Belle was pissed. "You mean you've been taking his crap? Adam! The guy tried to kill you! He basically succeeded! And you're just…"

"I don't have much of a choice, Belle. I'm a gentleman. I'll stand up for myself, but it's not like I'm just going to attack and—"

"And why won't you? Where's your temper, for heaven's sake!"

"What a question."

"I mean, I'd rather you get an assault charge or, like, even manslaughter than have him going all smug on you." Adam laughed ruefully. "What's funny? Nothing's funny."

"Yeah it is." He flopped backwards on the bed and stared at the ceiling. "I wouldn't get an assault charge. Or a manslaughter charge. More likely you'd be filing one for me… I couldn't beat him in a fight."

Belle gaped. "That's insane. You've already beaten him. Besides, you're in the right, aren't you?"

"Doesn't matter. I'm not like him. I'm an aristocrat. He's a brute. He's going straight to hell but while we're on earth he'd kick my ass."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Why?" He spread his arms wide. "Look at me. I'm not half-bison anymore, madam."

"I… I never said you were."

"I don't eat five-dozen eggs every morning and I can't lift three girls on a bench. D'you… d'you get what I'm saying? I'm a pretty, tall, Aryan fop. Which is great for me, and great for you, but rubbish in this situation."

"Huh. So he just gets to dance around and celebrate the fact that you're, I don't know, lacking in confidence next to him! I mean, I don't want to sound like a bitch, but how does that make me look!"

"Doesn't make you look like anything. He fell before I transformed. He doesn't know who I am."

Belle stared at him for a long, long time. She flopped onto the bed next to him, on her stomach. And then the full shit of the situation hit her and she began to moan, beating his chest with her fist to punctuate every word. "Oh, come. The fuck. ON!"

Somewhere in the past few minutes, John Smith and Pocahontas had progressed from where every tiny touch was almost too intense, to the point where they literally could not touch enough of each other. Their hands were roving all over each other, grabbing, stumbling toward the bed, falling over on it. They were probably both crying. It was all very wet. Pocahontas' fumbling hand went at his leather vest. He helped her get it off. He kicked his boots off. She shrugged the dress off her shoulder. One of her breasts escaped. He nearly screamed at the sight of it. Such a thing of beauty, that smooth copper skin and dark feral nipple, and it floored him that he had never seen it before. "My eyes are up here," she whispered sexily, and guided his hand to her breast. With his other hand he ripped his shirt open.

Pocahontas gasped and retreated. "What happened!"

"What? What are you talking about?"

Gently she ran her hands over his bandages. "You got shot again!"

"Again? Whaddyou mean, again? I'm still recovering from that last bullet."

"I had no idea. It's been years."

"Years in three-dee time, but in us time…"

"Isn't three years enough to recover?"

"Three… Pocahontas, what are you talking about?" he repeated. "It hasn't been three years. It hasn't been one. It hasn't been a bloody week. I think you're confused."

"I'm confused? No. I…" She sat back, horror on her face.

"What's wrong?"

She took a few breaths. "Nothing. Nothing. Does it hurt you?"

"Got used to it after a few months in three-dee time. Also this stuff you gave me," he added, pulling out the pouch of willow-bark extract. "I positively mainline this stuff. And it never runs out because it didn't in the movie."

She swallowed heavily and nodded, making a little squeak of assent in her throat. "Are you good to…"

"Oh, lord, yes."

Pocahontas swan-dived forward and locked her lips onto his again. He frowned and pushed her back, even as she fought him. "Pocahontas – look at me…" She did, begrudgingly. "What aren't you saying?"

She started to cry again. "I thought you were dead…"

He smiled. "I'm not." He hugged her tight to his chest. She buried her head into his shoulder. "It's all right. It's all right. We're together."

"I want you so bad."

"What?"

And they had sex. It was really, really good.

Gaston was furious. He seized his musket and strode out into the hall like Jack from The Shining. Or Gaston from Beauty and the Beast. "BELLE! Come on out here, BELLE! I'm finished with your games! You have humiliated me for the last time!"

Belle and Adam sat up abruptly. Gaston's every word was audible. Adam cast around for a potential exit.

"What are you doing?" Belle hissed. "Let's go out there! Let's go out there and…"

"No."

"Really? Really?" Belle stomped her foot. "Then I'm going out there."

Adam tackled her. "No."

They wrestled for a bit, until Gaston was inaudible, and Adam let her up. She immediately slapped him.

"Ow."

"Oh, man up. What the hell was that?"

"You know he would have done you in if you'd gone out there and said what you were intending to say."

"I can take care of myself!"

"He had a gun!"

Belle took a deep breath. She tilted her head back and put one hand to her forehead. "Ok." She pulled out her cell phone.

"What's that for?"

"Shut up. Tiana, hey, it's Belle. Yeah, I saw you girls in the audience. I had no idea you were coming! That's great! What are you up to now? …Club Neverland? Oh, thanks, sweetie, that sounds perfect. Give me two minutes to get ready and I'll meet you in the lobby." She dug through her luggage, pulled out a shiny gold dress, and disappeared into the bathroom.

"Where you going?"

"Out!"

"Be careful."

"You be careful, you big baby."

She emerged after a few seconds, completely made over thanks to the two-dee magic. Her hair was down and curled, her eyes were smoky, and her mouth was red. Her dress hugged her thin form and ended a few inches below the curve of her buttocks. The sweetheart neckline was tight enough that her small breasts stood at full attention and the little off-shoulder sleeves were a lovely homage to her most famous gown. Matching gold stilettos made her legs look a mile long. Adam's physical response was instantaneous. "Hey, you don't have to go. Come on. Stay here with me. I missed you."

Belle laughed at him. "A coward and a gentleman. I'll be back eventually."

"Be careful," he called lamely as the door swung shut.

"How is it possible we've never done that before?" whispered John Smith.

They were lying in each other's arms staring at the contrast between their skin colours. John was naturally very fair. His years of adventure had darkened him up some, but he was still pale even by English standards. He reddened easily, too, which Pocahontas thought was just adorable.

She was a different story. There was nothing but the most minute of changes from her face to her neck to her chest to her flat stomach, even and brown as mahogany. Their hair swirled together, too; Smith had often felt like a child, with such a yellow halo, whereas what hung from her head was nothing but perfection. She thought his hair was wild and carefree, with its crude cut and tufts, so unlike the fierce lines favoured by the Algonquin men. They spent whole days on their hair, if allowed, plucking and snipping and combing. She couldn't imagine John ever having spent more than a few seconds on his hair, and that somehow turned her on.

"I… love you," he said, for the first time in so long. She raised her eyebrows and looked at the ceiling. Not the appropriate response. Smith sat up. "So now you have to tell me about that business before. What did you mean, three years?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter. You're right. I was confused."

"Yeah right. Pocahontas, be straight. There is a reason you were scared to see me."

She pulled up the blankets protectively. "They don't have us ending up together."

"Oh, come off it. You're really going to play by their rules? You're not on duty. What's it to them?" He kissed her bare shoulder. "They would have us ending up together if they were to make a sequel."

Pause. "Y-yeah."

"Uh-huh. Spit it out. What aren't you telling me?"

Pocahontas took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes tight, and whispered: "You can take those bandages off."

"Why?"

"You don't need them anymore. You're fine. You've been fine for a long time." She began to undo them with such purpose that he didn't stop her, and when they fell away to reveal a completely healed wound, he gasped.

"What the fuck is that?"

"Yes! They never told you… you were fine? Assholes. Come on. Let's shower. Then after we can hang out or something."

John still thought she was withholding, but he wasn't going to say no to a shower with her. Plus, with those bandages, he hadn't bathed properly for about fifteen years, three-dee time.

Gaston's rampage had carried him out to the grounds. He needed to kill something, badly, but there was nothing forthcoming. Not even bats, or birds. So when he came upon Nala, taking a solitary stroll while Simba was talking emergency logistics with Deminda, he saw a chance.

"Hey gorgeous, hope you enjoy life on my wall," he hissed. He didn't really care that she was an endangered species, or a mother. Actually, in fairness to him, he probably didn't even realize it was a lioness, and a talking one at that, but then again that probably wouldn't have stopped him. So he cocked the gun and…

"Hey! Don't!"

It was that kid, Alex or whatever his name was. Gaston lowered his gun and rounded in the direction of that namby-pamby voice.

For his part, Adam had given the order instinctively, and panicked immediately as the moonlight glinted off the barrel of the gun – but Belle's words came back to him, and he tried to man up. The same woman that had brought him to gentleness now pushed him away from it. He thought of her and felt strong.

"Don't what, you pathetic little speck? You're going to try to stop me?"

"I am."

He paced closer to Adam. "And just who do you think you are?"

"Find your girl?"

Gaston reddened. "Don't you worry about me. My girl's just fine."

"Why lie? I heard you. We all heard you."

Gaston tossed the musket aside and took a fighting stance. "I'm warning you…"

"Can't you figure it out? Not only did you lose her. You never had her."

And so, Gaston punched him in the face. Adam reeled and collected his thoughts. Then, he lunged.

Adam realized he'd been severely underestimating his abilities. He'd fought wolves. That sort of skill isn't forgotten. That being said, Gaston's body was ridiculous, and while Adam was by no means pathetic, it became clear that Gaston outmatched him by a slight margin.

Until Adam tripped over a tree root, and the margin skyrocketed. Gaston pinned his shoulder to the ground with his foot and laughed in his face. Adam struggled in vain. The man was a redwood tree. With a flash, Gaston had whipped him around, grabbed his hair, and lifted him up, ready to bash his head into the tree. Adam raised his hands to absorb the blow and managed to get his feet under him—

"RARRRRRRR!"

Gaston disappeared into a ball of teeth and fur, and eventually Simba managed to pin him.

"I've had enough of you!"

"Get off me, pussy, or you're gonna get it."

"I find that hard to believe. RARRR."

"Simba, please!"

Simba looked back at Adam reassuringly. "It's cool, man, I got it."

"No, I got it."

Gaston drove his knee up into Simba's belly. Simba reacted with another roar. He clamped down on Gaston's shoulder – just enough to get a grip, not take his arm off – and shook him a bit until he was good and dazed.

"Let him up," Adam commanded. He was holding Gaston's musket. Simba backed off and Gaston sat up. Without another word, Adam wrenched the chamber open and emptied the bullets into his hand before tossing them into the dark forest. Then he held out the musket for him to take. Gaston managed to stand and closed his hand around the barrel. He raised his leg to bash Adam's knee, but his reflexes were still sluggish, and Adam had time to slam the gun into Gaston's head. Gaston fell to the ground, completely unconscious.

They regarded his body for a few seconds. "Is he… dead?" asked Simba shakily.

"Naw. You can't kill Disney characters with blunt trauma. And anyway, it's not canon, so..."

"Right. Forgot."

"Yeah. Well, thanks again," said Adam, clearly annoyed. He licked the blood off his lips angrily.

"Sorry, man. But he was about to smash your head into a tree."

"Yeah, I know, I know. I don't want to sound ungrateful. You're a good guy. I had it covered, is all. 'Kay. Um… will you be back to the room tonight?"

"Me? No. Nala and I will probably just find a place to crash outside."

"Oh. Good." Adam started to walk away with Gaston's musket, looking a bit worse-for-wear, but less awkward than Simba had ever seen him look before.

"Oh hey, Adam?" Adam turned. "Did your girl come?"

"Yeah. Yeah," he said, a triumphant grin spreading over his face. He looked down at Gaston's sleeping form. "She did."

Simba rejoined Nala, who was dozing pleasantly in the grass, unaware of what had just happened. She smiled at him lazily. "So who are you rooming with?"

"His name is Adam… but I'm starting to think I don't know anything about him."

John Smith and Pocahontas had got themselves comfortably sat in a tree before he broached the subject again. She went red immediately, but there were no evasive tactics. "I… made a terrible mistake."

He smiled. "How bad could it have been?"

"There's a reason you were healed and didn't know it, and why my being here is not exactly ok."

"Tell me."

She closed her eyes and tried to gather strength from the rustling of the leaves, but she couldn't hear them over the accusatory cries in her head. So she opened her eyes and took a deep, trembling breath. "They did make a sequel. It took place three years later."

He scowled. "No, they didn't make a sequel."

"They did. And I suppose they didn't tell you about it. John…" she took his hands, and then let them go – he wouldn't want to be touching her when he knew the truth. "They had me end up with… someone else."

First, he laughed. When she didn't reciprocate, he got very quiet. Then he seemed to forget he was in a tree and started to slide sideways.

"John!" she cried, and grabbed his arm.

"Mm?" he replied absent-mindedly. Then he started to pick his way down. Pocahontas followed him, her heart pounding. Suddenly he stopped and turned to face her.

"Are you serious?"

"…Yes. I'm so serious it hurts. I can't stand how serious this is." Her voice caught in her throat; she was crying. "And I'm so, so sorry." Without another word, John Smith resumed his descent. "Where are you going?"

"To see this sequel, obviously. I need to know what atrocity they committed that would have us ending up anywhere but together."

"I don't think…"

"Are you coming or not?"

She obliged, panicking, and they went off to find Deminda O'Kelly.

Seriously, FUCK THE SEQUELS!

And now, let's hear from one of our readers. EverlastingFlower96 says: Put Clopin as a contestant. PLEASE! *puppy eyes* I want Clopin in it as a contestant! ^_^

That's a different contest entirely, EF96. The one you're thinking of is called the Mr. Secretly Gay Exposition Device Pageant Competition. Contestants are: Clopin, Kikata, Cogsworth, Rafiki, Chifu, Sebastian, The Coked Up Merchant from Aladdin, That Fucking Elephant, and… actually, Hercules probably qualifies for this one too. (Hey! Hey! It was Ancient Greece! Ok. Fine. Jeez. Hermes can have his slot. Happy?)

But if you like Clopin, allow me to direct your attention to my Hunchback fic entitled "The Meatpuppeteer"!