A/N: My thanks to reviewers - bellamegs, TrudiRose (bless you for all you do!), Dutch FF-lover, xxooEriklovesChristinexxoo, Knux girl, magistrix mundi (I hope I'm spelling all the names right, LOL), shortstef, Lyndsi05, Imaginarylady, Maran Zelde, BookRose, nikkibelle18, and C.J. Bozievich! Now the common ground here in all reviews was Babs, and I aim to please. Remember to keep names and switched images of the guys correct, LOL. This is where it may start to get confusing. :-) Enjoy!

Chapter Three

Days of celebration and gathering were neither sane nor easy on the nerves; no one in the castle would ever deny that. Work and preparations doubled, even tripled when a party was planned, and with so many throughout the year, everyone had grown accustomed to the madness quickly. That was not the cause of confusion at all. The true cause was Cogsworth and Lumière, and how they seemed to be…not themselves, to put it mildly. Their different appearances could be dismissed as a "change in the air," however odd they were, but something entirely about them was not right. When Lumière was the one correcting the tiniest out-of-place detail and Cogsworth praising every job well done, the staff was completely convinced that the men had to be ill.

That afternoon in the dining room confirmed the insanity. In the kitchen, peeking out from the door, Mrs. Potts and Babette observed the scene before them with concern.

"Move that silverware up a bit more," Lumière ordered, passing by one servant. As he passed another, he said, "You missed a speck of dust on this plate."

The young man examined the plate thoroughly before he looked at Lumière confused. "I do not see anything, monsieur."

"Look closer, there," Lumière said pointing to the so-called speck.

"I still do not see it."

Lumière huffed an irritated sigh before he picked up a napkin and cleaned the plate himself. "Must I do everything?" he muttered as he walked on, continuing about his fickle orders, before Cogsworth stepped forward.

"All right everyone, that is enough for now," he called pleasantly. "You have all done a wonderful job, and a rest is in order."

"I beg to differ," Lumière contradicted. "Their duties are far from complete; the master's guests demand perfection."

Cogsworth nodded, nonchalantly. "And my…your staff has met such that demand. I say they may rest."

"And I repeat, their work is not finished; look at these settings!" Lumière said, gesturing to the one before him. "These glasses for example, they are all wrong," he added, moving the glass out of place. "There, that is more like it."

Cogsworth slowly reached for the same glass, returning it to where it was. "On the contrary, it was in the right place the first time," he argued.

Lumière, however, moved it back to where he had put it. "No, it goes here."

"Trust me, mon…my friend," Cogsworth stuttered, moving the glass again. "It goes where I say it goes."

Lumière glared at him, moving it back. "I have watched you do…I mean, I have done this numerous times; I know what I am doing."

"No, you do not," Cogsworth growled adamantly, moving the glass one final time. "It goes there, end of discussion. Now as head of this household, I demand that you and your staff take a rest. You all have a busy evening ahead of you, and until then, your work here is done."

Frowning at him angrily, Lumière shoved his way passed Cogsworth, leaving the room without another word. Cogsworth, in the meantime, took a seat in the corner, glancing at the menu Lumière had been working on while the rest of the staff dispersed, utterly puzzled by what they had seen.

Babette quietly let the door close as she and Mrs. Potts returned to fixing a few dishes of food.

"Talk about, how you say, an 'off day,'" the young maid murmured.

"Of all days to have one," Mrs. Potts agreed, shaking her head. "It is as if they have taken over each other's lives."

"Unreal madness, that is what it is," Babette replied. "Dieu, I have never seen Lumière so dissatisfied over the tiniest things."

"I know, it's not like him at all! Cogsworth is usually the one who's so fussy," Mrs. Potts, said, tut-tutting. "But on a happier note, today Cogsworth himself seems to have gotten his impatience under control."

"What do you mean?"

Mrs. Potts leaned in, speaking quietly, as if she knew the secret of all secrets. "Do you know Paulette?"

"New girl, downstairs position, total clumsy oaf, oui."

"The poor girl was carrying buckets of water inside to scrub the ballroom floor, and tripped on the step at the doorway. The foyer was drenched!"

Babette's eyes widened, imagining Cogsworth's wrath. "Oh, non!"

"Yes," Mrs. Potts continued. "But Cogsworth only reassured her that it was an accident and helped everyone clean it up!"

"You must be kidding!"

"If I hadn't seen it with my very own eyes, I never would have believed it. Can you imagine?" She shook her head in bewilderment. "I don't know what's gotten into those two today, but it's certainly a puzzle!"

Babette looked thoughtful for a minute before she spoke. "Mrs. Potts, I know I promised I would help, and I will not break my word. But will you be all right here without me for a little while?"

"What are you plotting, dearie?" Mrs. Potts asked with a knowing smile.

"A way to get to the bottom of this," Babette answered honestly, mirroring the expression.

Mrs. Potts surveyed the work at hand before she nodded. "Everything will be fine, I'm sure. You go ahead and take a break. But do let me know what you find out!"

Babette nodded as she left. "I will, I promise!"

ooo

Cogsworth took a deep breath when he knew he was safely inside the sitting room. Only halfway through the first day of the curse and already he was about to go mad at his lack of situation control! This was not as easy as they had anticipated.

Sitting in a chair, Cogsworth only felt worse. Relaxing as a break was, he should not have been sitting around; they needed him! He had to be out and about keeping an eye on everyone to prevent anything else from happening!

With a determined nod, he rose from his seat, but only fell back into it when he was startled by the sudden realization that Babette was standing in front of him.

"Uh, umm," he stuttered, wanting to kick himself for such a stupid opening greeting, but his nerves were getting the best of him. What in heaven's name does Lumière always call her? "Ma…ma plumette!" That was it! "I-I d-did not hear you c-come in."

"You never do," Babette replied with a smirk, taking her usual place on the arm of the chair.

"Well, at least I did something right," Cogsworth muttered to himself, but a tad too loudly.

"What was that?" Babette asked.

He quickly smiled, thinking fast. "You are right, I never do, exactly right!"

Babette smiled alluringly as she began to slide from the chair's arm to Cogsworth's lap.

"No matter," she said. "Call it an enjoyable surprise."

As she was about to reach her destination, Cogsworth jumped from his seat, racing to get away as fast as he could, and leaving her to fall awkwardly into the empty place.

"Indeed…I mean, exactement!" he said, stumbling over both his French and yet another chair. There were far too many pieces of furniture in this room!

Babette grinned despite her confusion, sitting upright in the chair before rising from it.

"Then…shall we move on to the enjoyable part?" she asked, slinking sensuously in his direction.

When she reached her arms out to him, Cogsworth tried to overcome the sense of panic. The girl was relentless. What ever was he to do now? Noticing the closest chair, he grabbed it quickly, placing it between them to protect himself. Babette only knelt on the seat and completed what she set herself to do by drawing him close for a kiss, but he slipped away from her grasp.

Babette held onto the back to keep from falling as she turned to look at him.

"Lumière?" she asked, once again concerned. "Is something wrong?"

"No!" Cogsworth cried, nearly interrupting her with his hasty response. When she raised a disbelieving eyebrow, he smiled weakly. "No, non, not at all; why do you ask?"

Babette approached him, observing his reactions to her closely. "You have never behaved like this…unless you have something to hide," she said slowly. "You are not hiding anything are you, amour?"

"Hiding? Hiding, ha!" he laughed, blatantly nervous as he retreated in time with her advances. "What an idea, hiding! Babette, chérie, you need a tad more work to do to keep your mind from thinking so much!"

"'A tad more work?'" Babette repeated, stunned. Gently untying his cravat and loosening his collar button, she said, "Mon cher, I think you could stand for less work if that is what you believe. Cogsworth is having more of an influence on you than I thought yesterday."

As he gripped her wrists, firmly yet gently to not hurt her, Cogsworth fell serious. "Yesterday? What do you mean?"

"You do not remember?" she asked with a sly grin. "I warned you in the hallway: if you worry too much about him and his rambling, you might as well become him."

It took all of Cogsworth's strength to remain calm. "Forgive me, but I do not recall the conversation. What did I say in response?"

"How extra 'prim and proper' we are," Babette teased, freeing her hands to snake her arms around his waist. "I suppose I should start running for my life; that is what you told me to do should it happen."

"I doubt that will be necessary; there is no time for our…games at present," Cogsworth replied, mentally noting to give Lumière a sound thrashing the next time he saw him. Despite the pain he would feel after the return switch, Cogsworth knew it would be worth it.

As he tried to free himself from her grasp, he stopped as Babette held him close tightly; the girl was certainly stronger than she looked.

"Perhaps there will be if you had a reason to follow me, oui?" she whispered, at last claiming her kiss.

For a moment, Cogsworth's precious time stood still. In his younger days, he had indeed had the pleasure of courting a young lady, but never had he felt anything so remarkable as this. Much as he tried to resist enjoying it, he could not.

But even in Lumière's body, Cogsworth's mind overruled his emotions. Wonderful as it was, it was wrong, completely wrong. Time waited for no one, and he would not waste it reveling in such dishonorable feelings.

Forcing her away, Cogsworth looked at the young woman before him, truly sorry for the hurt and bewilderment he saw in her eyes. "Babette, please, not now."

Babette slowly released him from her embrace. "But of course," she said, her tone vehement. "There is work to do, I know."

"It is not that."

"Then what is it, Lumière?" she asked, quietly. "What is this sudden change that has made you so cold? What have we done to change you overnight? What have I done?"

"You have not done anything," Cogsworth insisted. "I wish I could explain, but you must understand that…I am just not myself right now."

"Everyone has seen that," she said sarcastically.

"Babette please!" he pleaded. "Right now, there is work to do."

"Work!" she cried. "Since when is work all you care about? I know it is important, especially on a day like today, but everything is in order. Cogsworth said it himself, and if that is not reassuring, I do not know what is. I never thought I would say this, but learn from his example!"

"As a matter of fact I have!" Cogsworth shouted. "In case you failed to notice, he is also not himself today, and therefore is unable to follow his belief that work comes before pleasure. One shall not accept any less than perfection before indulging in personal delights, and if I were you, I would highly consider taking heed of that yourself! Now we will discuss everything later, do I make myself clear?"

Babette glared at him, dreadfully pained, so much that the sight was enough to make him cringe. Like the rest of staff, Cogsworth was well aware that Lumière and Babette had many lovers' quarrels, but he had never seen such an expression mar her lovely features.

"Why bother?" she asked, her voice shaking from oncoming tears. "In fact, perhaps we should not speak until you come to your senses about what is important to you: work or us."

Cogsworth was about to speak, but Babette did not give him the chance as she ran to the door, sobbing as she left. Lowering his head like a dog that had been kicked, Cogsworth sat down with a guilty sigh. He had not meant to hurt her, nor did he want to. She did not know the truth after all. But he could not lie to her or himself, playacting so intimately when he was not who she thought he was. Either way, she would have been hurt.

Later, he would apologize, of that he was certain. In the meantime, he took a deep breath and rose to leave, thinking over everything from what he would say to her, as well as Lumière. He would no doubt find out about this, and give Cogsworth a piece of his mind later. And rightfully so, Cogsworth thought with a defeated sigh of realization. But that would come later; right now, there were still work to be done.