To say LeFou was nervous about introducing Stanley to his father would be the biggest understatement of the century. He hadn't officially come out to his dad yet, wasn't exactly sure how, and then Stanley came up with the idea to just do it all in one swoop. LeFou could just picture it now, hey, Dad, this is Stanley and we're adopting a baby together. By the way, I'm as straight as a wet spaghetti noodle.
He really hoped his father wouldn't start swinging.
"Why are you so stressed," Stanley asks, arching one of his brows. They were perfectly waxed this morning, LeFou noted, and his lips a slightly darker pink than usual to hint at the lipstick he was fond of wearing. LeFou loved how open his boyfriend was, how he wasn't afraid to wear dresses on one day and a full suit the next, depending on how he felt when he woke up. Today he seemed somewhere in the middle, dressed in a nice button-down and slacks while also sporting a thin line of blue eyeliner on his top lids and his nails the same powder blue as his shirt.
"Because I don't know how my father will react to all of this," LeFou admits, shifting in the driver's seat. Where LeFou was all nervous energy, Stanley was completely relaxed next to him, even slouching a little in the seat. He was great company on long car trips, though he did have a tendency of getting distracted by the scenery of the French countryside.
"I'm sure he'll be fine with it."
"How do you know? I've known the man all my life and I still don't know what's going through his head half the time." His father was short and chubby just like LeFou, though the older man was far stronger and had a tendency to avoid smiles like he was allergic to them. In fact, LeFou could count on one hand the amount of times he's seen his father smile and most of those had been when Gaston was around.
"He helped to shape you into the man you are today, so he can't be too bad." Stanley shoots him one of those dazzling smiles that showed off his perfect teeth, LeFou swallowing hard as he fought to keep his attention on the winding road. It wouldn't exactly be a good impression if they wrecked just because LeFou had been in total awe of his boyfriend's good looks. "He also punched Gaston that one time at the tavern," Stanley muses.
"Yeah, that was pretty funny." Julien Lacroix may not look like a strong man, but he had flattened Gaston with one hit after witnessing the larger man trying to manipulate LeFou into taking the blame for a prank gone wrong. "I think that was the last time my dad came to the tavern, actually. He stopped letting Gaston show up at his house as well."
"Obviously he has good taste." LeFou snorts, remembering the tacky clothes his father adored and the fanny packs he'd worn numerous times on school fieldtrips. He might be a good judge of people, but fashion was something else entirely.
They fall into a comfortable silence, LeFou keeping his eyes on the road while Stanley looked out the window at the blurs of green and blue.
It was another fifteen minutes before they came to a stop in front of a nice house, not overly large nor too small; made of dark brick with a roof of red metal that wasn't there the last time LeFou had stopped by for a visit. The shutters were painted a dark tan color and the only real color belonged to the flowers planted close to the house, the shades of pinks, blues, and purples brightening the place up.
LeFou doesn't even unbuckle his seatbelt, staring up at the house with trepidation as he tried to talk himself into moving. This had the possibility of going horribly wrong, his father might be homophobic and demand LeFou to leave his house at once or he could just give him that look of disappointment that could cut even the strongest men to the core. And LeFou's core wasn't a strong one, it was gooey.
I'm a fucking Snickers bar.
"Are you coming, mon beau," Stanley asks. It's not until he speaks that LeFou realizes that his boyfriend is already out of the car and is bending at the waist to peer inside.
"Uh… Y-yeah." LeFou gets out of the car and pockets the keys, leading the way up to the front door. He freezes again, finger resting against the doorbell, but not pressing it. What was I thinking? I can't do this yet, I'm not ready! Before he could lower his hand and run for the hills, Stanley covers LeFou's finger with his own and they press the small button together. "We're gonna die."
"No, we're not."
"He'll bury us in the backyard."
"Or he'll invite us in for tea."
"Oh God," LeFou squeaks, turning to face Stanley. "He's gonna poison the tea!" Stanley, ever in control, simply reaches out to straighten LeFou's bowtie. It was small and a dark pink that perfectly matched Stanley's lipstick, picked out specifically for that reason this morning. "Is it too late to hide and let him think teenagers are playing Ding Dong Ditch?" Before Stanley could answer, the front door swing open and LeFou gulps almost audibly.
"Étienne," Julien greets with a polite nod. Still no smile, though, there never was when he dropped by without calling first. Who was he kidding? He didn't even get a smile when he did call first. "I wasn't expecting you."
"I can leave if you're busy."
"Don't be ridiculous. You drove all the way here from Villeneuve, you must be tired." He was exhausted, the anxiety and long drive only combining to make him ready to drop. To his credit, he did his best to keep his back straight and his head up as his father liked. Good posture was important to the older man, it meant confidence even if it was only feigned. "Who's your friend?"
"Stanley Beaumont," Stanley greets with that broad grin of his, thrusting one hand out. Julien shakes it, grip firm and steady just as Stanley's was. After coming out, Stanley had been more confident than ever and it seemed to rub off on LeFou sometimes. "It's nice to finally meet you, Monsieur Lacroix."
"Please, just call me Julien. Come in, both of you, and I'll get some tea started." Julien turns and walks further into the house, the other two following after him. LeFou swallows hard again, hiding his shaking hands in the pockets of his pants. The anxiety was building even more and he felt like he was going to be sick, wanting nothing more than to go hide under his bed like he had as a child.
"You have a nice house, Julien."
"Thank you, Stanley. Étienne's mother was quite the architect and came up with all the plans for the house." He shrugs a little, a fond tilt to his lips that always appeared when LeFou's mother was brought up. Even if the man hadn't been the best at dolling out affection, Julien had loved LeFou's mother more than life itself.
"Ah, that must be where her son gets it, then."
"He certainly didn't get his eye for detail from me." LeFou sits himself at the kitchen table when they finally come into the kitchen, gripping the arms of his chair tight enough to make his knuckles ache. Stanley seems to notice as he sits as well, resting one hand over LeFou's while keeping his eyes on Julien. "What brings the two of you out here?"
"We have some good news."
"Is it that you both are finally together?" LeFou chokes on his own spit at his father's words, Stanley having to slap his back when he goes into a coughing fit. His father knew already? Why didn't he say something? What hadn't he called or even sent a good for you, boy on Facebook? How the hell did he even find out?
"You know," LeFou manages to choke out.
"Of course I know," Julien retorts, looking miffed. "Son, you were fawning over that oaf Gaston for years and you weren't exactly subtle about it. And this one—" here he gestures towards Stanley with a spoon "—has been admiring your ass since your junior year in high school." Stanley blushes a dark red at the reveal, a bashful smile turning his lips upwards.
"Why didn't you say anything?!"
"Because I figured you'd tell me when you were ready. God knows I didn't think it'd take this long." LeFou couldn't believe it, he'd been so terrified of coming out to his father only to find out the man had known even before LeFou did. "So, do you have a wedding planned yet or are you going to wait twenty years for that, too?"
"We're working up to that."
"Good, I'm happy to hear it." There was a moment of silence where Julien pattered around the kitchen to keep his hands busy and the other two men sat in their chairs and wondered if anyone else had known before they did. "Was there another reason for dropping by?"
"We're adopting a baby," Stanley states, always straight to the point. "A little girl we've decided to name Suzanna after your wife." He shifts in his seat to pull out his wallet, handing over the little picture the case worker had given them after they started the paperwork. The infant in the picture was pale with small, pale curls on her head, big blue eyes, and the most peculiar pointed ears.
"She's beautiful." And that's when it happened, that small yet undeniably big change that had LeFou's eyes widening. Of all the scenarios that had gone through his mind the past few days, this hadn't been one of them. He'd pictured his father yelling and screaming at them, beating at them with a broom, or even punching LeFou just as he had Gaston. But this, this, was something that had never occurred to him.
His father smiled.
