No one fights like Gaston, douses lights like Gaston. In a wrestling match nobody bites like Gaston...
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LeFou elbowed his way through the crowd in order to reach the bar. The dull glow of the neon 'Budweiser' sign cast a halo of sorts around the muscle hunk pouring the drinks. With a nervous smile, the chubby little man signaled for service and waited his turn. He had been away from Stanley for a month and would never dream of cheating on the man-- but no one said he couldn't at least enjoy the view.
With him leaving for home in the morning, the idea had been for Tom, Gaston and himself to enjoy a few shots of whiskey as a Bon Voyage. Having the first shot fly out of his hand and land on the guy next to him-- not so much.
Technically, LeFou could have claimed that it wasn't his fault since the guy was the one to have bumped into him. But with a six foot frame, and shoulders as broad as a doorway, LeFou wasn't going to make a big deal about it.
He prayed the other man wouldn't either, but unfortunately, LeFou couldn't have been more wrong.
"Looks like the drink's on you," LeFou joked as the man turned to glare at him.
With a growl in response, the man stalked forward.
"Okay, clearly you're not happy." LeFou backed up against the bar as the man's hot breath fogged up his glasses. "So how about you let me buy you a beer, big guy, and then we can call it even."
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Gaston drummed his fingers impatiently on the tall boy. The last thing he wanted to do was be sitting here with Tom. Now with LeFou gone, an awkward silence hung heavily between the two.
When Morgan received the text message from Tom this morning, Gaston had immediately refused the idea. But with a little encouragement from Morgan to 'bury the hatchet', Gaston had finally agreed to a guy's night, celebrating LeFou.
"How long does it take to order three shots of whiskey?" Gaston grumbled.
"Oh boy." Suddenly, Tom sat up straighter, his eyes brightening as he pointed to something just over Gaston's shoulder. "It looks like LeFou might be in trouble!"
Swiveling in his seat, Gaston followed Tom's gaze. Sure enough, LeFou seemed to be standing toe to toe with a hostile drunk man.
With a grunt, Gaston slid down from the barstool. As he sauntered up to the pair, he could over hear LeFou standing his ground.
"I don't think you understand." LeFou's voice had taken on a tone that Gaston had never heard before. "I said I'm not leaving."
"And I say, ya don't have much-of-a choice."
The other man's words were slurred as he spoke, snickers and laughter from his companions egging him on. If things suddenly went south, like Gaston fully anticipated them too, this was going to turn into a seven on two brawl. Assuming Tom couldn't be counted on to help out.
"Look, I'm here like you, just trying to have a good time. So either you let me buy you that drink, or move on. We're wasting time here and I'm still sober."
Gaston watched as the man's face turned beet red. As his hands balled into a couple of giant fists, the hunter decided now was probably the time to introduce himself.
"Is everything all right here?" Shoving past the drunk, Gaston placed a hand on LeFou's shoulder.
Of course Gaston was used to being the tallest man in the room, but it was evident by the look on the other man's face, that he was not used to being amongst the shortest.
It didn't matter though-- the man was too sauced at the moment to be intimidated.
Cocking his head to the side, the drunk cracked his neck and then his knuckles. It was supposed to make him look tough. Or so, that's probably what he thought. But to Gaston, it just looked ridiculous.
"Your little friend here, spilled his drink all over me," the man grunted, letting his arms settle across his chest.
"Yes, and I'm pretty sure he's already apologized for that," Gaston snapped.
"I don't want an apology," he hissed, his breath wreaking of stale cigarettes and whiskey.
Gaston had to take a step back as the man's foul odor enveloped him. "Then what is it you want?"
"To crack some skulls."
A cocky, lopsided grin tugged at Gaston's lips as he began rolling up his sleeves. It had been a while since he'd had a little fun. But suddenly Lefou stepped forward, sizing the man up.
"I can take care of this myself, Gaston."
He didn't even come close to standing head to toe with the drunk, head to stomach was more like it, but it was good enough for LeFou.
"You're crazy," the drunk shook his head. "Tryin' to start a fight with me?"
"Oh, I don't start fights," LeFou corrected the other man. "But you better believe, I finish them."
Gaston pinched the bridge of his nose as the other man violently came at LeFou. Surprisingly, his best friend was more than ready with a well-aimed kick to the groin, and the man went down. With pain and shock frozen on his face, Gaston hoped this would be the end of it. But as he turned towards the man's friends, he realized this would not be the case.
Chairs were thrown, furniture broken, people screamed as they frantically tried to get out of the way. The tinkling of glass could be heard smashing against the ground as tables were over turned. Without a doubt, the entire tavern had erupted in to a full scale barroom brawl.
Gaston got a few punches in before three of the man's friends surrounded him. As two of the goons held down his arms, the other threw punches at his gut. The hunter tried to catch his breath in between shots as he watched LeFou continue to be tossed around like a rag doll. Needless to say, the fight wasn't going very well.
"Gaston!" LeFou cried out as he was lifted and slid across the top of the polished mahogany. "What on Earth are you doing?"
"Losing," Gaston called back rolling his eyes. Wasn't it obvious?
He caught LeFou's gaze as another punch rolled off to the left, just above his kidneys.
"I can see that!" LeFou screamed, ducking from a punch that might have permanently relocated the position of his nose. "But what I'm trying to figure out, is why?"
Gaston gave LeFou a confused look, but suddenly the chubby man burst into song.
"No one fights like Gaston, douses lights like Gaston. In a wrestling match nobody bites like Gaston. For there's no one as burly and brawny--"
LeFou trailed off as Gaston looked down at his arms.
"As you see, I've got biceps to spare." The hunter smirked as he finished the rest of LeFou's song for him.
Suddenly he brought both arms forwards, the two morons sharing a look of disbelief moments before they were slammed into each other. As the third friend attempted to deliver another blow, the hunter easily caught the man's fist.
"My turn," Gaston growled, before easily overpowering the man.
With his fist caught in Gaston's grip, the third friend went down to his knees, whimpering and sniveling like the little girl he was. Or not. The hunter was sure even his Morgan would have put up more of a fight.
Snarling in disgust, he dropped the man's hand. He had better things to do with his time, like moving on to save LeFou.
A hard hitting punch took out guy number four, while number five was easily tossed halfway across the bar. The moron let out a shriek as the neon sign sparked from the impact of his body. Gaston watched with a cocky smile then turned to dispose of the sixth friend with a clap of his hands.
The idiot reached out to strike the hunter on the jaw, but with years of honed reflexes, the man didn't stand a chance. Gaston dodged the blow and with a laugh, the hunter plucked the moron's hand from the air. A wicked gleam shone in his eye as he rolled back the man's sleeve.
Moments later, the friends collected their wounded. The last guy cradled his arm to his chest as he walked out. A perfect purple imprint of Gaston's teeth, adorned his skin.
Clasping LeFou on the shoulder, Gaston smiled down at his friend. "I needed encouragement. Thank you LeFou."
The man's chubby little cheeks flamed with a deep shade of crimson. "Aw, it was nothing," he tried to wave it off.
As they got ready to leave, both men glanced about the trashed bar. "Any ideas where Tom might have gone?" LeFou asked.
"I saw him duck out the door towards the beginning of the fight," Gaston frowned. "Clearly the man is a coward," he stated. "I know Morgan just chalks it up to jealousy, but I'm seriously starting to have doubts concerning her partner."
LeFou nodded. "If it's all the same, I better go check on him anyways. I'll stay at his place tonight."
Gaston eyebrows knit together. "And why's that?" He asked.
"Because when you go home and explain to Morgan what's happened, I know she won't be happy."
"So?" Gaston shrugged.
With an all knowing smirk, LeFou shook his head.
"I know how this ends," he informed the large hunter. "When Morgan's not happy, your not happy. Then it turns into angry sex, followed by make up sex and after that it just becomes sex, sex, sex!"
Gaston chuckled, but he couldn't say the little man was wrong. "Alright," he agreed. "Maybe you're right."
"Maybe would be the understatement of the year," he countered. With a hand on his hip, LeFou sauntered out of the tavern. "Just make sure to wrap it before you tap it!" He hollared back.