#tic fics

The first time Adam said it, it had been an accident.

He had been leaving the haphazard little workshop that Belle and her father had set up in a corner of the cellar—always blistering hot, with soot and sawdust floating in the air thick as fog. They had made him wear gloves and an apron, though neither did much to protect him from the mess. He wiped the damp layer of dust from his forehead while his other hand fumbled uselessly with the knot of the apron behind his back. (God help him, Belle always tied these things into tight double or triple knots that he could never undo.)

"Need help, your majesty?" a familiar voice spoke from somewhere behind him.

If it were anyone else, Adam might've jumped, but—even since he was a child—it often seemed that Lumiere could be found around every corner. As it was, he simply sighed, and that was answer enough.

Lumiere's slender fingers made quick (well, quicker) work of the knot. Once he had finished, he pulled the apron up over Adam's head, scattering another cloud of soot onto them both. He chuckled, "There we are."

"Thank you, papa."

As soon as the words left his mouth, his face flushed red. Although Lumiere's mouth hung halfway open, he was, for once, stunned to silence. Adam ducked his head, hiding his face behind one hand, and rushed down the hall.

In his head, he tried to tell himself it was because of Belle; it was what she called her father after all, and he'd spent the entire afternoon with the two of them. In his heart, however, he knew that the feeling had always been there, even if he had never said it aloud.

---

I didn't have anything specific in mind for the @beauty-beast-week free day this year, so I've decided to post this little fluffy Lumiworth scene that I wrote on a whim last month. I'm not posting this one to ao3 because it's so short (and because I might recycle this small segment in a future fic, idk), but I hope you all enjoy nonetheless!

Relationship: Cogsworth/Lumiere Rating: G Word count: 670

"Tell us about him!"

"Tell us everything!"

Lumiere laughed as his little sisters, each pulling one of his sleeves, dragged him to a seat. Lainie immediately scrambled up onto the sofa with him and wiggled as close to his side as she could get.

"Come on! Come on! Come on!"

"Okay, okay!" As his laughter died down, he finally asked them, "What do you want to know?"

Her voice soft as ever, Lily spoke up, "Is he nice?"

"Of course, ma coccinelles, he is very nice. I think you'd get along with him especially." He poked her nose for emphasis, and she giggled.

"But what do you like about him?" Lainie chimed in. "Is he handsome?"

He laughed again, "Yes, ma fee, he is handsome."

"Come on, you have to tell us more than that!"

"Well, ah..." Lumiere tugged at his cravat. "He has a very cute smile."

Lorena gasped, running in from the next room. Her slippers slid on the polished floor, and she gripped the back of the sofa to keep herself from falling. "We know him, don't we!"

"What? No!"

Lainie's eyes lit up. "Who is it?"

"No one!"

"You're blushing," Fiammetta commented, never looking up from her book.

"I am not!"

Lorena hung off the back of the couch, resting her chin atop his head. "Tell ussssss—"

"I refuse!"

She pouted. "Oh fine, but at least give us a hint. Pretty please? You said you'd tell us!"

He crossed his arms. "I said I'd tell the little ones, not you."

She flicked his curlicue bangs, sending a few loose strands into his eyes and mouth. "You're no fun."

"Leave it, Lorena."

"Just one thing?"

"No."

"Okay, what about yes or no?"

"Ugh, fine!"

She sat on the arm of the sofa now, draping an arm across his shoulders. "Who flirted first?"

"That's not a yes-or-no question."

Lorena rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay. Is he anything like your last partner?"

"Oh no, not at all."

"Do you have anything in common then? Music perhaps?"

"He likes music, but he doesn't play."

She smirked. "Have you known him all that long?"

Lumiere squirmed. After a long, uncomfortable silence, he answered, "Yes. Yes I have."

After a hot bath, Babette sat on the edge of the bed to brush out her hair. Lumiere lay beside her, staring at the ceiling with a distant frown. 

“Mon amour, what’s wrong?”

“I just can’t help thinking, I haven’t seen Cogsworth at all today.”

She softened, setting the brush aside. “We’ve also been busy all day. I’m sure we just missed him.”

“Something just doesn’t feel right about it! I know you’re right, I know it’s probably nothing, but…,” he sighed. “I don’t know.”  

She laid her hand on top of his. “Even if it is nothing, I don’t want to see you worry like this. Why don’t you go look for him, just to ease your mind?”

Lumiere sat up, and Babette quickly swept away the wet hair still sticking to his cheeks. He gave her a short kiss. “Thank you, ma coeur. I think I will.”

He hurried down the servant’s hall, holding the collar of his nightshirt closed. Without shoes, the cold tile sent shivers up his entire body—or maybe it was the stress, he couldn’t tell. 

Lumiere knocked on his friend’s bedroom door.

No response. 

He knocked again, hard enough that his knuckles hurt. “Cogsworth!”

A groan, “What?”

“No one has seen you all day. Is everything alright?”

Belle paced in front of the fireplace, hands clasped behind her back. Lumiere and Cogsworth exchanged nervous glances. Whatever was on her mind, there was no doubt that they'd be dragged into it.

She sighed through her nose. "Adam isn't coming to Christmas at my father's house— And I don't blame him! I understand that this time of year is hard for him, but my aunties already know I'm seeing someone, so I can't just show up alone."

"Well then, the answer is obvious!" Lumiere chimed in. "We simply dress someone up as Adam, and they would never know the difference!"

Cogsworth raised an eyebrow at him. "And who do you propose we send? You and I are both too old—"

"Hey!"

"Chapeau and Crane both don't talk, Fife would give himself a heart attack, Pierre would be a horrible first impression, am I missing anyone?"

"Hm, we could dress Babette as a man."

Before Cogsworth could make another sarcastic retort, Belle's eyes widened. "That... might actually work."

The days seemed to drag with anticipation, but when Christmas finally arrived, the ladies spent all morning getting ready. Babette borrowed a pair of Lumiere's trousers, though his shirt would sooner fit a coat rack than her. Instead, she tucked Adam's shirt into her pants and drew a small mustache with eyeliner. She turned from the mirror with a flourish.

"What do we think?"

Belle bit back a laugh. "You look like a combination of Cogsworth and Lumiere."

Babette laughed with her. "I'm going to pretend that's a compliment!"

"Thank you so much for this, Babette. Really."

"It's no trouble at all, mademoiselle."

Their ruse was worth it just to see the bewildered expression on Maurice's face when Belle introduced "Adam" to the family. One aunt made a remark about Babette's shirt looking a size too large; "Well, Madame, this style is all the rage in Paris, you know." The conversation spiraled then. Babette regaled the humble, woodsy family with (mostly exaggerated) stories about Paris and Versailles and royal galas and shining palaces. The hours flew in minutes, and suddenly, the aunts and uncles had bustled home, leaving only Belle and Babette and a very confused Maurice.

Light snow had begun to fail as they walked back to the carriage. Belle kissed her father goodbye, with a promise to tell him the whole story another night.

When they returned that night—a few hours later than they had planned—Belle was exhausted, and Babette was more than a little tipsy. They giggled at nothing, arm in arm as they trudged through the dark castle halls.

They stopped at the base of the stairs, and Belle yawned. "Well, I'm going straight to bed. You can bring Adam's shirt back in the morning; I'm not worried about it."

Babette raised her hand to her lips with a wink. "I bid you goodnight, mon amour."

[The IKEA trip is already funny, but we've all done it. The Gang realizing that none of them know what they're doing is even funnier.]

"For God's sake, how many times do I have to tell you it's the B piece not the E piece!"

They had been at this for about an hour and had only managed to put the screws in the table legs, never mind attaching them to the table itself. Belle and Adam had already finished two; She had the experience from helping her father after all. Chapeau had walked out on them in the first five minutes, and Cogsworth was starting to regret not following him.

Lumiere groaned. "Well excuse me, but I don't know what else you expect from me with that horrible accent of yours!"

"My accent is not the bloody problem, and you know it!"

Mrs. Potts glared at them both. "Language."

"With all due respect, madame, there are much more vulgar things I would rather call this imbecile—"

Babette snatched the instructions out of his hands. "Give me that. We're going to be here all day at this rate."

"Like you'll do any better," Cogsworth hissed. She flipped him off over her shoulder.

"Alright, new plan. Cogsworth, focus on organizing the pieces by what they're for; It's a mess in here. Mrs. Potts will read the instructions while Lumiere and I put everything together. Are we all in agreement?"