The Candle and the Duster
[A/N] A Lumiere and Babette love fic. One-shot. Sorry, I'm not too good with romance. Rated PG for the one cuss word. Please review! =)
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Nasty and bitchy, I was. Rather handsome and flirty was he.
I can remember when I first arrived in this castle. I never knew those three years later that I would be nothing more than a mere feather duster. I guess ... you are what you do? No, that makes no sense.
But the love of my life ... at least he became that at least three months before this extreme transformation. He became a candlestick. Oh, of all things! He'd set me aflame if he touched me, and me ... me, with no arms to comfort him. To embrace him ... to tell him that everything would be alright ... someday ...
He used to be the only one I could be able to communicate and fully understand in the castle, way before I loved that fool. I used to speak very little English, and a whole lot of French.
But I hated him then. So it didn't do any good ... I was a REAL chienne. A bitch.
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One word I knew, and pretended not to understand at times, was 'shut up.'
And I'd use it daily. Because Lumiere and Cogsworth could never stop fighting. Or learn to shut up for once. They were men, for crying out loud. Grown men!
It was a shame they couldn't have living quarters in any other wing. The whole castle staff resided here, in the East Wing.
Their arguments were only pacified when they were around the Master. That was until Lumiere had brought his girlfriend Chantelle to live with him. She stayed for at least three weeks, bothering me in the hall day after day when Lumiere was at work. She'd say how women shouldn't be mopping floors, that they should be treated as equals. I guess the dumb blonde did not realize that I chose this job, and I'm paid for it, rather fairly.
The day that she left was when Lumiere spoke to me rather fairly. He must have known that I heard the fights days before this day. But it was strange, because the only time I talked to him before was when he accidentally stepped on the wet floor and slipped.
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"Gauche imbecile." (Clumsy fool) I said with a smirk.
"Je bidon comprendre vous, tu savoir." (I can understand you, you know.) He said with a frown, getting to his feet. I grinned sarcastically back,
"Non besoin pour traduction donc." (No need for translation then.) And I continued to mop.
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Myself however; I maintained my bratty self, even though he was talking to me kindly. I guess I should have been nicer to him then.
He said that he would like to help me learn some English. I simply said, "Moi faire non besoin vos aide."(I don't need your help.) I must have said it rather mean, because he disappeared for a few days but came back well before the fourth night since.
Within the next month, I learned enough to say enough for people to understand me. I would tell him the things I mean to tell people, even 'Watch what you're doing, stupid.' Lumiere said I should drop the stupid, and I did. But only to earn some respect. I called him stupid whenever I felt like it.
It was that one afternoon in August when it happened. The rain lashed the windows and thunder was rumbling across the grounds.
"We should stop." I said abruptly.
He looked puzzled, "Why, don't you want to learn more - - -"
"It's not that." I cut him off, "It's ... Well, I think I may be in ..." It was practically the one word I have never learnt from him, so I said it in French. "- - in amore' ..." I said quietly. He stared at me thoughtfully for a moment, a moment that felt like forever. I couldn't stay any longer.
I was about to get up. And run. I wanted to hide in my room, and forget all about him.
I had been hurt before. And you'd think that it would have taught me a lesson in men.
But I felt like I was truly in love with Lumiere. My heart felt warm inside whenever I heard his voice. But, being truly in love can also lead to truly having your heart split in two. It's happened before to me. I should know better.
But when he slowly approached me, brushing my hair away from my face, I knew it was love. And I was crying.
Real romantic, stupid. Crying?
I couldn't help it. I was confused.
He lowered his face to mine, my head in his hands. And I saw into his eyes. His fair blue eyes ... I felt that I could look into them forever.
"I love you too, Babette." He whispered. I smiled.
He kissed me on the lips then and there. For the first time, I knew that I was truly in love.
And that he was a good kisser.
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