Hello lovelies! :) I feel my greetings are so peppy even though updates are so far apart! :O Alas, I hope you enjoy another glimpse into their life!

Happy Reading!

Summary: In which it's Belle's turn to feel that thing we call jealousy.
Number of years married: 2
Sons: 1
Daughters: 0


~:~ In all the proper sense of the word ~:~

Gaston saw a figure step into his peripheral vision. He stepped out of the way, thinking they were wanting to browse the table. But he noticed they did not move. He faintly turned his head and saw pink frills. He turned back to the eggs.

And tried not to roll his eyes at the giant happy sigh to his left.

"Monsieur Gaston," she greeted. She paused a moment but when he didn't do more than slightly lift his eyebrows - not even looking in her direction, mind you - she continued. "How fortunate I ran into you here."

He could see her wave across the market to someone. He counted the eggs in front of him.

Her hand touched his upper arm. He tensed but she didn't notice. She squeezed his arm. "My, it's such a pity you didn't marry one of my girls. A strong man like you, oh, you could have had the finest wife in all of Villeneuve."

He did nothing more than raise his eyebrows again and offer an uninterested half-smile. There were twenty-six eggs.

"In fact, I know the first few years of marriage are tough. Oh, I left my husband in that time. He never could commit to such a sophisticated woman. But you, you're the type of man who can." Her finger swiped at his forearm. "Should you tire of your homely wife, my eldest has long admired you. She would make a fine, lovely, sophisticated wife."

He saw her step away… only to be replaced by another pink frilly figure. He sighed. Hm, one of the eggs had a crack down the middle.

Mademoiselle Pink Frill cleared her throat. "Monsieur Gaston?"

He should have brought Nathie along instead of leaving him with Maurice. If he had his son, people would either flock to him to comment on Nathie's pudginess or leave him alone entirely. None of this attempted-wooing of a married man business. He grunted but didn't speak.

She twirled her hair and slightly pouted when he didn't look at her. "Monsieur Gaston, my mother tells me you tire of your odd wife." She reached up and touched his shoulder.

He stepped back from the eggs and away from her. He finally turned to her-

Across the way, Belle looked up from the jams she was browsing, a blackberry jar in her hand. She skimmed the crowd for Gaston as she did every so often. He had been with the ribbons last she saw him… Where was he now…?

A barely audible gasp left her at the sight!

One of those overfrilled bimbos had her hand on his arm! And the other hand was flirtingly twirling her hair! Belle narrowed her eyes at the girl's overly animated expressions as if whatever her husband was talking about was the most exciting idea in the world. Oh, she had half a mind to march over to that petty pink frill bimbo and plant her fist right on her nose!

She could not believe Gaston hadn't stepped away or told her to leave him alone. Her heart stuttered and she grew nervous suddenly. The question of his loyalty to her began to brew in her mind...

Then the moment of their parting in the market came back to her, and her cheeks warmed. He had kissed her hand, declaring his deep love for her, and acted as if they were to be parted by the sea. She had laughed and realized how happy she had become since falling in love. Belle sighed and shook her head. It was truly foolish of her to think he would betray her love.

But with the loud pest's abhorrent laugh, ooh, Belle's mind turned with bubbling ideas. She glanced down at one of the jam jars on the table. She gripped it and turned it over in her hand... contemplating. She thought of changing her previous idea to one in which she would fling the jar across the square - satisfyingly hitting the brat right in the face. Either way, Belle has been told she has got a good arm. Much to her denial later, her lips did curl into a clever smile as she imagined the jar hitting its target.

In the midst of her daydream, she had gripped the jar too tightly-

She let out a surprised yelp and dropped the broken pieces. She froze on the spot, a deep red flush filling her cheeks.

Gaston looked toward the commotion across the square and spotted Belle looking quite - and also much to her denial later - distressed. He bid the girl goodbye with one last remark: "As sophisticated as you pretend to be, you cannot deny the cobwebs upstairs," he bid before crossing the square. He was nearly to the tent before he heard her shriek at the insult.

He stepped up to the scene-

One broken jam jar. One startled Carlotta scrambling around for a cloth. One palm covered in what he hoped to be blackberry juice. And one exceedingly embarrassed Belle.

"Oh Belle! Are you sure you're alright?" Carlotta asked for what probably was the tenth time.

Belle awkwardly laughed. "Yes, yes, it was my mistake, Carlotta. Please, don't trouble yourself. I'll do it." She took the rag only to see it taken from her own grasp by Gaston. But before she had a chance to argue, cold water was poured onto her skin. The blackberry juice ran down her hand, but then she gasped at a sharp sting. She sighed in defeat at the piece of glass near her thumb.

"I'll tend to her, Monsieur," Carlotta interrupted. She handed him the cloth. "But may you pick up the broken pieces?"

Gaston nodded.


What felt like an eternity later for Belle, they were finally en route back to her father's. Her face was still hot and her hand was sore. She glanced at the jam jar Gaston turned over in his hand as they walked - Carlotta had insisted she take one free of charge despite Belle's protests.

"Now-"

Belle closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"What in the name of sanity happened?" Gaston asked. "It isn't like you to vandalize the market."

"Vandalize?" she said somewhat offended. "Well, it isn't like you to entertain that bimbo for so long- even at all!" She cringed – she hadn't meant to let that slip out, especially like that.

"That bimbo?" he said, a bit confused… then he began to chuckle.

She scowled and quickened her pace. "Oh, so this is funny to you?"

"It's amusing," he admitted.

"Amusing?" she said, finding even more offense in this word.

He hummed, "That my wife is jealous, yes, yes it is."

She swiveled on her heel and flung the bag of groceries against his shoulder - never fear, he didn't get any eggs - before continuing on her huffing-and-puffing way. "I am not jealous."

He continued to chuckle. His fingers brushed against her bandaged hand. "So was this a casualty from your not-jealousy?" he teased.

She snatched it away. "No." She scowled at his 'likely story' hum. "I was not jealous," she repeated – perhaps the more bitter it sounded, the more believable it would be.

"No?" He caught her waist. "Are you sure? You do seem tense."

She huffed. "Yes, I'm sure. I am not jealous. What is there to be jealous of?" she asked incredulously and even a little pitchy.

"I agree."

She suddenly stopped and turned, and he almost ran into her. "What?"

He grinned that grin she didn't like. "The answer to your question. You know there is no one in this world that can hold a candle to your beauty, your intelligence. No one. You are perfect as you are, and you know how much I find smart women attractive."

Belle snorted at his words for they might have been a slight exaggeration. She gave him an amused yet scolding smile, "Okay, you've made your point."

He caught her hand and pulled her to him. "My Belle. My darling Belle. How you surprise me."

"Surprise you?" she asked, slightly incredulous.

"Yes, with your jealousy of these peasant women."

She glared at that grin again. She huffed through her nose and her mouth was in a fat pout-y line.

"It's amusing," he repeated with a fond look. He took up her hand and kissed her knuckle, "In all the proper sense of the word."


Le Bimbettes, haha

Thank you all again! See you next time! :D