Chapter Text
Belle leaned down to slip her shoe on just as her computer flashed with a Skype call. She peered at her computer screen. Her dad’s goofy icon looked back at her. She answered it, greeted her dad, and then reached back down to adjust her ankle boot. She paused as something small and beady dug into her foot. She slipped her shoe back off and fished a jelly bean from the bottom of her boot.
She threw it across her tiny living room where it landed in the waste bin. The previous night Plumette had dragged a table across the room so her and Adam could practice their date. The whole situation was quite embarrassing and tedious, but whenever either one of them did something wrong, Lumiere hit them with a jelly bean. It wasn’t long into the training that Adam got pelted with a green jelly bean, having forgotten to pull out the chair for Belle. It had been fun for the engaged couple, punishment for the fake couple, and simply too childish for Cogsworth (he left after the second jelly bean hit Adam’s shoulder).
Belle was still adjusting to America, but she wondered if Lumiere and Plumette’s habit of throwing things at Adam was an American thing, or a Hollywood thing. Regardless, it had worked. Both her and Adam quickly grew tired of being pelted with jelly beans and were more cautious and attentive to the whole training than they would have been otherwise.
It wasn’t enjoyable, but it was an interesting experience nevertheless.
“Belle?” her father’s confused voice emitted from the speakers.
She finished adjusting her boot and popped back up into the camera’s line of sight. “I’m here! Sorry, Papa, just putting on my shoes.” She caught the time on the corner of her computer screen and quickly calculated the time difference. “Papa, it must be nearly four o’clock in the morning in Villeneuve. What are you doing up?”
He gave her a tired smile, waving her off. “I don’t sleep well nowadays, Belle. It’s what happens when you get old.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Shush, you’re not old. Are you feeling okay?”
“Yes, but there’s no need to worry about me. How are you doing, sweetheart?”
She glanced at the clock one more time. Adam was due to pick her up soon. She had a feeling he was going to be late, but better to show up late here than at the restaurant where the paparazzi would catch it. She figured she had plenty of time to talk to her father, and tell him the good news.
“Papa, I gave one of my scripts to a friend. He has a few connections in the area and he’s going to get a producer to look at my work.”
She beamed at him. She loved video chatting with him. She could see the excitement overtake his features and she missed him so much. Talking to him was a reminder. Even when this deal she had struck became difficult, this is who she was doing it for.
Maurice cheered for her. He stood up to grab something out of view. She heard the horn-like noise before she saw it. When her father sat in front of the camera again, he blew a party favor and cheered once more. She wondered if he had that party favor sitting around, or if had gotten it in preparation for when she would tell him some good news. She had a feeling it was the latter and it made her heart warm.
As she explained to her father how the process worked, a knock sounded at her apartment door. She paused mid sentence and looked at the clock. He was on time. Nerves clenched at her stomach. She certainly didn’t want Maurice to meet Adam, because she had a feeling she would get flustered and end up constructing a far too complicated lie — or she would tell him the truth. Neither were ideal.
“Papa,” she said, biting her lip. “I just remembered I have a friend picking me up for dinner. Do you mind if we talk later?”
She could see Maurice’s curiosity pique at the term friend, but he thankfully didn’t prod her for questions. She apologized profusely and promised to call him later. After
ending the video call, she rushed to the door, a little out of breath.
“Hi,” she greeted, her voice slightly squeaky.
He raised an eyebrow at her breathlessness, but otherwise didn’t question it. He scratched the back of his neck and gave her a small smile, one where just the corner of the right side of his mouth lifted. She found his awkwardness endearing. His hair was gelled neatly to the side and he was wearing a dark blue suit that complimented his eyes nicely. He looked very...sharp, Belle decided. Sharp wasn’t quite the right word, but she refused to think of anything more accurate, for fear of it getting her into trouble in the long run.
She glanced at her own outfit, at the sweetheart neckline of her dress, a little self conscious about being dressed appropriately. She delicately touched the updo she had twisted and curled her hair into.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
She grabbed her purse and jacket off the hook near the door and nodded at him. She made sure her apartment door was locked and squeezed by him into the hallway. She hoped this fake dinner date went better than the last one.
-
The young hostess didn’t seem flustered to be seating Adam Bête and his guest, unlike their previous waitress. Belle thought the people in Los Angeles must generally be accustomed to seeing celebrities all the time. Or maybe, Belle mused, she had been informed of the reservation and had time to prepare. The writer in Belle enjoyed creating stories about the people she interacted with daily. She amused herself with the thought of the waitress swooning in the back with her other co-workers.
As the woman led them through the restaurant, Adam’s hand stayed on the small of Belle’s back the entirety of the walk to the table. He remembered to pull out the chair for her and she murmured to him, “Lest you be hit with a jelly bean.” She spotted the side of his mouth quirk into a smile.
“Are you making jokes now?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
Belle was worried she had killed his good mood, but he locked his gaze with her and she could see the sparkle of amusement in his blue eyes. They both fell silent, focusing on their respective menus. Despite their practice the night before, Belle was at a loss of what to say or do that would be interesting for the paparazzi. Besides starting another fight, that is.
Belle crossed her legs and in the process knocked over her purse that she had set beside her chair. All of the contents spilled out across the floor just as the waitress neared the table with their drinks. She rushed to lean down and help Belle gather her stuff, laying it on the table beside their glasses of water.
“Thank you,” Belle told her gratefully.
The waitress left after promising to return in a few minutes to get their order. She started to put the items back in her purse when Adam spoke up.
“Is that a copy of Romeo and Juliet?” he asked.
She looked up, a little embarrassed. She cleared her throat. “Ah, yes,” she confirmed. “I bring it with me to read when I have time to spare. It’s one of my favorites.”
He scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“What?” she asked, raising her eyebrows at him.
“Not his best work. All the pining and heartache. There are so many better things to read.”
Her jaw dropped in disbelief. She couldn’t argue that there weren’t better things to read, but she was quite shocked. Romeo and Juliet was one of her favorite plays. She wondered what he knew about literature, anyway.
“Like what?” she asked, indignant.
“Well, if we are talking about Shakespeare, Macbeth, of course. However, one of my favorites is The Picture of Dorian Gray.”
She didn’t know what to say. This was a side of him she didn’t expect. Her first impression of him didn’t allow for much personality beside the spoiled and rude image she had of him.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he said, offended. “I did study English Literature in college.”
She was surprised. She wondered what other facets of his personality he had hidden under that abrasive character. Maybe if they talked about literature, this deal they had struck would be more pleasant and entertaining.
“Pleasantly surprised,” she told him with a teasing smile. “I’ll have to admit I haven’t read that one.”
“It’s a classic,” he said with a surprising amount of passion in his voice.
She was about to inquire further about his taste in literature when the waitress returned to take their orders. When she left, the moment passed and they both fell back into awkward silence until their food arrived.
“How is everything?” the waitress asked.
Adam startled. Neither of them had noticed her approach.
“Very good,” Belle said with a polite, but earnest smile.
Adam seconded her and then glanced down to check the expensive looking watch on his wrist.
“Lumiere wants us to ‘take an evening stroll,” he reminded her, imitating his publicist’s accent.
“Is that your French accent?” she asked, laughing to herself. “Surely we don't sound like that.”
Belle had been learning English since she first started school. Her love for writing and American films had her studying American accents since she was young, leaving her with a slight French accent. Lumiere’s accent was quite thick in comparison, but sometimes Belle wondered if he made his accent thicker than it was, to match his flair for the dramatic.
It was easy to forget, but Adam wasn't American. Most of the movies and TV shows he appeared in requested an American accent. Belle wasn’t quite sure, but she knew he was from somewhere in the United Kingdom. She didn't know when he moved to the states as she had never done very much research on him. At this point, looking up information online felt like an invasion of his privacy.
He raised an eyebrow at her. She saw the hint of a grin at the corner of his lips.
“You sound just like that,” he declared. This time he raised his voice higher and imitated her, “Romeo and Juliet is a classic.”
She barked a laugh, nearly choking on the wine she had begun to sip.
“I think that sounded more like Lumiere than it did like me,” she told him delicately. “Besides, two can play at that game.” She set her mouth in a flat line, raised an eyebrow as he was so fond of doing and then said in his British droll, “You’re right, Belle. Romeo and Juliet is amazing and Dorian Grey could only wish to be as timeless.”
He rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything, the waitress appeared with the check. Adam payed for her dinner, despite her protests. Lumiere’s training must have paid off, because he even helped her put on her jacket. She smiled at that, thinking the photographers must love that.
He put his hand on her back as they left the restaurant, before switching to hold her hand as they walked down the street. There was a light breeze, the lights sparkled on the street, and you could almost make out the stars in the sky. Belle was beginning to think that she could work with this. She could handle doing this for a whole year. Perhaps Adam wasn’t as bad as everyone thought, as she had thought.
Just as that thought has finished forming in her head, a light flashed in her face as a group of paparazzi caught them. They were all men, their clothes casual and unremarkable. The most interesting thing about them was that two of them had expensive looking cameras, while the last simply had an oversized iPhone.
“Adam!” the one with the smartphone called out. “Who is this with you?”
Belle smiled, trying to play the part. Adam wrapped a protective arm around her waist, and politely informed them that he was on a date and tried to walk on.
“What’s your name, hon?” one of the men asked her.
“Belle,” she informed, hoping that was the right decision.
“You don’t have to answer them,” Adam told her. On the contrary, she knew she did, but they had to keep up appearances. “Come on,” he told her.
“Hey isn’t that the one that screamed you out a couple days ago?” one of them asked. “Do you have any comment, Belle? Adam? Belle, what did he do?”
They continued to ask them questions as they walked down the street, snapping pictures as they went.
“Where are you guys going tonight?”
“How long have you been together?”
“Belle, give us a smile.”
She grimaced at that one.
“Come on, guys,” Adam said. “We’re just trying to have a nice night here.”
“Adam, any comment on what happened with Cadenza?”
“I hear you can’t get a part after what happened, is that true?”
“At least he can still get a piece of ass after what happened,” the guy with the smartphone remarked with a laugh. “If Adam here bores you, you can always come back to my place.”
“Come on, man,” one of the other paparazzo said, uncomfortable.
Belle froze. She felt Adam’s hand on her waist tighten. She glanced at the paparazzo and she saw a smirk stretch across his face as he caught Adam’s reaction. He opened his mouth to continue, his phone held steady in his hands.
“He can’t be much fun after ruining his career.” He paused and she could see his smirk grow wider as a certain look flashes across his face. “Not to mention what happened with his mom. I can show you a good time—”
His arm left her waist and he barreled towards the man. She yelled as Adam punched the guy and sent him sprawling across the sidewalk. She jumped in to pull him back before he struck again.
The cameras flashed and the guy on the ground started laughing as he wiped the blood off his face.
She looked at Adam and then back at the paparazzo.
Merde.