Hello all!

I saw the live-action movie three times while it was in theatres; I absolutely adored it in every way! However, I could not help but have some questions. This series of one-shots will be my answers to those questions. With all the ones I have planned, I'll publish them in chronological order, but after all that... well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

If you are not familiar with my other work, my main ship is Lumière/Babette, which would explain my inspiration for this first one-shot. While I do love how the movie interpreted their relationship in a way that represents my belief of them... why the name change from Babette to Plumette? Did anyone else happen to notice that Lumière is the only one that calls her by that name?

Here's the product of my wondering. Enjoy!

Sobriquet: How Plumette earned her name.

It was scarcely a day until the annual Christmas Eve ball, when nobility of every rank would ride their richly adorned carriages through the winding paths of the castle's parterres and fountains. She and Lumière had both been so exhausted from the military direction Cogsworth was implementing to make sure all of the trees were in their places, the decorations had been hung, and the castle was virtually spotless, that they had mutually agreed to part ways early in favor of sleep.

Babette returned to her quarters to find an alarmingly large package taking up a portion of her bed. Wrapped in thick brown paper, the ties that kept it together seemed to be busting from the sheer girth of its contents.

With a tentativeness that curiosity had induced in her, she approached the looming package, her mind whirring with the possibilities of what it could be. Who could it even be from?

The twine was so tightly knotted around the package that she needed to grab scissors from her sewing kit to snip it off.

The paper expanded on its own, and with her curiosity at its peak, she tore through it with vigor.

Gasping, she had to still her heart at the sight.

Feathers. All she saw were feathers!

Carefully gripping them, she felt lining and tulle underneath. With more handling, a beaded and boned bodice appeared. It was a gown!

The most beautiful gown I have ever seen, she concluded with utmost certainty.

She picked it up by the waist and held it aloft with twirl, admiring with the biggest smile its opulence and charm.

Then she saw something fall from the dress. With some alarm, she glanced at the floor, but saw only a folded slip of parchment.

Quickly but delicately placing the gown on the bed, she reached for the note with an eagerness only encouraged by her rapture.

In a clean and flowing hand, it said,

Ma chère petite,

I have finally found something worthy of your love for les plumes. I hope you do not mind the early delivery, for I could not keep it to myself any longer, knowing how much joy it would bring you.

I also hoped it could be used as a gift of pardon. Unfortunately, due to business and other commitments, I must remain at home instead of attending the ball. If I could not enjoy it with you, it is my dearest wish that you will without me, exuding all of the elegance you naturally possess in a gown befitting it.

I am sorry I have not replied to your last letter, and I cannot now, for duty calls on me constantly, but know that you are always in my thoughts and in my heart.

All my love,

Papa

Babette sighed as she sat on the bed next to her gown, its delivery rendered bittersweet.

She certainly loved her father for trying as hard as he did, but because of his lack of correspondence as of late, he was seeming far more distant by the month. She could understand the demand of his position: a former naval captain now running his uncle's—an earl's—estate. That did not ease the ache in her heart when she would think of how little they'd spoken over the year, and how long it had been since she had last seen him.

His gift though… She glanced at the dress. If it was not proof of how much he loved her, knowing how ecstatic she would be seeing such a gown, then besides attending the Christmas Eve ball, she knew not how else he could express it by his actions alone.

She took the dress in her hands again, feeling the softness of the white ostrich feathers on her fingers.

It is a gown even Madame de Garderobe would envy, she thought with a smirk. Babette had grown to admire the prima donna's grand and extravagant taste, especially with how well she wore her own wardrobe, so now she could not wait to see the diva's reaction.

And Lumière's?

She smiled again, picturing vividly how in awe he would be at the sight of her in such finery. Of course, he had told her repeatedly how the sight of her on any day would bring his heart to a stop, and the way his eyes alighted on her always proved that true. But even he could not deny the wonders a gorgeous gown could do when all he had seen her in the past year was a simple maid's uniform.

Finding an empty hanger in her wardrobe, she hung the dress with care, tucking the feathers inside before closing it.

As she burrowed herself under the sheets and fell asleep, the image of wearing the gown the next night caused her to giggle.

When all of the cleaning was finished, she hurried to assist with preparation in the kitchen. On days like this, her paramour would have to be cooped up in there for hours, so she had made it a habit to join him and help in any way she could.

While at Mrs. Potts' side drying the dishes, the housekeeper asked, "Will you be working tonight, love?"

"Non, in fact," Babette replied, taking a rinsed pot from her. "Lumière and I have been given permission to enjoy the ball."

Mrs. Potts paused in her scrubbing to beam at her. "Oh, how wonderful! Silly me, he had mentioned it before, but with everything to do… Well, that is most exciting, dear. I've always admired how gracefully both of you dance."

"Merci, madame," she replied with a smile, then sighed with longing. "I have missed dancing. It has been so long since our last ball."

"It won't be too long now. Wait a tick…" Mrs. Potts glanced at the clock on the mantel. "Shouldn't you be getting ready? The guests'll be here in about an hour."

"Oui, but…" Babette couldn't hide a coy grin. "I wanted to make a bit of an entrance."

Mrs. Potts laughed. "I see now. Is it a surprise?"

"A surprise?"

The maître d' himself crept up behind, eyeing both of them playfully. "Do my ears deceive me or are secrets being divulged without my permission?"

With a sly glance at him, Babette inquired, "Who says you must know all of our secrets?"

Mrs. Potts teased with mock-seriousness, drying her hands. "You should know by now, Lumière: What is spoken at the dishes, stays with the dishes."

As they laughed, Lumière quipped, "How am I to argue with such ironclad logic?"

Babette wiped a pan dry as he replaced where Mrs. Potts had been, his hand rubbing the small of her back. "Thank you for your help, chérie," he murmured with sincerity.

She smiled up at him. "De rien. It is always my pleasure."

He watched her with tender esteem. "You are a rarity among men."

"I will say the same about you if you promise to prove it to me later," she purred so no one but he could hear.

Washed with a sudden wave of want, he gripped her waist, smirking. "What if I told you that was my plan all along?"

With an effortless aloofness, she replied, "Then I await eagerly to see how you execute it."

He gently pulled her closer, making it difficult for her to maintain her nonchalant composure. "Well… now that I have told you my surprise," he whispered enticingly in her ear, "will you return the favor?"

"I am afraid it is not that simple," she admitted with a hint of dominance, giving him an amused sidelong glance.

Letting her go in mock-offense, he questioned, "So you are willingly going to torture me, to make me wait in agony?" His hand flew to his heart, grabbing the edge of the counter to steady himself. All the while, that mischievous sparkle she loved so much was in his eyes. "You are too cruel, mademoiselle!"

She had to laugh before soothing, "Trust me, mon amour, it will be much easier to show you than to tell you."

He tilted his head, exuding a sly kind of confidence as he said, "Ah… I think I am beginning to see what you mean."

Babette looked doubtful, but tried to hide her smile as he bid, "Do not allow me to keep you any longer then. Carry on, ma chérie." He spread his arms wide. "I release you from my domain!"

She snuck in a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. "I will see you soon," she murmured.

"I wish it was sooner," he admitted in a tone that made her want to melt into his embrace at that very moment.

There will be a time and place for that later, she promised herself as she hurried back to her room to prepare, anticipating more than ever Lumière's expression when he would first catch sight of her that night.

With her petticoat, corset, stockings, and shoes on, and her face and hair finished, she slipped on the dress and attached the hooks and eyelets of the casaquin before she checked herself in her mirror.

It fit like a glove. The sleeves were tapered just past her elbow, the neckline merely hinted at her cleavage, and the beading of the bodice mimicked the feathers of the bustled skirt. With the amount of feathers she wore, she felt she could fly as though they were her wings.

The white plume she had placed in her wig bounced as she adjusted it, tucking a chocolate ringlet back inside. Her eyebrows were lined, her lips were rouged, and the beauty mark above the left side of her lip was darkened. All of the white she was wearing contrasted very nicely with her light mocha skin tone.

Satisfied, she gave her gown a twirl, giggling out loud as she watched it move in the mirror.

I have never been more in love with a dress! she thought with elation.

Glancing at the clock, her stomach dropped: It was almost half past seven.

The ball has already begun! she cringed. No one was meant to enter an event after royalty, and how could she enter any more conspicuously than in a grand, strikingly white feather gown?

Sighing, she muttered, "So much for making 'a bit of an entrance.'"

Picking up her feathery skirts, she rushed down to the hall, past the tasteful holly and tree decorations that allowed the scent of pine and cinnamon to linger, and stopped just before the entryway to the ballroom.

The elegant playing of strings and harpsichord could be heard from where she stood. Babette breathed in as much air into her lungs as they would allow to calm her racing heart. With a graceful quickness, she rounded the doorway to stand against the wall and survey the gathering.

The chandelier and wall candelabra basked the marble ballroom in a rich, warm glow. Wreaths lined the columns circling the dance floor while a gargantuan Christmas tree covered in glass ornaments and candles stood in the center of the windows to the balcony, right behind two empty thrones.

A vast rainbow of brightly colored jackets and dresses topped with powdered wigs swirled in the space before her, dancing along to the minuet and trio. But she only sought out one in particular. One who wore a shade of deep gold that matched the contents of his character: charming, confident, and devoted. An honorable gentleman despite any flaws, with the personality to light any room he entered.

Even from the far edge of the ballroom, he only had to turn his face toward her for Babette to spot him immediately. Their eyes met, and as she had hoped, his expression was overtaken by awe. For that moment, they suddenly became the only sentient beings in the room; the world around them blurred and shimmered. It was as though a film had been placed around their visions, clouding everything and everyone else but each other from view.

His mouth widening into a broad grin, he moved his feet in her direction, swiftly stepping through the crowd and circling the twirling couples without paying them any attention. Having to mirror his smile, Babette met him at the small set of stairs that ringed the main floor.

He offered his hand for her to take. As she held her feathery skirt aloft to walk down those few steps, he appraised her with obvious admiration.

She could see on his face he was even having trouble finding words to say, which was certainly an anomaly. "Have I finally succeeded in rendering you speechless?" she inquired, wearing a triumphant smirk.

He briefly glanced to the floor as he chuckled. "You are the only one who has ever been able to achieve such a feat."

Caught in his adoring gaze, Babette felt her heart flutter.

Without asking permission aloud, Lumière took her in his arms, a hand at her waist, and seamlessly led them into the array of dancers.

They had no trouble not only becoming in-sync with the others dancing, but anticipating the tiny flairs they loved to add to their dances. For example, he only had to incline his head a certain way for her to know he was about to twirl her. When she spun, her dress looked like she was in the process of taking flight.

Lumière laughed as they began to circle each other in rhythm, their forearms touching. "You have outdone yourself this time, ma chérie."

Unable to keep herself from smiling, she admitted, "It was a gift from Papa."

"He certainly knows you well," he replied, nodding in approval. "Now finally, everyone can see what I have always known."

Babette tilted her head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Smirking, he admired, "I love when you have moments of naïveté. They are so rare, yet so endearing."

Babette gave him a chastising look. "Are you going to make me guess?"

"Oh, amour," Lumière teased with a shake of his head. As they stepped past each other, he murmured by her ear, "You are the belle of the ball!"

They spun to face each other again, continuing their dance, before he went on, "There is not an eye in this room who has not stared in our direction, and I very much doubt it is because of me."

She felt her cheeks grow hot. She had not taken the other guests into consideration, and frankly, she didn't care for the attention of strangers.

The music returned to the minuet, and Babette gripped Lumière's left hand tightly as he secured her again in his arms.

Noting the apprehension in her eyes and posture, he assured with an easing smile, "Do not worry. I have every intention of remaining at your side, both for your sake and mine."

Previous experience made her ask, "Is that a promise?"

He brought her closer as they danced, his tone becoming more enticing. "If you thought for even a moment I would let another monsieur take you in his arms tonight, I can only assume you did not allow yourself to look in the mirror."

Though she felt the urge to look away, she could not. His piercing gaze made her catch her breath. "You are a vision," he said with most genuine feeling.

How he could simultaneously soothe her and excite her was something no other person she had met had ever been able to replicate. She loved everything about that elusive sensation, especially that only he could conjure it.

Their bodies were millimeters apart, as were their lips. Babette wanted to kiss them so badly, but knew that if she did, she would not be able to stop.

Having read her mind, Lumière gave her his infamous smirk. "Soon, mon amour adorée."

"I wish it was sooner," she echoed, her voice dropping to a richer register that piqued his desire.

The music concluded in a resounding cadence but still they held on to each other, even as the other dancers applauded the musicians. By their eyes alone, they mutually agreed to find a more private setting. Intertwining his hand in hers, Lumière turned to lead them to the nearest secluded drawing room, but they almost ran into Madame de Garderobe and a mustachioed signor beside her in their hurry.

"Oh, i miei cari!" the diva gushed. "What divine dancing! Such form and elegance! We could not help but watch you both, especially you, chérie!" She took Babette's hands, spreading them to gaze with obvious adoration at her dress, audibly sighing. "If it did not look so lovely on you, I would be tempted to steal it for myself!"

After sneaking a knowing glance at Lumière, Babette smiled. "Merci, madame."

"You must tell me where you found such a gown!"

The man next to her subtly coughed, and Garderobe jumped as though she had forgotten he was there.

"But you will tell me later," she corrected, clearing her throat before she continued with finesse. "First, allow me to introduce you to a dear friend of mine, Signor Giuseppe Ritmo. He is one of the best and most asked-for dance instructors in Italia."

Signor Ritmo bowed to them, smiling. "Tale grazia è raramente visto in nobiltà, tanto meno nella loro personale."

"Oh! He says that such grace is rarely seen in even nobility!" Garderobe translated, beaming at the praise for them.

Having only a rudimentary understanding of Italian, Lumière managed to say with sincerity, "Grazie, signor. Especially coming from one with such expertise."

"Giuseppe," Garderobe addressed, gesturing to the couple. "Ti presento il nostro maître d', Lumière, e le presento la sua adorata, Plumette."

Lumière and Babette exchanged looks, both confused and amused, especially since the prima donna hadn't noticed her mistake. He subtly tilted his head toward Mme. de Garderobe, silently asking if he should correct her, but Babette pursed her lips and minutely shook her head.

Ritmo inclined his head. "Piacere di conoscerla."

"Enchanté," the couple replied, all the while trying to prevent their smiles from being too wide.

"Of course, you will join us for a contredanse later on in the evening," Garderobe ordained. "It will be so refreshing to have such skilled partners. Wouldn't you agree, amico mio?"

As she looked to Ritmo, who seemed to only vaguely understand what she was saying, she clarified, "Fresco avere dei partner abili."

The fog in his eyes cleared immediately. "Ah, sì, sì!" he agreed wholeheartedly.

"Naturally, we could not refuse your request," Lumière politely said.

"Mais oui, it will be an honor and privilege to dance with you both," Babette added sweetly.

"Perfetto!" Garderobe exclaimed with delight. "Be sure you remember, i miei cari. Do not wander far!"

The diva gave them a sly wink before she took Ritmo's arm, beginning to converse with him again in his native tongue as they returned to their promenade.

Wearing a mischievous smirk, Lumière gestured to the exit. "Shall we, ma 'Plumette?'"

Babette shook her head at his teasing, but she had felt an unexpected thrill race through her at the nickname.

She took his hand and led him out of the ballroom to the nearest drawing room down the hall, but the tension between them could not be kept in check any longer. They could hardly make it through the door before their lips met with breathless urgency. While wrapped in an embrace, Lumière found the knob and spun them into their intended intimate setting.

The perfume she wore, as he was sure was her intention, intoxicated him. He could not stop breathing her in as her luscious mouth pressed earnestly against his, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

Yet he could not get the best of his curiosity.

Lumière gently pulled away, holding her chin delicately with his thumb. "I am sorry, chérie, but… before we get too carried away, I must ask: Why did you not correct her?"

Babette averted her eyes, a secret smile on her rouged lips. "I don't know," she tried to evade.

His eyes narrowed with playful suspicion. "Of course you do. I recognize that look all too well."

"It would have been rude," she replied innocently.

"Mm-hmm," he hummed, clearly not believing her. He slowly ran his fingers around her waist as he leaned in to trail his lips along her neck.

"And she must have had my dress in mind," she went on, trying very hard to keep her breath from catching.

"Undoubtedly," he murmured against her skin.

She couldn't help but cling to him more as his hands and lips wandered, picking at the cracks of her already crumbling resolve. The craving to kiss him only grew and grew.

Heaving a sigh tinged with pleasure and defeat, she finally caved, "Fine! Though you have just used your cruelest form of torture, I will tell you."

Lumière laughed. "Do not pout so, mon amour. Your secret will be safe with me, just as they are with the dishes," he annexed with a wink.

She released a melodious giggle. "Well… you already know my love for les plumes."

"If you hadn't made that obvious enough tonight," he said with a wry grin. His eyes then widened with realization. "Oh, but of course! You happen to like that little sobriquet, don't you?"

Babette's smile gave it away, but she tried to feign nonchalantly, "It was an easy mistake to make. Babette, Plumette. They sound… slightly similar."

"C'est vrai," he played along, pulling her temptingly close. "Anything you say… ma chère Plumette."

That same spark of delight at hearing him speak her new pet name so endearingly shot through her just before he brought her into a long and passionate kiss. Her nerve-endings alighted with excitement.

I think we may miss that last dance, she thought with humor. And she was sure her paramour would agree.