(This story is written strictly for the free enjoyment of fans of the "Beauty and the Beast" television series. No copyright infringement is intended.)

A Delicate Position

Angie

Though day by day is nought to see,
So delicate his motions be

- Robert Bridges

As Catherine approached the hub of the Tunnels, she could hear Vincent’s roar reverberating in the distance. The closer she got, the worse it sounded. Mouse, who had met her at the Threshold, now put his fingers in his ears, after looking at her apologetically. She was tempted to do the same, except the sound puzzled her, even as it struck her to her soul. He didn’t sound as if he was in pain or angry. More violated than violent. Vincent had managed to dampen their bond somewhat. But not enough.

What on earth had happened in just the few hours since she had left him to attend to some legal affairs Above? He had been fine at breakfast. He seemed immune to infections of any kind, and in the years she had known him, had shrugged off many serious injuries with casual unconcern.

As they rounded the last corner before Vincent’s chamber, they were almost knocked down by Father. His hair looked as if it had been caught in a briar thicket and his clothing was rumpled. He was obviously annoyed.

"Catherine," he shouted, over the noise Vincent was making, which now sounded almost plaintive. Abruptly it stopped. Mouse scampered off at a run and was lost to sight.

Father looked relieved and lowered his voice. "I’m glad you could come back so quickly. I was coming to meet you. He’s impossible!"

Catherine must have looked as frightened as she felt, for Father put a hand on her shoulder.

"I’m sorry, Catherine. There’s nothing to be afraid of. He’s just being difficult. Anyone would think he’s getting an amputation without anaesthetic … or something. Maybe you can calm him down."

"But what’s happened, Father?" Catherine was very worried now. This did not sound like the Vincent she knew.

"Ah, nothing’s happened - really. It’s just that every so often, he has to have this little … um … procedure. It’s been some time since the last one - before he met you. We put it off as long as we could but, well … it does have to happen eventually. It’s for his own good.

"Come, you might as well see for yourself." He made a noise that sounded almost like a snigger.

Catherine was more puzzled than ever. She followed Father through the privacy rug into Vincent’s chamber. At least he wasn’t in the hospital ward, she thought. How bad could it be?

The sight of Father made Vincent erupt into roars again. She looked over at the bed, and saw Vincent standing on it, dressed in a short hospital gown. Even on the floor, the gown would have barely covered the essentials, but because he was standing on the bed, those essentials were plainly visible. And with every one of his roars, the bed - and they - shook.

Catherine suddenly exploded into laughter. She reached for Vincent’s huge chair and sagged into it, had to bend over and hold onto her stomach as she guffawed. She resolutely did not look at Vincent as the waves of merriment shook her.

The sight of her big hairy man behaving like an elephant who had seen a mouse was too much for her. She still didn’t know what was causing his distress, but obviously it was nothing serious.

She gradually got herself under control and had covered her mouth in an effort to prevent hiccups, when she realized the chamber was quiet but for her own staccato noises. Abashed, she looked around, saw Father leaning on his cane and watching her with a twinkle in his eye. She turned to risk a peek at Vincent. He was looking at her, his hands trying to pull down the gown enough to hide what most amused her. He must have caught that through their bond, she guessed.

Abruptly, he jumped off the bed and sat down on its edge, still holding the gown’s hem.

"Catherine," he rasped, hurt evident in his voice. "It’s not funny! How can you laugh at a time like this"?

Realizing that there was still a missing piece to this puzzle, Catherine rose weakly from his chair and walked over to him. She put her hands on his shoulders and planted a soft kiss on his forehead.

"I’m sorry Vincent, but you looked so comical. What on earth is the matter?"

Vincent stared at Catherine in disbelief.

"Didn’t Father tell you? He … he wants ..." Vincent sighed, cleared his throat and grunted. "It’s embarrassing, Catherine. I know every man has to have this done, but I’m not every man."

Catherine was beginning to get an inkling. She looked at Father, saw the confirmation in his eyes. She barely kept herself from snorting again and had to drop her head. Vincent, when she was finally able to look at him, was clearly not amused at her lack of sympathy. She decided to play the diplomat and put on her best legal air.

"Vincent, what you have to have done is not pleasant, and it isn’t funny. However, it’s no worse than what women have to go through – usually with a male doctor.

Vincent looked shocked and then flustered.

"You mean you have to let … a man …?" Vincent was at a loss for words.

"Yes, Vincent. And it can precipitate a full-body blush."

Vincent snorted. Catherine could feel the laughter building inside him. It exploded in a massive roar, but one with a quite different tone to that of a few minutes ago. Catherine waited, feeling a bit miffed now. She closed her argument, somewhat huffily.

"So you see, Vincent, we all have our trials. Now let Father do his job. I’ll leave."

"No Catherine. You can stay. I think I’m beyond embarrassment now. But …"

"But, I’ll turn my back," Catherine sighed. She manhandled the big chair so its back was to him and sat down. She heard Father shuffle over to his son, snap on a pair of surgical gloves and tell him to assume the position. A few seconds later, she heard a grunt and a growl. The latter was Vincent’s normal reaction to having his jewels touched and the sound never failed to arouse her.

She blushed, glad neither he nor Father could see her – but knew Vincent had caught her emotion. His gown would certainly not be a hindrance, she thought, as she contemplated a mid-morning diversion – and felt his eagerness to comply.

"Vincent, you’re fine," Father announced, peeling off his gloves. He moved across the chamber and touched Catherine’s shoulder, giving her wry look as she turned to him. Vincent, she noticed, was sitting on the bed again. Now he was expectant.

Father hobbled quickly out of the chamber with a massive sigh. Catherine guessed he would have no trouble giving Vincent a prostate exam in the future. She rose and stood before Vincent, bent over to plant a kiss on his unique lips. Now for her reward, she thought, as Vincent’s arms willingly enclosed her.

END