No One Loves Like Gaston

Chapter 7: And they'll tell you whose team they prefer to be on

Out of all the things one could expect upon reentering the castle, the last thing Gaston anticipated was a horde of chattering household goods sweeping him off his feet and taking him to his room. On the way, brushes went through his hair and he coughed when perfume was sprayed into his mouth. He almost kicked some of the servants away but calmed himself when ideas of what the Beast would look like entered his mind.

Madame de la Grande Bouche put Gaston in a cream-collared golden coat nearly reaching his knees, embroidered by equally golden leaves. The vest underneath was also cream in hue. His coat, vest and white breeches and shirt fit him perfectly.

He grunted when his hair was pulled back in a tight low ponytail with a golden bow. 'Hey! Woudya mind-'

'Care for a spot of tea, Sir?' Mrs Potts offered. Chip leapt into Gaston's hand, tiny in his thick fingers. Gaston was more of a beer man but he took a sip. Anything to calm his nerves. Which he certainly didn't have.

He looked at himself in the mirror and licked his teeth to ensure they were clean. He beamed at himself. Perfect. As always.

Once he stood up, his head began spinning. He leaned on his hand, which was placed on his seat. He made a grave mistake: committing the great crime of thinking. Paintings of him and Belle, living in a cottage with several dogs and six or seven strapping boys, slowly burned to a crisp in his mind. The servants surrounded him, supporting him with whatever could pass as limbs. Gaston shook his head.

'I'm fine,' he said, flashing a grin at the servants. Remember, he was feeling no nerves. Zero. Zilch.

His head cleared a bit once the mental paintings were extinguished. He straightened his back, wrapped his hands around each coat lapel, and strode to the ballroom door. The Beast was waiting for him, wearing a similar outfit but in different colours. A cobalt jacket with a gold collar, a golden vest and black breeches.

Unlike Gaston with his white stockings and brown shoes, the Beast wore nothing on his feet, showing his hind paws as per usual. The contrast between the put-together suit and the feral shoelessness caused a tiny skip in Gaston's heartbeat. He almost chuckled at the sight, but then the Beast smiled at him like he was looking at a precious memento. That caused a few more skips in Gaston's heartbeat.

The Beast held out his arm. Gaston hesitated but wrapped his arm around it, inviting the Beast to lead him to the dining room outside the ballroom. Red velvet curtains flanked a portrait depicting various statues that ran from just above the fireplace to the roof. Atop the mantle were two candelabras that did not appear to be living.

Next to the fireplace was a long table covered with a smorgasbord of dishes. The scent of freshly cooked meat wafted through the air, the steam from the dishes collaborating with the candles to create a warm atmosphere.

The Beast stood by the chair at one end, waiting for his brain to decide. Was he supposed to pull out a chair for a man? Was this in the code of chivalry his parents had tried to instil in him years ago?

Before he could even decide, Gaston sat in the seat and dropped his shoulders as he got comfortable. The Beast shuffled with his head hanging low towards the other side of the table.

He and Gaston, at first, tried to use their manners and daintily enjoy the delicacies before them with the appropriate cutlery. After a minute or so of awkward silence, they stared at each other, slowly smiling as the same idea popped into their heads.

They grabbed the food on their plate with their hands, stuffing it into their mouths. They tore food apart like children opening presents on Christmas morning. They couldn't help but laugh at each other, even with their mouths full.

Watching the scene from behind the ajar doors, Cogsworth placed a hand over his open mouth, ticking several times a second.

Lumiere patted him on the shoulder from behind him. 'Relax, it's working.' As if to prove himself right, he leaned forward to get a better look. He and Cogsworth were standing cheek-to-cheek.

The ticking somehow sped up even more. Lumiere backed away in worry. 'Are you alright?'

'I'm perfectly fine,' Cogsworth spat, crossing his arms and breathing heavily until his ticking slowed.

'Mon chéri,' Lumiere began while caressing the number 9 on Cogsworth's cheek. 'You owe it to yourself to be a bit more honest.'

Cogsworth did not divulge any truths, but he did melt into Lumiere's candle hand despite it not being lit. They stayed like that for so long that they forgot to return their attention to the messy eaters they were spying on.

That was until the Beast and Gaston stood and headed to the door. Lumiere and Cogsworth scuttled away.

The Beast opened the door to exit the dining room but Gaston insisted with his eyes that he open the doors to the ballroom.

Inside the vast marble room, a glittering golden chandelier hung from the ceiling, which was adorned with a painting of cherubs and birds.

A team of servants stood behind one of the pillars that held up the round balcony above everyone. They played an assortment of instruments, from violins to woodwinds to a miniature piano. Together they created a lush but gentle musical landscape for the two men to dance in.

The Beast and Gaston bowed before the Beast wrapped his arm around the other man's waist and grabbed his hand.

Gaston opened his mouth to protest his role in the dance but the Beast swung him around and stepped forward to the rhythm of the piano. Gaston closed his mouth and smiled softly, placing his hand on his shoulder. As the Beast spun around with Gaston, he held his neck out and grinned at the servants as if to ask if they could see what was happening.

He got distracted by his own silent attempt at communication, something Gaston used to his advantage. He took the Beast's arm and pulled it from its position behind his back, pulling it up onto his shoulder. Gaston then put his own arm behind the Beast's waist and pushed him closer. The Beast was taken aback by these actions, but the proud, mischievous glint in Gaston's eye convinced him to go along with it.

The violins swelled as the two continued dancing. The Beast's hand was soft and snug. He must have bathed before that evening, judging by both the cushiony feeling of his fur and the fresh scent of thyme coming from him. The pair looked into each other's eyes and forgot that anyone else was there.

The song ended and the dance partners bowed again. The Beast headed towards the glass door to the outside balcony and Gaston followed him as the blue-coated man opened it.