#600 follower promptathon

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: New, And A Bit Alarming

Anonymous prompted: “Rumbelle Enchanted! Belle was set to marry Gaston, however as it would happen Belle is pushed down a portal, leading to the real world where she meets Mr Gold and Bae.”

=====

New, And A Bit Alarming

Belle looked out of the window of the large castle of which, come tomorrow, she would be lady and mistress, and sighed. It was not that she did not want to get married to Sir Gaston, after all, he was the most eligible bachelor in the entirety of the kingdom and his estate was the largest for miles around, but she couldn't help thinking that she was missing out on... something. She wasn't sure what. There must be something more out there, beyond the wild woods, and Belle had always longed to see it. After tomorrow, though, she would never have that chance again. She would no longer be free to come and go as she pleased; she would have duties to perform as the lady of the castle. Namely, ensuring that the servants were not pilfering the silverware and, more importantly (since the servants of the castle were well-treated and unlikely to pilfer the silverware), bearing several children to carry on Gaston's family line. Belle shuddered at the thought. She was not against children, but surely there was more to the life of a noblewoman than a constant cycle of pregnancy and childbirth. She thought of her own mother, who was not noble by any stretch of the imagination. She had been a fun-loving, courageous woman, and Belle's father had adored her sense of adventure, encouraging her every step of the way. Gaston, however... Well, Gaston had taken one look at her collection of books and promptly announced that they would have to stay at her father's house, there was no room for them in the castle and it wasn't right for women to start getting all kinds of ideas in their heads.

When Belle, who sometimes doubted whether Gaston had ever had an original thought in his lifetime, had politely enquired as to how she would be expected to spend her time if she did not have her books for entertainment, her fiancé had laughed and replied in complete sincerity "you won't need entertainment, my dearest, you'll have me".

Belle sighed again. Tonight was her final night of freedom and she wanted to do something wonderful to mark the occasion, something to celebrate the life that she had led so far before she had to leave it behind forever. She would take a ride, she decided, off beyond the wild woods, just so that she could tell her children that she had seen that world before she became their mother. She left the windowseat and crept through the castle to avoid Gaston. No doubt if he saw her then he would draw her into some lengthy discussion of either the wedding plans or the brace of pheasants that he had killed earlier in the day, and by the time she managed to get away then the already fading light would have gone for good and it would be too late.

Philippe was still standing in his usual place in the stable - Belle had put her foot down and insisted that her faithful steed remain with her despite Gaston's scoffing that the old carthorse was hardly the mount for a noblewoman and his remarks that he could be put to better use as wallpaper adhesive - and Belle clambered onto his back, not bothering with a saddle in her haste to get away and feel the wind in her hair. Philippe seemed to understand and set off in the direction of the wild woods. It was a glorious ride, and Belle closed her eyes to better appreciate the breeze on her face and the last of the evening sunlight warming her skin, and she felt Philippe slow to a walk. When she opened her eyes again, they had reached the edge of the wild woods, and the horse would go no further.

"All right, Philippe, we'll turn back in a moment," she said. "I just want to have a little closer look, to see what's so wild about these woods."

Philippe snorted and tried to pull away, but Belle just slipped off his back and patted his flank.

"It won't take a minute, I promise," she said.

She tied Philippe's reins to the nearest tree branch and tiptoed into the forest, peering around her to get her bearings. Although the golden sunset was still bright, within the woods under the thick tree canopy, the light was dim and murky; the place full of low-lying mist. Belle shivered, she could quite see why people avoided this place. Still, do the brave thing and bravery would follow, Belle reasoned, and she ventured a little further into the woods. She couldn’t hear anything, just her own footsteps, and she thought that perhaps the silence was more unnerving than any strange sounds coming from unseen assailants might be. For a moment, she figured that the tales of strange creatures in these woods were all a myth, and that the real fear came from the darkness and loneliness, with active imaginations filling in all the gaps with dangerous beasts, ghosts and ghouls. Behind her, she heard Philippe whinnying nervously, and she knew that it was time to turn back. As she did, however, something caught her eye; a faint glow could be seen through the trees at ground level, an eerie blue light that illuminated tendrils of mist. Intrigued, Belle stepped a little closer. Although the light was unnerving, it did not send the shame shiver of fear down her spine that the rest of the forest did. Indeed, it was almost like she was drawn to it.

Curiosity killed the cat, a snide voice that sounded like one of her father’s advisor’s hissed in her ear as she came closer and closer to the light.

“But satisfaction brought it back,” she murmured aloud in response, creeping ever closer to the light. It was coming from a swirling pool in a clearing in the trees, the water moving without any sign of a breeze, its soft glow casting strange shapes over the surrounding tree trunks. Belle had never seen anything like it before, and she looked down at the water’s surface, bending down and reaching out to touch it. Before she could make contact though, she heard a rustling in the trees, and she shot back to her feet, looking around for the source of the noise. It came again, and then, all of a sudden, she heard the frantic beating of hooves and Philippe’s distressed mewling. He had broken his reins free and was heading straight towards her, spooked by something in the woods.

“Philippe, it’s all right, boy, it’s all right!” Belle held up her hands as the horse careered towards her and he reared on facing his mistress, kicking out with his front legs in his wide-eyed fear of whatever was chasing him. Belle darted back to avoid his flailing hooves, and she suddenly felt nothing supporting her weight. She had tripped over the edge of the mysterious pool, and her wildly windmilling arms could not stop her from falling down into the water.

Except, Belle realised as she fell, there was no water. She did not feel the cold depths closing over her head and dragging her down, and as she kept falling, she realised that for all she was panicking, she could still breathe. She had fallen past the source of the light into complete darkness, tumbling head over heels into the gloom with no bearing on how far she had fallen or how close to the bottom she might be. The fact she had fallen into a pond that was really not a pond worried her less than the possible broken bones she might suffer when she finally reached whatever was at the bottom. If there even was a bottom. Might she just be falling forever? A small, cynical voice in the back of her mind thought that falling forever through magical blackness might just be better than being married to Gaston next day. She wondered how long she had been falling for, and whether a search party had been sent forth to find her yet. Right at this very moment, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be found. Rescued, yes, because this darkness was seemingly interminable and there was a lot more that she wanted to do with her life. But being found by Gaston would engender conversations about propriety and the diligent duties of a lady of the castle that would result in her ever-decreasing freedoms being curtailed even further.

Belle was so caught up in her own thoughts that the soft thud of her reaching the bottom of wherever it was caught her entirely by surprise, and she took a few moments to come back to herself. The floor was hard and cold, and under her hands it felt metallic. There were a few holes in the ground, just about the size of her fingers, but they were enough to let light through. Cautiously, Belle peered through one of the holes.

The world was upside down.

She jerked back with a start, then shook herself and looked again. Was it possible that she’d fallen all the way through the world and come out on the other side? She shrugged, it was one explanation for it. She wasn’t quite sure which country she’d ended up in, but hopefully they’d be able to help her out.

Carefully, Belle felt around the metal circle that she had landed on, and it moved an inch or so. She pushed it up and away, and tentatively poked her head through the hole.

Wherever she was, she was definitely not in the Marchlands any more. She was in a town with strange squat buildings and no castles in sight. Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing, considering Gaston.

She pulled herself up through the hole and looked around as she brushed herself off. It was a quiet place; there didn’t seem to be anyone about. It was dark, the same kind of twilight that she had left the Marchlands in, but here there were great lanterns on poles set into the street every few yards. Looking around, she saw that most of the buildings were in darkness apart from one at the end of the street, which was illuminated in red and green that read Granny’s Diner: Open.

Whilst Belle had no idea what a diner was, she knew that grandmothers were generally people who could be trusted, and so she decided to make her way towards the place. After a few steps she stopped. She’d always been told that a red lantern outside a place showed that it was a house of ill repute and to be avoided by all gentle-born ladies. No-one had ever mentioned green lanterns before.

“Are you a princess?”

Belle spun around to find a young boy looking up at her wide-eyed.

“I saw you come out of the ground,” he said, pointed eagerly over to the hole that she had come up through. “Are you a princess from Australia?”

“I, erm, I don’t know where that is,” Belle said. “I’m not a princess. I’m a Lady. Lady Belle of the Marchlands. Perhaps you know where that is?”

The little boy frowned, thinking hard for a while, then shook his head solemnly.

“Bae!”

The little boy looked sheepish on hearing the other voice. “Oops,” he mumbled.

“Bae, you can’t just run off like that, how many times have I told you? I do beg your pardon, madam, he’s just curious.”

The man who had come up to immediately gave Belle the impression of a knight who had been wounded in a great battle. There was something about his bearing and the set of his features that gave him a sense of nobility, and the limp and walking stick that he carried showed that he had endured some hardships. He grabbed his son’s hand and tried to steer him back down the street away from Belle.

“But Papa, she came out of the ground! I saw her! Look!” The boy pointed over to the hole again, and the knight looked up at Belle then back to Bae.

“Bae, the only people who come up out of drain covers are maintenance workers, and I really don’t think that this lady is one of those. Now come on, we have to go home now. It’s almost your bedtime.”

“But I saw her!” Bae protested.

“Bae…”

“I, erm, I did come out of the drain cover,” Belle interjected. She didn’t want the poor child to be thought mad for having seen something that apparently in this world couldn’t have been real. “Good Sir Knight, I fell into a pond in the Marchlands and I ended up below that drain cover.”

The man just blinked.

“Did you just call me a knight?” he asked.

“Erm, yes, you do look like one. It was intended as a compliment, the knights of the Marchlands are well revered for their chivalry and bravery. Unless of course, you’re a lord of this land, in which case I do apologise for the slight, your lordship.” She was babbling, but having found herself in a place where she had no idea what the social norms were, Belle thought that she could be allowed that.

The man snorted. “Well, I daresay that there are some in the town who would tell you I’m the lord of it, but they don’t mean that as a compliment. I’m just a man. Now, Bae, we have to get going. Madam, it was nice meeting you.”

“But Papa!” Bae said. “If she’s just come here from another land then she needs a place to stay!”

The man sighed, took a deep breath, and turned back towards Belle. “Madam, if you need a place to stay then the bed and breakfast is first on your left after the diner. I wish you a good night.”

“But Papa!” Bae protested again. “She won’t have any of our money! Can’t she come and stay with us?”

“Bae, we can’t just take in a… very confused young woman we’ve never met!”

“But we have met! We’re meeting right now!”

“I’m Lady Belle of the Marchlands,” Belle put in helpfully.

“I’m dreaming,” the man muttered.

“Please, Papa!”

“All right. Madam, if you’d care to accompany us, we’ll see what we can sort out.”

“Yes!” Bae jumped up and down excitedly. “We’ve got a princess coming to stay!”

“She’s not staying!” Bae’s father exclaimed, at the same time as Belle said “I’m not a princess.”

Bae looked from his father to Belle and gave a sage nod.

“You’ll stay,” he said wisely.

“Baden Gold, you won’t be getting any ice cream for a week if you keep this up.” He turned to Belle and, hooking his walking cane into the crook of his elbow, held out his hand. “Rum Gold. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Belle.”

“Likewise.”

“Come on, before it gets too late.” Gold readjusted his grip on his cane and strode off down the street, Bae chattering along happily beside him and Belle looking around her in wonder at the place she had found herself in.

“Excuse me, Mr Gold, may I ask what is the name of this land?”

Gold paused and Belle saw the first hint of a smile curl at the corner of his mouth.

“Welcome to Storybrooke, Lady Belle.”

Storybrooke. Belle gave a satisfied nod. Yes, she thought that she was going to like it here in Storybrooke.

[thiswomanshouldbewriting]

600!

Tonight I gained my 600th follower. I can hardly believe that so many of you actually want to follow my crazy, disorganized blog. I love all of you, and you never fail to brighten my days. 

I usually to a promptathon for events like these, but my muse has been kind of lazy in the past few months, and I’m not sure I could handle a promptathon right now. What I can do is tell you all what it’s currently on my writing list, so that you can know whether a fic I published and never continued has any chance of ever being finished. There are many fics for which I promised a follow up that never came, and I apologize for that, but I have way too many ideas and too little time, plus I tend to fall out of love with my old ideas when I get too many new ones. 

So, here are the fics I’m either working on or planning on working on in the foreseeable future.

- Missing Pieces, a S7 AU focused on the Rumbelle family in Hyperion Heights, featuring also Alice as the Rumbelle daughter, just because I can. 

- A Tale of Magic, my 3B AU. I started writing the second chapter and then I got kind of stuck, probably because I’ve been planning this fic for so long that I’m scared of it not being as beautiful as I imagined. Also because I stopped writing one evening because I was too sleepy to go on, and when I woke up the following morning I didn’t remember how the scene was supposed to end.

- Caged Love, honestly one of my favorite fics, for which I have half of the next chapter written. I don’t know why I haven’t finished it yet, probably fear once again. There are too many things that need to be explained, and it’s a bit hard to do it without making the chapter boring. 

- Come What May, a oneshot that surprisingly became a multi-chapter fic thanks to prompts. This is the only one for which I haven’t written anything yet, and a part of me is tempted to end it where I left it. At the same time, I still have prompts and ideas for it, so I really don’t know. 

- An untitled fic that I should have written almost one year ago for the Fandom Trumps Hate event. @jackabelle73, the one I should write the fic for, is being incredibly patient, but I still feel bad about my delay. It’s about Rumbelle and SwanQueen taking a trip in Italy. I started it and then, guess what, I got scared of ruining it, so I stopped writing altogether. I’m starting to see a pattern here.

- An alternate version of the Rumbelle scene in 5x11. I started this fic thinking it would be a brief thing, and now it’s over 5k long and still going. 

- The Way We Feel, a follow up to The Bond Between Us, focusing on Gideon and Roderick, who is somehow still alive (I’ll explain how in the fic). This is going to be a massive fic because I just have so many feels about these two, okay?

- Last but not least, I’m actually writing a fic based on my own theory/hope that Alice is the daughter of Wish!Rumple and Wish!Belle. Expect angst galore. 

So, this is what I’m currently working on, while I sit on a pile of forgotten fics and broken promises for follow ups. I have to warn you that right now I’m doing most of my writing on paper, so it will be long before I actually post anything online. However, since I’m celebrating, if any of you is interested in one of this fics, you can message me and I’ll post a snippet of what I’ve written so far.

I love you all <3

[tinuviel-undomiel]

Closing the Promptathon

Thanks everyone for sending all of those prompts, I filled as many as I could. I hope you all enjoyed it. I love you guys!

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Well-Fitted

@shipperqueen93 prompted: “Rumbelle: He didn't magic belle new clothes, he made them himself, which required him to take her measurements. Awkward dark castle fun!”

I’m so sorry this took so long!

Well, this did absolutely not go in the direction that I thought it would when I first got the prompt. I’m not quite sure where my mind went, and I really hope you don’t mind that this ended up a little bit… naughtier than I first foresaw. It’s just that I got thinking about the kind of underwear Belle would have on beneath her first gold gown and things escalated from there…

Rated: M

=====

Well-Fitted

Rumpel has to admit that it simply can’t go on like this. Something’s got to be done. Not only is the image of his maid cleaning the castle in a ball gown utterly ridiculous, the gown itself is also looking incredibly worse for wear now, its hem tattered and torn from sweeping and clambering up and down ladders, and he doesn’t want any visitors to think he keeps her in rags for any kind of… insalubrious reason. Truth be told, he simply hadn’t thought about the logistics of having another person in the castle. He has his own ever-expanding wardrobe, but he didn’t exactly give Belle time to pack a bag when he took her away from her father’s castle. He’s been surreptitiously cleaning the dress with magic so that she doesn’t have to wear the same thing day in day out without any chance of laundering it, but at the same time, it really isn’t the most practical of outfits and the time has come for him to do something about it.

She is going to need some new clothes, that’s clear enough, but the fact remains that he has already expended too much magic on cleaning her limited wardrobe already, and if he’s going to get her anything else, it must be done by hand. He’s not in the habit of buying clothing at markets himself, and he does not yet trust his little maid not to make a run for it if he lets her go down into the town herself to pick out fabrics. He has plenty of good, strong cottons and linens left over in his stores from previous projects, and it would be easy enough to make something for her from those fabrics, things that would last longer than the silk and satin she wears at the moment. The only problem that he can see will be getting the sizes right.

There’s only one thing for it. He’s going to have to take her measurements. The only other way he can think of is to steal her golden gown and deconstruct it to use the pattern, but he feels that might be fraught with danger as not only would it entail sneaking into her room, it would also require him to take the thing apart and reassemble it within the space of a single night, and although he’s very good with a needle even if he does say so himself, Rumpel usually needs a little bit more time than that.

He glances over to where she’s standing on an end table on the far side of the room, reaching up impossibly high to twirl her feather duster over the knick-knacks on the tallest shelf of the dresser. For a moment, the vision of Belle going around doing the cleaning in her drawers and corset brings a lump to his throat and sends his thoughts in a direction that they really should not be going in. He coughs quickly to try and get the thoughts to go away, and Belle turns and looks at him over her shoulder.

“Is everything all right, Rumpel?” she asks. He nods quickly. Something has got to be done, and quickly, before his mind can throw him any more distractions.

“Yes, yes, perfectly fine. Once you’re finished in here, come up to the workroom.”

“Of course. Will you be wanting tea in there?”

Rumpel shakes his head. Adding hot beverages into the mix really doesn’t seem like a terribly good idea at the moment.

“No, no, just yourself. I need you for… something.”

Belle just nods good-naturedly and continues to dust the ornaments. Rumpel practically runs out of the main hall and gallops up the tower steps to his workroom, distracting himself from his previous impure train of thought by getting out the fabrics and pattern papers and scissors, and the all-important measuring tape. He wonders what kind of a dress she would like, and begins sketching absent-mindedly. Something a little shorter than the golden gown; he almost has a heart attack every time she climbs stairs or a ladder in the long dress. Hopefully she’s not one of those princesses who’s been brought up with a complex about showing their ankles. He’s just finished a little drawing when a voice in the back of his mind tells him that really, he shouldn’t be thinking about what she wants from a set of new clothes, because he’s the one furnishing her with them and she’s his servant, so she ought to be grateful for anything he gives her, including a potato sack.

The thought of Belle wearing nothing but a potato sack should really not have been quite as alluring as it was, and Rumpel shoos the voice to the back of his mind. She had agreed to forever, and that meant that they would be spending an awful lot of time together. He might as well try and make their acquaintance as cordial as possible, otherwise the next however many years will be an utter nightmare and he would hate to have to rearrange their deal having made it with such confidence.

Belle enters soon after, and she comes over to the workbench without any prompting, looking over all the items placed there.

“What’s all this, Rumpel?” she asks, giving him a curious look that has just a little bit of playfulness about it. He knows that she knows it’s for her, and unfortunately he’s not going to be able to deny the fact.

“Well,” he says, trying to bluster his way through the interaction like he does with most of their conversations. “I can’t have you going about wearing that… thing any longer. I do occasionally have guests, you know, and your dress, my dear, is nothing short of an eyesore.”

Belle shrugs. “I don’t really have a lot of choice in the matter, Rumpel, unless you want me to clean the castle in my underthings?”

“No!” Rumpelstiltskin exclaims at the suggestion, because he really didn’t need that image to be returned to the forefront of his mind. “No, no, that won’t be necessary. I have thread and linens enough to make you certain additions to your wardrobe.”

“So I see.” Belle runs her hands over the fabrics, and then moves to the sketches next to them. “Oh Rumpel, these are beautiful. Are these for me?”

He nods, a little streak of pride preening in him that she likes his work, but then, he can’t allow her to know that, so he pushes it down hard and tries to convince her that he doesn’t actually care, of course he doesn’t care.

“They’re not designed to be pretty,” he snaps. “They’re designed to be practical. You’ll be able to get even more work done if you’re not constantly tripping up over your skirts. I expect the castle to be spotless once these are finished!”

“Of course.” Belle nods solemnly, but Rumpelstiltskin gets the distinct impression that she’s actually laughing at him, and the feeling confuddles him for a moment.

“This was what you needed me for?” Belle prompted.

“Yes. Right. Yes.” He grabs the measuring tape. “I’m going to need your measurements if I’m going to get to work.”

He makes to pass the tape around her waist, but Belle stays his fingers with a firm hand on his wrist. He looks up, confused, did he do something wrong? She is a highborn lady after all, maybe she’s not comfortable with a man putting his hands on her like this.

“Rumpel,” she says, but there’s no trace of discomfort in her voice. “Don’t you think I ought to take this off first?”

Rumpelstiltskin stumbles backwards. “Pardon?” He’s rather ashamed by the way his voice appears to have turned into a very high-pitched squeak of alarm.

“None of your designs feature full corsetry,” Belle replies, nodding over to his sketches. “I’ve had enough dress fittings to know how measurements and dress-making work. If you want these dresses to fit me properly, you can’t take my measurements whilst I’m wearing a corset and full skirt and layers of petticoats, however tatty they may be.”

Well, in hindsight he supposes that is indeed true, and he wonders if he had perhaps subconsciously buried that thought to preserve his own sanity.

“Right.” He pauses, really not quite sure where to go from here. “Right.”

Belle looks at him innocently. “Perhaps I could borrow one of your shirts to wear? The silk is only thin, you would get an accurate measurement through it.”

Rumpelstiltskin blinks, opens his mouth to reply, and gets the distinct feeling that he’s about to faint. Belle pats his hand. “I’ll fetch one.”

And with that, she’s gone from the workroom, leaving Rumpelstiltskin staring after her and wondering what just happened. Heavily, he sits down at the workbench and resorts the fabrics and threads to give his fidgeting fingers something to do. Oh good grief. This enterprise is turning out to be far more hair-raising than he could ever have imagined. Honestly, he tries to do a good turn for his maid and now this happens. He’s never going to survive if this continues.

“Rumpel?”

He looks up on hearing Belle’s soft voice and sees her peering around the door. There’s a little bit of a blush in her cheeks as she enters, wearing his blue silk shirt and nothing else. She’s tiny enough that it hangs on her loosely and covers the necessities, but all the same, her pale legs look like they go on for miles and in that moment, there’s nothing that Rumpelstiltskin wants more than to bury his face between her creamy thighs and feel how soft they are for himself. He shakes himself back to reality, where on earth did that thought come from?

He’s swift and brusque and business-like as he wraps the tape measure around her and makes a note of all the numbers he needs, trying to ignore the way the shirt tails ride up when she raises her arms. It’s all going comparatively well until the moment he realises he needs to measure her bust.

“Rumpel?” Belle presses, seeing him falter. “Have you finished?”

Rumpelstiltskin doesn’t reply, because he has just noticed that Belle’s nipples have stirred into hard points and are showing prominently through the dark silk.

“Rumpel?”

“Yes. No. Just a few moments more.”

He takes a deep breath and passes the tape measure around her chest, lining it up properly, but he almost drops it when the tape presses against her nipples and Belle gives a little gasp at the sensation of the silk shirt rubbing her there. He just about remembers to make note of the measurement before he springs backwards as if he’s been stung, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

“Right, that’s it, you can go now.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll go and… dust.” It’s clear that Belle is feeling just as screamingly awkward as he is - and from the heightened colour in her cheeks, perhaps just as aroused as he is. He pushes the thought away. There’s no possible earthly way that could be true. It’s just an uncontrollable bodily reaction to a stimulus, in this case silk against particularly sensitive skin.

As Belle rushes away through the door, Rumpelstiltskin catches the briefest glimpse of her perfect bare bottom beneath the shirt tails, and with a groan, he sinks into his chair, glaring down at his lap but secretly relieved that his body has only chosen this moment to betray him totally. He looks over at the fabrics and the sketches, and he remembers the feeling of Belle’s body beneath his fingers as he measured her, his treacherous thoughts wondering idly what it would have been like to touch her without that barrier of silk...

It’s going to be a long night.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Tripping the Light Fantastic

@shipperqueen93 prompted: “Ivelle: They eat from a addict and get high.”

This could take place in either the Insatiable or the Revenge is Sweet verses - both Belle and Ives are wendigos. Just a little bit of nonsense to lighten up everyone’s Thursday evening.

Warning: Cannibalism, and two tripping cannibals...

====

Tripping the Light Fantastic

“Belle?”

“Yes?”

“Who the hell did we just eat?”

To anyone else this question would have seemed completely out of place, but to Ives and Belle, it was a more common one than anyone might have guessed.

“I don’t know, I just got the meat out of the freezer. I don’t exactly label it for obvious reasons. Why?”

“Well, I think there was something wrong with whoever it was. I’m feeling mightily peculiar.”

Belle came over and sat down on the sofa beside Ives. Now that he had mentioned it, she wasn’t feeling entirely normal herself. She thought back over their recent victims, trying to work out if any of them looked like they had any kind of strange diseases. Most things like that got cooked out, but there were always risks to be run whenever they indulged in this element of their lifestyle. She preferred to cook with fresh meat, but sometimes needs must and in order to avoid attracting the attention of various authorities, occasionally a recourse to the deep freeze was necessary.

Luckily the increased metabolism of the wendigo meant that the effects would not be long lasting and hopefully they would be back to normal soon. Belle looked up at the ceiling as she tried to think, but thinking became harder and harder as the ceiling became more and more fascinating. There was a spider making its way across the white surface, and Belle wondered whether the world looked different to him, looking down on it as he was with his eight eyes.

“Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a spider?” she asked Ives.

“No…” Ives looked up and became transfixed by the spider as well, watching its progress across the ceiling with intense concentration. “What would it be like to be so small, do you think?”

“I think it must make life very tiring. I mean, look how long it’s taken him to get across the ceiling. He’s probably going as fast as he can. I mean, you and I can walk across the room in a couple of seconds, but he’s going to be at that for a while.”

“We’re giants in his eyes,” Ives agreed.

“You know, spiders have eight eyes. I wonder if each one sees something different, like having eight TV screens in your head all showing different stations.”

“That would be confusing… But it would be useful if you want to watch two things that are on at the same time.”

“That’s what the DVR’s for, silly.”

There was a long pause as they continued to track the spider’s progress along the ceiling.

“Come on, little buddy,” Belle encouraged, waving him on with little flicks of her fingers as if she was pushing him across the ceiling herself. “You can do it! You’re nearly there!”

“I feel like we should be eating popcorn,” Ives mused.

“We’ve only just had dinner.”

“Yeah, but I’m still hungry.”

“So am I, now you mention it.” There was another long pause as the spider stopped about three inches from the wall. Belle got up, then sat back down again immediately, flopping over to the side and leaning on Ives. “My legs feel funny.”

Ives looked down at them. “They don’t look funny. They look like legs.” He paused. “I suppose legs do look a bit like sausages in a way. Especially on the beach. Little hotdog sausages roasting in the sun.”

Belle glared at him. “Don’t eat my legs.”

“I’d never eat you!” Ives would have sounded affronted if his speech wasn’t starting to slur. “Although, you do taste really good.”

“Yeah, so do you… Just not when you’ve been eating garlic… Then you just taste of garlic…”

“I thought you liked garlic.”

“I do.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Some things in life just should not taste of garlic.” She glared down at his lap, and Ives thought that he understood her. Almost. Then again, a herd of miniature pink unicorns had just started tap-dancing along the arm of the sofa, and he scrambled back from them as much as he could, which, given the lack of co-ordination in his limbs, was not very much before he ended up falling over the other arm of the sofa, and sprawling on the floor.

“Holy crap, are you all right?”

Belle’s face swam into view above him, but beyond her blurred features, he could see the spider finally reaching its destination.

“He did it!” he yelled, much to the consternation of the unicorns.

“Who did what?” Belle asked, perplexed, her face still swimming.

“The…”

Spider. He knew that the word was spider, but he couldn’t make his mouth form around the two syllables to create the word.

“The…” Belle prompted.

“The handsome chap with eight legs on the ceiling,” Ives concluded. He had no idea if the spider was handsome or not, but he thought that it was wearing a bow tie and top hat, so it was cutting a dashing figure even if it did have eight legs and eight eyes.

Belle looked up to the ceiling, staring at it inscrutably.

“Huh,” she said, and then promptly toppled down off the sofa onto Ives.

“Uff.”

“Sorry. Seemed like the quickest way to get onto the floor.”

“What was?”

“Falling.”

“Yeah… Quickest way to do anything, I think.”

“Apart from make an omelette.”

“I could really use an omelette right now.”

“Yeah… I can’t move my arms or legs though.”

“Me neither.”

“Are those unicorns dancing on the sofa?”

“I think the spider let them in…”

X

Belle woke three hours later, her head feeling as if it was trying to cleave itself in two, and she rolled off of Ives’ stomach with a groan.

“Ives?”

“Mm?” The mumbled reply came from under a pillow, although how he had managed to get a pillow off the sofa and onto his face was a mystery that Belle did not yet have the mental faculties to solve.

“Who the hell did we just eat?”

[worryinglyinnocent]

600 Follower Promptathon Masterpost

Full list is under a cut because it got very, very long...

Yeah... It took me two years to get through all these prompts... 

Something Borrowed, Something Blue: Rumbelle: Belle steals Gold on his wedding day.

Red Heat: Carelle: (NC-17) Hot make-up sex after a fight.

A Date for Dinner: Ivelle: Belle accidentally clicks ‘yes’ to the question ‘would you date a cannibal?’ on Okcupid and ends up meeting Ives.

Beside the Beating Heart: Rumbelle: Remix of Kangaroo - Belle gives Bae Kangaroo Care. 

Summer Swim: Rumbelle: Rumpel catches Belle skinny-dipping at the Dark Castle.

Royal Blush: Rushbelle: They play strip poker.

The Clean Up: Rushbellerush: (NC-17) Belle has an idea to get both of her Rushes to relax, and also does laundry into the bargain. [MMF threesome, double penetration]

Missing pages - Rumpel discovers more missing pages detailing possible reunions

The Dog Days - Epilogue

One Small Step at a Time: Anyem: Gold/Ally Craig (EdR’s character from ‘Remember Me’): Ally’s newest case as a criminal justice social worker is Rum Gold, whose son was murdered by his stalker.

In Parallel: Rushbelle: Rush and Belle ponder the parallels between them and Whouffaldi.

Kangaroo - Belle and Gold’s honeymoon (M)

Love, Rosie - Rum and Belle go home after the prom

A Deafening Silence: Rushbelle: Rush recruits Belle for the Destiny project, not knowing that she is non-verbal... Luckily, Chloe can sign. 

Lending a Hand: Rushbelle: Rush injures both hands on a mission and must learn to cope.

Kitty: Rumbelle: A Ted AU. Gold meets Belle’s oldest childhood friend, Kitty, and gets rather more than he bargained for. 

Takes One to Know One: Rumbelle: (M) Silence of the Lambs AU (no cannibalism). FBI Agent Belle French enlists the help of disgraced psychiatrist Rum Gold to help her catch a killer. [Warning: child abduction and murder]

The Dark Side: Rushbelle: Rush returns from alien captivity convinced that he’s Darth Vader.

Value: Rushbelle: (M) Belle wonders if she has any use on Destiny other than as Rush’s sex toy. 

Belle and Rush meet at a Star Trek convention

Spilt Milk: Rushbelle: (NC-17) On an alien planet, native Belle demands repayment for the milk that Rush takes from one of her cows.

Beauty on the Ropes: Rumbelle: Pro-Wrestling AU. 

The Long and Short of It: Rushbelle: Rush encounters a tiny elephant who thinks he’s mum.

The Language of Love: Rushbelle: (NC-17) Belle teaches Rush some French.

Hogwarts AU - Professors Lucas and Hopper meet on the Hogwarts Express 

The Great Wide Somewhere - Belle and Gold in Greece (NC-17)

Rumpel finds out that Belle is an ice dragon

A Winning Streak: Rumbelle: (NC-17) A very bored Belle decides to strip naked in the library...

Hogwarts AU - Gold gets a howler from his Aunt Elvira 

Cute moments after Belle comes home from the asylum

After Dinner Drinks: Ivelle: (NC-17) A follow up to ‘A Date For Dinner’ - Ives gets a taste of Belle.

High Blood Pleasure - Another month comes with some sexy relief for Belle (NC-17)

Haunted House: Rumbelle: Gold and Bae, newly arrived in town, turn to their neighbour after discovering their house is haunted...

A Slight Crisis: Macelle: There are bunny rabbits loose in Joseph’s church. Sister Belle knows why.

A Midnight Dip: Rumbelle: Mr Gold catches Belle skinny-dipping in his pool.

Not Beyond Repair: Neal brings Belle a souvenir from New York

Revenge is Sweet: Ivelle: When Ives does away with Gaston Chevalier, Mrs Chevalier’s reaction is not at all what he expects.

Belle becomes a ‘sober companion’ for rehabilitated magic addict Rumpel

With This Ring: Rushbelle: They pretend to be married after Nick ends up in hospital.

Not Again: Barnelle: Barney meets Belle in the bingo hall, but their walk home doesn’t go quite as planned.

An Inconvenient Rainstorm: Rumbelle: (M) Gold and Belle are caught in the rain. Naturally, they have to get out of their wet clothes...

Belle discovers Gold’s stash of adult films (NC-17)

As The Blossoms Fall: Carelle: Carl reminisces about the first time he met Belle. [NB: Character death]

Beside the Beating Heart: Gold holds Bae for the first time, and Milah returns

Belle catches Rush singing in the shower

Blame It On The Gin: Rumbelle: After a night of heavy drinking, neither recognises the other...

Second Helpings: Ivelle: (NC-17) In the ‘A Date for Dinner’ verse, another date coincides with Belle’s period, and Ives wants a taste. 

A Dark One on Ice: Rumbelle: Belle and Rumpel go ice-skating at the Dark Castle.

Insatiable: Ivelle: (NC-17) Wendigo Belle considers her latest chosen prey.

Gold catches Belle reading smut (NC-17)

Reporter Gold meets Lion Tamer Belle

Weirdness is Relative: Rushbelle: They race ostriches on a bizarre planet

Rushbelle Charity Chase Remix

Carousel: They experiment with the other fairground rides

Locking Horns and Hearts: Rumbelle: Mr Gold is really quite frustrated with his new tenant’s ability to misplace her keys...

The Mysterious Power of Leather Pants: Rumbelle: Belle finds a pair of Rumpel’s leather pants in Storybrooke...

The Great Wide Somewhere - Rumbelle in Tallahassee

First Bite of the Cherry: Rumbelle: (NC-17) Upon discovering Rum is a virgin, his oldest friends take it upon themselves to set him up with Belle...

As The Day He Was (Re)Born: Rumpel, Belle and Neal arrive in NYC

Belle tries to find a suitably embarrassing nickname for Rush

Tripping the Light Fantastic: Ivelle: Belle and Ives eat from an addict and get high

Well-Fitted: Rumbelle:(M)  In the Dark Castle, Rumpel measures Belle for new clothes.

New, And A Bit Alarming: Rumbelle: Enchanted AU.

A New Sensation: Rumbelle: (NC-17) Having sex without a condom for the first time.

[worryinglyinnocent]

February Fic Summary

Completely New Works

Inner Steel (anyem; Emily/Begbie)

Decoy (rumbelle)

New Chapters

A Helping Hand from Beyond (rushbelle): [five] [six] [seven] [eight]

Miscellaneous Prompts

Playtime: Frosting (rumbelle)

Playtime: Confession (rumbelle)

Acting Up (rushbelle)

600 Follower Promptathon

New, And A Bit Alarming (rumbelle)

A New Sensation (rumbelle)

Well-Fitted (rumbelle)

Full Masterlist

A Monthly Rumbelling

Candy from the Cave (rumbelle)

The Course of True Love (rumbelle)

Super Fluffy Smutty Sunday

Full Masterlist (various pairings and fandoms)

[worryinglyinnocent]

My brain decided to go on a mission to finish up my remaining prompts from my 600 follower promptathon. (Yeah, that thing I’ve been finishing up prompts from for nearly two years now...)

I am determined to get them all done by the end of February!

[worryinglyinnocent]

TMI Tuesday!

That time of week again! It’s a hella stressful day at work and I’m frantically trying to get this Oscars fic finished! Ask me anything, ask the characters anything, ask the ducks anything... 

This week I posted the usual Monday update of Helping Hand, as well as smutty rushbelle goodness in Acting Up, plus Candy from the Cave and The Course of True Love for A Monthly Rumbelling, and my final three 600 follower promptathon posts at long last: 

A New Sensation New and a Bit Alarming Well-Fitted

The full masterpost is here!

Ask me here. Masterlist here.

[worryinglyinnocent]

January Fic Summary

Completely New Works

The Perfect Year (rumbelle)

A Helping Hand From Beyond (rushbelle): [One] [Two] [Three] [Four]

New Chapters

N/A

600 Follower Promptathon

Tripping the Light Fantastic (ivelle)

Miscellaneous Prompts

Snapshot: Belle takes pictures of Rum (rumbelle)

A Monthly Rumbelling

Through the Keyhole (rumbelle)

Forbidden Feathers (rumbelle)

Worth a Thousand Words (golden lace)

Wonderful Dreams (rumbelle)

Sex on the Beach (rumbelle)

Friendships and Fandoms Flash Ficathon

Full Masterlist (18 small ficlets - 16 rumbelle/laceskin, one non-ship, one Brave Warrior)

[worryinglyinnocent]

@shipperqueen93 prompted: “Rushbelle: Belle attempts to get Rush to blush by calling him ridiculous nicknames”

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! *Hangs head in shame*. I'm on a mission to get through all my outstanding prompts. I will finish them, I promise!

====

“Belle, have you got those diagnostics for improving the shield matrix over the hydroponics dome?”

“Here you go, pookie.”

Rush raised an eyebrow as she pulled up the necessary data on her screen and he began to read it over her shoulder. Belle glanced up at him, a little smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth, but for a long time, he made no further comment, busying himself with double-checking her calculations and confirming that her math was, as always, perfect.

“Thank you,” he said eventually, making to move away. “You can run the program now.”

“Sure, pookie.”

Rush stopped in his tracks and slowly turned full circle until he was looking at Belle again. And Belle was looking at him, wearing her most innocent, butter wouldn’t melt expression.

“Pookie?” he asked, the word rolling awkwardly off his tongue, however deliciously his accent made it, as if the very act of speaking the two syllables offended him. “Really?”

Belle shrugged. “I need a nickname for you. I think it fits. You’re my pookie.”

Rush sank down into the bridge command chair again and rubbed his forehead.

“Just… Run the program,” he sighed.

“What’s the magic word, honeybunch?”

Rush stopped rubbing his forehead and started on his temples instead. “Please,” he ground out.

Belle gave him her most brilliant sunny smile and began typing on her console to get the program running. It was really a good job that they were alone on the bridge. She wasn’t entirely sure that she would have been able to go ahead with her plan if there had been any witnesses. That was the next step. There was no use in hurrying things along after all.

It had begun as a little thought in the back of her mind, but now it wouldn’t leave her alone. They had been in bed together a few days ago, and as Belle had felt her face start to flame as Nick’s throaty whisper in her ear told her all the naughty things he was going to do with her, she had realised that she had never seen him blush. And naturally, having realised this, she had decided that it was high time to do something about it.

To that end, she had begun thinking up nicknames and testing them out on him. She figured that this was probably the best way of getting through to him. She would never be able to best him when it came to turning her red in the bedroom, so more creative methods had to be employed. The nicknames seemed to be a good idea. Nick was not usually very demonstrative in their day to day lives, preferring to keep work and leisure separate, and Belle could respect that. Indeed, it had taken Eli several weeks, bless him, to work out that they were in a relationship at all, only finding out when he had come to wake Nick in fear of the ship blowing up and Belle had opened the door. It had taken him several more weeks to come to terms with that revelation, the spluttering protests of “but he’s Rush!” seeming to follow her around.

But even though they were discreet in their actions, that didn’t mean that she couldn’t give him a special name to let him know just how much he meant to her. And maybe make him blush.

“All done, sweetcheeks.”

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Belle, what are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m running the program to strengthen the shields over the hydroponics dome,” Belle replied, her voice matter of fact. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“I…” He shook his head in despair. “Never mind.”

“Are you all right, Nick?” Belle left her station and came over to the command chair, landing her hands on Nick’s slumped shoulders and begin to massage the tense muscles there. He gave a grunt of appreciation, his head lolling forward.

“I’d be all right if you stopped calling me ridiculous nicknames,” he muttered darkly.

“But I like calling you ridiculous nicknames!” Belle exclaimed, affronted. “It shows I care!” She paused, musing for a moment. “Is there something you’d prefer instead?”

“You could just use my name,” Nick pointed out.

“Yes, but everyone can use your name. I want something that’s special, just between us two.” Her hands stilled on his shoulders. “Maybe you’d prefer Nickiepops?”

“No, I would not.”

“Rushikins?”

“That makes me sound like I should be writing a sequel to War and Peace.”

“Doctor Smartypants?”

“Belle, now you’re just being silly.”

“McGrumpy? You’re usually pretty good at coming up with solutions out of nothing but we can’t really call you MacGyver, and you’re Scottish, so it’s a double whammy!”

“Belle, for the love of…”

“Hottie McScottie?”

“Belle!”

“What? You’re a Scot and you’re very hot! It’s perfect!”

“Belle…” Nick buried his head in his hands, his next words coming out slightly muffled. “Belle, please stop.”

“All right, McScottie.”

“Belle!”

Belle dutifully closed her mouth, studying the back of Nick’s head with interest. The tops of his ears had gone distinctly pink.

“Are you blushing, Nick?” she asked.

“What? No, of course not.”

Belle raised an eyebrow at this vehement denial and left her position to come round to the front of the chair, folding her arms.

“You know I’m going to keep calling you Hottie McScottie until you look at me,” she said.

Nick dutifully removed his face from his hands and looked up at her, rolling his eyes as he did so.

“Satisfied?” he asked.

Belle nodded serenely.

“You’re cute when you blush,” she said, reaching out to touch the spots of heightened colour on his cheeks. “I should make you do it more often.”

Nick groaned. “Please don’t. I don’t think I can survive any more of your attempts to nickname me.”

“Oh, but it’s fun! Besides, we’ve already established that you’re Hottie McScottie.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “I sincerely hope that you made that up just now and you haven’t been using it out of my earshot for however many weeks.”

“Well, I guess you’ll never know, will you?” Belle grinned.

“Belle, I’m warning you…”

“And what precisely are you warning me about, McHottie?”

“I thought it was McScottie?”

“Meh, McHottie’s better.”

“Belle, if you call me by that stupid name one more time I’ll…”

There was a pregnant pause whilst Nick tried to think up a suitable threat.

“Take me over your knee?” Belle piped in, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Belle! For God’s sake!”

Before Belle could make any kind of reply, the bridge doors opened and Eli came in, looking slightly shell-shocked.

“I’m not even going to ask,” he said faintly. “And I’m going to pretend that I have never heard the word ‘McHottie’.”

Belle just cackled as Rush buried his head in his hands with another heartfelt groan.

“Relax, Nick. Our secret’s safe with Eli, isn’t it?”

“Yup,” Eli said, moving over to one of the control stations and trying very hard to avoid looking at either of the bridge’s other two occupants. “I’m trying to find some kind of memory wipe program as we speak.”

“There. Everything’s going to be fine.”

She leaned in to whisper in Nick’s ear.

“I’ll make it up to you later in whatever way you choose… McHottie.”

[worryinglyinnocent]

Anonymous prompted: “As the Day he was Reborn prompt: Rumbelle and Neal finally find a way to get to Emma and Henry. Love to see Belle's reaction to NYC.”

As The Day He Was (Re)Born can be read here: [part one] [part two]

=====

“Are you all ready?”

“Yes, Jefferson.”

“Are you sure you’re all ready?”

Rumpelstiltskin gives a long sigh. “Jefferson, you have been asking us this same question for the last ten minutes. Yes, we are all very sure that we’re all ready.”

The three of them - Rumpelstiltskin, Belle and Neal - are standing above a swirling portal that really doesn’t look all that safe to the casual observer. It doesn’t look all that safe to the invested observer either, which is why Jefferson, the magic of whose hat was rather fundamental in the creation of said portal, is looking so concerned. In a mixture of various different spells, potions and inherent magics, they have finally managed to create a gateway to the Land Without Magic, and they will soon be on their way to reunite with Emma and Henry. It’s going to be easier said than done. Even if they don’t perish inside this untested wormhole, Emma and Henry have no memory of them. Well, Emma has memories of Neal for they led to Henry, but they are not particularly favourable memories of Neal; she will not remember any of the growth that happened between them since their reunion in New York the previous year. It’s not going to be plain sailing by any manner or means, but they have to try.

Neal had considered going through alone, but Rumpelstiltskin would not hear of it. He’d let his son go through a portal alone before, and he wasn’t about to do it again.

“Ok then…” Jefferson’s voice is still doubtful. “The portal’s ready when you are.”

“I’m trusting you to take good care of the castle whilst we’re away,” Rumpelstiltskin says. “If I find one thing out of place when I return…”

“Don’t worry, I’ve known you long enough to know the consequences for messing with your things,” Jefferson says, rolling his eyes. “Hurry up then, the gateway won’t stay open forever.”

Grasping hands in a triangle, the three travellers look at each other before taking a deep breath and jumping into the portal. Jefferson closes his eyes, crosses his fingers and puts his hands over his ears.

When a few minutes have passed with no explosions or cataclysmic magical events, he chances to take a peep. There’s nothing to show where the portal was created, not even the slightest scorch mark on the rug.

Jefferson gives a satisfied nod and, with a mischievous smile, he moves one of Rumpelstiltskin’s ornaments two inches to the left.

X

Portal travel never gets any easier no matter how many times one does it, and Neal is feeling slightly sick by the time the whizzing in his ears stops and his feet land on solid ground. They all stagger, the iron grip they have on each other’s fingers the only thing keeping them all from toppling into a heap. Belle is the first to recover herself, looking around in the dim evening light at her surroundings.

“Where are we?” she asks.

“New York, with any luck,” Neal groans, still nauseous from his travels.

“I’m not sure we are,” Belle says doubtfully. “It’s too… green.”

Rumpelstiltskin is similarly unconvinced by their location, but it’s at that moment that he hears the faint rumble of traffic and scream of sirens that permeate the huge city, and perhaps they are in the right place after all.

Neal finally gets his land legs and looks around.

“No, we’re here,” he says, and there’s a grin spreading over his face as he speaks. “We’re in the middle of Central Park. If my memory’s correct, we should be…”

He looks around himself, then takes off in an easterly direction and peers over a ridge, giving an exclamation of triumph.

“Goddammit, Jefferson,” he says, pointing down over the ridge. Rumpelstiltskin and Belle scramble up to join him and follow his line of sight. “We’re right next to the Alice in Wonderland statue.”

Belle has to laugh at that. Trust Jefferson.

“It’s getting late,” Rumpelstiltskin observes, looking at the rapidly darkening sky.

“Yeah, Central Park’s not really the first place you want to stay in at night,” Neal agrees. “Come on, my apartment’s not too far away. We can camp out there whilst we work out how to go about the next stage of the plan.”

They set off towards the nearest park exit, and Belle casts a glance sideways at Rumpelstiltskin as he takes her hand and squeezes it. Here they are, on an adventure of their very own, helping Neal reunite with his family and then, well, who knows? Perhaps they will continue travelling on their own, or maybe, if Emma and Henry choose to return the Enchanted Forest, then they will also make their way back there. Rumpelstiltskin likes to be close to family, after all.

As they walk along, Belle gazes around herself in wonder at the lights and the noise and the colour. She’s never seen anything like it before; she’s only ever heard Neal and Rumpelstiltskin’s description of this city that never sleeps, and now that she’s here, witnessing it with her own eyes, she can’t quite believe that it’s real and not some very strange dream. It’s something of a shock after the Enchanted Forest. It’s not that she’s not used to this Land Without Magic; she’s spent enough time in Storybrooke after all, but New York City after Storybrooke is something of a leap. She holds Rumpelstiltskin’s hand tightly and grins at him, so giddy about their forthcoming exploration of the city, and he smiles back indulgently, just happy that she’s so happy. It’s only once they’re walking along the main street towards Neal’s apartment that she really remembers their odd attire - the gowns and leather and dragonhide and cloaks that they left the Enchanted Forest wearing have not been replaced with anything more suited to this world.

“Aren’t we a bit, you know… conspicuous?” she hisses to Neal. Her stepson just laughs.

“I think if there’s anywhere in the world that you can get away with wearing what we’re wearing out on the street, it’s here. Don’t worry about it. No-one will think we’re strange.”

“Well, they might think we’re strange, but they won’t let it bother them,” Rumpelstiltskin adds dryly. They have reached Neal’s apartment by this stage and he lets them in, moving around the place with a easy familiarity as he switches on electrics and water and gets the place liveable in again. Belle doesn’t ask how come it’s still here and still available despite his not having lived in it for so long, and she wonders if it might have something to do with Regina’s magic which brought Emma and Henry to a life here in the first place. She knows that Rumpelstiltskin’s spells have built in redundancies and safeguards… perhaps this was intended to have been Emma and Henry’s residence when they came here, just in case.

“Make yourselves at home,” Neal says, and Belle immediately puts the kettle on, because whatever the question, tea is the answer. Rumpelstiltskin sits down on the sofa, stretching his leg out and flexing his bad ankle with a wince of pain. He’s brought his staff from the Dark Castle with him in anticipation of his limp returning, but it’s evidently still taking some getting used to. Neal appears, dressed in rather more normal attire, and announces that he’s going out for pizza and not to go anywhere. He doesn’t quite trust them not to get lost in the city yet, but Belle’s content to stay inside. She brings the tea over and settles herself on the sofa beside Rumpelstiltskin, encouraging him to take his boots off and rest his feet in her lap, and she rubs the swollen joint causing him discomfort.

Neal, Belle and Rumpelstiltskin’s first night in New York is spent eating pizza, trying to work out how to find Emma and Henry in this wide expanse of metropolis, and Neal recommending tourist destinations.

X

The next day, Neal leaves early to make some enquiries with a view to locating Emma and Henry. He leaves them with a guide book, a map, and instructions to call if they get into any trouble.

“His lack of faith in me is really rather unsettling,” Rumpelstiltskin laments. Over the past year, the vast majority of their issues have been worked through thanks to the long swathes of time they have spent in each other’s company trying to punch through the barriers between worlds, and the relationship between father and son is pretty much repaired. It will never be the same as it was before everything happened, but it’s getting there, and much has been learned over the past few months.

“Come on, Rumpel,” Belle says, hooking her arm through his. “We’ve got nothing else to do, so we might as well explore whilst we can. And buy me some new clothes whilst we’re at it.” She’s borrowed the few of Tamara’s that are left in the apartment and they just don’t fit her far shorter frame very well.

Rumpelstiltskin laughs. “What do you want to see first?”

“Everything,” Belle says, but when he looks at her with a raised eyebrow, he sees that she is completely in earnest.

They leave the apartment and make their way through the busy streets, picking up clothes for Belle and food on the way. Belle revels in it all, and the expression of utter delight on her face as she looks up at the famous landmarks she’s only ever heard about more than makes up for the dull ache that has set into Rumpelstiltskin’s ankle (he’s using Neal’s umbrella as a cane, the staff looked slightly odd when paired with jeans and flannel borrowed from his son rather than otherwordly leather). But all the same, by the end of the morning, he’s really not sure how much more walking he can take, and Belle can tell that something’s wrong.

“Are you ok?” she asks, tugging on his hand and guiding him over to sit down on a low wall.

Rumpelstiltskin nods. “I’m fine. I just… need a rest.”

“Ok. Well, maybe there’s somewhere close by we can take a break.” She wrestles with the map, unfolding it and finding their current position. Before she sees it, Rumpelstiltskin knows exactly where they’ll be heading. Only a few yards up the self same street they are sitting on, is the New York public library.

He taps its location on the map and Belle just looks up at him, eyes agleam with excitement. Neither of them say anything. Rumpelstiltskin raises a questioning eyebrow and Belle gives an enthusiastic nod, so they set off, and soon enough, they find it.

Belle is entranced. If he thought she had been entranced when he had gifted her the library in the Dark Castle or the one in Storybrooke, it’s nothing to what she looks like now.

“Oh Rumpel…” She moves away towards the vast building, her hand slipping out of his grasp in her rapture and eagerness to get inside. He follows her up the stairs at a slower pace, and once inside, he finds himself a quiet corner to stay and rest his foot.

“It’s beautiful,” Belle breathes. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

She hovers beside him for a while, obviously reluctant to leave him on his own but so visibly desperate to go and explore.

“Go on,” Rumpelstiltskin encourages. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Belle smiles like the sun and practically sprints away, rushing up the stairs and disappearing into one of the library's many halls. Rumpelstiltskin just smiles, and takes a moment to gather his strength for the rest of the day.

“Why am I not surprised that you’re here?”

He looks up to see Neal standing in front of him, and he pats the seat beside him. Neal sits gratefully.

“We might be here a while, then?”

Rumpelstiltskin nods. “Any luck?”

“Yeah, I think so. I’ve found out where she lives, but turning up on the doorstep isn’t going to be the best approach. Still, we’ve got something to work with.”

Rumpelstiltskin nods. He doesn’t know how long they sit there before Belle comes back, her face flushed and eyes bright with happiness.

“Rumpel, this place is amazing! I’ve never seen so many books! I think I could stay here for a week!”

Neal laughs. “You can come back later, but now I think lunch is in order.”

“But…” Belle begins, gesturing around at their spectacular surroundings.

“Come on,! Neal says. "We’ll go to Barnes and Noble. Coffee and books. Best of both worlds.”

Belle concedes that point and together they leave the library in search of books, sustenance, and eventually, Emma and Henry. Things are going in the right direction, however slowly, and soon, they will be a family again.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: First Bite of the Cherry

@applejackcat prompted: “I have another Cara and Ella meddling with Rum prompt: The couple discovers Rum's a virgin and that he has a huge crush on librarian Belle French and decide to push the two together for delicious smut.”

Rumbelle with a side of Spotted Dragon (Maleficent/Cruella)

Rated: NC-17

====

First Bite of the Cherry

If Cara was concerned when she finally rolled out of bed after a particularly spectacular birthday party to find Ella sitting at the kitchen table frowning at a fizzing glass of Alka Seltzer, then she didn’t say anything. Considering the amount of gin that Ella had imbibed the previous evening, Cara was privately amazed that her wife was out of bed at all, let alone compos mentis enough to be staring at some Alka Seltzer.

When Ella had not moved after five minutes, however, Cara began to think that perhaps there was something wrong with her, and she prodded Ella’s shoulder to see if she reacted.

Ella summarily swatted her away, so at least she was vaguely responsive.

“So, what has the Alka Seltzer done to upset you?” Cara asked, the final word turning into a yawn.

“Nothing.” Ella downed the effervescing liquid and grimaced before returning to her glaring contest with the now-empty glass. “I was just thinking about something that was said last night and trying to remember exactly what happened. The glass just so happened to be in my line of sight at the time.”

“Right.” Cara poured herself some orange juice and sat down opposite Ella. “So, have you remembered what it was that was said?”

Ella nodded slowly.

“It’s very concerning,” she said, her brow still furrowed.

“What is?” Cara asked.

“I’m not sure I should say,” Ella continued. “I’m trying to remember in how much confidence it was told to me.”

That would certainly explain Ella’s current expression of intense concentration.

“Well, why don’t you tell me anyway?” Cara asked. “You usually tell me everything, including things you’re not meant to tell me and things I really didn’t want to know.”

Ella gave another languid nod, and without further ado, said the blunt words that were playing on her mind.

“Rum’s a virgin.”

This frank declaration, given so off-handedly, caused Cara to choke on her mouthful of orange juice and spit it out all over the table, narrowly avoiding some of it landing in Ella’s hair.

“Pardon?” she spluttered.

“Rum’s a virgin,” Ella repeated. “I got it out of him last night under the influence of whiskey.”

“He can’t be!” Cara exclaimed. “He just can’t! I mean, he’s Rum!”

“Well, apparently he can be and is.” Ella went to take a sip from her empty glass and only just stopped herself in time. “You know he’s an honest drunk, and last night he was honestly lamenting the fact that he would never have a chance in hell with Belle French and even if he did, he’d never be able to satisfy her in a bedroom capacity.”

Cara made sure she had swallowed her second mouthful of orange juice before responding.

“So not only is he a virgin, he also has a crush on the librarian?” She shook her head. “For all he’s one of my oldest friends, there’s so much I didn’t know about him.”

“I know. That’s what concerns me, among other things, but the most pressing concern is that really, something needs to be done about this terrible situation.” Ella’s voice was completely matter-of-fact and Cara just stared at her for a few moments before speaking again.

“What do you propose that we do about it?” she asked.

“I don’t know, but we’ve got to do something! Your friend might get run over by a bus tomorrow and we don’t want him to die a virgin, do we?”

“You know, there are people in this world who don’t actually have an interest in sex, Ella. Not everyone is quite as voraciously insatiable as you are.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” Ella flapped her hands to wave the important comment away. “But you didn’t hear Rum last night. I don’t think he’s entirely happy with his current state and I don’t believe that it has come about because of a lack of interest or desire on his part.”

Cara opened her mouth to say something, decided that all further conversation would be better when done on a full stomach, and closed it again, going over to the fridge to collect bread and eggs and begin the process of making French toast. Once breakfast was on the table and her brain was suitably fortified, she decided to broach the subject again in an attempt to either dissuade her wife from a destructive train of thought or perhaps be persuaded onto that same train of thought herself.

“So, how do you propose that we put the two of them together in a situation conducive to intimate activities?” she asked. “Short of locking them in a broom cupboard together?”

“It doesn’t have to be a broom cupboard,” Ella said. “You have so little imagination in these matters, Cara. It would be just as effective to shut them in the library and sabotage the air-conditioning to force them to strip off to stay cool. You know how many layers Rum wears, I’m convinced that there is in fact a robot under that three piece suit.”

Cara pinched the bridge of her nose.

“You know,” she muttered, “sometimes I worry about you and your ideas. Anyway, back to the more practical problems with that particular one. Firstly you have no idea how to sabotage an air-conditioning system and secondly, we have no idea if Miss French, our esteemed librarian, is even interested in reciprocating Rum’s affections and desire to mate. There would be no use whatsoever in trying to push the two together if one party is opposed to the union.”

Ella’s face fell and she looked down at her French toast despondently.

“True,” she admitted, but a moment later her expression brightened again. “That’s what we have to start with!” she exclaimed. “We need to work out Belle’s feelings on the subject and then we have a much better base to start with.” She paused. “You know, it would make life a lot easier if she wasn’t interested because then we could just hire him an escort and be done with it, no subterfuge required.”

Cara fixed Ella with a pointed look. “I’m fairly certain that if Rum wanted to part with cash in addition to his virginity he would have done so by now; he’s a man of few scruples.”

“These are desperate times and they call for desperate measures,” Ella said airily. “When push comes to shove he won’t complain. But I will concede that it would be best for all parties if we could get Miss French herself involved, as this might lead to an ongoing and mutually satisfying relationship for all parties. It really is about time we got him paired up, don’t you think?”

Cara, who had by this point moved past despair and was beginning to come around to the idea, for sheer comedy value if nothing else, rested her head in her hands and sighed heavily.

“If we do this,” she said, muffled behind her palms, “then it’s entirely on your own head.”

Ella grinned. “That is a risk I am more than willing to take. Now, our first priority is of course establishing Belle’s feelings on the subject.”

“And how do you propose doing that?” Cara asked. “It’s not like we’re close friends with her and moreover, she knows that we are close friends with Rum, so asking her about him is more than likely to attract some kind of suspicion.”

“Which is precisely why we do not ask her,” Ella said shrewdly. “We will let her admit where her affections lie herself.”

“Are you in possession of truth serum?”

“Nope,” Ella said. “I am in possession of something far better. Gin.”

X

If there was one thing that Cara had learned during the course of the evening, it was that Belle French was an incredibly talkative drunk, and she now knew more about the younger woman’s intimate personal life than perhaps anyone would ever care to know. But it had to be said that the most interesting thing that had come out during their impromptu drinking session at the Rabbit Hole was that Belle French, sweet young librarian of Storybrooke, was not only head over heels in love with Rum Gold, but also a virgin herself.

“Are you sure you’re going to be ok?” Cara asked as Belle wobbled up the steps towards her flat above the library.

“I’m fine,” Belle said, not entirely convincingly. “Thanksh for thish evening, it wash fantashtic…”

With that she had toppled into her flat and closed the door, and Cara and Ella were left looking at each other.

“I’ve never met such a lightweight,” Ella said conversationally.

“You were the one plying her with double gin and tonics,” Cara pointed out.

It had been a mixture of chance and design that the scheming twosome had encountered Belle in the drinking establishment, where she had been with her friends who had summarily left her in order to go and flirt with the various specimens of menfolk gathered around the bar. It had been through careful observation that Ella had learned that Belle would be going out that evening and chance that such an opportune opening had presented itself. Plying her with gin and tonic, they had received all manner of information - rather too much of it in Cara’s opinion, but Ella was over the moon with the results so she could not complain too much.

“So the first stage of our plan is complete!” Ella said happily as they meandered down the road to their own home. Cara wanted to point out that the plan was not exactly theirs but rather Ella’s alone that she happened to be tagging along with, but she did not want to burst her wife’s euphoric little bubble so she left it lie. “Now all we have to do is force the two of them together and get them to admit their mutual attraction and shag like rabbits.”

“Easier said than done,” Cara pointed out. “Neither of them are the most outgoing of people and I do believe that Rum is downright obtuse when it comes to the opposite sex.”

“Well, they’ll just take a lot of persuading then, won’t they?” Ella said. “That said, I have been reading up on rewiring air conditioning systems.”

Cara just shook her head in despair.

“Perhaps we could set them up on a blind date?” Ella continued, musing out loud. “That might work.”

“How would we convince either party to go through with it?”

“I haven’t thought of that yet,” Ella snapped. “Let me finish my train of thought.”

“Ella, Rum doesn’t trust you with affairs of the heart as far as he could throw you. Well, when he’s sober that is, and we don’t really want him turning up to a blind date drunk off his face. That would railroad the plan slightly. And despite Belle’s extreme friendliness this evening, I’m sure that when she wakes up she is going to regret spilling her soul to two women she’s barely met.”

“Well, we might have to enlist the help of some others,” Ella said. “You know, the more I think about it, the more I think it would work.”

She went on to outline her plan and Cara shook her head again.

“Ella, you’re at the stage of getting the entire town involved. I know Rum and Belle were both not really in their right minds when they divulged this private information about themselves but nevertheless, I really don’t think that they want all and sundry to know about their…  situation.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that we shared the specifics,” Ella said with a sigh, as if Cara was utterly ridiculous for dreaming up such a notion. “Just that we need their help to get these two lovestruck idiots in the same room as each other. No-one else needs to know that the entire purpose of getting them in the same room together is to have them go at it like their lives depend on it.”

“You know, I’m still not entirely sure that you’re going about this the right way…”

X

Gold was still unable to fathom what had possessed him to accept Cara’s proposal of a blind date, especially when he was more than certain that Ella was behind the whole thing, and given the brutal honesty he had shown at Cara’s birthday party two weeks’ prior, he was increasingly wary about Ella’s new-found knowledge of his relationship experience. Or rather, his lack of it.

That did not change the fact that it was seven o’clock and he was sitting in a booth in Granny’s waiting for his date to arrive. He would admit that he was rather nervous, especially because he was certain that Granny and Ruby kept looking over at him and muttering to each other, no doubt passing comment on his evidently waiting there for someone when he had never yet been seen in the diner in the company of anyone else before. He glanced over towards the cash register again and caught them whispering again, and rather tellingly they broke off when they noticed his gaze on them. Ruby looked rather worried, and Gold gave a snort of cynical laughter before turning back to study the menu that he had already read at least ten times and could probably recite backwards. The younger woman was probably wondering who on earth he was about to meet and feeling incredibly sorry for the unsuspecting female, and he wouldn’t put it past her and Granny to be coming up with some kind of distraction to allow his date to escape.

He was on the verge of getting up and leaving, because nothing was worth the embarrassment that he was undoubtedly about to face and the shame of quitting whilst he was ahead and leaving alone, his date not having shown up, was the lesser of two evils. But just as he was about to rise and exit with his head held high, the door of the diner opened and Belle French walked in.

And, as usually happened whenever he was in the presence of the librarian, Gold completely lost his train of thought and was rendered dumbstruck for a moment as he took her in from top to toe and tried extremely hard not to think about just how inviting her plump pink lips were. By the time coherent thought had returned, it was too late for him to try and leave the place without her noticing, and if there was one person in the world whom he did not want to notice him lest he make a complete and utter fool of himself, it was Belle French.

She looked around the diner, her blue eyes searching out something, and Gold wondered whom she was here to meet. It was a quiet evening in the diner and there were not too many patrons beside himself; certainly none who were alone. Evidently her date had not arrived yet.

It was in that moment that something really quite extraordinary happened. Ruby, who had been looking towards the door with a worried expression, broke into the widest grin that Gold had ever seen, and she waved at Belle before pointing in his direction.

Belle smiled her thanks to her friend and began to come over to his booth.

Gold panicked. Belle was his blind date? This was absolutely not what he had intended to happen. This was an unprecedented disaster on an epic scale. He looked again at Ruby, who was still doing a passable impression of the Cheshire Cat, and he wondered if perhaps this was all some kind of elaborate plan concocted by the whole town to humiliate him so thoroughly that he was forced to leave Storybrooke forever. He shook himself mentally. Whilst he might not always see eye to eye with Ella, Cara was a genuine friend, and surely she would not have let him come to meet his doom like this without some kind of warning.

“Hello, Mr Gold,” Belle said brightly, sliding into the seat opposite him. “I was so worried when Ruby set me up on a blind date but I’m so glad it’s you. The last time she set me up with someone it turned out to be that creep Keith from the Rabbit Hole.”

Gold knew that he probably ought to say something, but his brain and his mouth seemed to have suffered some kind of short circuit. Belle was his date and she was actually pleased to see him? He was having some difficulty believing that this was true and he wondered if he had perhaps fallen asleep whilst waiting for his actual date to arrive and that this was all a very pleasant, if confusing and downright terrifying, dream. He wondered if he could surreptitiously pinch himself and check his state of wakefulness that way. Only one thing was certain, and that was that he was never going to let Cara set him up on a blind date ever, ever again.

He looked across at Ruby again and wondered what it could be that she was thinking to make her smile so much. He didn’t like that smile. It was almost… predatory. There was something of a warning in it, telling him that if he hurt Belle then he would have to answer to her.

It was at that moment that two things dawned on Gold. The first was that Ruby’s expression meant, in however long and convoluted train of thought it took to get there, that Belle genuinely wanted to be here, with him. The second thing was that he still hadn’t actually said anything to the wonderful young woman sitting opposite him.

“I’m… glad you approve of her choice,” he managed to garble out eventually, immediately cringing inwardly at how ridiculous he sounded. “I’m very glad to see you, too. I’m never entirely sure whether to trust Cara not to make a fool of me.”

“Well, I don’t intend to make a fool of you, Mr Gold,” Belle said earnestly. No, Gold thought, he was doing a very good job of that all by himself and required absolutely no help from her.

“Please call me Rum,” he said. That was safe. Nothing much could go wrong with that. Now all that remained was thinking up things to say for the rest of the evening. Hopefully the ease with which Belle had begun their date would continue and he could get away with letting her do all of the talking. Belle seemed to sense his nervousness and smiled her lovely smile at him, reaching across the table to give his hand a reassuring pat as Granny came over to take their order. Gold almost jumped out of his skin at the contact, and he was certain that Ruby was giggling behind the bar. He would have glared at her, but since she had been somewhat instrumental in getting him and Belle together in the same space on a date, he felt that would be somehow ungrateful.

Another thought struck him at that point, one that he could not believe he had not realised sooner.

Cara and Ruby were in cahoots.

It was at that moment that Gold realised that should those two particular members of the town gang up against him, he stood very little chance of survival. By now, he had gone into full-blown panic and was doing his utmost not to let it show to Belle or Granny. Even supposing he managed to get through this evening without utterly disgracing himself, what would happen going forward? If by some miracle this single blind date became something more in the future, what on earth would happen if they ended up in…

Gold’s mind ran away from that thought before it could even turn into a proper thought. It was not going to come down to that. It couldn’t. She was Belle French and she was perfect and he was… well, not. They were doomed before they began.

“Gold, you look as if you’re about to be eaten alive,” Granny remarked conversationally. “It’s all right, I’ve known Belle a long time and she’s in no way cannibalistic.”

Gold gave the older woman a mortified glance, but Belle simply giggled at the comment.

“Now, what can I get you two lovebirds?” Granny asked. Gold opened his mouth to make some kind of assertion that they were not lovebirds, but Belle had already ordered, making no mention of the description and he was forced to shut it again.

“I’ll have the same,” he said eventually, feeling intensely relieved when the diner’s proprietress moved away towards the kitchen.

“She’s right, you know,” Belle said, leaning in over the table a little. “I don’t bite.”

For a long moment, all Gold could think about was quite how much he would definitely not mind being bitten by Belle, and he only just managed to stop himself from saying so. Who knew that romantic encounters could be quite so shredding on the nerves? Gold had not been on a date for so long that he had forgotten the utter terror that came with it, especially if the date was with someone he had admired from affair for as long as he had done with Belle. Part of him was still convinced that this could not possibly be real, but as the minutes passed and as Belle continued to chatter on happily to him, he began to think that maybe this was not quite such a disaster as it could have been. Belle was faltering in her happy patter, breaking off and looking down at her plate with an embarrassed cough, a light blush rising in her cheeks as she pushed a French fry around in the pool of ketchup on her plate without showing any signs of actually putting it in her mouth.

“I’m sorry, I’m talking too much,” she said suddenly. “It’s just… That tends to happen when I get nervous. I just can’t stop myself, and I always say the stupidest things, and…”

Gold gave a small smile. Belle was just as nervous as he was, really. She just showed it in a different way.

“That’s all right,” he said. “When I get nervous I don’t speak at all.”

Belle gave a gentle huff of laughter. “I’d noticed that.”

They fell into silence, but there was nothing awkward in the quiet. In admitting their fear they had reached a strange kind of camaraderie that bonded them together beneath the mutual attraction. At least, Gold hoped that it was mutual. He was sure that it was, but then again, perhaps that was wishful thinking on his part.

“Why are you nervous?” he asked.

“Why are you?” Belle replied.

Because you’re so lovely and I’ve wanted this to happen for so long and I don’t want to ruin it, Gold thought, but he did not dare to say that aloud.

“I haven’t done this for a very long time,” he finally said. “And I don’t want to do it wrong.”

Belle smiled. “I promise, you’re not doing anything wrong.” Once more she reached across the table for his hand, and this time he did not flinch away. “Not in the slightest.”

“So why are you nervous?” Gold asked again. “You’re so young and bright and confident,” unlike me “surely you have nothing to worry about?”

Belle shook her head. “It’s all an act, really,” she said. “Do the brave thing and bravery will follow, that’s what my mother always told me. I guess… the same reasons as you, really. I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time. I don’t want to put my foot in it.”

She had wanted to do this. She had wanted him. Gold blinked, not entirely able to take a proper hold of the concept. It couldn’t possibly be true.

And yet… Her eyes were clear and bright and looking straight at him as she spoke, and there was something so innocent and earnest in the way she was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, never mind that the action made him want to do things to her that would almost certainly get him arrested should he attempt them in public.

“I guess we’re both as bad as each other, then,” he said. Belle laughed, and that in turn made Gold laugh.

“I guess we are,” she agreed, and she raised her half-drunk glass of iced tea in a toast. “To us. Both as bad as each other.”

“To us,” Gold echoed, and as he chinked his glass against hers, he forgot all his misgivings, all his worries over what might happen in the future should this fledgling little relationship go much further, and he simply marvelled at the fact that this wonderful woman he had fallen head over heels for felt the same way about him.

X

“Well???” Ella exclaimed frantically, breaking from her pacing up and down the room where she had been glancing at the phone on the coffee table with every pass by it. Cara merely raised an eyebrow and gave her wife a sage look over the top of her magazine.

“Ella, I am not going out in the middle of the night to spy on my oldest friend in the hope and off-chance that he might be in the process of making love to a beautiful woman. If we do so and it turns out that he is not, then we are idiots, if he is then we are voyeurs, and whatever happens, we’re perverts. None of these things are labels that I particularly want to wear. Please stop walking up and down, you’re going to wear a hole in the carpet and we’ve already had to replace it once this year thanks to that incident with the gin sangria at the Independence Day party.”

“I remembered to get the carpets taken up for the next party!” Ella said vehemently. “You’re never going to let me live that one down, are you?”

Cara shook her head and returned to her perusal of an interesting article on vintage shoe repair. “We will find out if our efforts have been successful in due course,” she said calmly. “Ruby promised that she would call us with an update as soon as there was any news.”

“Exactly!” Ella sounded very much as if she was about to explode with impatience. “So why hasn’t she called yet?”

“I would take this as a good sign, personally,” Cara mused without looking up. “The longer we go without hearing anything, the longer Belle and Rum are staying in the diner together enjoying each other’s company.”

“It’s all very well them enjoying each other’s company in the diner! We need them to be enjoying each other’s company somewhere a little bit more private than that!”

“All in good time, Ella. All in good time. Just because we had sex on the first date doesn’t mean that everyone does.”

“I know that! I just…” Ella let out an exclamation of frustration that died off and became one of triumph when the phone burst into shrill life, and she dived to answer it.

“And?” she said by way of greeting. Despite her tranquil outward demeanour, Cara was just as eager to hear the news as Ella was, and she leaned in to listen.

“They’ve just left. Gold walked Belle home. I can see her flat from the back room of the diner so I watched them through the blinds. They kissed cheeks at her front door. All in all, I think it was a success.”

Ella let out a long sigh of relief.

“So, how long do you think it will take them to start shagging like rabbits?”

X

Four months, several dates and countless glasses of iced tea after that first revelatory meeting at the diner, Gold found himself once more in a position of complete and utter terror, and he wondered if it was too late to turn tail and run in the hope of saving what little of his dignity he still had left.

He was standing in Belle’s flat, which was not in itself unusual of late. He was kissing Belle, which was again, not in and of itself unusual. Both of them had discovered very quickly that kissing was something that they both liked and neither made a complete mess of, so it was something that they often indulged in whenever old fears or worries overtook them. Thankfully those moments were few and far between now, and most of their kisses were initiated simply because they wanted to feel each other’s lips at that moment in time, but on this particular occasion, Gold was feeling incredibly nervous.

In addition to standing in Belle’s flat, kissing her as if his life depended on it, like she was oxygen to a drowning man, Gold was also really rather embarrassingly hard, and he knew that Belle could feel it pressing against her thigh. Again, this was not entirely unheard of, but every other time it had happened, Gold had pulled away, muttering something about needing to get back home, and Belle had let him go.

This time, Belle was not letting go. In fact, she seemed to be pulling him in even closer, her fingers carding in his hair as she rubbed up against him. It was only pure, unbridled fear that kept him from throwing his head back in pleasure at the sensation and coming in his trousers there and then.

As she finally broke away, breath coming in hot little pants and her face flush with desire, lips swollen from kissing and eyes bright, Gold knew that he only had one chance to make his escape.

“Belle, I should really go…”

But Belle made no move to release him, and simply looked up at him, her shining eyes questioning.

“Do you want me, Rum?” she asked quietly. One of her hands untangled from his hair and snaked down between them to touch the front of his trousers. “I can tell you want something.”

“I should go,” Rum repeated, but he couldn’t bring himself to twist out of her embrace.

“I’d like you to stay,” Belle said. “I want you, Rum. I want more. Please."

“I…” Oh God, he wanted more as well, more than he could say.

“Do you want me, Rum?” Belle asked again. She released him this time, taking a little step back. “If you don’t, then by all means, you can leave. But I think that you do.”

“Oh Belle.” Gold felt his shoulders sag in defeat. There was going to be no getting around it. It was going to have to come out now. Well, he’d managed to hide it for this long and they’d had a very enjoyable few months together; he really should be grateful for small mercies, even if the end had come more suddenly than he would like. “Belle, I want you. I want you more than anything and more than I’ve wanted anyone before.”

“So why do you want to leave?” Belle asked simply. “I don’t understand.”

Gold sighed. “Because I know I can’t make this good for you.”

Belle just raised an eyebrow, uncomprehending, and Gold took a moment to stare at the ceiling, winging up a prayer for courage to whatever deity was up there. He was going to have to say it, just come out with it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I’m a virgin, Belle. I’ve never done this before.”

There was silence for a moment, and Gold did not dare to open his eyes and see the undoubted expression of scorn on Belle’s face, but then he felt one of her hands curl around his clenched fist.

“Neither have I.”

Gold looked down at her sharply, but there was nothing but earnestness in Belle’s face. She squeezed his hand.

“Everyone’s got to start somewhere, right?” she said. “And I can’t think of anyone I’d rather start with than you.”

“Most people start before they’re fifty,” Gold pointed out. Belle shrugged.

“The bud that blooms last, blooms longest,” she said, and in spite of himself, Gold had to give a snort of laughter at the statement. Belle stepped back into his arms, pressing herself up against his cock and hooking her arms around his neck.

“It’s never going to happen if we keep putting it off,” she pointed out. “And the longer you leave it, the more the fear will grow and fester. And I don’t want you festering.”

“No, that’s not something I particularly want either,” Gold agreed, and he slipped his arms back around her. They could do this. They could make it work. After all, if neither of them had any prior experience, then neither of them was going to be doing any kind of comparison.

When Belle leaned in for a kiss, Gold was all too happy to provide it; a kiss that could have lasted five seconds or five hours, a kiss that he surrendered to and lost himself in, one that he was not ready to let go of and probably would never be, but since breathing was a pretty essential part of life and one that he was going to have to participate in if he wanted things with Belle to go any further than this wonderful kiss, he reluctantly broke away.

“So, have I persuaded you to stay?” Belle asked shyly.

Gold nodded. “Yes, I think you have.”

“Good.”

For a moment they just stood there, locked in their tight embrace, until Belle broke away with a giggle, which in turn set Gold off laughing.

This was good. This wasn’t Belle laughing at him because he didn’t have a clue what he was doing. This was both of them laughing because neither of them had a clue what they were doing.

“So, where do we start?” he asked.

“Well, I’ve heard that the removal of any and all clothing is generally a good idea,” Belle said. “And usually moving to a bedroom helps as well.” She slipped out of his arms and took one hand, leading him through from the living room into her cosy bedroom. The covers were already turned down neatly and Belle’s blush rose in her cheeks once more.

“I had a feeling tonight would be the night,” she said, and she sat down on the bed, patting the sheet beside her. For perhaps the first time in his life, Gold did not hesitate, and he went over to her.

“You said something about the removal of any and all clothing,” he said. He would admit to being nervous about this part. It was already firmly established that he was not a young man, and he was very aware that Belle was a young woman.

But she didn’t seem to be put off, carefully unknotting his tie and pulling it from his collar before opening a few of his shirt buttons and gently stroking the skin she exposed. He felt his heart flutter under her fingers, and he wondered if she could feel it too. Belle looked up at him with a smile and took both his hands in hers, moving them to the bow at the neck of her blouse.

“Your turn.”

They took their time undressing each other, slowly, revealing themselves piece by piece as clothes were discarded onto the floor and bodies were mapped with fingertips until nothing remained and they were sitting on the bed: a little unsure, a little nervous, much more than a little aroused, and completely naked.

Belle was sitting cross-legged and her knees were shaking a little. Gold reached out and closed one hand over her thigh.

“Are you all right?”

She grinned up at him, and he knew that the shiver was one of desire.

“Never better. Are you ready?”

Gold nodded. Now or never, and he definitely wanted it to be now.

He stretched out beside her, taking a moment to drink in the sight of her in her glorious bareness, and then all fears and worries were lost to passion and pleasure.

X

“SUCCESS!”

For a long moment on hearing Ella’s shriek, Cara genuinely thought that they were under attack and she jumped out of bed with a garbled shout of ‘get away from my wife!’ and scrabbled around under the bed for the baseball bat, before realising that there were no intruders and the shriek had been one of triumph rather than one of alarm.

Cara dropped the baseball bat and did as any self-respecting woman would do in these circumstances - looked at her partner as if she had gone utterly insane.

“What?”

Ella bounded over to the bed from where she had been standing by the window, peering through the curtains.

“Guess what I have just witnessed!”

“The second coming of the Messiah?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cara. I have just seen that finally, after months of work, our plans have finally come into fruition!”

Cara blinked. “What plans?”

Ella practically howled with exasperation. “Our plans for Rum and Belle!”

“Oh. Those plans. It wasn’t really months of work, though. Once we set them up they did all the work themselves.”

“Well, yes, they did, but we’ve been there supporting them and urging them on in our own way and keeping tabs on them for all this time, and that can be incredibly exhausting,” Ella said, her voice matter-of-fact. “But at any rate, we need do that no longer!”

“I wasn’t doing it in the first place,” Cara pointed out. Ella ignored her and continued her victory speech.

“For I have just seen, walking from the direction of the library to the direction of his ludicrously pink home, one Mr Rum Gold, wearing a very satisfied smirk and the clothes that he was wearing last night on a date with Miss Belle French at Granny’s diner.”

Cara took a moment to let these words sink in.

“Well, Rum’s finally popped his cherry,” she mused.

“And popped Belle’s as well from the looks of things,” Ella added with a wicked grin.

Cara gave a satisfied nod.

“Excellent. Now I’m going back to bed.”

“But Cara! This is a momentous occasion that requires celebrating!”

Cara raised an eyebrow at her wife from above the covers, a look that said quite plainly: “Get back in this bed and I’ll give you something worth celebrating.”

Ella decided that it was probably best to leave Rum and Belle to their own devices for a while after all.

Fin

[worryinglyinnocent]

Anonymous prompted: “Prompt: Rumbelle go to Tallahassee. Could be set in the Great Wide Somewhere Verse if you want.”

The Great Wide Somewhere can be read here and there are lots of various little follow-ups available here.

===

It feels strange to be here, in a place that contains so many missed opportunities. Belle almost feels like she’s been here before, even though she’s only setting foot in the city for the first time now and all she knows about it is the research she has done online and in the library. Not even Emma has told her all that much about it: only that it was meant to have been her and Neal’s Great Wide Somewhere. It’s a home that never was, a place where they could have, should have settled, had fate and magic and everything else not conspired against them. It’s a place full of almosts, and almost is one of the most tragic concepts in the world.

On the face of it, it’s really no different to any other American city that she’s visited on their tour of this vast country, but even despite the bright Florida sunshine, there’s a sense of melancholy in the air; she can feel it through the family’s history alone. Wandering along Tallahassee’s streets hand in hand with Rumpel, Belle wonders what would have happened had things gone slightly differently and Neal and Emma had been allowed their chance at happiness here. Maybe they would still be here, still walking along, but in slightly better spirits, having visited Neal and Emma and Henry, a family still strong and united.

The strangest thing is that Belle can see Neal here. She can see how he would fit into the atmosphere easily, although she knows he’s never actually been here. Nonetheless, it seems like a place that he would be at home in, far more at home than the sometimes stifling confines of Storybrooke.

Belle casts a glance across at Rumpel. His face is ponderous, but it is not grieving. Over four years have passed since Neal’s death and the wounds have healed, no longer so raw as when they first began their travels in their own Great Wide Somewhere. They’ve covered a lot of the globe in the intervening years, always coming back to Storybrooke as a base, and their latest trip is taking them down the east coast. They did not make any kind of conscious decision to come here to Tallahassee, not like a pilgrimage to a place that holds such connotations of sadness. It just so happened to be on their route, so they have just continued on that route as they had always intended. When they were planning the trip and realised that their journey would cut through here, they had paused and looked at each other, neither speaking but both realising exactly what the other was thinking - should they avoid this place of heartache? In the end, they didn’t. It’s easier now, having had time to mend and rebuild, and there is more of a sense of gentle longing for what could have been, rather than an overbearing sadness for what will never be.

“Do you think it’s still here?” Belle asks presently. When they last checked back in with the family back in Storybrooke and mentioned that they were in Tallahassee, after a long pause Emma had given them the name of a diner where she had worked nights whilst she was living there, and told them to check out the pumpkin pie if it was still open. She can’t remember the exact address so they’ve been wandering around somewhat aimlessly looking for it, but Belle gets the feeling that they’re very close. She wonders if Emma will ever return here; perhaps she might bring Henry at some point. Belle shakes her head, unlike for them, who have never been here and only know the what-ifs, this place was part of Emma’s life, a large part, and her feelings towards it are different - those of desperation and lost hope, rather than lost opportunity.

“I don’t know. It must be around here somewhere.”

They turn the corner and there it is, calm and unassuming on the street, just a perfectly normal diner like the millions of others all over America. Nothing special, and yet, like the city itself, there’s a sort of connection there, a memory of a place that they’ve never been to but still feel a part of by proxy.

“Shall we go in?” Belle asks tentatively. Emma recommended it to them, after all, but somehow, going in feels more like they’re intruding on Emma’s life and Emma’s memories here.

Rumpel shakes his head.

“No. I think we need to find our own place.”

Belle nods her agreement and they move on past Emma’s diner. They’ll let her know that it’s still there, but they will leave it untouched, leave those memories of hers unmarred. That’s part of the point of the trip, in a way. Rumpel and Belle are making their own way in the world, leaving their own mark on it, breaking away from the roles and the lives that are assigned to them in Storybrooke and writing their own tale. Their journey of discovery is about more than just discovering the world around them; they are discovering themselves as well.

A few streets away they find another place that looks suitable for lunch and go inside. Belle wonders how many diners in America have seen this strange couple enter and always order exactly the same thing - two hamburgers, two iced teas, and blueberry pancakes à la mode to share. She likes the fanciful notion that the places in which they eat are all somehow in contact with each other and they’re all anticipating where Belle and Rumpel will end up next.

Their food arrives and they eat in silence for a few minutes - a companionable silence because neither of them have anything to say, the silence of a long-established couple who are completely in tune with each other.

“You know, it’s good, but it’s still not as good as Granny’s,” Belle says presently, and Rumpel chuckles.

“You never think anything is as good as Granny’s,” he chides.

“That’s because so far in our travels nothing has been as good as Granny’s,” Belle replies. “I have yet to find a diner in America that makes a burger quite like Granny does.”

Rumpel snorts. “Must be the magic.”

Belle thinks he might have a point about that. Not everyone in Storybrooke has magical powers, but there’s magic in the air there, and who knows what it might have permeated, hamburgers included?

They fall into silence again until the meal is finished.

“Feeling nostalgic for Maine?” Rumpel asks presently. Belle can tell from his tone of voice that he himself is not, at least not yet, but he’d be willing to return if she wants to. She shakes her head.

“Not really. I think the knowledge that we can just get in the car and drive home if we want to makes me less inclined to want to go back. It doesn’t seem like we’re that far away, even though we’re at the other end of the country. We’re still in the same country; it doesn’t feel like we’ve gone away all that much.”

All the same, it is strange being here in Tallahassee. Like having déjà vu although she’s never been here before. It’s a lovely city and she has enjoyed her time here, but she’s not pining to stay, not like she did in New York. (Rumpel had indulged her and they’d added an extra few days to their planned itinerary there so that she could take in all the sights she hadn’t had time for.)

She’ll be happy to return to Storybrooke when they get there; she wants to check in with all her friends and family again. But there’s no rush. The town will still be there waiting, and she and Rumpel have all the time in the world.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: The Mysterious Power of Leather Pants

@shipperqueen93 prompted: “Belle finds a pair of rumples leather pants in the mansion and convinces him to wear them around storybrooke.”

====

The Mysterious Power of Leather Pants

“Hey, Rumpel! Look what I found upstairs!”

Rumpelstiltskin looked up from the ledger that he had open on the kitchen table on hearing the patter of Belle’s feet coming down the stairs. Whatever it was that she had found, it had made her very excited, and he wondered what on earth could have caused such a reaction. He knew most of the possessions in his home quite well, and Belle had been part of this new world for long enough to have had a thorough introduction to most of the everyday appliances and gadgets that she might have found particularly interesting.

As soon as Belle arrived in the kitchen, however, he saw exactly what it was that had piqued her enthusiasm and he was not at all sure how to react to it.

Belle was holding up a pair of his leather trousers, the kind that he had worn so frequently in the Enchanted Forest. He vaguely remembered finding them in the closet back when he was still under the curse and shoving them to the back, Mr Gold never intending to wear such a thing but, for some reason, unable to bring himself to part with the garment. At least he knew why he’d never thrown the trousers out now; the imp in him had obviously felt too much of an attachment to let the man get rid of them.

“I see,” he said, trying to keep his tone measured. “And now that you have found them, what exactly do you plan to do with them?”

“I’m not planning on doing anything with them myself,” Belle said, but the glint in her eyes and the slight smirk on her face told Rumpel that he was not out of the woods just yet. “I’m planning on having you wear them.”

Rumpel leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “No.”

“Oh, Rumpel.” Belle pouted. “Are you sure I can’t persuade you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you very sure?”

“Well…” Rumpel looked at her through narrowed eyes. “That would depend entirely on what your methods of persuasion would be and whether you were intending for me to wear these trousers in public or just in the privacy of our own bedroom.”

Belle seemed to ponder this for a while, sitting down at the kitchen table opposite him with the trousers folded neatly on her lap.

“How much of a stir do you think it would cause if the sedate and menacing Mr Gold were to wear leather trousers out and about?”

“To be honest my dear, I dread to think of the reaction.”

“Ah Rumpel, I think you put yourself down too much. I hope you realise that these very trousers were one of the reasons why I was so drawn to you in the first place. When you first appeared in the war council room back in the Marchlands, wearing your trousers… The only reason I agreed to come with you was so that I could get a glimpse of your backside clad in lovely snug leather.” She paused and grinned at him. “I have to say, it did not disappoint.”

Rumpelstiltskin sighed.

“Things were different back in the Enchanted Forest. Everyone wore leather trousers, it was the go to material for covering your lower half. Over here it’s not quite as common. More of a niche market.”

“So?” Belle leaned in across the table. “I’m sure you still look just as handsome in them now as you did before.” She gave him the pretty little pout that he knew that she knew was able to completely wrap him around her little finger. “Why don’t you go and try them on? I’m sure they still fit.”

Although Rumpel was ninety-nine per cent certain that he was going to regret this decision, he nonetheless stood, took the trousers from her and made his way out of the kitchen and up the stairs towards their bedroom.

It felt strange to be putting the leather back on again. He had become so used to Gold’s pristinely tailored suits as the facade that he presented to this new world that it felt almost sacrilegious to be wearing anything else. Although, he supposed that his sense of dress had worked the same way back in the Enchanted Forest, even if the garments themselves were different. They had still worked as armour for him, a layer of mystery to protect him against the outside world. Whereas now he had soft wool and expensive silk, before he’d had dragonhide and leather, but their ultimate function was still the same - not just necessary covering but an essential method of intimidation. The form had changed to fit the surroundings, but that did not necessarily mean that his old attire would not still have the desired effect.

The trousers were perhaps a little tighter than they had been before - he attributed this to twenty-eight years of what might be called a regular pattern of eating rather than spending hours on end locked away in his tower brewing spells and potions and only deigning to come out when Belle dragged him out for tea - but they still fit well, and Rumpelstiltskin cast an appraising glance in the mirror. He wasn’t entirely convinced.

“I told you.”

Belle had come into the room and was looking over his shoulder in the mirror.

“They do still look just as good as they did before,” she continued, crossing the room to stand beside him, and Rumpel jumped as her hands came down on his butt. “And you still look just as delectable.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I wonder what the rest of the town would think?” Belle pondered.

“Belle…”

“How about a deal, Rumpelstiltskin?” Belle purred. “If you wear them out, then I’ll be all too happy to help you get out of them later.”

Rumpel sighed. There was not going to be any getting out of it when that kind of an offer was on the table.

“Your wish is my command, my lady. Where do you suggest we make our excursion to?”

Belle grinned. “I’ve got just the place.”

X

To say that one could have heard a pin drop in the diner when Belle and Rumpelstiltskin walked in would have been an understatement. Every conversation immediately stopped and every single pair of eyes was fixed steadfastly in their direction, or rather, in the direction of Rumpel’s lower half and the leather that it was wearing. Even Leroy closed his mouth, opened it again to make some kind of remark and then closed it again with a shake of his head, having evidently decided that this unexpected turn of events was too much for him to comprehend.

Belle, for her part, was completely unconcerned for the gobsmacked reaction to their presence, and simply went up to the counter and placed their order for two burgers and fries to go. It took Granny several attempts to actually make her mouth move and form words to ask for the necessary money and give the order to the kitchen, and it was clear that Belle was doing her absolute utmost not to laugh. Rumpelstiltskin, for his part, seemed slightly less sure of the reaction, but nonetheless, there was a smirk quirking at the corner of his mouth, almost as if he was challenging the gathered diner patrons to make some kind of comment as to his attire.

“Come on Rumpel,” Belle said, hooking her arm through his as their order was passed across. “I think you’ve stunned them with your trousers enough. Let’s see who else we can surprise.”

After the couple had left the diner, it took a couple of moments for sound and movement to come back in the wake of the vision in leather that had just departed. When normality did decide to return, David turned to Mary Margaret.

“Were you just checking out Gold’s butt?” he asked.

“No!” Mary Margaret exclaimed, but her indignation faltered on seeing David’s raised eyebrow and altogether disbelieving expression. “Well, maybe a bit. It is pretty cute.”

David sighed, shaking his head in despair, and there was a moment of silence before he spoke again.

“Yeah, you’re right, it is.”

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Locking Horns and Hearts

Anonymous prompted: “Rumbelle AU, Gold is starting to get a little frustrated with his forgetful all be it beautiful new tenant. Belle wonders how many times she will have to "lose" her keys before her quiet, snarky and very sexy landlord will get a clue.”

====

Locking Horns and Hearts

Almost as soon as the bell above the shop door sounded, Gold knew exactly who his visitor was and what they wanted. It was quarter past five, which meant that the visitor was Belle French and she had locked herself out of her apartment and needed to borrow the spare keys. This was such a regular occurrence that Gold had taken to just leaving the aforementioned spare keys on the counter, ready for her to come in and pick up. She would invariably forget her own keys at least three times per week, often more, and that was not including all of the occasions when she misplaced them entirely, only to find them under the issue desk or in the reference section, or, in one particularly entertaining case, actually inside a book being used as a page marker.

Belle French was a beautiful and thoroughly charming young lady. That was something that Gold would never deny. But her forgetfulness was slowly driving him around the bend. There were only so many times that a person could lose their keys, even in so many different ways. He was getting to the stage of thinking that the only way to solve the issue would be to hang the keys on a chain around her neck that she was categorically forbidden to take off at any time. There would come a day, he knew it, when for whatever reason he was not there to give her the keys and she would be left without a roof over her head for the night, and he really did not want that. His frustration with her was for her own good, really.

“Hello Mr Gold,” Belle said brightly as she entered. “I’ve come for the…”

“...the spare keys, yes, I gathered,” Gold snapped, holding them out to her. She took them and then took a step back, her brow furrowed and her expression stung by the sharpness of his manner. “You know, dearie, you really need to be more careful about these things, or I shall start adding the inconvenience to your rent.”

“Oh.” That was all that Belle said in response. “Oh. Ok. Well, thanks for the keys.”

With that she turned on her heel and stalked out of the shop. Gold watched her go down in the direction of the library and her apartment above it once more. It was a shame in a way; she would normally stop and chat every time she came to collect the keys and a small part of him always looked forward to her little visits because it was the one time of the day that he could be assured of a decent, intelligent conversation. Still, he told himself, it was for her own good. Hopefully she would take more care in the future.

X

Belle let herself into the apartment and threw the spare keys onto the side, taking out her own set and placing them next to Gold’s. The man honestly didn’t have a clue. No-one could possibly be as absent-minded and prone to losing things as she had played at being, and he still didn’t pick up on it. Well, he had made his opinion of her scattiness clear, so there was no point in trying again for a while.

Still, she was determined not to give in completely. She had already received the distinct impression - today excepted, of course - that Gold really didn’t mind her constant interruptions to his working week, and from the small, almost imperceptible smiles that she received whenever they talked in the shop after the library had closed and her keys had mysteriously vanished, she had thought that he perhaps enjoyed her company. She had thought that she had maybe been getting somewhere.

For the moment it was evidently not to be. She’d try again in a couple of weeks, let him simmer down a bit and get used to not having her around. Who knew, maybe he would find himself missing her visits? Stranger things had happened. Maybe he would just be grateful and she would be rebuffed a second time. Belle shrugged. She just had to try her luck again. There was something about the man that stopped her from just asking him out on a date first hand. Ever since she had first met him on the first day that she had moved into Storybrooke and signed the lease for the library and the adjoining flat in the cosy back room of his shop, she had felt that first little frisson of attraction. Perhaps it was the sharp suit that he wore so well, or the accent that wrapped itself around her like silk, or the dark eyes with their hidden depths. Belle didn’t know for sure. All she knew was that as time had gone on, she had found herself making more and more excuses to go and see him - usually involving her keys, as it was the easiest ruse that she could think of. It was almost as if the man was armour-plated. So quiet and secretive, she kept expecting at any moment for the mental shutters to go up and the drawbridge to be raised. He was so unfathomable and withdrawn. Within the town itself he was pretty reclusive, keeping himself to himself and only appearing to strike his imposing if slight figure on rent day. The townsfolk could not tell her anything concrete about him, only rumours based on rumours. No, it was clear to Belle that if she was going to learn anything about the man beneath that Armani armour, she was going to have to wait until he decided to raise that portcullis himself.

Hence the continued charade with her keys, one that had appeared to have just backfired.

Nonetheless, Belle smiled to herself. She’d had an idea, and if she had to be slightly more overt in her machinations, then so be it.

X

It was another week before anything else happened. Belle had just decided that it was time to restart her efforts and see if Gold noticed anything, and she was completely wrong-footed by the appearance of the man himself in the library.

“Mr Gold,” she began. “Just the man I wanted to see. How can I help you?”

“I, erm, I wanted to congratulate you on going an entire week without losing your keys, Miss French,” Gold said.

Belle smirked. “Are you missing my little visits to your shop that much, Mr Gold?” she asked. If she didn’t know better then she’d say that he blushed a little at that remark. Perhaps her theory had not been so erroneous after all.

“Well, I will admit that it has not been the same without your constant interruptions. I never know what time it is now.”

Belle resisted the urge to laugh.

“Well, Mr Gold, you are in luck, if that is the correct word to use, as I have indeed lost them again after my week of good behaviour. Well, I know exactly where they are, actually, but nevertheless, I will be requiring the spares.”

“Right.” Gold nodded. “Right. Ok. Well, you know where to find me when you need them.”

Belle smiled. “I certainly do. I’ll see you later, Mr Gold.”

“Till then, Miss French.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Belle called after him as he left the library, and she gave a giggle of amusement at the little squeak he gave.

As much as she wanted to go over to the shop there and then, Belle knew that patience was a virtue and as such she waited until the usual appointed time for her visit.

Gold was ready and waiting with the keys on the desk as he always was, but this time the expression on his face was more one of anticipation than exasperation.

“Thank you, Mr Gold,” she said, setting her bag on the counter and opening it up to drop the keys inside, showing him very clearly her own set of keys in pride of place.

“Erm, Miss French?” Gold began.

“Yes, Mr Gold?”

“My eyes may be playing tricks on me but unless I’m much mistaken, your own keys are in your bag there.”

“Oh yes, so they are. Silly me.”

She handed back the spare set and their hands touched, lingering for a split second too long to be coincidence.

“You know, Miss French, I’m beginning to think that your abstraction is intentional.”

“You might be beginning to think correctly,” Belle said. At last, he’d got a clue! It had taken him long enough.

“The question remains, though, as to why?”

“Oh Mr Gold.” Belle closed her bag and swung it back over her shoulder with a smile. “I really think that you ought to be able to work that one out for yourself. Since you’ve rumbled me, however, I’m going to have to find another excuse to come and visit you.”

Belle would forever after be proud of the fact that she had rendered Mr Gold, the man so notoriously good with words in the town, speechless.

Just as she was leaving the shop, he regained his voice.

“You, erm, you don’t need an excuse,” he said. “I’d be happy to see you any time.”

Belle turned and smiled over her shoulder at him.

“In that case, Mr Gold, I will see you very soon.”