Chapter Text
Living with Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette was a royal pain in the ass. Not because he was a bad housemate, per se. He paid the rent on time, he was as clean and orderly as a college student could be, he didn’t blast loud music in the wee hours of the morning. No – in that respect, he was a great housemate. What made living with him a royal pain in the ass was, unfortunately, completely out of his control.
He was fucking gorgeous.
Which made the lives of his three housemates, Alex, John, and Hercules, both a dream come true, and a fucking nightmare.
Not that they told Lafayette that. Lafayette was their best friend, and of course they loved spending time with him. The late night study sessions where they drank Redbull by the gallon and crammed as much as they could into their short-term memories; the Disney movie marathons, which, more often that not, turned into a drinking game, wherein someone would take a shot if they messed up a song; the combined efforts in roasting Thomas Jefferson into oblivion via Alex’s Twitter; just having someone extra there to talk to and to turn to for advice.
But Alex, John, and Hercules were all single, young men, who were very, very gay.
Well, Alex was bisexual and Hercules was pansexual, but, still, they were very, very gay.
They had no idea whether Lafayette was aware of how they stared, slack-jawed. Sometimes it seemed that Lafayette teased them on purpose, using any excuse to take off his shirt around the apartment or bending over while wearing skinny jeans that hugged in ass in just the right way. Other times it seemed as if he was completely ignorant, frowning in confusion or asking, “What?” whenever the boys were distracted by his body.
The boys didn’t know which would be worse: Lafayette exploiting the fact that he could tell them all to kill a man and they would without hesitation, or Lafayette being utterly unaware of just how hot he was.
“What do you guys think?” Lafayette asked one night, standing in front of the TV, holding out his arms and twisting this way and that. “Do I look hot, or what?” It was one of the rare occasions that he was going out to a club on his own; Hercules had work early the next morning. Alex and John had an assignment due the next day, but they never went to clubs. Hercules and Lafayette were only twenty, yes, but because of their height – and Hercules’ stocky build and Lafayette’s beard – they could easily get away with fake IDs. John and Alex were both short, and they looked as young as their nineteen years.
Hercules, John and Lafayette had all moved in together a few weeks into their first semester of college, and Alex had joined in the first week of their second. It was getting towards fall break, and still all three of them were not used to the sight of Lafayette dolled up for a night out. They didn’t think they ever would be.
Hercules swallowed, his gaze wandering down Lafayette’s body slowly, as if his brain couldn’t function well enough to go any faster. “You look good, Laf.”
Lafayette grinned. “I mean, I know I do, I always look good. But what about my outfit? I didn’t put in much effort tonight. I’m not trying to impress anyone.”
You don’t have to try, John thought. “No, no,” he said mildly, his eyes glued to Lafayette’s arms.
“Your make-up looks nice,” Alex said, in an attempt to try to hide the fact that he was very much not focusing on Lafayette’s face. But he was right, of course. No one could rock eyeliner like Lafayette.
Lafayette smiled. “Merci, Alex.” He grabbed his phone and wallet from the kitchen bench. “You guys have fun being boring,” he teased, heading to the door. “No threesomes while I’m gone; only foursomes, and only if I’m a part of it. Bye!”
The door closed behind him.
There was a moment of silence, and then Hercules, Alex, and John all looked at each other. They were all thinking the same thing, but only Alex was game to speak it. “Do you… Do you think he was… serious, about the foursome thing…?”
Hercules and John sighed, and John flopped dramatically against the back of the couch. “Mon Dieu,” he moaned pitifully.
“What if I go to the same club,” Alex said, “and pretend to be someone else?”
“He said he isn’t trying to impress anyone,” Hercules said. “He doesn’t want to hook up tonight.”
“But it’s Laf,” John said. “He’ll always hook up with someone if he feels like it.”
“He’s just flirty,” Hercules countered. “He doesn’t actually hook up with people all the time. Make out with them, yeah, but not sleep with them. And Alex, you think John and I hadn’t thought of that already? Laf will know who we are in a split second.”
Alex’s bottom lip jutted out. “Way to crush my dreams, Herc.”
“Happy to help.” Hercules stood up and went to the kitchen. “Do you guys want anything to drink?”
“We can’t,” Alex said. “We have that assignment. Don’t we, John?” he added pointedly, to which John grumbled.
“One drink?” he pleaded.
“No,” Alex said, standing up. “That always happens. One drink turns into two, which turns into a fridge empty of alcohol and no assignment done. C’mon, get up.” He took John’s wrists and hauled him to his feet.
“Not even one glass of red wine?” Hercules asked hopefully.
John gasped. “Yes! Alex, let’s have a Laf Trash Club meeting!”
Alex quirked an eyebrow. “That’s what we’re calling it now? Not just the Being Pathetic Club?”
“Laf Trash sounds so much better,” John said.
Hercules screwed up his nose, considering it. “It could use a little work. But yeah, sure, for now, the Laf Trash Club.”
“Red wine makes us sleepy,” Alex said. “Come on, John. Work is good.”
“One glass,” John begged.
“We’ll go through Laf’s Instagram pics,” Hercules offered in a sing-song voice.
Alex hesitated. Going through Lafayette’s Instagram pics – and thirsting over them – was one of his favourite things to do with his friends.
“One glass,” he said firmly.
“Yay!” John cheered, at the same time Hercules hissed, “Yes!” John collapsed back onto the couch and Hercules brought over three ordinary glasses and a bottle of cheap red wine.
Alex pulled out his phone and opened up his Instagram account, navigating to Lafayette’s profile with practiced ease, as Hercules distributed the three glasses and began pouring the wine. Alex gasped. “He’s added a new photo.”
“What?” John said instantly, crowding Alex against the arm of the couch to get a look. Hercules snatched the phone from Alex’s hands.
“Not until we have the wine,” he said. “Both of you are pathetic; you have to drink before we’ve even started properly.”
“Who thought up the rule that you have to drink every time you thirst over Laf?” John complained as he took a sip of wine. “The whole purpose of this club is to thirst over him.”
“It’s not a club,” Alex protested. “It’s just a… collection of friends.”
“Alex, stop trying to justify this,” Hercules said. “You’re just as pathetic as the rest of us. Now drink.”