that horrific show-reel of memories, slowly piecing themselves back together, just to remind him that he should never drink wine ever again.
He could tell that he must have said (or done) something beyond humiliating, just with the way Adam was watching him. It was as if the prince understood everything, all of his secrets, and still it was entirely unspoken between them.
But wasn't that how they'd ended up in this situation in the first place? Adam had an irritating habit of bashing down all of Gaston's well presented barriers, in more ways than one.
Gaston's stomach twisted again.
"Why did you bother tying my hair? I still need to take a bath," he said.
Adam's mouth wavered, undecided between a frown and smirk.
"I don't know," he moved properly around, so that he was sat directly opposite, and slid an arm around Gaston's shoulder, covering him some more. "Hm. I suppose I just like touching your hair."
Gaston took a hitched breath, seeing fingers tug and slip beneath the bed cover. "You like touching a lot of things, I've noticed."
Adam grinned.
"You were definitely liking it last night."
And then he caught Gaston off-guard, as he always tended to do, in another kiss. One of those literal barrier-bashing moments.
The heat was harsh and sudden between their mouths, and Gaston felt himself being pushed backwards into the bed, fingers curling around his head. A hand firmly pressed onto his chest, pinning him in place for some dizzying moments.
Then, when granted a tiny moment of air and time to refocus, he found Adam smirking smugly over him, as if he'd conquered an entire world. Gaston was starting to get very used to that look.
He took an uneven breath, and attempted to sneer, though it was hard to concentrate on doing much of anything.
"...you can't always win like that, you know," he managed to grumble. He sounded childish, even to himself.
Adam's mouth stretched into a slyer grin. "Afraid I can. And I just did."
Gaston gritted his teeth, as the bed cover briefly ghosted the air with Adam's expert manoeuvres -as if he'd had it all planned - and then it was draped over the both of them. The prince's weight shifted significantly above him, before Gaston felt something pressing, hard, against his innerthigh, as if to make the literal point.
They both stared at each other for a long moment, the tension thick and like a challenge between them, though Gaston knew very well how it was going to end. He could already feel a giddy heat creeping over his skin, and his own heart drumming frantically in his ears, blocking out all rational thought (as if he had much time for that, anyway).
Adam's hand curved around his face.
"It won't be strange, if that's what you're worried about."
"...I'm not."
"My staff are perfectly hospitable," Adam continued anyway, as though he knew better, or else hadn't heard him. His fingers toyed with the remaining buttons on Gaston's sorry looking shirt. "They'll be glad to have you living here."
Gaston snorted, looking past him, at the ceiling.
"They look like they want to kill me most of the time. Especially that butler friend of yours."
"Cogsworth? He's still a bit confused about the situation. They all are."
"...well, so am I, actually."
Adam laughed. "You already have something in common then, don't you?"
Gaston rolled his eyes, but had no real desire to argue the point, nor try to escape the compromised position he'd found himself in. He didn't think he had the strength to attempt it right now, anyway.
Adam was too good at making him weak like that.
"And what about Mrs Potts?" Adam said, as if it were an obvious argument. "She adores you, I can tell."
"She only tolerates me because I drink her tea."
"Hm," Adam seemed to consider it. "At least you can't get drunk on that."
"She might be planning to poison me with it."
Adam shook his head, stifling another laugh.
"I never thought I'd say this to you, of all people, but you're over-thinking things, Gaston. Way, way too much."
"I know," Gaston muttered, with the odd realisation. "That's your fault, too."
"It's my fault you care too much what everyone thinks?"
"No...I didn't say that. Stop putting words in my mouth."
"Fine. I'll put something else in it then."
"Ad-"
An admittedly weak protest was cut short by Adam's mouth, again. Gaston privately chastised himself for it; he really should have been more prepared for that one. Too obvious.
It didn't really matter though, he kind of preferred it like that; without warning and rendered unable to think about anything at all. It made everything simpler, as it always was when Adam got a proper hold on him. Maybe he should have been more relieved that Adam hadn't put something else in his mouth though. His throat was very tender.
He smiled through the kiss, closing his eyes in a relieved surrender. He could feel the vibrating thrum of a growl within the prince's throat, promising a passion that always made Gaston wonder how much of the Beast still resided in that human body.
It was telling even now; as teeth grazed like knives over his skin, and fingers clawed at his hair, pulling unseemly moans from deep within his own throat.
"Why were you drinking wine," Adam asked through a kiss, his voice laced with that lusty growl. It was so close to his ear. "If you don't even like it?"
Gaston tossed his head, trying to find relief in the coolness of the bed sheets, although the friction underneath them was burning unbearably, and impossible to ignore.
He felt his legs being arched up, with Adam's forced and insistent grip, and then they were quivering around smooth, jutting hips.
"...wine..." Gaston tried to think, in between a sharp gasp. He vaguely noticed Adam's mouth, turning a dirty smile with the sound. "...just seemed appropriate...for these fancy royal events..."
Adam laughed around another messy kiss.
"'Appropriate'? What were you doing, trying to impress me?"
Gaston grinned, in dazed, breathless admission.
"Heh...aren't I always?"
The intense flood of marking, biting kisses stopped abruptly.
Then the heat ebbed just enough between them for Gaston to regain some of his senses, and recognise that Adam was watching him with a surprised face.
"...Gaston," the prince murmured, voice touched with gentle understanding.
His fierce hold on the hunter's legs slackened, and then fell away.
"Don't you know," he paused, hands much softer on trembling chest. "I'm always impressed by you."
The words found Gaston's ears like some fuzzed static, translating into an emotion that lanced through his chest and made it difficult to remember how to breathe properly for a short while.
All he could really do was stare, in some ridiculous awe, at the prince's face.
"You've already done so much for me," Adam said. "You know that, don't you?"
Gaston swallowed the hotness that had reached his throat.
He nodded, somehow managing to pull a cocky smirk onto his mouth.
"Yes, of course I know that. You're lucky to have me."
Adam laughed loudly, breaking a strange but not unwelcome tension. "That's more like the hunter I know."
Gaston attempted to hide his own laugh.
"I'm being serious. You're not supposed to find that funny, you know."
"I'm sorry," Adam nodded, failing to keep a sombre expression as he leaned back down. Hot breath reached over Gaston's face, and then hands fumbled under covers again.
The ceiling blurred senselessly for a while, and it had little to do with hangovers.
"You're right though," Adam murmured, within a moment that brought a flush to Gaston's face, and his vision popped white. "...I am very lucky to have you."
Gaston gasped, bowing his head close to the hollow of a collarbone. He forgot everything else for a few seconds.
Then the creak of a door distantly reached his ears, and a familiar voice followed after it;
"Master, are you...oh, my..."
Gaston cursed under his breath. He wanted the bed to swallow him up.
He opened his eyes, and Adam's face came back into sharp focus, close and above him. He looked like he was trying not to laugh.
"It's okay, Mrs Potts. We'll be ready...very soon."
There was the minutest pause, which seemed to drag into forever in Gaston's mortified mind. He held shaken breath, and then felt Adam's hand on his own, pressing into it a bit, like reassurance.
The prince's mouth twitched a grin, and despite everything, Gaston wanted to return it.
"...v-very good, Master."
The door clicked shut again.
"...that was close," Adam said, and then he did start to laugh.
Gaston sighed, putting his hands to his head with a groan. "No, that was awful."
"She didn't see anything, if that's what you're worried about."
"Adam," Gaston tried to look indignant, but it was difficult, considering his current position underneath the prince. "She doesn't have to see anything. She already knows everything. Besides...it's not like you're the one who's mostly naked right now."
"What's this? You're saying I shouldn't underestimate a woman's intelligence?" Adam feigned shock. "The hunter is learning. I'm so proud of you."
Gaston's cheeks burned. "I would kill you right now, if I didn't feel like my head was about to explode."
"Hah. I'm that good, huh?"
"I meant the wine."
Adam did not look discouraged, in fact his grin became even wider.
"Sorry about your back, by the way. I'll try to be a bit gentler next time," he said.
Gaston stared at him, as the show-reel of fragmented memories finally put itself into some kind of order in his mind; a string of guttural moans, whimpers, trembling flesh and blissfully raw sensations...
Gaston flushed again.
"You beast," he muttered. "...it's a wonder I can even walk."
"You haven't tried to, yet," Adam pointed out, and kissed him on the head. "I am sorry, if I hurt you."
Gaston scoffed. "Please. I'm getting used to your beastly appetite," then a thought struck him. "Hey, maybe I can use that as my excuse to get out of this village trip. I've been crippled by your-"
"Gaston...!"
"Heh. Can you imagine Belle's face."
"Nice try," Adam kissed him again on the mouth, "But we're still going." He licked his lips then, as if he'd tasted something delicious. "Just after I've had a bit more of my finest."
Gaston grinned, entirely helpless to doing anything else. He'd always been such a tragic victim of flattery.
He thought, as Adam's mouth enthusiastically smothered his grin, that he might have to drink wine more often, and for reasons entirely unrelated to social gatherings.
END