Rumour Mill

Adam looked over at Belle, who was still gamely reading even though it was long past midnight.

"Darling?"

"I'm almost finished with this chapter," she said.

"You said that an hour ago."

"I'm on a different chapter now."

"Belle! It's past an hour after midnight!"

She shut the book, pouting in that way she only did when she was teasing him. "And here I thought you loved my eccentric reading habits."

"You know what they'll think, the two of us up so late, unchaperoned."

Belle actually laughed out loud. "The wedding is in two days, sweetheart. Do they think that if we're left alone for as much as five minutes, I'll magically produce a child seven months after the wedding instead of nine - despite neither of us so much as touching the other, might I add?"

"They're just worried," Adam said. "They know I was … well, you know." Belle did, in fact, know - the morning after the curse, both of them had had a long, frank discussion about each other's pasts.

She hummed thoughtfully. "Come over here," she said, patting the space beside her. Once he shuffled over, she manhandled him so that his head rested on her lap as she read.

"I could sleep like this," he said.

"Good. If they're going to talk, let's give them something to talk about."

I Know You

The Beast had transformed. They had kissed - one magical, earth-shattering kiss. And then, much to Belle's embarrassment, she had burst into tears.

"Belle!" the young man said, rubbing her shoulders soothingly. "It's alright, I'm here. I'm alright."

"Are - are you sure?" Belle sobbed. "Because I'm pretty - pretty sure you got shot in the back three times - three times, my - my dear, dear -"

She had dissolved into tears again, and the Beast - the prince, she supposed - pulled her close against his chest. She heard the strong beat of his heart, and it was inconceivable that less than a minute ago she had heard it stop, seemingly forever.

But here he stood, kissing the top of her head and stroking her hair.

Eventually, she calmed down enough to stop sobbing, although a few stray tears still fell. "I'm sorry - I'm normally never like this."

"I know," he said, and it was less an assurance of her emotional state than a proclamation that he did know her.

Marital Bliss

Belle and Adam broke away from each other, and the congregation exploded with cheers. Maurice, a few steps away, had whipped out a handkerchief. Lefou and Stanley, along with the other villagers, were on their feet cheering. The castle servants were just as joyful, and on cue the maids opened the balcony doors to the wide sunlight, as Belle and Adam smiled and nodded their thanks to Pere Robert for marrying them.

The gold ring, adorned with a luminescent opal, was nowhere near as ornate as Belle had feared it would be. The matching thick band on Adam's hand seemed to suit him immensely - and Belle was hit with the realisation that she would get to see that ring on his finger every day for the rest of their lives. They walked sedately to the balcony, having been prepared by Cogsworth the night before.

"The Crown Prince, Louis-Alexandre Vincent Adam Christophe, and his bride, the Crown Princess, Marie-Isabelle Beaumont!"

"It's going to be loud out there, darling," he said - their first words as husband and wife. "Are you ready?"

"For you, dear husband? Always."

He smiled that blinding smile she had seen more and more as she got to know him, and they stepped out on the balcony together, to greet the people of France.

Let it Snow

Belle slowly walked away from Phillippe and the Beast, once she was sure that her horse wouldn't rear up again. The look of wonder on his face as he slowly petted the horse … there was an earnestness in there that Belle instinctively recognised as private. She hadn't missed the reflexive gasp he'd made when she moved his paw onto Phillippe, nor the almost shy look he'd given her out the corner of his eye. It was out of character for the grumpy, snobbish Beast to act so hesitantly – both towards Phillippe, and Belle herself.

How long has it been since he was touched – or touched someone else? she wondered as she started climbing the steps. The servants obviously couldn't touch him – most of them didn't even have limbs. And all animal life was absent from the castle, besides the wolves that hung around the woods outside. She had never directly asked the servants where the meat and vegetables she ate came from, but she suspected it had something to do with the curse that hung over them all.

Kind of the person that cursed him, to ensure he wouldn't starve, she scoffed. She pulled the hood of the red cloak over her head as the cold began to sink in again. The eternal winter – or at least, Belle assumed it was eternal – was another mystery in itself. Even though she was dying to know all the castle's secrets, she knew that they were entitled to their privacy.

Belle stopped at the little balcony which led back into the castle, and was already covered in a thick blanket of snow. Yesterday it had been completely bare, and the snow had only begun that morning. She picked up a loose handful of the stuff, an almost painful sensation sinking into her palm. Belle glanced back over at the Beast and Phillippe, who seemed to be getting along much better now. The wonder in his eyes had been overtaken by a deep melancholy, and she could see him sigh and shake his head.

Oh, God, he's serious – too serious for a man supposedly my age, Belle thought. Without really thinking about it, she let the powdery snow fly loose from her hand, striking him dead in the shoulder.

The look of disbelief and shattered dignity on the Beast's face was enough to send Belle into a fit of laughter. He bent down and scooped up an armful of snow, patting it into one large snowball. He hefted it up, and sent it soaring, overarm, directly towards Belle.

Belle had time to think, Oh dear, before it struck her in the face and sent her flying back. She could hear his chuckle from the ground below, and hopped back up once she had her breath back.

"I hope you realise this means war!" she shouted, huddling below the little wall as she began stockpiling snowballs.

"Bring it on!" he laughed – or rather, began to laugh. Belle had darted up and chucked a snowball directly at his face, and the Beast let out a most undignified squawk at the shock.

"Come on, then!" she laughed.

Mrs. Potts was torn between laughter and a scolding when, half an hour later, both Belle and the Beast were stood sheepishly in the main hall dripping wet, snow still on her hair and his fur.

Not A Romance

Adam was only half-paying attention to the words on the page when he noticed Belle staring at him. He tried to ignore it and immerse himself further into the world of The Wife of Bath's Tale (it was not a romance if Arthur and Guinevere only featured as Gawain's deus ex machina), but he could still feel her eyes on him.

After several minutes of reading the same paragraph, he placed the book on the side table and turned to face her. "What is it?" he asked, with fond exasperation.

"Oh, nothing," Belle said, with that maddening little half-smile she wore sometimes. "It's just cute when you blush."

"I – I do not –" he spluttered. Now that she had pointed it out, however, he was acutely aware of his hot face. Silently cursing his colouring for showing any emotion as a rush of blood, Adam picked the book up again.

"You do," Belle grinned. "Oh, come on, dear, don't sulk."

Adam laid the book down and quirked an eyebrow – something he knew Belle couldn't do, which drove her insane.

She laughed again, setting her own book aside and gracefully sitting beside him on the little sofa. Adam marked the place and laid The Wife of Bath down, laying one arm over her shoulders. Belle ran her fingers through the hair near his temples, and he hummed lightly. He leaned his head down, playfully (and carefully) knocking his forehead against hers. A smile curved over his lips, and he still couldn't quite believe his luck as Belle pulled him into a kiss. His hand stayed by her waist and shoulder, and hers by his face and neck; their kisses had lost the intense heat of the first few days post-curse, although not the passion.

As they pulled away, he leant forwards once more to steal another chaste kiss from her lips, and Belle chuckled quietly. She leaned over him to pick her book up again – Adam only realised a moment too late that she'd left her book on the other chair.

"The Wife of Bath's Tale?" she asked, a wry grin on her face. "Dear, I thought you disliked romances?"

"I – well, actually, it's about Gawain's adventure with the Loathly Lady–"

"You're blushing again," Belle said with obvious glee. "All these months I thought you were some serious, grim man, and you blush as quickly as a –"

The rest of her sentence was lost in a playful shriek when Adam scooped her up, book and all, and hefted her halfway across the room like a bride.

Realisations

Belle watched in helpless fury from the inside of the wagon as Gaston and what seemed like half the village rode off to the castle. She grasped the bars and shook them violently, knowing even as she did so that it would make no difference. Even when she had been in the prison cell, the day she first met the Beast, she hadn't been so helpless – there had always been the option, near-suicidal though it might have been, of attempting the leap from the wall-less cell to the platform several feet across, despite the looming darkness beneath. But in the tight space of the wagon, Belle couldn't even stand up straight, let alone force her way out.

She slumped back onto her heels in defeat, trying her best not to think about what might happen to the servants in the castle once Gaston arrived. It had been a stupid decision on her part, and she had realised it as soon as Gaston started talking over her, but Belle couldn't let him take her father away when he was innocent.

Maurice himself shuffled forwards, laying a hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, Belle," he said soothingly.

"No, it's not!" she cried out. "I have to warn the Beast that he's coming – Papa, if something happens to him and it's my fault –"

"Warn him?" Maurice's eyebrows shot up. "You just got away from him!"

"No, Papa – I didn't get away. He let me go." She could still remember the pain in his eyes as he did so. It had clearly cost him something to release her. And she was repaying him by sending an angry mob of people right to his doorstep.

"That – that creature who imprisoned me? Who took you from me?"

"Papa …" Belle said, turning towards him and taking his hands in hers. His fingers were still like blocks of ice, and she rubbed them gently. "He – he was wrong to do that. I'm not making an excuse for him. But he's not a creature, and he's not a monster."

"Then what is he?" Maurice asked, humouring her.

"Honestly? He's a grumpy, ridiculous book snob."

Maurice laughed, as she hoped he would.

"He reads romance novels and enjoys them – not that he'd ever admit it. He likes dancing, and put up with my terrible waltz. He laughs at my jokes, even the bad ones. He makes truly awful puns. He pretends to be serious and grim, but he's really just a little bit up himself. And …"

"You're in love with him," Maurice realised.

Belle sucked in a breath. Had it been so obvious, just from one short conversation? She hadn't realised herself until the moment the Beast let her go how deep her feelings ran. But she had said nothing at the time – saving Maurice had been her priority. And look how well that turned out, she thought.

"I have to help him," she said, looking her father in the eye.

"It'll be dangerous," Maurice said.

"Yes. Yes, it will." she said.

Belle could see the instant that her father got an idea. "I could try picking the lock?" he suggested. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Thank you," she said, and meant it.

To Have and to Hold

The Beast placed the pile of books down on the table, rolling his shoulders subtly as he did so. The library hadn't exactly needed categorising – he kept things pretty well-organised, if he said so himself – but seven years was long enough for any system to become a little cluttered. He and Belle had been attacking the shelves for three days now, and had moved from economic history to social history in that time. Originally, they had sorted the books into two piles – the correct shelf, and the incorrect. After Belle's eyes had lit up at the third book she'd picked up, they had added a third pile – to-be-read.

He smiled fondly, walking back to Belle, halfway up the ladder. Sorting through the books had helped him remember some of his own old favourites, and he'd shown some of them to Belle. She'd wrinkled her nose at some of them (and even he had to admit that his tastes were a little dry at times), but others had kept her fingers lingering on the cover.

She had only given the Beast half of the pile in her arms to carry to the table, and even as he walked over she was still adding books. She went up another rung of the ladder, reaching up for another book just out of reach.

The next few seconds passed at almost painful slowness. One of her feet slipped on the polished wood of the rung. Stretched up as she was, Belle overbalanced, the other foot losing its grip as well. She began to fall backwards, the ten or so books in her other arm careening out of her arms in all directions.

He wasn't sure how he crossed the few feet that separated them – whether it was magic, physics, or merely his own physical speed. But before Belle had time to do anything other than let out a gasp, she was safely in the Beast's arms, the books clattering abandoned on the floor. He carried her a few steps away from the ladder on instinct, tightening around her back and knees where he had Belle in a bridal hold. Her fingers had twisted into his shirt, and the Beast was acutely aware of both their racing hearts.

"Don't worry, I've got you," he said.

Belle let out a shaky laugh. "Thank you," she said, patting his chest gently where her hands lay. "I suppose that'll teach me not to bite off more than I can chew."

The Beast chuckled. He realised that she was still in his arms – probably not where she wanted to be, given the limited physical contact they had established thus far – and regretfully lowered her to the ground again.

For the rest of the time they were in the library, and even hours later back in the West Wing, the Beast could feel the warmth of her body in his arms, and the unquestioning trust with which she had sunk into the embrace.

Such Stuff As Dreams

"Hmm?" Belle turned her head, trying to catch what Adam had just said. "I'm awake."

"No, you're not," he smiled. "It's alright, I'll tell you later."

"No, I am – definitely awake," Belle said, pausing to yawn in the middle of her sentence.

Adam laughed quietly, the vibrations of his chest echoing pleasantly in her ear. His arm rested around her shoulders, their legs twisted together beneath the duvet. She felt him press a kiss to her brow. "You're cute when you're sleepy," he said.

"Shush," Belle said. "If you're not going to tell me what you said, you might as well sleep too."

"Alright, night-tyrant," he teased. He blew out the candle on the bedside, and laid his book aside. Belle absently registered the warmth sinking over her as the duvet being pulled up, and the weight on her waist as her husband's arm. But she was already sinking back into sleep.

A/N: Hey! This is a cross-posting of all the 2017!verse stories and prompts I've received and completed involving Belle and Adam. Think of this as a counterpoint to The Beauty of a Beast – I'll be posting snippets and stories involving them pre-, during-, and post-curse, like with that collection.

These are all so short that they're going in one chapter, but subsequent chapters will be their own self-contained stories.

Also, let this be notice that I'm accepting prompts for Yuletide celebrations! Modern AU? 1991!verse? 2017!verse? Send me a PM/leave a comment and I'll give it a go!

TheTeaIsAddictive