#so emilien is 10 barney is 8 and the girls are 4

[ginnyweatherby]

Reflection

So awhile back @thestanfoubrew and I discussed the possibility of Stan developing a bit of a DadBod a few years into his marriage, so this is that fic.

This is supposed to be a Christmas present even if it isn’t a holiday story to her for being such a lovely friend, but if anyone else is in the mood for 3000+ words of Stanfou family fluff, this could be a present for you too.  Hope you like it! :)

Stanley pulled his shirt over his head with a sigh.  It had been a long day at work, only to come home to his sons arguing, and his daughters were still fighting off colds, making them whinier than they normally were.

Lefou had been a saint, as usual.  He’d spent the day breaking up the boys fights, trying to keep the girls comfortable and rested, and still somehow managed to find the time to have dinner prepared when Stanley walked through the front door.  Maybe Stanley should do something nice for his husband soon to thank him for all he put up with…

“Nice view,”  Lefou’s voice startled Stanley out of his thoughts.  He looked down and noticed he still hadn’t thrown on a pajama top, and his pants were riding lower than usual.

“I’m going to bed,”  Stanley said, with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh, I’m not complaining,”  Lefou said.  He grabbed a shirt from the chair next to the bed, gave it a quick sniff, and shrugged before pulling it on.

“You know we have a washing machine, right?”  Stanley peeled the covers back on the bed, before climbing underneath.

“I’m going to bed,”  Lefou echoed, as he joined Stanley on the mattress.

“Did they go down alright?”  Stanley had made sure the boys brushed their teeth and went to sleep on time, while Lefou attempted to put the girls down.

“Well enough,”  Lefou shrugged.  “They were exhausted,”

“I hate seeing them so sick,”  Stanley said, remembering how congested they both sounded, and Michelle’s lingering cough.

“Me too,”  Lefou agreed.  “Camille was acting much more like herself today, though,”

“That’s good,”  Stanley said, reaching over to turn off the lamp on his bedside table.

“Well, at least tomorrow is Saturday,”  Lefou said, burying himself deeper under the covers, scooting closer to Stanley.  The man radiated heat like a furnace when he slept, but liked to fall asleep snuggled up, before kicking the blankets off somewhere in the middle of the night – leaving Stanley half frozen.

“Says the stay-at-home-dad,”  Stanley teased, rolling onto his side to look at his partner.

“Exactly, it’s my day off,”  Lefou chuckled.

“Fine, I’ll let you sleep in tomorrow,”  Stanley said, as if he didn’t let Lefou sleep in every weekend.

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around,”  Lefou said, with a smile.  In the darkness, Stanley could only just make out the little space between his teeth.

Stanley laughed, before he began to drift off.  It was so easy to fall asleep when Lefou was playing with his hair like that…

“You need a haircut,”  Lefou said after awhile, jolting Stanley back into consciousness.

“Mmph,” Stanley mumbled, nuzzling his face deeper into Lefou’s shoulder.

“I’ve never known you to go more than six weeks without a trim,”  Lefou was being chatty tonight.  “Are you growing it out?”

Stanley shook his head, his eyes still shut.  “Haven’t had the time,” he mumbled.

“I could trim it,”  Lefou suggested.

“Do you really want to relive the time you cut Barney’s hair?”  Stanley asked, remembering the image of their poor son walking around with an uneven haircut for a week before Stanley took him to a professional to fix it.

“That’s different, his hair is curlier than yours,”  Lefou said.

“I’ll get it cut tomorrow if it bothers you so much,”  Stanley said.

“Oh, no,”  Lefou said, still running his fingers through Stanley’s locks.  “It’s growing on me, actually,”

“Mmhm,”  Stanley hummed, not convinced.

“Your sideburns could use a little work, though,”

“Goodnight, Lefou,”  Stanley rolled over to face the wall, pulling the blankets with him.

“Night, babe,”  Lefou said.  Stanley could practically hear the fond smile in his voice.

The next morning, Stanley kept his promise of letting Lefou sleep in.  He rolled out of the bed, careful not to disturb his snoring lover, even though he knew Lefou would probably sleep through a plane crashing through the ceiling.

He could hear Camille babbling to herself in the next room, and knew it wasn’t likely she would fall back asleep.

“G’morning, honey,” Stanley softly greeted as he pushed her bedroom door open.  Michelle was drooling on her pillow on the adjacent bed.

“HI DADDY!”  Camille shouted.

“Shh, let’s let Michelle sleep a little more, okay?”  Stanley carried his youngest daughter out of the room, softly closing the door behind them.

“Are you hungry?”  He asked, brushing some of Camille’s hair away from her eyes.

“I AM!”  Came a yell from across the hall.

Stanley sighed.  So much for letting the others sleep.

“Bartholomew, hush, it’s still early,”

Barney turned the corner from his bedroom, skidding across the floor in his socks.

“But I’m starving,”  Barney whined, tugging on the bottom of Stanley’s shirt.

“I hardly think you’re starving,”  Stanley rolled his eyes, lowering Camille into her favorite seat at the head of the table.

“It’s true, Daddy,”  Barney continued, draping himself across one of the kitchen chairs.

Stanley bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at his son’s dramatics.  The boy was more like Lefou every day.

“Well, what are you starving for, then?”  Stanley asked, as he fixed Camille a cup of juice.

“Breakfast,”  Barney said, simply.

Stanley sighed.  Eggs it was, then.

By the time he had sausage sizzling in the pan, the rest of his family had wandered into the kitchen.  It was amazing how the smell of breakfast was the only thing that seemed to be able to get Emilien out of bed at a decent hour.

“Do you need help with anything?”  Lefou asked with a yawn, as Michelle crawled onto his lap.

“Nearly done,”  Stanley said, moving the plate of sausage onto the table. “Michelle, are you going to sit on your own chair?”

Michelle shook her head, nuzzling her face into Lefou’s neck.  At four years old, Stanley had given up hope that she might become a morning person like himself.

Stanley fell into his chair, and helped the kids fill their plates, before he loaded up his own.

“Whoa, Dad, that’s a lot of eggs,”  Barney said, now sporting a milk mustache.

“I’m bigger than you are,”  Stanley said, passing the boy a napkin, which he ignored in favor of his sleeve.

“Uncle Gaston eats a lot of eggs,”  Emilien said.

“Rumor has it he eats five dozen of them,”  Lefou commented, giving Michelle a bite from his fork.

The boys made little noises of awe, causing their parents to laugh.

Stanley began pushing his food around his plate, suddenly feeling a bit sluggish.  Perhaps his eyes were bigger than his stomach that morning.  He had been eating a bit more than usual, lately, but he and Lefou were decent enough cooks, and they did order takeout more often than they probably should…

“… You feeling okay, babe?”  Lefou asked, his face painted with concern.

Stanley snapped out of his reverie before he could let his train of thought go any farther.

“I’m great,”

In his younger years, Stanley made it a point to hit the gym at least every other day, but as of late, he was lucky to go once a week.  It wasn’t that he didn’t like to stay fit, but his life had gotten so busy between the boys’ school activities, or his work schedule, or whatever family outings Lefou had planned for their weekends.

The inactivity was making today’s workout session a bit more strenuous than usual.

He huffed as he upped his speed on the treadmill, his favorite workout playlist blasting through his headphones.  It felt good to exercise, even if he was getting a little winded.  He paused to take a drink from his water bottle.  Just a few more miles and he would head home. He really was getting old.

After a quick shower in the gym locker room, Stanley caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror.  His too-long hair was still wet, dripping down his shoulders, and his face flushed from overexertion.  He’d also neglected to shave that morning, and now his face was covered in short, scruffy hairs.  Ten years ago he would have scoffed at his sloppy appearance.

With a last shrug at his reflection, he threw his gym bag over his shoulder and exited the locker room.

“Dad, do you have any pictures from when I was a baby?”  Emilien asked, throwing his backpack haphazardly on the floor.

“I do,”  Stanley said, picking up the bag, and handing it back to him. “Do you know why we keep hooks by the door?”

Emilien scowled, but put the bag in its proper place.

“What do you need pictures for?”  Stanley asked, as Barney darted past him, headed for the kitchen.  After-school snacks were very important to the younger boy.

“It’s for school,”  Emilien said.  “We have to make a family tree, and I think it would be cool if I used baby pictures instead of newer ones,”

“I think that’s a great idea,”  Stanley said.  “We’ll have to dig out some of my old baby pictures,”

“I bet there’s dinosaurs in the background,”

“Just how old do you think I am, kid?”  Stanley narrowed his eyes.

Emilien paused for a moment, thinking it over.

“Don’t answer that,”  Stanley stopped him, before lowering his voice.  “Just remember, Papa is even older than me,”

“He must be ancient, then,”  Emilien giggled.

“What’s ancient?”  Lefou asked, as he passed by, a snoozing Camille on his shoulder.

“Nothing, darling,”  Stanley said, throwing a wink in Emilien’s direction.

Stanley watched as Lefou lifted a heavy box from the top shelf of the hall closest.  “And here I thought I took a lot of pictures,”

Lefou rolled his eyes.  “What can I say?  Barney was a cute baby,”

“Are any of your baby pictures hiding in this box?”  Stanley asked, as Lefou handed it to him.

“A few.  I think there’s some of my sister in there too,”

“Did your parents make you two dress alike too, or was that just mine?” Stanley carried the box into the living room.  The boys were at school, and Stanley had promised to have a good assortment of baby pictures for Emilien to choose from when they got home.

“No, our parents let us be individuals,”  Lefou teased, as they sat on the floor, and he lifted the lid from the box.

“The tragedies of having sisters who are triplets, I suppose,”

“Ohh, look at him,”  Lefou cooed, as he displayed a picture of a little baby in a car seat, the tiniest patch of red hair on his head.  “This was when I first got to bring him home,”

Stanley smiled.  He’d looked at baby pictures of Barney before, but he knew there were still ones he hadn’t seen.

Stanley rooted through the box, before he emerged with a photo of Barney, a few months older.  “Was this his first birthday?”

“Can’t you tell from the frosting beard?”  Lefou laughed, taking the picture from him.  “Who’s that, Michelle?”

Michelle climbed onto his lap, and inspected the picture.  “Camille,”

“No, darling, that’s Barney!” Lefou said.

Michelle laughed at the thought of her older brother as a baby.

“I bet I have some of you as a baby,”  Lefou said.  He rummaged through the box, before pulling out a copy of one of Stanley’s favorite pictures.

“Is that Camille?”  Michelle said, pointing at it.

“That’s Camille, yes,”  Lefou said, moving her finger, “but that’s you,”

Stanley didn’t have to look at the picture to know they were looking at the moment Michelle first met her sister.  Camille was in Stanley’s arms, while a five-month-old Michelle balanced in Lefou’s lap.  She was looking intently at the little bundle Stanley was holding, one hand stuck in her mouth, the other reaching for her new sister.

Michelle continued to look with them for a few more pictures before she got bored and wandered off.

“Oh, I forgot this one was in here,”  Lefou breathed, as he found another photo.  Stanley looked closer and felt his heart tighten.  It was a picture of Lefou holding another little baby – this one with his same dark hair and eyes.

“Emilien won’t be able to use this one, I suppose,”  Lefou said, with a watery smile.

“We’ll tell him about her soon, don’t worry,”  Stanley squeezed Lefou’s hand, and opened his mouth to continue when he heard Camille wailing from her room.  She had been taking a nap, and rarely woke up from one in a good mood.

“I’ll get her,”  Stanley said, standing up.  “See if you can find any embarrassing pictures of you.  I’m sure the boys would love to see them,”

Lefou nodded, gently placing the treasured picture next to him.  “I’ll keep looking,”

By the time the boys returned home, Stanley and Lefou had managed to make a decent sized stack of baby pictures to choose from.  They didn’t know if Emilien would want silly pictures or more serious pictures, so they picked a few of each, which he and Barney were now going through.

“Is that Emilien, Daddy?”  Barney asked, pointing at a picture his brother was holding.

“That’s him,”  Stanley nodded.  It was one taken shortly after he adopted Emilien, the proud smile of a new father on his face, as his sisters crowded around.

“Dad, you were so skinny,”  Emilien noted, after they’d gone through most of the stack.

Stanley frowned.  He hadn’t noticed much of a change in his body type over the years.  He took the picture from his son and his frown deepened.  He did look thinner.  And younger.  Granted, the picture was taken about decade ago, when he only had one child to chase after, but still.

Stanley looked down at himself, a little self-consciously.  He was still relatively fit, but he knew he’d gained a few pounds, mainly in the middle region.  He supposed his steady diet of fast food and their hearty home cooking was catching up with him.

Barney giggled, as he took out another picture.  “Look at Michelle’s hair in this one!”

Stanley smiled as Barney pointed at his sister’s bedhead, forcing his negative thoughts aside.

“Stanley, are you alright?”  Lefou asked, as he walked in their bedroom to find Stanley staring at himself in the full-length mirror.  “You look… concerned,”

“Am I still attractive?”  Stanley asked, looking at Lefou in the reflection.

Lefou snorted.  “Is the sky blue?”

“I’m being serious,”

He watched as Lefou’s smile faded away, a confused pout taking its place.  “What’s this about?”

Stanley sighed.  “Have I let myself go?”

Lefou walked up to him and squeezed him from behind.  “If you have, I need better glasses,”

“Emilien pointed out that in those old pictures, I look so much thinner… and my hair was always done… and I always bothered to shave, unless I was going for facial hair,”

“… did you ever go for facial hair?”  Lefou asked, resting his chin on Stanley’s shoulder.

“Find the pictures from when Emilien was about two,”  Stanley said.  “I had a beard and everything,”

“I’ll be on the lookout,”  Lefou said.  “But honestly, you still look amazing, all the time.  I’m a little jealous how you can wear sweats and still look hot, while I have to wear a three-piece suit to even begin to look presentable,”

“That’s a lie and you know it,”  Stanley turned his head, and pressed a kiss to Lefou’s forehead.  “Although I have been wearing sweats a lot, lately,”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that…”

Stanley sighed, but smiled.  “Maybe it’s midlife crisis creeping in,”

“If you’re already midlife, I don’t want to know what that says about me,”  Lefou released Stanley’s middle, and they made their way to the bed.

“I know I shouldn’t feel bad,”  Stanley said, draping the blankets over them, “because I’m really happy.  With you.  With the kids.  With everything,”

“We all have low moments, babe,”  Lefou said, with a yawn.  “You think I’m always Monsieur Confidence?”

“You always seem to be,”  Stanley said, honestly.  His husband never really seemed to care what others thought of him, as long as he was happy.

“Most of the time, I’m happy with myself, and the way I look,”  Lefou admitted, “but then I catch sight of my profile, or the stretch marks on my thighs and wonder what I’d look like if I were different,”

“I wouldn’t recognize my own husband,”  Stanley said.  “You know I love the way you are,”

“And I you, dear,”  Lefou said.  “That’s exactly my point,”

Stanley nodded, reaching over to turn off the lamp, even though he was far from tired.

“Night,” Lefou said, snuggling closer into Stanley side, wrapping an arm around him.

Stanley squeezed his partner, before closing his eyes.  He had some things to think about.

“Barney, where’s your reading homework?”

“Emilien, do you have your family tree project?”

“In my backpack!”

“I’ve got it here, Dad!”

It was a few weeks later, and life had moved on as usual.  Stanley still felt self-conscious on occasion, but he supposed that was human nature.

Even though as a teen and young adult, he tended to lean more towards the vain side, he supposed it didn’t really matter now.  He was healthy, he was happy, and he had more important things to worry about than if he had to go up a size in trousers, or if his hair was a little messy.  He didn’t want his kids to grow up worrying about their appearance or being unhappy with themselves.  He wanted to be a good role model for them.

So, he’d thought about it a lot.  He considered going to the gym more regularly, and cutting back on the fried foods.  While he probably still would, it would be more in an effort to stay healthy, rather than for vanity.

He had a husband, and four wonderful children who loved him just the way he was, and that should be enough.  That was enough.

“Bye, Papa, love you,”  Emilien leaned up and gave Lefou a kiss on his cheek.

“Bye, Dad, love you,”  He echoed, reaching up to kiss Stanley’s face, but before he could, Stanley fell to his knees and squeezed his son, maybe a little tighter than usual.

“I love you, kid,”  Stanley murmured.  “No matter what,”

Emilien allowed the hug to continue a moment more before complaining about missing the bus.

Stanley laughed as he released, giving Barney a hug, as well, before the boys dashed out of the house.

“… you alright?”  Lefou asked, after the door slammed behind Barney.  “That was… unusual,”

Stanley turned to look at his husband.  “I’m fine,”

As he watched the boys’ bus pull away, and heard his daughters playing together behind them, Stanley draped an arm around Lefou’s shoulder, and his smile widened.  “Actually, I’m perfect,”

#BET YOU WEREN'T EXPECTING ANGST #still mostly fluff though #i haven't written stanley's pov in awhile omg #i couldn't remember if Charlotte existed in this universe but i added her anyway #i originally had this take place when the girls were about a year old #but i figured Stan should be a little older in this story #so if it reads weird it's because i quickly had to re-edit some things #so emilien is 10 barney is 8 and the girls are 4 #disney #beauty and the beast #stafou fan fiction #lefou #stanley #stanfou #stafou #random ramblings #weatherby writes #i like queue for who you are