#Rumbelle Christmas in july | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mariequitecontrarie · 4 years ago

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Tickled

A Rumbelle Dark Castle Fic

Summary: When Belle first hears Rumplestiltskin laugh, she’s determined to make it happen again. A/N: My @rumbellechristmasinjuly present for @silwenworld. I’m so sorry this is late, friend. I tried to weave some references in to Polish culture and hope it makes you smile. This fic is basically two Dark Castle Dorks squabbling like old marrieds. On AO3

Rumplestiltskin laughed. It wasn't his usual twittering giggle or the short, falsetto snicker reserved for particularly irritating nobles who called upon his power. It was a low, rumbling laugh, deep and genuine. His sides shook and his eyes crinkled at the corners, the lines fanning out almost to his temples. Even the crimped mop of hair on his head quivered with amusement. As soon as Belle heard it, she wanted to make it happen again. The sound was so surprising that she almost dropped the heavy basket filled with bread balanced on her hip. She slid the rolls and baguettes to safety onto the kitchen counter and spun around to give him her full attention, waiting for more. But the laughter was gone, the sparkle in his gaze shuttered, and all traces of mirth wiped from his expression. And though the atmosphere in the kitchen had shifted, she couldn’t let the moment go by unmentioned.

“You laughed,” she said, astonished at the generous, happy sound. She could almost hear its faint, deep echo in the kitchen rafters.

“Stop gaping at me, woman, I did nothing of the sort.”

“Deny it all you like,” she said with a growing smile. “But I heard it.”

Rumplestiltskin affected a dramatic pose and waved his arms in his signature flourish. “I laugh all the time,” he said and punctuated the words with a maddening giggle. “You’ve never commented on it before.”

Belle crossed her arms. This had been different and they’d both known it. The panicked glaze in his eyes was proof enough. “You laugh in mockery or to protect yourself. Just now you sounded happy. Joyful.”

“What an impertinent caretaker you are.” He wagged a finger at her. “Did you trouble your father this much when you lived in his household? No, don’t bother answering. The hairs on my head are turning white even as we speak.”

Belle rolled her eyes. Rumplestiltskin was immortal and although he was somewhere in the neighborhood of 300 years old, he didn’t have a single grey hair that Belle could find. Besides, any grey hair he’d earned came long before her arrival.

“Always changing the subject.” She rewarded his discomfiture with a sassy grin, then sashayed to the other side of the kitchen behind the large island, putting a safe distance between them. Alongside her delight and triumph at hearing his laughter, there was a strange, unfamiliar sense of warmth overtaking her. Smoothing the skirt of her dress with damp palms, she watched a spider methodically weave its web into the corner of the kitchen wall while she thought up a task to soothe her jitters. She wasn’t sure why, but the sound of Rumplestiltskin’s laughter had made her pulse skitter and her breath quicken. And when he’d stood close, his breath fanning her face as he laughed, the sweet aroma of magic and straw had overwhelmed the yeasty fragrance of bread.

Closing her eyes, she tried to commit the sound to memory. A shiver chased up her spine. His laughter had been intoxicating. Primal and full of life.

Shaking herself out of her daydream, Belle opened her eyes. The nearness of her employer didn’t typically affect her this way. At any rate, dinner and dessert wouldn’t make themselves, so she needed to get back to work. She squatted down to peruse the cookbooks on the shelves beneath the countertops, searching out one filled with cake recipes. Something with peaches would do nicely. The village bakery usually delivered cakes for Rumplestilsktin’s tea with the bread, but today they were out. It was her own fault; the riveting story she’d been reading yesterday had so engrossed her that she forgot to place the usual order. Thankfully there was always plenty of bread.

Burned cakes, Rumplestiltskin often said, were tolerable. Burned bread, however, was an abomination.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh!” She stood up too quickly and narrowly escaped banging her head on the underside of the counter.

His voice had floated as though he was standing right behind her, but he was clear across the room, a wicked grin plastered across his face. One leather-clad hip leaned indolently against the molding of the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.

She hated it when he tossed his voice. “Rumplestiltskin!” She stomped her foot. “Don’t you have a potion to mix or a nobleman to vex?” Raising an eyebrow, he snapped his fingers. A bialy from the top of the breadbasket floated across the kitchen island and into his outstretched hand. “What a peculiar little thing you are,” he said. And before she could respond, he disappeared in a poof of red smoke.

Belle peeked around the corners and opened the pantry door just in case he was still hiding. No sign of him. Her sigh of relief met the cool kitchen air in a puff of steam. Alone at last, she put the kettle on to boil water for tea.

Ordinarily, Rumplestiltskin’s grand exits were frustrating—most people couldn’t poof in and out of rooms and realms at will. He also had a distressing penchant for disappearing in the middle of an argument, and often right before she was going to make a point. Yelling into an empty room was both embarrassing and disconcerting. Today, however, his presence was an unwelcome distraction.

She needed a plan.

Something had amused him enough to inspire the most wonderful laughter she had ever heard, and Belle was determined to discover what it was. The kettle whistled and while she prepared some black orange peel tea, she mulled over the possible events that had led to his laughter. When the sweetness of oranges perfumed the room, she brought her cookbook and tea to the worktable and sat down on her usual stool.

They’d been here together in the kitchen. He was pilfering a sweet snack, and she was accepting the bread delivery from the bakery. When she sidled by him with the bread basket, he laughed like he was hearing the finest tale in half a century.

Most people considered him a monster and would sooner relegate him to the pit of hell than care about what could possibly amuse the Dark One. But after almost a year of living at the Dark Castle in his service, Belle knew there was more to Rumplestiltskin than he revealed to the world.

Hadn’t he gifted her with a beautiful room overlooking the castle gardens and outfitted her with lovely and comfortable clothes in every shade of her favorite color blue? He encouraged her to correspond with her father and even allowed her to visit with a friend a time or two. He fussed over her when she worked too much and tucked her into bed with soup and tea when she was ill. And then there was the sumptuous tower library built just for her. It was her room alone and no one else was allowed inside without permission, he said. When he sought her out, the library and her bedroom were the two places he knocked and waited for her invitation before entering, even when the doors were wide open.

Rumplestiltskin was a dangerous person—she wasn’t oblivious. But beneath his otherworldly exterior and mystical trappings lurked a sad, melancholy man who had lost his son and faced more than two centuries of loneliness. From the scant handful of stories he had willingly shared, she knew the life he’d had before he met the darkness had been years of rejection and ridicule. Life, she suspected, had offered him precious few reasons to laugh.

While a future as an indentured servant wasn’t the life she would have chosen for herself, living with Rumplestiltskin wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, if she were forced to choose between Rumple and her father, it would be a hard choice to make. Besides, she was here and she had promised to stay forever. It gave her a sense of purpose to care for someone other than herself. Perhaps if she could offer him more reasons to laugh he wouldn’t be so distant, so angry. Maybe he wouldn’t always choose to hide behind a mask. Now, how could she get Rumplestiltskin to laugh again?

A commotion from the ornate cuckoo clock spurred her to action. With only two hours until supper, she needed to hurry. Off to the pantry she went in search of the flour and sugar for the cake.

xoxo After the supper dishes were cleared away, Belle watched carefully from her perch on the settee as Rumple picked up a slice of her freshly baked babka and sniffed. “It’s Wednesday. I thought there would be peach tarts.” The remark drifted down the long table in the center of the great hall, his tone carrying a hint of accusation. She decided against telling him she’d botched the bakery order. “There are peach preserves in this,” she said, hoping to mollify him. “And I made it myself.” Shrugging, he gulped the slice of cake in two bites. “Not the worst I’ve eaten.” Belle hid a smile. Coming from Rumplestiltskin, that was a compliment. He slurped sugar-laced tea from the cup she’d chipped on her first day of service in the castle and ate three more pieces of pastry from the tray. Belle edged forward in her seat, knocking a pillow to the floor when she shifted. Now perhaps he would laugh again. But although he hummed his appreciation for the food, there was no laughter. Disappointed, she scooped up the fallen pillow and hugged it to her middle. Perhaps she should have slipped up to his laboratory and taken some laughing potion to stir into the recipe. Surely such a thing existed. “Aren’t you having any?” he asked, then filled her cup with tea without waiting for an answer. He set two slices of cake on a plate and walked the length of the room to deliver them. When she accepted the plate, their sleeves brushed at the wrist. He backed away as though her clothes were on fire. Belle chewed her lip. It wasn’t like him to be so skittish. “Do I have germs or something?” “No more than usual.” His gaze shifted to the discarded novel on the floor and he settled in the wingback chair opposite the settee. He steepled his fingers. “You’re quiet today. What ails you? Plotting my demise?” “Nothing ails me.” She mustered her sweetest smile. “Everything is fine.” “Indeed?” He harrumphed. “Take a bite of your cake so I know you’ve not a mind to poison me.” “You’ve already eaten five pieces and you’re no worse for wear,” she pointed out, but she bit into the sweet cinnamon-laced confection to appease him anyway. It was good. She congratulated herself on her most successful baking venture thus far, since it seemed no one else was going to. “Touché,” he grunted. “Keep eating, please, so you don’t waste away and force me to send you home to your papa as a bag of bones. You barely touched your supper.” It was true she hadn’t had much appetite. She had been too busy watching him and wondering how she could inspire more of this afternoon’s beautiful laughter. She sank her teeth into a massive bite of cake and lifted her chin. “Why Rumplestiltskin,” she said after swallowing, “I didn’t know you cared.” He left the table in another poof of smoke and maniacal laughter. Not quite the reaction she was hoping for, but she could be stubborn as well. The game had only begun. xoxo

Over the next few weeks, Belle tried every technique she could think of to amuse Rumplestiltskin. Jokes, stories, a feather duster to tickle his sharp nose. She even traipsed through the great hall while he was spinning with a basket overflowing with bread, the same as she did the day she first heard his laughter. Jogging his memory of that day in the kitchen would surely work. But she was so focused on his reaction that she tripped over her own feet and dumped the basket on the floor. Rolls flew in every direction--onto the carpet, into the fire, and under the display cabinets filled with treasures from other lands. One piece of bread even landed on her head.

No reaction from Rumplestiltskin. Not even a snigger at Belle's expense.

Sweeping up the mess took so long she got a cramp in her shoulder. The crumbs tangled in her hair had to be washed out. At least there would be plenty of stale crusts to feed the birds.

Turning to the vast Dark Castle library, she scoured the dust-choked shelves for entertaining comedies. Without question, one of these was bound to make Rumplestiltskin laugh uproariously. Each evening for a week she read to Rumplestiltskin by the light of the fire, producing book after book until her fingers had papercuts and even she wanted a break from words. She’d even gone so far as to translate the work of a Polish author from The Land Without Magic by the name of Elżbieta Cherezińska.

Rumplestiltskin had snorted a time or two and the ghost of a smile crossed his lips, but he didn’t laugh at a single story. On the seventh evening of reading, he ordered Belle to her bedroom with a pot of hot tea and a dram of whiskey to soothe her raw throat.

“That’s the fifth time you’ve coughed in an hour and your voice is starting to resemble a giant,” he’d said.

Too bewildered by being packed off to bed with Rumplestiltskin clucking at her like a mother hen, it didn’t occur to Belle to be insulted. Next, she tried concocting a potion for laughing. Yes, she should have tried this on the first day, she’d thought as the burgundy syrup bubbled on the stove. Magic helped Rumplestiltskin achieve his ends and there was no reason it couldn’t work for her. If only she hadn’t gone into the laundry room to wash Rumplestiltskin’s aprons. But she had, forgetting that the contents of the spell required complete concentration. Most of the potion boiled over leaving her without a key ingredient—whitehaven petal—and it wouldn’t become available again until the summer. Chagrined, Belle looked between the mess on the stove and the snowdrifts blowing against the window. Four months was too long to wait.

Hoping for the best, she scraped some of the sticky gooey liquid off the counter and stirred it into Rumple’s lunch.

Once consumed, his platter of beef and rice cabbage rolls produced so many ridiculous high-pitched giggles that Belle wanted to throw a five-armed candelabra at his head.

Hardly the sort of laughter Belle had been hoping to hear.

After a month of trying and failing, Belle was growing impatient. How many harebrained schemes could one caretaker enact for the sake of a simple laugh? Rumplestiltskin was not only unfazed by her efforts he seemed blithely unaware of them.

For someone so fond of claiming he wasn’t a man, he was terribly dense. Belle began to despair. If she ever hoped to hear his beautiful, rumbling laughter again, drastic measures were required.

xoxo

“Go on,” Belle urged, pushing open the heavy door to the great hall. The shaggy grey puppy scampered over to the square dais where Rumplestiltskin was spinning and whimpered a greeting. He dragged some golden stalks of straw onto the carpet covering the platform and began to chew. Belle hovered in the foyer, watching and listening. The young Polish Lowland Sheepdog’s hair hung into his sweet brown eyes and he had the sweetest little pink tongue Belle had ever seen on a dog. Even Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t be able to resist laughing at such a lively, intelligent ball of fluff.

Or so she thought. Absorbed by his spinning, a full ten minutes went by before Rumplestiltskin deigned to notice his new companion.

“Belle,” he called without looking away from the wheel, “some vile little creature has wandered into the hall. Come dispose of it.”

She burst into the hall and inserted herself between Rumplestiltskin and the puppy before he had the notion to transform the poor animal into a less-than-pleasant creature, like a skunk or a beetle. It seemed to be the fate of most who displeased the Dark One.

Belle’s skirts swished against Rumplestiltskin’s thigh as she elbowed her way into his space.

He rocked back on the three-legged stool’s hind leg, his feet in the air. Gripping the creaking wheel for support, he rebalanced, his boots hitting the dais with a decided thump.

“Don’t topple me in your excitement, woman. It’s only a dog.” The words were crisp, dismissive. He wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t even smiling. The twist of his lips was sour, his eyelids drooped in boredom. “I have work to do.” He glanced pointedly at the dust-covered shelves in the hall. “As do you.”

Belle shuffled backward, putting space between them, taking care not to pitch backward off the dais. He righted the stool and returned to spinning, but not before she noticed a slight tremble of his fingers.

Such large, strong capable-looking hands he had, those long, elegant fingers tapering into short black claws. Artist’s hands.

Heat filled her face while a lightning-quick shiver danced up her spine, and Belle quickly turned her attention to the puppy with an adoring coo. “Isn’t he darling? His name is Kacper. ”

At the sound of his name, Kacper barked his approval and stretched his scruffy neck, angling to be pet. Belle bent low to oblige, stroking his back and scratching his ears.

“Darling.” Rumplestiltskin’s sniff was aloof. “Not the word I would use.”

“And why not?” She straightened and brushed straw off her skirt. “What’s wrong with him?”

Together they watched the dog drag more bright yellow pieces of straw off the platform and onto the floor. After a minute of chewing and jumping in the little pile, he climbed into Rumplestiltkin’s gold-laden basket and fell asleep.

“There’s straw everywhere,” he complained. “You’ll go to the village to replace it, too. By sundown tomorrow.”

“Yes, master.” She dipped a saucy curtsy.

The wheel came to a squeaking halt and Rumplestiltskin’s eyes flashed, warning Belle she was treading on dangerous ground. “Where did this hell dog come from anyway?”

“He was in the side yard chasing butterflies while I was hanging sheets on the line.” The memory of the butterfly landing on the pup’s nose while he barked and pawed at them made her giggle.

As usual, she was the only one laughing.

“Most likely a trap sent by one of my enemies,” he mused. “Perhaps Maleficent or King George.” He frowned as he reached around the puppy for more straw into the wheel. “Too tame to be Regina. Subtlety isn’t that one’s strong suit.”

The dog snuggled deeper into the basket and let out a whiffling snore. “Yes, he looks absolutely terrifying,” Belle supplied. “Ha! This from the one who lectures everyone who will listen about judging a book by its cover.” Sarcasm hung in the air like thunderclouds before a storm. “If you recall, dearie, the last time you found a beast in the yard, it was one of those devil hounds Cruella de Vil is so fond of. Like a fool, you followed it. And like an even bigger fool, I found myself bargaining for your life at midnight on Demon’s Bluff.”

Belle chewed her lip. He wasn’t wrong. The dalmatian puppy she followed had been sweet, but as judgments went, it hadn’t been her finest hour. “I did thank you profusely for saving me. What did you need that ridiculous magic gauntlet for, anyway?”

“We’ll never know now, will we?” He pouted.

“Come now,” she said, trying to tease him out of his rising temper. Thus far, the puppy was proving to be her worst idea yet for making Rumplestiltskin laugh. All she wanted at this point was a bit of credit for trying. “Why not admit you would be lost without me?”

“Indeed.” The stool pushed back with an angry scrape and he shot to his feet, stalking out from behind the spinning wheel. “Where in all the realms would I find a housekeeper who reads all the day, allows the kettle to run dry whilst I wait hours for my tea, and creates more messes than she cleans?”

A slap across the face couldn’t have hurt worse. Every failing he’d listed was true. No, she wasn’t the best caretaker, but what she lacked in capability and efficiency she tried to make up for in spontaneity and heart. She cared about him, the cantankerous bastard, which was more than could be said of most people. It was sobering to realize she cared so deeply for someone who seemed to think so little of her.

Stung by the criticism, she approached the platform and bent down to scoop up the sleeping pup.

Rumplestiltskin stepped down off the platform. They stood in the middle of the hall glowering at each other, she cradling the slumbering dog, and he rubbing nothingness between his fingers. The picture of awkwardness and pent-up frustration.

Why, she wondered, searching his cold, closed-off face, was she so determined to amuse a man who was so determined not to laugh? Was it a game? A challenge? Her stubborn nature? Belle didn’t know the answer, but she was fed up with trying.

There was no doubt in her mind now--he was purposely withholding his laughter for no other reason than meanness.

Tears threatened, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of breaking down. “If that’s the way you feel,” she said.

“Aye, that’s the way I feel.”

“Fine!”

Sounding as exasperated as she felt, he threw up his hands. Startled, Belle stumbled, the slight weight of the puppy overbalancing her. She tipped forward, falling headlong into Rumplestiltskin.

Forgetting about the sleeping puppy in her arms, she grabbed Rumplestiltskin around the waist, her fingers scrabbling for purchase, her head bumping against his chest.

With the first touch of her hands, he started to laugh. A great, guffawing, booming laugh so deep and loud it shook the rafters of the Dark Castle.

He caught her with one arm, the puppy with the other, pulling her up and drawing her close so they were pressed together from chest to toe. Her hands bracketed his waist, his leather and silk clothing soft and supple against her palms.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, the mystery finally solved. “You’re ticklish.”

“Rubbish,” he scoffed. “I’m simply giving in to your considerable efforts.”

“You can’t fabricate true, honest laughter,” she said.

To prove it, she wiggled her fingers against his sides once more. She was rewarded with more genuine laughter. Not a single trill or exaggerated snicker in earshot. To her amazement, the puppy slept through all the commotion, curled snug inside Rumplestitskin’s vest.

Who knew that one clumsy move was all it took to make him laugh again? Belle was so happy she could have twirled pirouettes the length of the great hall. But that would have required letting go of Rumplestiltskin. And she wasn’t doing that anytime soon.

She splayed her hands over his waist, and as she explored the contours of his torso she found his belly wonderfully soft and rounded beneath her fingers. He laughed again, his sides jiggling, and the sweet depth of it drew her deeper until she was swimming in the warmth of the sound.

Closing her eyes, she brushed the backs of her fingers along his hip, savoring each ripple of laughter and vibration of his body. She could have touched and tickled and listened to him all day.

“Enough now, Belle.” His tone was rough, vocal cords gravely from overuse. Moving the puppy to rest in the hollow of his shoulder, he gripped her hands and clasped them between his. His grip was firm but not unkind, and those beautiful hands she had studied so often were warmer and softer than she imagined.

Something more than mere humor glinted in his eyes, a tension between them that pushed the boundaries of their current arrangement. Friendship, attraction. The air in the hall was thick with both. And Belle realized that through these silly antics, she had more than an employer in Rumplestiltskin. She had a friend.

“Are you still angry with me, Rumple?” she ventured.

Those dark, fathomless eyes widened a bit at the shortened use of his name, but he didn’t object to the nickname.

“Try as I might, I cannot stay angry with you.” His voice was husky, the sweet thread of laughter still weaving through it. There was no trace of his usual artifice or pageantry.

“So that day in the kitchen?” she prompted, filled with wonder at all of today’s surprises and revelations.

“Aye, it was your touch that made me laugh.” He ducked his head, trying and failing to hide his reddened cheeks behind his shaggy curtain of hair. “ When you were lugging that basket of bread against your hip, you brushed against my waist. It was so innocent and you had no idea you’d done it. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be tickled and to laugh. I haven’t really laughed since…”

“Your son.” He was still holding her hands between his and she loosened his fingers to brush her thumb against the back of his hand. “I’m so sorry, Rumple. I never meant to dredge up a painful memory, to cause you hurt.”

“You didn’t. You made me laugh, Belle. You. Not fancy cakes or translating outlandish books or this little beast.” He patted Kacper’s head. “You brought light and kindness and laughter into this dull, dark place.”

“All that time I spent trying to figure out what would make you laugh.” Bells shook her head at herself. “Those crazy schemes. I felt like…”

“Me?”

Now it was her turn to laugh. Rumplestiltskin was nothing if not persistent. And he certainly excelled at patience. “A little,” she admitted. “But it was worth it.”

“Don’t you dare tell anyone about this,” he warned.

“Or what?” She blinked at him. “You’ll turn me into a toad?”

“Becoming predictable, am I?” He sneered, but it was without malice.

“You? Never.”

Releasing her hands, he stepped back onto the platform and settled down behind the spinning wheel. He carefully removed the dog from his shoulder and placed him into the basket of straw. “Kacper can stay here. For now. But you’ll need to find him a bed. This beastie can’t disrupt my work forever.”

“I understand, Rumplestiltskin.”

“Hmmm.” He began to spin and Belle watched for a moment as he easily slipped into that faraway place where he created and made plans, losing himself in the cadence of the wheel. “I’ll take my tea now.”

The words were said so softly, she heard them more in her mind than from his lips.

“Right away, Rumplestiltskin,” she whispered.

The faint smile on his face was the only indication that he’d heard her assent.

As she ambled down the corridor toward the kitchen feeling lighter than she had in weeks, the faint rumble of laughter drifted along with her. Belle wrapped her arms around herself to embrace the sound, her lips spreading in a smile of pure happiness. It was a beginning.

###

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle christmas in july #rcij 2020 #dark castle rumbelle #tickling #silwenworld #mqc writes

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rumbellechristmasinjuly · 3 years ago

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I was just wondering if there was going to be an RCIJ event this year. July is almost upon us, and no one has said anything, so I thought maybe I should ask. :)

I apologize I thought I made a post about this already. Sadly I am not able to run one this summer. I'm in the process of buying a house so with that and work I have like zero free time. However I will still be running Secret Santa in December.

#rumbelle christmas in july #rumbelle fic #rumbelle

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thestraggletag · 1 year ago

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Okay, the intrigue around "The thing" becomes unbearable! I need this thing now.

Please 😉

Happy to oblige. And also I'm sorry in advance.

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NOW YOU STUMBLE AROUND, A LITTLE LOST RUMBELLE CHICK NEEDING LOVE AND GUIDANCE, TREMBLING WITH THE FORCE OF A THOUSAND BOTTLED-UP FEELS. NEVER FEAR, FOR WE’LL TAKE YOU IN, SINCE YOU HAVE BECOME

ONE OF US.

WE HAVE TEA, FOR YOUR SHATTERED FEELS. WE KNOW IT HURTS, WE’VE ALL BEEN THERE. MOST OF USE JUST DUMP A LOT OF VODKA INTO THAT TEA. IT’D BE EASIER TO JUST DUMP A TEA BAG INTO A BOTTLE OF SMIRNOFF, TO BE HONEST.

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LIKE AN ECLIPSE.

OR RUMPLE’S LEATHER PANTS.

AND SINCE THIS IS A PRETTY COMPLEX FANDOM I DIRECT YOU TO A WELCOME PAGE SO YOU CAN GATHER YOUR BEARINGS AND EXPLORE MORE OF THIS MAGICAL LAND OF CHIPPED CUPS AND SEXY SCALY MEN. IF YOU HAVE QUESTIONS THERE YOU’LL FIND ANSWERS. IF NOT YOU CAN ALWAYS SEEK THE RUMBELLE TAG, AND POST QUESTIONS THERE. RUMBELLERS ARE ALWAYS THERE TO ANSWER.

ALWAYS. RUMBELLERS DON’T SLEEP.

IF YOU FEEL THE NEED FOR SOME LOVELY VISUAL REPRESENTATIONS OF THE UTTER PERFECTION THAT IS THIS SHIP I DIRECT YOU TO THE RUMBELLE ARTTAG, WHERE MANY TALENTED PEOPLE POST TALENTED THINGS THAT PRODUCE BOTH AWE AND ENVY.

AND LAST, AND THIS IS WHAT I’M KNOWN FOR…

WE.

HAVE.

PORN.

NO, NOT LIKE OTHER FANDOMS. NOT SOME PORN. NOT ANY PORN. WE HAVEALL THE PORN.

ALL OF IT.

EVERY KINK.

EVERY FANTASY.

EVERY POSITION.

FOOD SEX, PEGGING, BONDAGE, S&M (BUT THE REAL TYPE, NO INNER GODDESSES, ALL KINKY FUCKERY), CANE PORN, PRIEST PORN, CANNIBAL PORN, SHADOW!SEX, DADDY!DOM, DOM/SUB, BLOODPLAY, MIRROR-SEX, PREGNANCY KINKS, POWER-SEX, INTERSPECIES SEX, LACTATION PORN, DAGGER!PORN, RAPTOR!PORN, MAGICAL SEX AND MANY MORE.

WE HAVE PORN THAT WOULD BE DUBIOUSLY DOABLE IN A PICASSO PAINTING. THE KIND OF PORN THAT MAKES YOU GO "CIRQUE DU SOLEI PERFORMERS COULD NOT PULL IT OFF". THE KIND OF PORN THAT REQUIRES TWENTY YEARS OF YOGA MINIMUM.

I DIRECT YOU NOW TO MY FANFIC REC LIST, WHERE YOU SHALL FIND MANY TREASURES. I ALSO GIVE YOU A REC LIST OF REC LISTS (A LIST-CEPTION, SO TO SPEAK). YOU CAN ALWAYS GO TO THE RUMBELLE FICTAG IF YOU FEEL YOU NEED MORE RUMBELLE PORN FICS IN YOUR LIFE. AND YOU WILL. AND IF YOU WANNA HIT THE MOTHERLOAD OF RUMBELLE FANFICTION CHECK OUT THE RUMBELLE LIBRARY, RIPE WITH DECADENT FICS FOR YOUR PERUSAL.

IN THIS FANDOM WE LIKE TO CELEBRATE WITH FIC, COPE WITH FIC AND START MASSIVE FIC WARS SO THERE ARE SEVERAL YEAR-ROUND EVENTS DESTINED TO BRING FORTH MORE RUMBELLE SEXYTIMES MOMENTS: THE RUMBELLE SECRET SANTA (ORGANIZED THREE YEARS IN A ROW AND TOTALLING AROUND 350 FICS),FLOOFAPALOOZA (FOR WHEN YOU NEED TO GO ‘AWWW’ DESPERATELY), 50 FIRST HAMBURGER DATES (YES, WE GOT IT BAD), THERUMBELLE CHRISTMAS IN JULY (FOR THOSE LONG HIATUS MONTHS) AND THERUMBELLE SHOWDOWN. IT ALL CULMINATES WITH THE T.E.A. AWARDS, WHERE WE MOSTLY CONGRATULATE THE WRITERS ON ALL THE SEX, FLUFF AND TEARS (GREAT PLACE FOR NEWBIES TO ALSO SEEK FIC RECS!).

MIND THE SPOILERS, DEARIE.

BUT IF YOU’RE ALL CAUGHT UP YOU SHOULD TOTALLY CHECK THIS TUMBLR WHICH WILL HOLD PRECIOUS TREASURES SO YOU CAN SURVIVE THE SUMMER HIATUS WITH MOST OF YOUR SANITY INTACT.

WE AIM FOR REALISTIC GOALS HERE.

IF YOU HAVEN’T YET DELETED YOUR TUMBLR ACCOUNT AND MOVED TO A COUNTRY WITHOUT INTERNET CONNECTION THEN CONGRATULATIONS, YOU INDEED HAVE THE MAKINGS OF A GREAT RUMBELLER. AND YOU’RE GONNA LOVE IT HERE.

Welcome to the fandom, dearie.

#WELCOME TO THE FANDOM #RUMBELLE #tascha-schwarz

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kelyon · 3 years ago

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Presents 5: Giving

At long last, it’s the end of my RCIJ fic for @comradegiddybiscuit!

At the end of the last chapter, Rumple revealed that all this sexual tutoring was to prepare Belle for Jefferson. And Belle revealed that she didn't know who Jefferson was.

Read on AO3

At Belle’s question, the Dark One stepped back. He pulled his hands away from her jaw and held them up defensively, guarding his body. He rubbed his thumbs and forefingers together. His mouth opened a moment before he spoke.

“Who?” he repeated sharply. “But you must remember Jefferson. You saw him when--when I showed him to you.”

Belle’s mind raced to put the pieces together. “Oh, do you mean that man I walked in on you… enjoying?”

“Yes,” Rumpelstiltskin still seemed incredulous. “You liked him. I--” Clearing his throat, he looked away. “I could tell.”

She tried not to giggle at his sheepishness. As if it were impolite to admit that he knew she was aroused by the sight of him plunging his body into another man! As if they had not spent the afternoon play-acting other scenarios just as debauched!

Belle bit her lip. With a smile she couldn’t contain, she came closer to him. She reached out and put her hand over his to keep him from fidgeting.

“I did like what I saw that day,” she began. “But… that man… he wasn’t what captivated me.”

His eyebrows furrowed and his lip curled up, the way it did when he was confused. “Well--then what was it? The act itself? The shock of seeing--”

“You, Rumpelstiltskin.” She leaned toward him, buoyed by the courage of her conviction. “When I saw you with that man, when I saw you... fucking him, I wanted you to fuck me too. I don’t want to have your lover, I want to be your lover!”

He pulled away, as shocked as he would be if she had turned into a snake and bitten him. Fingers twitching, he stared at her.

“You’re wrong,” he said at last. “You don’t--you don’t know what you’re asking for. Imagine it, a maiden like you with--ugh.”

In one long, sure stride, Belle crossed the space between them. “I have imagined it,” she said simply. “You’ve given me plenty of inspiration.”

He backed away again, crossed to the other side of the table so that the floured surface separated them.

“Jefferson is a good man.” He spoke in the tones of one trying to reason with a lunatic. “He’s an excellent lover, very generous. Terribly lonely since his wife died. You’d be good for him. And he would be good to you.”

This time, Belle didn’t chase after Rumpelstiltskin. Instead, she took a breath and put her hands on her hips.

“So,” she said slowly, “you intended to do what? Hand me off to your friend like I was a coat you had outgrown?”

“A coat I never wore and never would!” he blustered, waving his hands in her direction. “A coat that is obviously desperate to be worn! And to a man who is cold and shivering and in considerable need of a coat! The logic of it is perfectly sensible, you cannot deny that!”

Try as she might, Belle couldn’t be angry with him. “Rumpelstiltskin.” She circled the table and this time he didn’t bolt away. She faced him, and put her hand over his on the table top. “I think your logic has a faulty axiom.”

He swallowed, but tried to hide his nervousness behind a mask of disdain. “Whatever could you mean by that?”

She took a step, erasing the small space that had been between them. “You’re correct that I am a desperate, lustful creature.” His body shifted, but he said nothing. “But the error in your thinking is the idea that I would take any man to be my lover. That I am so needful for companionship that I would accept anyone. In truth, I’m a woman of very discerning tastes.”

His lips parted. The kitchen was stifling from the baking they’d done before. They were as close together now as they had been when they were kneading dough, except now they were facing each other. His eyes were heavy-lidded. He had yet to look away from her.

“Really?” he breathed. “What are your tastes, then?”

Belle barely let him finish the question before she answered it. She lunged up to his mouth with her lips open. These were her tastes. Rumpelstiltskin could know them for himself. He could discover her as she was discovering him. He could taste everything that made up her flavor the same way she tasted the tea and earth and magic on his tongue.

She broke the kiss first. Shuddering with desire, she clung to the lapels of his waistcoat. His arms were around her now. His hands clutched at her dress. Did he want to cling to it or rip it to shreds?

In the stunned silence, his lips brushed against her forehead.

“It’s not too late,” he whispered. “We can stop. You don’t have to--”

She kissed him again to cut off his words. She pulled him down to her mouth and held him there until he kissed her back. When she opened her eyes, they weren’t in the kitchen anymore.

The room was dark red, like the inside of a heart. Heavy draperies blocked out the afternoon sun. Belle caught glimpses of shadowy shapes--furniture. Was this a bedroom? Was there a bed in here?

But she had little time to look or think. Rumpelstiltskin pushed her up against a wall. His hands were everywhere. His mouth was everywhere, biting and snarling in erotic frenzy. If Belle’s skin bruised as easily as the heroines in some of her books, she would be marked from ear to shoulder tomorrow.

They were both fully dressed. But somehow Rumpelstiltskin’s hand slipped through her layers of skirts and petticoats like they weren’t there at all. Tentative at first, but then with growing certainty, his fingers traced the outline of her secret places. When his hand cupped against her mound, Belle gasped and her spine stiffened.

The Dark One chuckled.

“Cold feet, dearie?” He sounded smug, like he expected her to pull away from him. Belle knew that if she showed any resistance, he would let her go.

She couldn’t let that happen.

“Not cold at all.” Fumbling between their bodies, she found his arm. Holding him still with both hands, she pushed his fingers into her wetness. She ground against him. “Actually very hot.”

Now it was his turn to gasp. In the dim light, she could see his mouth open. His fingers began to move.

“Fuck,” he said slowly. Pressing his body against her, he explored.

Belle leaned against the wall, her legs spread as wide as she could. With her head thrown back and her eyes closed, she concentrated on the feeling of Rumpelstiltskin’s hands.

It wasn’t quite the same as the books he’d given her. His claws cut into her tender flesh, though she could tell that he was trying to spare her the worst of it. His breath was hot in her face, and while she enjoyed kissing him, she turned away to gasp in breaths of cool air. She was perspiring in her dress, she would have to wash it later. Wouldn’t this be so much easier if she was naked? If he could magically reach through her dress, couldn’t he just as easily magic it off altogether?

Belle’s teeth chattered at that thought. With his power, he could undress her in an instant. He could vanish his clothes as well. Then they could be together in their natural states, both of them ready to enact that ancient, primal dance of desire.

She let out a keening whine, and Rumpelstiltskin chuckled. His hands slipped and slid around her cunt, stroking and pushing and twitching against her flesh.

If Belle hadn’t known better, she would have thought it was magic. Secret, intricate gestures that held the arcane power to drive women senseless with pleasure. But she knew. She knew her own body, and she knew the ways of a man and a woman. What Rumpelstiltskin was doing to her was merely his own skill. Skill and patience and heeding her reactions.

Under his ministrations, Belle felt a climax rise up the length of her body. Her knees went weak and she braced her arms against the wall. Rumpelstiltskin caught her. He held her up in one arm and fucked her senseless with the other. They were so close that she could feel the rhythmic jerking of his hips, even through all their layers of clothes.

He wanted this too. The thought came to her from beyond the horizon of sensation. He wanted to push into her ever further. He wanted to use his cock on her as well as his hands. He wanted to fuck her, right now. Even against the wall, even with their clothes still on. He wanted her. He needed her.

Belle broke apart. Her body seized. Her muscles clenched around his hand. She let out a cry that was both high and low, both whining and guttural. Her toes curled in her shoes and the grip she had on Rumpelstiltskin’s waistcoat would have drawn blood from his flesh.

For a long moment, he held her. His hand stayed nestled in her cunt. He kept her pressed against the wall. She caught her breath, and she could feel him panting against her forehead. They were so close together, their clothes hardly mattered. His lips brushed against her skin.

Then, he jumped back, his arms spread in a theatrical pose.

“Well, dearie, is that what you wanted?” His voice was too loud, too bright. “Are we done?”

Pushing off against the wall, Belle took a moment to straighten her dress. After a few deep breaths, she had regained her composure enough to answer his question.

“Would you be done with your man, your Jefferson, after a session of equal brevity?”

He scoffed. “Ah, but Jefferson is a man of the world. Not a blushing child with a head full of fantasies.”

“I am not a child!” Belle’s temper flared. She marched toward him while undoing the laces of her bodice with both hands. He didn’t move while she pulled her arms out of her sleeves and bared her breasts to him. “I am a grown woman, and I can choose what I want.”

Rumpelstiltskin stared at her. Even in the dim light of the room, she could see his gaze lock onto her naked torso.

“Fuck,” he whispered. Then he cleared his throat, shook his head. “You shouldn’t--”

“Shut up.” Belle pushed down her skirt and petticoats, then kicked off her shoes. Hands on her hips, head held high, naked as the day she was born, she faced him. “I want you, Rumpelstiltskin.”

He gaped at her, fingers twisting. Belle’s first thought was to kiss his slack-jawed lips. But she had tried that before and it had only gotten her so far. Instead, she reached out her hand and hoped that he would take it.

“Rumple, you know what’s in this room. Is there a bed where we might lie together?”

“L-lie?”

“Yes, as men and women do. Or men and men, I suppose. And women and women, and those who are neither, or both.” She felt her lips curl up into a fond smile. “You taught me, you know, how many different ways there are to delight in a body.”

“I…” he whispered. “I never thought that… you would… allow me to delight in you, Belle.”

She stepped closer to him and took his unresisting hands. She placed one at her waist and one at her neck. The smell of the pleasure he had just given her permeated the air around them, coming just as much from his fingers as her cunt.

“More than that, Rumple,” she said softly. “I want to delight in you.”

Slowly, he bent his head, and kissed her. The kiss was soft, gentle, more tender than the frantic sucking they’d done before. Belle wrapped her arms around his high leather collar, but when the kiss ended, she was touching his bare skin.

His flesh felt thick under her fingers. The texture was something like scales, something like a stone. But he was warm to the touch, and as her hands explored his back and shoulders, she felt goose pimples spread over him.

Rumple’s own hands were on her. Hot and rough and reverent, he glided over her back and bottom as masterfully as he had the dough in the kitchen. Belle shivered to be an object under his control, and to have him under hers.

“Bed,” she whispered.

“Yes,” he answered, just as soft. “Though I still don’t understand why.”

She kissed him again, pressing the full length of her naked body against his. Then she broke away, her body shaking.

“Oh!” she laughed.

“What is it?”

“I--” To her shame, she was blushing now. But she held on to both of Rumple’s hands and squeezed his fingers to steady herself. “I just now understood something, from all the books you gave me.”

In the dim light, she couldn’t see the way she knew his face softened. But she did hear his faint chuckle, half humor, half relief.

“And what is that, my dear?”

She pushed up against him, pressing her stomach against the object of her interest. “I finally understand what it is to feel a man’s hardness.”

Laughing himself, Rumpelstiltskin picked Belle up off the ground. “You’ll know the feeling well by the time we’re done, my girl.” He carried her across the room and set her down on a soft mattress. “You’ll know my hardness inside and out.”

He’d laid her down on her stomach, facing away from him. Belle remembered how they’d stood together in the kitchen, or when he’d come up behind her while she was sweeping. He had bent over her when she was scrubbing on her hands and knees. He’d even taken Jefferson that way--always back to front, always with the other person turned away. As if he thought no one could bear to look at him.

“No,” Belle said softly. She lifted herself up on her arms and crawled to sit up on the bed. “Not like this.”

Rumpelstiltskin had taken his hands off her body the instant she had begun to protest, but he allowed her to pull him down.

“Face me,” she whispered as she wound her fingers into his hair. “I want to look at you.”

For a moment, his breath stopped. And then he gasped out, “Belle!”

He climbed on top of her, ravenously kissing trails from her face to her chest. He licked and sucked at her breasts, worrying her nipples between his teeth. Belle gasped and screamed and begged him not to stop.

Sitting on his knees between her parted thighs, Rumpelstiltskin spread apart her folds. “Fuck, you’re so wet!” he hissed. Then his voice lowered. “Oh, but you are a lusty, wanton little maid, aren’t you?”

“My master corrupted me,” she teased him. Her hips rocked forward against his hand, her body yearning for satisfaction. “With his wicked ways.”

He pushed himself into her. Belle gasped at the sudden sensation of fullness. It was a feeling she had read about, had imagined, had tried to create in herself a hundred times, but had never known until now.

Rumpelstiltskin stayed still inside her for a moment. Then he moved forward. His cock was inside her, his body was on top of her, and his voice rumbled low in her ear. “These wicked delights may yet have wicked ends, my dear.”

Belle shook her head. In the near-darkness, she found his mouth and kissed him. “No,” she whispered. “No, Rumple. These are all delights. The end cannot be wicked.”

“Very well,” he conceded. He began to move in her in earnest now. “Just trust me, and I’ll give you everything you want.”

“And if you don’t,” Belle panted, “you know I’m not afraid to take it.”

“Well dear, if you are so brave as to give yourself to me, it is only fair that I give myself to you in turn.”

“Rumpelstiltskin,” she rocked her hips up into his body, “you have a deal.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rcij 2021 #rumbelle christmas in july

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ryik-the-writer · 4 years ago

Photo

For @celticheartedfangirl, Happy Christmas in July

This prompt was a treat, even if I”m extremely behind

Plot: Belle and Rumplestiltskin go on a trip to retrieve an object from a vengeful ice queen, only to end up in a snowstorm.

A03

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Since Belle had made her deal to go with him forever, Rumplestiltskin’s life had gotten much more…chaotic.

He had never intended to bring Belle along on his many quests and adventures…hell he hadn’t known what to do with her after making that deal!

But after the Robin Hood incident, he had an anchoring to keep her near.

Not because he liked her! No, of course not…

Their latest adventure involved bringing Belle to a town frozen in time where a very angry snow queen had cursed them all.

Of course, he hadn’t let on right away what they were doing, thus she had no way of knowing that the ice sculptures she was ogling at were indeed human.

“They’re beautiful,” Belle cooed, pushing the heavy bag she had packed behind her so she could view each one. “How cute, a dog!”

Rumplestiltskin withheld a mischievous grin. Poor girl would faint if she knew the truth!

Then, she had found the remains of an icy lake, solid and tempting.

Her smile had been bright enough to melt the whole town.

“I haven’t been ice-skating since I was a little girl,” she grinned as she changed her shoes.

Rumplestiltskin huffed. “I don’t believe we have—”

Belle shot off before he could finish, causing Rumple’s heart to jump when she stumbled across the ice, struggling for stable ground.

In a flash, Rumplestiltskin magicked to her side, steadying her.

“It’s��it’s been a while,” Belle chuckled as her lets finally stopped shaking.

“Obviously,” he said, trying to hide his concern.

She didn’t let go of his hand, instead pulling him along with her as she set off again.

He used magic to keep him from sliding ungracefully, but he couldn’t quite contain his surprise at her eagerness to be with him.

She looked back at him, grinning ear to ear, admitting her gratefulness that he let her come along without a single word.

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t contain a smile back. She really was a lovely girl. Such a shame he could never tell her…

After a moment she led him back to the bank of the pond, skidding them both to a stop.

After catching her breath, she brushed a strand from her face and skipped his way, hands crossed behind her back.

“You didn’t bring me here just for the brilliant ice sculpting,” she teased. “What’s on today’s agenda?”

Rumplestiltskin smiled with mischief. “Visiting an old friend.”

Belle gave him a look. “By friend, you mean sworn enemy, right?”

Rumplestiltskin giggled. “We…have history.”

Belle hummed, rubbing her hands together and shivering. “Don’t suppose we could visit a pub for a hot cider before we visit your sworn enemy?”

Rumplestiltskin helped her to her feet. “Plenty of time for that later, now come! We should reach her palace by nightfall! We’ll need to be back at the castle by the morning for our appointment with the Hatter.”

Belle sighed as he began to walk on without her. Back to arm’s length, it would seem.

She adjusted her bag on her shoulders, striving to catch up to him as she paused in front of another ice sculpture.

This one seemed to be a mother holding their child to them closely, as if she were shielding them both from some unknown terror.

Belle gulped, looking at the others she had noticed earlier. They were all facing the same direction, fleeing from something.

“Belle?”

Belle hesitantly followed her employer, glancing around uneasily but thankful she couldn’t see the expressions on the sculptures faces.

It would seem the artist of these pieces had a twisted sense of humor, and something told her the Dark One knew more than he was letting on.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Belle nearly went blind at the site of the ice palace, the structure made from the whitest ice she’d ever seen.

She let Rumplestiltskin lead them in and she almost didn’t see the woman at the far end of the room stand to greet them.

“Rumplestiltskin,” the woman greeted evenly, and after blinking a few times Belle could make out the piecing blue of her eyes.

The Dark One stopped, causing Belle to nearly collide into him. She frowned as he bowed mockingly to the woman.

“You majesty,” he giggled. “You are the queen now, yes?”

“Watch it!” the woman seethed, stepping down from her pyramid of ice blocks to stand a few feet from him. “What do you want?”

“I want what you took from me,” Rumplestiltksin growled. “I want it back.”

“She is mine!” The Ice Queen seethed.

“The urn is my property, which makes the woman in it mine as well!”

Belle gasped. They were after a woman? A trapped woman?

The queen glared at him, the look making Belle shake from something much more deadly than the cold.

Suddenly, her eyes shot to Belle, and a sharp, queer smile spread across her face.

“And who is this?”

Rumplestiltskin stepped in front of Belle, shielding her from the hate-filled eyes.

“None of your concern,” he spat. “Now give me what I want.”

The Ice Queen’s smile seemed frozen in place, as if she could had turned into one of the ice sculptures in the village…

Wait…

Belle glanced around and noticed that there were dozens more. Some dressed like servants, carrying trays and flowers, like they had been active in their daily tasks…

And some of them looked like they were fleeing.

Belle’s heart stopped.

They had been.

“They’re alive…they were alive…” she gasped. “They’re people…”

Rumplestiltskin glanced back at her, swallowing a bit.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Belle seethed, but Rumplestiltskin shot around quickly.

“He’s one for surprises dear,” the Ice Queen said. “And treachery—“

“Enough,” Rumplestiltskin spat. “Give me what I came here for.”

“Very well, Dark One,” the Ice Queen agreed coolly. She waved her hand and a golden urn appeared in her hand.

“I’ll give you back your property,” she said, staring at the object with an odd sort of fondness.

And then to Belle with pure malice.

“But in exchange, I’m taking your little friend to add to my collection.”

In a flash, a white burst of magic shot from her hand, threating to collide with Belle.

Rumplestiltskin reacted before she could and shot around grabbed her, pulling her into his chest.

The magic hit him square in his back, causing a weak cry to leave his lungs as he fell to his knees.

Belle struggled to hold him up as she screamed, a patch of ice spreading quickly across his back.

“No, what…what’s going on?” She cried as she fell to her knees with him.

He convulsed violently, the darkness in him fighting off whatever spell she had thrown at him, but he could feel is slipping quickly into his darkened heart.

He squeezed Belle’s arm, the warmth of her skin the one thing that kept him from falling completely victim to the curse.

The Ice Queen cackled behind him and Rumplestiltskin gnashed his teeth in defiance.

“Not so high and mighty now, are you?” she cooed.

Belle glared at her, but before she could shout at the vile woman Rumplestiltskin wrapped his arms around her waist and magicked them out of the Ice Queen’s lair.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

They broke apart as soon as they soon as Rumplestiltskin magicked them to the mountain’s side. They were free of the wretched queen, but her icy environment was waiting for them, swallowing them in a heated coldness no one could imagine.

It fell’s like she land on hot needles, piercing every nerve in her body without ever breaking the skin.

She finally thought, her body adjusting to the pain as her brain tried to focus on her surroundings.

“R-r-rumple!” she called out, the angry winds blocking out her voice.

She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and drudged through the knee-deep snow, searching immediately for shelter of some sort.

If one thing from her childhood winters at Avonlea taught her it was that when caught in a storm, finding a heat source was the difference between freezing to death and living.

There was a cluster of rocks several yards from her, just visible thought the whirling ice. Her body was going numb already, but her sheer anger at Rumplestiltskin was keeping her going.

She knew he was dark, she’d accepted that, but she had also seen his more human side. She’d seen him show mercy and kindness to foes, so why couldn’t he extend such graces to the general public?

And then he just hid what was going on to her, after all they’d been through?

He was going to get it—

She gasped as she tripped over something hard. She gasped as she got a face full of hard snow and winced as she felt a bruise forming.

She growled and twisted around to see what had caused her fall and immediately recognized Rumpelstiltskin’s hard leather coat, his unflinching hand peeking out of the sleeve.

She struggled to crawl to his side and flip him onto his back.

“Rumple?” she yelled as she shook him. His eyes barely opened, staring hazily at her. She could feel him trembling even through the thick leather. Whatever the Snow Queen had done to him had made him very weak.

“Hey,” she said shaking him a bit. “What happened? What did she do?”

“Sp…spell…” he groaned so weakly Belle barely heard it.

She squinted around, estimating their distance from the rocks. She took a deep breath and began lift Rumplestiltskin up, slinging one of her shoulder as he groaned.

“We have to move,” she said. “Can you walk?”

She felt him faintly nod but got little effort out of him. She straightened her back and began pulling him in the direction of the rocks, praying a cave was clustered somewhere in the mess.

Rumplestiltskin was grumbling, his body going back and forth from heavy to light, signifying his inability to stay conscious.

Belle just pulled him tighter to her, dragging him with all her strength. She was losing steam fast but pure determination kept her going. That and keeping him alive so she could kick his arse later.

Thankfully there was an opening in the cave, and deep enough that it would shield them from the elements.

He began to come to again, his limbs twitching as he subconsciously tried to help her along.

Belle shushed him gently as she leaned him against the wall as she began to take off her overcoat and wrapped it around him.

“Hang on, okay?” she encouraged through chattering lips.

She felt along the walls of the cave, gliding one hand along the floor in search for wood or some kind of debris that could be burnt, but all she could find were a few sticks.

They needed warmth now or it wouldn’t be long until the both were goners.

She gathered what she could find a few feet in front of Rumple, frowning miserably.

She grabbed her bag and dumped its contents out, gulping when noted the only thing that could be used for a fire was her beloved copy of “Her Handsome Hero.”

The only thing she had from her dear, sweet mama.

Why did she think she’d have time to read on a mission?!

Rumplestiltskin made a quiet moan, easing in and out of an uncomfortable unconsciousness.

Neither one of them were going to last much longer at this rate. She was already getting so tired, hypothermia biting at her lips.

She looked at Rumple, her lips shaking, and not from the cold.

She lovingly placed her books on the ground, clashing to rocks together to get a spark going.

Hot tears slid down her cheeks as a spark caught onto one of the pages, so old from years of being passed down that the flames picked up instantly.

The warmth barely helped her feel accomplished, but the flames grew enough that they would have a moment of warmth before the chill set in once more.

She glanced at the Dark One in his fitful state, feeling a strange coldness fill her chest that she hadn’t felt since she first arrived at his castle.

“You did all this,” she whispered. “You brought us out here to face off with that awful woman, and now…” her lips began to shake as her grief began to overflow.

“And you kept it from me,” she sobbed. “You lied to me…even after everything we’ve been though.

Rumplestiltskin coughed, his eyes fluttering.

“…Belle?”

Belle moved around the small fire, easing to his side. She stared at him, trying to stay calm. He was injured after all, and she’d be on death’s door herself if he couldn’t magic them out.

“What’s happening to you?”

He struggled to sit up, a flickering blue light spreading over his chest.

“A spell,” he groaned, clutching his chest. “It freezes the target from the inside out…”

Belle tensed. “Are you—”

“No,” he chuckled weakly. “Such magic can’t kill the Dark One…” he gasped as another wave of cold threatened him. “No really. I’ll be fine…then I’ll get us out of here.”

Belle nodded, satisfied that he would be find.

But she was still angry.

“Did you know what she was doing to those people, what they were?”

“Belle…”

“Why didn’t you stop her!” Belle yelled. “You could have helped those people!”

“I’m not a hero Belle—”

“You don’t have to be a hero to do the right thing!”

Rumplestiltskin fell back, annoyance building through the pain.

“I don’t’ need to explain myself to you.”

Belle scoffed. “No I guess you don’t.” she moved away from him and began picking at the fire, trying to keep it lively with a few sticks.

He tried to remain calm, tried to focus all his energy and magic into fighting the damned curse that awful woman had cast on him.

But he was so cold. The spell wouldn’t kill him, but there was no doubt it would take days for it to wear off. The snow storm outside seemed to grow stronger, no doubt the Snow Queen’s doing to smite him out once and for all.

He glanced at Belle, frowning at her slouched shoulders. He didn’t like it when she was angry at him, but it was better to keep her at arm’s length.

He was a monster, she needed to realize that. It’d save her.

The heat from the small fire she had built had faded fast and the cave was freezing once more.

Belle rubbed her arms, her energy nearly depleted. She felt so tired, the frantic voice in the back of her mind screaming at her not to fall asleep.

Her mother’s book as a pile of smoky ash now and there was nothing left to burn.

She laid on her side, facing Rumple.

“I’m so tired,” she muttered, feeling her eyes grow heavy. Her body was so cold now she couldn’t even feel anything.

“Belle,” Rumplestiltskin muttered, turning his head, his heart racing when he saw she wasn’t moving.

“No, Belle!” he moaned, turning painfully on his side and crawling to her. “No, please don’t fall asleep!”

Belle moaned. “It’s okay…”

“No, Belle, look at me,” he reached out, taking hold of her chin. “Please stay awake. Yell at me, hit, just don’t fall asleep!”

She didn’t answer, and Rumple willed his magic to his limbs to give him more strength. He managed to sit up and pull Belle closer to him, her pulse a bare flutter under his fingers.

He snatched the coats she had laid on him off himself to cover her.

“Belle wake up…I’m sorry…I’m sorry for everything. For lying to you, to bringing you into this.” He mused her hair from her beautiful face, so peaceful.

“I just wanted to keep you safe.”

He leaned up to see the fire she attempted to build, recognizing the burnt paper flakes.

“Oh Belle, I’m so sorry,” he said as he rubbed at her arms over the jacket.

He recalled briefly — in another life —doing the same thing to keep his son warm.

In the very early mornings when the fire he’d set the night before had long gone out, his wee son would crawl into bed with him and they’d hold each other close until they warmed up.

The memory filled him with comfort and guilt, but also a very embarrassing idea.

With his magic doing its part, his skin had started to retain some of its warmth. If he and Belle were skin to skin…

He cringed at the thought. She’d be disgusted with him, but she wouldn’t be much of anything if she froze to death.

“Belle,” he whispered as his stiff fingers carefully began to open her shirt. “I’m going to try something I hope will save us both.” He averted his eyes from her pale skin as he undid his undershirt.

He reached out to tie their coats together, creating a sort of blanket for them.

As his heart pounded, he pulled Belle to his chest, his back against the storm, and entangled their legs, the heat between them slowly building.

“You’re going to be alright Belle,” he whispered into her hair, holding her close as he drifted into his own slumber.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Belle opened her eyes slowly, the cold that had soaked into her bones now gone. Her hand grazed upon something hard and textured, but not unpleasant to the touch.

It took her a moment to realize she was lying on someone, their legs tangled in a heated embrace.

It was quiet now, the storm now seized, and Belle could clearly make out the sound of the heartbeat pressed against her ear.

She eased back some, lifting her head to look at the sleeping face of her employer.

Her face further heated when she looked down to see their unclothed chests touching.

She croaked, sitting up to cover herself as their tied coats slid down to their waists.

Rumple stirred, opening his reptilian eyes. He tensed when he saw Belle staring at him, not necessarily in disgust but just in confusion.

“I…I um…” he stuttered, his body warmer than it’d been in over a day.

“You’re doing better,” she pointed out, not meeting his eyes. “The spell must have worn off.”

“Mostly, yes.” He concluded. “And it would seem as if we’re safe from the Snow Queen.”

“Good,” she nodded, looking around the calm cave until her eyes landed on their tied jackets.

“You saved us?”

The Dark One bristled, “I think you’re dehydrated.”

Belle smirked through her exhaustion. “Looks like you’ve got a bit of a hero in you after all.”

Rumplestiltskin groaned. “Very dehydrated.”

She shrugged. “I’m sure we can remedy that soon enough. Do you think you can get us out of here?”

Rumplestiltskin frowned. “I’m not sure. I used so much magic fighting off the curse.”

Belle nodded, glancing out the mouth of the cave into the snow. It was so beautiful after the storm, but the cold was still their worst enemy. Belle wasn’t sure if she was willing to strip down further tonight if they were out her another night.

Her heart leapt when she saw something – or someone – moving in the distance.

“Rumple,” Belle gasped. He was at her side in a second, glaring at the figure moving towards them.

“Is it the Snow Queen?”

“I don’t think so. Stay behind me.”

Belle did has he bade for his magic to return.

Whoever it was would be losing a large chunk of their necks if they tried to harm Belle.

The figure stepped in front of the cave, throwing back his hood with a bit too much flair.

Rumplestiltskin groaned. “Hatter.”

“Good to see you too!” Jefferson greeted.

“What are you doing here?”

Jefferson smirked. “You missed our appointment, and we got worried,” he pointed at Rumplestiltskin’s partially undone shirt. “But it looks liked it was for a good reason.”

The Dark One hissed and struggled to button his shirt while Belle eased to his side.

“We?”

Jefferson glanced back to reveal the mysterious Dr. Victor Frankenstein making his way up the steep mountain.

Belle gasped when she saw one of the ice sculptures – the dog – tied around his back.

“The next time you want to take a rendezvous, at least leave a note,” the doctor panted as he sat on a rock to rest.

“That’s not what happened!” Rumplestiltskin seethed.

Belle eased past him to greet Jefferson. “We’re both another hour away from hypothermia. Can you get us out of here?”

“Sure,” the hatter winked. “But I’ll have to make a couple of trips.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Belle and Rumplestiltskin huddled closely by the fire, they’re bodies warmed to the appropriate temperature.

They had yet to speak to each other, mainly because the doctor and the hatter would not leave them alone for a single second.

After giving Belle a quick checkup (Rumplestiltskin had forbade him to touch him, much to the doctor’s disappointment) Dr. Frankenstein had to work examining the frozen dog he’d confiscated from Arendelle, trying to chip off some kind of sample but failing miserably.

“That thing better not melt on my table!” Rumplestiltskin shot at the doctor.

“Fear not, Dark One,” the doctor sighed tiredly. “Your baubles are safe.”

Rumplestiltskin growled and turned back to the fire, sparing a glance at Belle.

He wanted to tell her so much, to thank her and apologize and anything he could so she didn’t look so cold when she looked at him.

Jefferson was sitting at a chair at the great table, his attention back and forth between the Dark One and his maid and the doctor.

This was…different. He knew of course that the most powerful sorcerer in the land had a soft spot for the bookish, clumsy heroine, but he hadn’t realized it was this intense.

Since Belle had come to stay with Rumplestiltskin, his visits had become less about business and more about company. He loved the playful bickering they shared, loved that his business acquaintance actually seemed happy.

Jefferson was a helpless romantic, yes, and right now the light of his interest was threatening to fall into shambles.

“Belle…” Rumplestiltskin began quietly to avoid scandal from the two men in the room.

She glanced his way but remained quiet.

“Thank you for what you did for me…”

Belle nodded, sipping her tea wordlessly.

“And…I’m sorry,”

Belle paused, as did the two spectators behind them.

“I didn’t mean to put you in danger or to lie to you,” He said. “And I’m sorry about your book.”

Belle lowered her cup, grief threatening to crush her.

“It was my mother’s, and the first book she ever read to me.” Belle said.

Rumplestiltskin smiled lightly but noticed the way her eyes were glassing over.

“The day the ogres attacked my home, I went back to get it,” she said. “By the time I got back to mother, the ogres had come. And then…”

Belle gulped and wiped the tear from her eye. “I thought for so long that if I had just left it behind, we could have gotten out sooner and maybe she’d alive. But then it was all I had left of her, the only reminder I had that there are heroes in this world and maybe I could be one.”

Rumplestiltskin nodded. “She’d be so proud of you, Belle.”

Belle scoffed.

“No, she would,” he assured. “You saved me, and made a grand sacrifice to do it. If that’s not a hero, I can’t imagine what is.”

Belle smiled, grateful. “And you saved me too. You can be a hero too Rumple, you just have to believe in yourself.”

Rumplestiltskin looked away, the weight of her words weighing into him.

Him, a hero…

The doctor cleared his voice, pulling them from their heart-to-heart.

“I think I might be able to make some progress on our friend here,” he said, placing a hand on the dog ice sculpture. “But I’ll need to take him back to my lab for further examination.”

Belle and Rumple rose to meet the doctor at the table, who handed them his stethoscope.

“Listen,” he instructed, placing the metal part to the dog’s chest.

Belle listened first, her eyes widening as she handed the device to Rumplestiltskin.

“It’s…”

“A heartbeat.” Rumple concluded, meeting Belle’s brilliant smile.

“They’re alive, it would seem,” the doctor theorized. “As to how to revert them to their original state I cannot yet conclude.”

“It’s magic,” the Dark One pointed out. “It’s not exactly something you can solve.”

The doctor glared at him, but Belle stepped in the way to keep a fight from breaking out.

“How about I make us all dinner,” she offered.

“Sounds good to me,” Jefferson chimed in, taking his legs off the table. “I saw some strawberries on the way in. I’ll make tarts!”

“You can cook?” Belle asked.

“…I can put things in a bowl.”

The doctor scoffed in disgust. “Cooking is a science, hatter. I’ll handle any baking.”

Belle and Jefferson exchanged an amused look before the lead the red-faced doctor to the kitchen.

She stopped just outside the entry way, turning to Rumplestiltskin who was watching them whimsically.

“Aren’t you coming?”

He nodded solemnly. “In a moment.”

Belle smiled, heading to the kitchen.

Rumplestiltskin sighed, gripping the edge of the table as he struggled to sort out his thoughts.

He cared for her. He’d known this for some time now, but now things had gotten much more serious.

He was falling for her, and he had no idea what to do.

He glanced over to her bag, now dry from its night soaking in snow. Glancing towards the kitchen, he grabbed the bag and sorted through its contents until he found the small unburnt corner of Her Handsome Hero.

In a flash he was in his tower and placed the piece in a bowl along a special ingredient: a small, magical silkworm he’d been saving to rebuilt series of ancient scrolls.

This was more important.

He placed it with the book and smiled as it immediately set to work. It’d be a few days until Belle’s book was fully restored, and he’d have to find a subtle way to surprise her with it.

But there would be time for all that, there’d be time for everything.

Satisfied, he turned away from the bowl, making his way down the tower stairs to join Belle and the others for dinner.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #rumbelle christmas in july #rcij #rcij 2020 #ryik's fics

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silwenworld · 4 years ago

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Fic: A Truth for a Truth. A study in Confusion

Title: A Truth for a Truth. A Study in Confusion Rating: T Word Count: 12 474 Summary: Mr Gold returns to Storybroke after a one-year absence with a kid's backpack swung over his shoulder. Has he kidnapped someone? Made a deal with the child parents and holding the kid as a ransom? After all the stories Belle has heard about her landlord, she hopes it's not the case. AN: Suprise and Merry RCIJ @boushh2187! I really enjoyed being your Santa this year and our talks! I must admit I was a little nervous as this was my first time participating, but it was a lot of fun, getting to know you and all! :D Hope you’ll enjoy your gift :) https://archiveofourown.org/works/25505929/chapters/61878064 ----------- Belle French had never liked crowds - That was the first thing she had always said to everybody when asked about her choices. Why move to a small town and not a big city, like New York? Too many people were always the right answer. Of course, in that crowd, one could have easily become anonymous, a status almost impossible to achieve in Storybrooke. She realized, as she began to unpack her second box of things, that she missed that feeling very much so. It had been two days since she had arrived in Storybrook, a small town in Maine that she hoped to be her new home soon. Two days and there already had been curious glances thrown in her way. It wasn't like she didn't expect them - on the contrary, it was only normal as towns like this hardly ever got new residents. Why on Earth would anyone in their right mind want to move here? To a place where time almost stood still? Well, she didn't have the correct answer to that, not yet anyway, but as soon as she crossed the town line she had known, it had been exactly where she was supposed to be.

That had been two days ago. Now, Belle wasn't so sure anymore. Those people she had met so far had been kind and friendly, but it hadn't stopped her from worrying. Belle had never been good at those people stuff, preferring sitting on her own with a book than partying or gossiping. Others had found her strange, but she had never felt like that herself.

Bookworm - they had called her. Well, they had meant it as an insult, but she had never seen it as such. She still needed to work on her confidence tho.

Belle sighed as she looked around her new flat. It was small, but it already felt like home. She was yet to meet her landlord as his coworker, Mr Dove, was the one who signed the lease agreement with her.

"Mr Gold is away on business, he will contact you as soon as would be able to," he had said.

Well, it didn't stop her from asking shyly around.

The first thing she had learnt was that people had a very firm opinion on Mr Gold. One she didn't know what to think of herself. The image the others had painted had her question her decision whenever renting a flat from the man was the right choice. Not that she had so many other options to choose from, he seemed to own almost the whole town.

A Ruthless Beast some had called him.

A Right Manipulative Bastard said the others.

And those were just the nicer ones.

Belle had already felt anxious at just the thought of meeting the man. He sounded like someone who would probably want to know every personal information she had, and that didn't sit well with her at all. She didn't like sharing her personal matters with others. With the experience, she had one answer lead to more questions, and before you could know it, everyone knew everything about you.

No. Belle was perfectly comfortable in her own inner world. It was a lot safer that way.

But the days had gone by, and there was no sight of one Mr Gold. The sign on the doors of his shop was still flipped to closed, and Mr Dove was the one to collect the rent. Ruby Lucas had a theory that the man had some gangster connections and disappeared to strike some shady deal.

"If we're lucky maybe he won't be back," she said one day, leaning against the table, throwing the kitchen towel over her arm.

"Is he really that bad?" Belle asked shyly waiting for the answer with strongly beating heart.

Ruby Lucas looked around then leaned conspiratorially towards Belle with a glint in her eye.

"The worst."

"Ruby! Stop maltreating the poor woman and go back to work!" It took all of Belle's willpower not to jump startled at Granny's loud shout. Ruby didn't seem too fazed tho, and she just smiled mischievously.

"Gotta dash!"

And so the days had gone by. Each month Belle opened the door to see Mr Dove patiently waiting for the envelope containing her rent. And when the calendar on her wall told her one day that it had been half a year since her arrival to the small town, she began to worry. What if something really happened to the man? But Mr Dove would surely have told her if that was the case, wouldn't he? Looking at the clock, she realized that for someone who so good at interacting with others, she was thinking about the man she had never met quite a lot recently.

Those thoughts were persistent. They would sneak up on her without warning during her break at work in the library or while making coffee in the morning. There were also days when Mr Gold whereabouts didn't worry her mind at all. People moved on with their lives, and almost no one was discussing their landlord's sudden prolonged absence.

In all her wildest dreams, Belle couldn't have predicted how her eventual meeting with her landlord would go. And to be honest none of Storybrooke residents would have thought that the first time Mr Gold would have been spotted in town in a year would be with a child's backpack swung over his shoulder.

And so the gossip mill in Storybrooke had started. Belle tried not to take part in it. It wasn't like people like to chat with her, she was too closed in for most of them to engage with any sort of meaningful conversations, and it wasn't like she minded that or something. Still, she would be lying if she had said that she wasn't even slightly interested in the sudden change in the town's atmosphere. Funny, how things have changed for her in a year since moving here herself.

There was also one place one could hear the latest gossip - it didn't matter if they wanted to or not. Granny's Dinner for better or worst was the place Belle had her work break, and Ruby Lucas was even more willing to spill some beans without being prompt to do so.

"Maybe he had kidnapped someone," she said without missing a beat, making Belle almost choke on her coffee.

"Who? A child?"

The woman just shrugged her shoulders as if it wasn't a big deal.

"I wouldn't put it passed him, the man's shady."

"Surely not shady enough to kidnap a child."

"Maybe it's a ransom? Or insurance? Oh! I know!" She shifted slightly to get even more close to Belle. "Maybe, the kid's mother sold them in a deal!"

"Are you sure I was the one who has read more books at the Uni? Because I have doubts."

"You're saying that now, but you will hear my words when you meat the man! He has always given me the creeps." She shuddered theatrically, and Belle couldn't help herself and softly giggled.

"Well, some of your boyfriends had given me creeps, and I've never complained."

"Iw, Belle! You implied Gold as your boyfriend, and now I want to gauge my eyes at the mental image."

Belle looked pointedly at the other woman knowing exactly what she was playing at. It had always been like that, since the day they had been pared as roommates at the Uni. Ruby was probably the only person in the world who had known almost everything about her. Belle had always been more closed in, but it didn't stop Ruby from putting up with her. Not even up to the point of convincing her to move into Storybrooke.

"Is he bad looking then?" She asked after taking a sip of her iced tea.

"Well, I wouldn't say so, but you know - it's Gold."

"I'm still lost."

"Put it this way," Ruby pulled her hand up, counting her fingers. "He wears nothing but three-piece suits with double cuff shirts and a cane - fits him right, but who dresses like that all the time? Granny would probably have a stroke if she saw him in jeans. Anyway, that's one. Two - he drives a vintage Caddy. Three - he owns most of the town and most people, including the mayor, hates his guts. Four - he's got some suspicious blokes working for him. You've met Dove, but there are more. Five - he's a dick. If that doesn't scream mafia or other shit like that, I don't know what does." Ruby sat back very satisfied with the points she had made, looking expectingly at Belle.

"Couldn't it be his nephew or a son? When was the last time you saw him?"

"I dunno. Seven? Eight years ago? Haven't been in town that much, but believe me he did not have a kid back then, I would have noticed, others as well. You need a second party for that to work and he sure as hell wasn't banging anyone in town."

"If you finished your charming summaries of other people's affairs, miss Lucas, would you kindly go back to what you get paid for by your grandmother or should I go back later when you finished your entertainment?"

Ruby visibly blanched, and Belle couldn't help herself this time around - she did jump startled at the low, accented voice as she wasn't expecting anyone other than her friend to speak. She didn't need to hear Ruby's hurried reply as she scrambled to her feet to know who was standing next to her.

Mr R. Gold.

He wasn't a tall man, that much she could tell even tho she was seated. He would still be taller than her, despite her wearing heels, but it wasn't something hard to achieve. From all the tales going around the town about the man, she would expect someone tall and heavily built, instead who she saw was a shortish, lean man. There was an aura around him tho, and in an instant, Belle understood why people were wary of him.

The aura that screamed power. He didn't need to be tall for others to know who was calling the shots and not to be messed with.

A frown marred his brow, his lips pursed in a thin line as he leaned on his distinguished cane, shotting daggers at Ruby as he listened to her babbled apologies. Belle tried not to stare, but a thought very quickly crossed her mind that Ruby had been wrong - he didn't look old at all. His hair still brown had strands of silver woven in them, but it strangely suited him as did their unusual length as it reached his shoulders in soft waves.

"Mr Gold, I didn't see you come in," said Ruby, trying to smoothen down her short uniform skirt.

"I could tell," he shot back not even trying to sound friendly.

"What can I get you then?" Asked Ruby trying to sound calm, but failing.

"Two burgers one with extra pickles the other with extra cheese."

"Have a guest staying?" If Ruby tried to be subtle then in Belle opinion she was failing spectacularly. It was tough not to cringe. Gold's mouth twisted, clearly annoyed.

"No, a prisoner in need of rations, before I sell him to some drug lord or human traffic ring. Now, would you mind?"

Ruby visibly gulped, but Belle had to try really hard not to smile. The man had a very dry sense of humour. She could tell he was joking and wondered how others couldn't see the difference.

"Would that be all, Mr Gold?"

"Quite."

Belle watched as her friend all but fled to the kitchen, leaving her alone with her landlord. Her palms felt suddenly sweaty as she could feel his gaze boring into her. What one said to a man who you didn't know yet, whose life you were chattering about only a moment ago and who had heard you doing so?

The silence felt heavy, and with each beat of her heart, it was becoming less bearable.

"I'm quite good with faces," oh thank God, thought Belle, although her relief was shortlived, he was the one to speak first. "But I must say I haven't seen yours, Miss...?"

"French," she replied hurriedly shifting in her seat to look up at Mr Gold. "it's Belle French. I'm, well, I'm actually one of your new tenants...?"

She didn't intend for it to sound like a question, but Gold's gaze was so intense it brought back all those memories when others looked down on her that her body did what it did involuntarily. At least her cheeks didn't burn. Not yet, anyway.

He was assessing her now, but she managed to keep still and not to fidget in her seat. She couldn't read his expression, but she hoped he wasn't weighing his options whenever to evict her or not. After what felt like forever, he nodded once.

"The apartment above the library?"

"Yes."

Another nod.

"I hope you find it satisfactory both the flat and the librarian post? It's quite late for the landlord to ask questions like that, but I like to think Mr Dove would tell me if something was wrong."

"Oh, no! It's perfect, it really is. More than perfect, even!"

Still having a roof over her head then, better to keep it that way and not offend the man, so it didn't matter she sounded stupid.

Gold's mouth twitched just so slightly at her sudden reply, but then his expression was back to neutral as he turned to check if his order was ready.

"Um, Mr Gold?" He looked back at her. "Would you care to sit down? There's no point in you waiting like that." It surely wasn't good for his leg.

He seemed to be weighing his options, but seeing that Ruby was nowhere yet in sight, he relented and limped around her booth to sit across from her.

Belle busied her hands with the half-empty glass of ice tea, trying very hard not to glance the man's way. At first glance, he looked calm, but his fingers fidgeted with the handle of his cane in a way that told Belle he wasn't as comfortable as he would like to seem.

She squeezed the glass very hard, forcing herself to focus and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," she finally said. Gold turned his head towards her, raising his eyebrow in puzzlement.

"Whatever for, miss French?"

"Um, for earlier? We shouldn't talk about you like that. It wasn't any of our business. Ruby was out of line."

There it was again - that soft twitch of the man's lips, and suddenly Belle thought how Gold would look like while fully smiling. She didn't know where the thought had come from.

"Miss Lucas might have been away from the town for some years, but I can't say her absence improved on her character."

"Nevertheless it was uncalled for."

He tilted his head slightly to the side as if amused.

"Well, you must have heard a lot of things about my person. If you haven't found out already, people in this town are hardly shy about their attitude."

"Having been on the receiving end of the people's tongues before, I somehow have a feeling their opinion to be greatly exaggerated," she admitted, too late realizing that she had revealed more about herself to this man that she had to any other person in a year.

"You may find that there is more truth in rumours than you think."

"Oh, so you do kidnap infants in their sleep and deal in firstborns?" Her eyes winded, and she almost clapped her hands over her mouth in horror as the realization of what she had said had struck her. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest.

Belle couldn't remember when was the last time she had been forward like that, probably never, but something about this man was pushing this side of her to the surface. She watched him in trepidation fearing his reaction and waiting for a frown to appear on his face.

Nothing like that had happened.

Instead, Gold grinned broadly, the light catching in what appeared to be a gold tooth on the left side of his mouth.

He was amused, and Belle had to try really hard not to let her eyes to bulge even more.

"Be careful, miss French. People might get ideas. Some would say that teasing the beast might not end well."

"Then I will remember that when I see one."

The broad grin transformed into a soft smile, and he dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement. As quickly as the expression had come, it disappeared as Ruby excited the kitchen with Gold's order packed to go. He was back to frowning, and Belle felt a sudden pang in her chest at the change. Gold tightened the grip on his cane and stood up. It struck her that throughout their short conversation, his fidgeting had stopped and he had looked almost relaxed. Weird, how quickly he could snap back into the cold exterior he was presenting now while facing Ruby.

"Your order Mr Gold. Granny's sends her regards," Gold didn't look amused or glad at the notion. He pulled out the bill and passed it on to Ruby, taking the bag in exchange.

"As much as your grandmother would love that, I won't choke on it. Good day, miss Lucas. Miss French," he nodded once in Belle's direction and without waiting for a response swiftly left the restaurant. For a man with a limp, he walked very quickly.

The bell above the door jingled, and once again two women were left alone, Ruby's shoulders sagged in relief.

"How did I miss him coming in? He walks with a cane - how could I not hear him?" She muttered under her breath. Just as quickly, she straightened up and turned around to look intensively at Belle. A crease appeared on her forehead as she frowned, and Belle had to look around to make sure there was nothing out of the ordinary anywhere near her. Finding nothing, she looked back at her friend, confused.

"What?"

"You flirted with him."

"I did not!" She all but yelled back offended at the accusation, feeling her cheeks heat at the same time.

"Yes, you did!"

"No, I didn't!"

"Yes -"

"Ruby!"

"Oh, please, you so flirted with the man."

"I don't even know how to flirt!"

Ruby sighed and leaned on the table, looking expectingly at Belle.

"That thing you did? The I-will-remember-when-I-see-one line? That was flirting."

"That was a conversation, Rubs."

"Well, I had both and trust me on the judgment." Ruby looked all too pleased with herself and Belle didn't know what more to say. Was she really doing that? "He flirted back."

"What?"

"I said, he flirted back," she repeated pointedly.

"He was being polite."

"Yes, exactly. It's Gold we're talking about. And he smiled at you - he never does that, thus flirting."

"You're jumping - wait. Did you watch us?"

"Maybe..." she smiled sheepishly. "I didn't want to intrude. Look, do you like him?"

"Ruby, I just met the man."

"So? Me just meeting Shawn didn't stop me from sleeping with him."

Belle groaned into her hands, then rested her forehead on the table, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks.

"Hey, it's OK," suddenly Ruby was seated beside her bumping her on the shoulder. "I know you're not like that and it's fine too."

"I've never even kissed a guy before, not starting on sleeping with him." The table muffled her voice as she still didn't raise her head. That was another reason she decided to move away. There were talks at Uni about her. While pretty much everyone she had known had had at least one past relationship, she had none. She didn't know why, but it was how it was, and she couldn't help it. So yeah, the chances the guy she had just met was in some way interested in her were close to none.

"Belle? Come on chin up. There you are," Ruby smiled as Belle finally lifted her head and looked her in the eye. "I wasn't kidding, you know? I really think he liked you." Belle winced still not convinced, and Ruby tilted her head to the side. "Do you fancy him?"

Belle bit down on her lower lip, casting her eyes down. Was she?

"From all the talks I've heard over the year, he wasn't what I expected," she started slowly. She might have known Ruby for over close to six years now, but it didn't mean opening-up to her had become any easier. "He has a funny sense of humour - what?" Ruby was looking at her as if she had grown two heads.

"No, nothing. It's just, it's still Gold we're talking about, right? Ok, Ok, stop looking at me like that! I guess sarcasm can be counted as a sense of humour."

"I don't know what I feel, Rubs. At first, I was horrified he had heard us gossiping about him, but then he smiled, and he really does have a nice looking smile... And - stop grinning like that!"

"Can't help it, girl. I'm just happy that someone has finally caught my bestie's eye. Not sold on the choice, but it won't be me banging him."

"Can we stop with the innuendo, please?"

"You haven't been to his shop. He's got all weird things there - "

"You're not helping. It's not going to happen."

"I am willing to take one for the team and ask him out for you."

"Please don't. I would have died from embarrassment if he said no, besides I don't know I would."

"Listen to Aunt Ruby, Belle. My nose is hardly wrong. Just you wait."

Somehow, deep down, Belle knew Ruby was right because all she needed was a memory how Mr Gold had reacted to her words to know she was in deep. She had wanted to see more of those soft smiles and wondered how his laugh sounded. Did he use to laugh? Did the child he had brought a burger for had heard him laugh like no other?

Belle groaned and banged her head on the table. She was in trouble.

******

Mr Ronald Gold felt confused, and he wasn't sure why. To add to that, he wasn't used to feeling that way. All because of a small, and at first glance, unimportant woman.

Belle French.

He didn't know what had come over him. He had never spoken to anyone in a way he had with her before. He had been all too ready to snap at her in the same way he had at miss Lucas, but something had stopped him. Maybe it had been the fact that he had seen her suppressing a smile at his comments about keeping someone prisoner, perhaps something different. He even had abandoned the idea of snaping at the woman altogether and started what he had aimed to be a normal, polite conversation. But then she has surprised him with her bold retorts, and what had been even more amusing, she had seemed to be even more surprised by her words than him. He had not only joked with her, no. He had smiled at her. A genuine, even if small, but still - a smile. She had taken him by surprise, and he was yet to shake that confused feeling she had awaken in him.

"Are you OK, papa?" he looked up from the food he had bearly touched across the table at the source of the childish voice.

Oh, yes. The reason for his yearly absence, and also the topic of the latest Storybrooke's rumour mill much to Gold's dismay. His ten-year-old son who was looking at him with concern while still holding onto the remains of the hamburger.

"Yes, why shouldn't I be?"

The boy shrugged.

"You looked weird, that's all."

Gold sighed. Weird was one way to put it. He was about to run a hand through his hair in frustration but stopped mind motion as he saw the look on his boy's face.

"Neal?" The kid had bowed his head, leaving the hamburger on the plate suddenly forgotten. Gold stood up and limped to kneel next to the boy. "What is it? You can tell me. I promise I won't yell or anything." Neal mumbled something bearly audible. "Come again?"

"You won't hand me over, right?"

"Of course I won't," he answered, not missing a beat, he wanted to scream the words out but thought better of it. Instead, he frowned in confusion. It seemed he was better got used to the feeling. "Whatever gave you such an idea?"

Neal shrugged again still not looking at him.

"You were frowning and looked weird. I thought... I thought that maybe you had second thoughts, maybe - "

"Neal, look at me, son. That's right. I will never give up on you, ok? You're not getting back to your mother, and nothing and no one will make me change my mind. And if someone comes after you? He will have to get through me first. Now, come here."

His boy didn't need more prompting, and he all but threw himself in Gold's arms. Gold held him close as he manoeuvred the both of them into a sitting position on the floor that was less murderous for his ankle. He gently ran his fingers through the curly mop of hair, waiting for the sniffing to lessen a little.

"I know, I haven't been around - "

"Wasn't your fault, I know. It was mum's."

Gold bit down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying what exactly he thought about his ex-wife. Some language his son was better not to hear. It didn't change the fact that she was the reason why the boy was as insecure as he was. Instead of speaking, he tightened his arms around Neal.

"I won't let you go now. That's what matters."

"Sorry for being silly."

"You weren't. It's fine, and I don't mind the hugging."

Neal giggled then wiped his nose with his sleeve after unwrapping his small hands from around Gold's torso.

"Wait till I tell that to the others," he said while grinning and Gold poked him playfully on the chest.

"Others are not you. Besides, they wouldn't believe it anyway."

Neal laughed, and Gold counted that as a victory. He watched his son closely for the remaining hours of the day for any sights of changes in his mood, but everything went fine. They managed to work on his math homework, and when the clock had struck eight, he tucked the boy to sleep.

Gold sat down in the armchair in the living room nursing a glass of whiskey, thinking. Soon he would have to enlist Neal to a school. He knew the boy needed it, but dreaded the day anyway. It would be a lot easier for the boy if he didn't have his surname. Also, Neal was still adjusting.

Gold winced, then emptied the whole glass in one go. Damn Millah for taking his son away from him. Damn her for running away with him not from love but out of spite. And damn the court for being so lazy about the whole case.

He ran a hand over his face, suddenly weary. He wondered what else he could do for Neal to make him feel better, and the change in his life easier. Getting a pet was out of the question, at least for now. What else... He sat up straighter.

Belle French was the librarian. Neal had enjoyed being read to when little, hadn't he? Maybe Gold would visit the library and got some books for him. The additional benefit of seeing Miss French again had nothing to do with it, of course. He had bearly known anything about the woman, he had an inkling that few people did, but the idea of seeing her caused that weird feeling of confusion to bloom inside of him again. He didn't know what it was, but the sooner he found out, the sooner he would be able to move back to normal. Neal needed normal.

That settled it. He would visit the library tomorrow, get his son some books and deal with the confusion that was Belle French. With that in mind, Gold stood up and limped towards the stair. What could go wrong?

********

It turned out that nothing ever could have run as smoothly as you could plan it, and Gold was soon about to find this out.

He left his home promptly first thing in the morning with the sole purpose of going straight for the library and conducting his business. Neal accompanied him very eager to be out of the house even for the change of the scenery that was Gold's shop where the boy was supposed to spend his day. The boy looked curiously over the window as they drove past the streets. Gold drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in unease with only one thought repeating itself in his mind. The sooner he could get this over with the better.

The confusion he had felt the day before lingered.

He had slept poorly all the while thinking if Belle French also had the same problems. Stupid. Why would she?

So his mood was foul since even the morning coffee couldn't have done the trick, and he slightly wished for someone to get in his way just for the sole purpose of having his way with them.

His mood didn't improve upon arriving at the library's door as he had found them closed. Gold frowned and checked the time on his watch. There was no mistake that it was past the opening time - only a couple of minutes, but still. He tapped his cane on the pavement in annoyance then turned his back to the door in the intension of crossing the street to his shop where Neal was keeping himself busy.

He made it exactly four steps down the pavement.

Later on, he would probably blame it on the lack of sleep and the fact he was too wrapped in the fact that the first person who would be unfortunate enough to encounter him later that day would be the one to face the full stock of his displeasure to notice someone else coming his way. Someone who clearly wasn't paying attention to where they were going as much as he wasn't. And yeah, at one point in time, they would be both laughing about it, but right now no one felt this way.

Two things had happened.

One: Someone walked into Gold with full force, almost knocking him down, making him react like on reflex as his hand darted forward towards the other person, preventing them from falling as well.

Two: Something wet and hot splattered over his chest, burning him through his clothes.

Gold didn't know who had yelped. Maybe he (unlikely) or the one who had dared to walk into him (more probable). The yep had been definitely woman's, and he was about to show her how displeased he was when he got the first good look at who exactly had walked into him, and spilt, what he assumed had been, a hot coffee all over his front.

Belle French.

Of all the people...

Her face was the perfect picture of a mix between horror, embarrassment and something else eternally that he wasn't able to name. From her eyes opened wide to her open mouth, she looked as if she wanted to both run away from him and hide right here and there.

The empty paper cup rolled away from them towards the middle of the street.

He was still holding her by the wrist.

Belle's mouth moved silently in shock a couple of times before she snapped into action.

"Oh, my God! I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" She was on him in an instant. Unsure and hesitant, but determined at the same time. She freed her hand from his and opened her bag, looking for something in it.

She was mumbling apologies, and all he could do was stand stiffly still. He was about to say something, wasn't he? He was annoyed. Yes, that was it. He was supposed to show her just why people were so wary of him and why no one ever dared to spill coffee on him.

Yes, he would do just that. He had even opened his mouth ready to show her a piece of his mind, but then she produced a handkerchief and started to pat his chest with it.

All he was able to do was to open and close his mouth like a fish.

And just like that. The confusion he had felt before, and up to this moment, decided to be dormant, was back in full force. That weird feeling starting deep inside his chest, spreading outwards that had nothing to do with the hot liquid still seeping through his clothes.

"I- I can't believe I did that. I'm so sorry."

Belle really didn't mean any of it to happen. Her coffee machine had broken, and she had decided to pop to Granny's for a cuppa and be back before the opening, but there had been a lot more people there than usual as Granny herself seemed to be out, living Ruby alone at the Dinner, and she had found herself running late.

How could she had such bad timing concerning one man was beyond her comprehension. First the gossiping now this. Oh, she was so, so screwed.

Belle was about to let out another stream of apologies when he noticed Gold wincing after her last touch, and she was even more mortified. Had the coffee burned him?

She looked around the street and not noticing anybody she caught him by the arm and spun him around in the direction of the library.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Gold. Really, I am."

"Miss French - "

"The coffee could have burned you. It did, didn't it?"

"It's fine. No harms done."

"I beg to differ. Would you, Um. Would you come with me, please?"

He was about to decline yet again, but the agitated look on her face had stopped him. What was wrong with him? Firstly he didn't bare her (which was his intention, the words just hadn't left his mouth), then this.

"As you wish."

Belle sighed in relief, then all but pushed the man into the library, closing the doors behind them. She was late, to begin with. People could wait. She ushered Mr. Gold to the small bathroom that was behind her desk after he claimed it was fine and they needn't go to her flat while she was mumbling apologies.

As soon as he disappeared behind the doors, she buried her face in her hands, sinking into a chair. God, she was so useless. How can one person mess up so much in a matter of two days? Well, at least one thing was certain. Any chances she might have with the man were done for.

"Miss French?"

She jumped startled and was on her feet, immediately facing the bathroom door. She stopped in her tracks almost at once. Mr. Gold stood just behind her, wearing only his dark red shirt. With the first two buttons undone, and missing the tie, he looked almost like a different man. She had met him only twice now, but by the way, the was standing awkwardly, not meeting her eyes she could tell looking like this was almost equal to being undressed. She blushed fiercely at the thought and tried to mask it by coughing.

Great, Belle. Let's make it more awkward than it already is, why don't you.

"Please tell me the coffee didn't burn you."

The corner of his lips twitched just so slightly.

Now he probably thinks me stupid.

"The layers of clothing have many advantages it seems," he answered, and Belle's eyes moved to his jacket and waistcoat that he draped over his arm. She nodded.

"I'll get it cleaned for you."

His head snapped towards her, his brow furrowed.

"There's no need - "

"Mr. Gold," she interrupted, aiming for a firm tone. "I ruined it so at least let me make up for it." He was hesitating she could tell. "Please?"

He looked at her closely as if assessing if she had some ulterior motive or not. Finally, after what had felt like forever, he extended the bundle of clothes towards her.

"You can tell the dry cleaner to add it to my bill."

"There's no need. I'll pay for it."

"Miss French - "

"I think I can afford a dry cleaner once in a while, Mr. Gold," she cut in, raising an eyebrow at him. He bowed his head.

"Of course. I've never assumed otherwise. My apologies."

"I threw a coffee at you. It's me who should be apologizing."

"Well, I assure you others would pay to do just that. You might have just gained new popularity points with that."

"I, ah, I've never aimed for that..."

"A woman like yourself and not popular is a hardly believable thing."

"Um, no, actually not," she answered awkwardly, casting her eyes down. An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, and Belle didn't know what to say to make it disappear. How was it possible that at the same time, she wanted to keep things to herself and to share them with this man? She hugged his jacked closer wishing to disappear. And it was going so well.

Mr. Gold cleared his throat.

"I apologize. It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable in any way, Miss French."

"No! You didn't! I mean... Look, " screw it. Ruby had said to be honest once, what she had to lose? "I'm not especially good at sharing... It's-It's a work in progress." She finished lamely.

She couldn't look him in the eyes and was sure that she had messed this up, but when she glanced his way, he was smiling faintly.

"I quite understand what you mean; believe me."

Her shoulders sagged in relief, and she risked a small, timid smile. Something warm bloomed inside her chest. Huh, a weird feeling - confusing even. Gold kept looking her way with a look on his face she couldn't interpret then cleared his throat and tapped his cane on the floor.

"I must get back to open my shop. If you excuse me."

"Mr. Gold?" she called him before he could reach the exit. "Didn't you want something from the library?"

The look on his face could be comical, and she suppressed the urge to giggle.

"Oh, yes. Wouldn't you happen to have something for a boy of ten?"

She smiled.

"Any particular subject?"

"He happens to be quite fascinated with the dinosaurs lately and dragons." He added after a thought. She nodded already looking through the catalogue in her head.

"I may have just the thing. I'll be right back. In the meantime, you can fill in the form for the library card, would that be all right?"

He nodded, and she disappeared between the shelves. It didn't take her long to locate the one book she had in mind. She got back and put it on the desk, sliding it towards Mr. Gold.

"There are others, but I think your son would enjoy this one first."

Gold's head snapped up from where he was reading the title on the cover. He was staring not saying a thing, and she was beginning to berate herself for saying too much when his expression cleared and he nodded.

"I think he'll love it. Thank you."

He tucked the book under his arm and limped towards the exit. Belle let out a sigh and began to enter the data to the computer, trying not to think about the way he looked like just in his shirt and sleeve garters.

"Miss French?"

She looked up startled. He didn't leave yet. Instead, he stood with one hand on the doorknob, looking hesitant.

"Yes, Mr. Gold?"

"May I offer you a deal?"

She frowned, not completely understanding.

"What kind?"

"Truth for a truth. You tell me something about yourself, and in exchange, I do the same. Each time we met."

"Two socially inept people helping each other out?"

The corner of his lip curved upwards.

"Exactly."

Her heart rate increased. Was she able to do that? She was about to say her excuse why it was a bad idea when something had stopped her. Mr Gold looked just as uncertain as she did, even tho he tried to mask it. He was taking a leap of faith, why she didn't know, but she could see hope hiding in his gaze. Could Ruby be right?

Do a brave thing.

Belle smiled. "It's a deal, then."

Gold broke into a broad grin.

"To the next time, miss French."

As he left the library, the grin transformed into a soft smile. Gold still didn't understand what was going on with him, but he was beginning to suspect. The deal was a bold move - he had almost left without saying a thing, before deciding to throw caution to the wind. And it had paid off.

Gold crossed the street with a lightness to his steps. Curiosity, that what it was. It had been s many years since he had felt it that it must have been it. Confusion and Curiosity were almost the same things, after all, so that had to be it.

The bell above the door jingled announcing his arrival.

"Well, it seems the hell has frozen over - Mr Gold in nothing but a shirt. I should take pictures because nobody will believe me."

Gold grimaced suddenly remembering his state of undress, before turning towards the owner of the voice.

"No word will get out, and your next rent will be surprisingly lower."

"Careful, Gold. At this rate, you will find me walking rent-free."

Missus Lucas stood behind his counter, arms crossed with a satisfied, smug look on her face. Gold restrained himself from any further comments that just asker for being said.

"I hope Neal didn't cause any trouble."

"That boy? He couldn't be trouble even if he wanted," Granny shook her head and circled the counter. "No idea who he got that from."

"Believe me, Missus Lucas, I keep asking myself the same question."

"Papa!" and speak of the devil the boy in question ran out at full speed from around the curtain and collided with Gold's knees, wrapping his small hands around Gold's waist. "Granny has brought me the apple pie!"

"Did she now? Is there anything left?"

"He would have eaten the whole piece," missus Lucas said, shaking her head. "I've always said he would grow up to have a sweet tooth."

Considering the fact that Gold up to this day put three sugars in his tea, it wasn't surprising at all.

"I got you something from the library," he handed the book to his son whose eye's timidity brightened upon seeing the dinosaurs on the cover.

"Cool!" He was evidently going to say more but then frowned as if noticing something.

"Papa? Did you had to leave your clothes in exchange for the book?"

"What?" Gold spluttered taken aback by the question. He could hear Granny snorting behind his back.

"I mean... Isn't it what happened? You had your jacket before - "

"The clothes are fine, Neal. They got dirty, and I had to take care of them. No, why won't you go to the back while I say Goodbye to Missus Lucas?"

Neal nodded, satisfied with the explanation.

"Goodbye, Granny!"

The older woman shook her head in fondness, but her expression changed as soon as the boy disappeared behind the curtain. Suddenly Gold felt very unease under her gaze.

"So, you happened to be in the library and leave your clothes there, didn't you Gold?"

"There was a coffee accident if you must now, nothing inappropriate happened," he snarled back.

"Not from the lack of trying, I'm sure."

"Are you insinuating something? I really hope not, or the rent might go up after all."

"Just remember that if you hurt that girl, I'll come after you." With that she turned around and left, leaving Gold speechless in her wake.

His fingers tightened on the golden handle of his cane as he scowled at the door. Just what exactly was the old hag thinking? That he did what? Went to the library, threw himself at the poor woman, taken the children book with him and forgot to take back the rest of his clothes?

His expression darkened.

He wasn't even in love with Miss French. He was curious about what he was. Of all the stupid assumptions...

Mr Gold turned his back to the door and limped towards the back room.

Him. In love. Ridiculous.

Or was it?

*****

Neal Gold didn't know what to think of Storybrooke. He knew that he had been born and raised here before his mother had taken him away, but that was it. No memories from his early childhood lingered, accept of some hazy flashes of his early-childhood home. He didn't know anybody yet, and some people were throwing him weird looks from time to time, but that didn't bother him. He knew it probably was because of his papa.

People didn't like his papa, and Neal couldn't understand why. Papa read him to sleep, told stories and hugged him. He bought him ice cream and made him a plush rabbit out of the old polar fleece. Yet people were throwing him nasty looks or crossing the street hurriedly when they spotted him. So at first, Neal thought he was alone in thinking it unfair, but it soon had changed.

The first time he had met Miss Belle was when he went to the library to return the dinosaur book two weeks after his papa had brought it to read. She smiled at him, and Neal had a feeling she knew who he was just from looking at him. Granny had told him once he had his papa's eyes, maybe that was how miss Belle had known.

Neal decided quite early on that he liked Miss Belle. He much preferred to stay at the library than with Granny when he needed to be looked after. Miss Belle was quiet, but she seemed to understand Neal's shyness. And yes, she smiled at him, but it was a completely different smile than when his dad was in the room. It was hard to miss. Well, hard to miss for him, his papa seemed to be oblivious to it, but she did smile more broadly, and it looked to Neal as if she acted more open. Papa's way changed too. He joked more, smiled and, on one occasion, even laughed.

Every time Neal had seen them together, they were also saying some weird stuff.

"I can't drive a car," miss Belle would say.

"I can knit," his papa would answer.

"I can play the piano."

"I can't swim."

There were many silly things like that said between them. Always by the end of their conversations. Neal was sure there were more when he wasn't present. And sometimes, when his papa would send him to play or to look for a book he would like to read, but he wouldn't get as far as not to hear them, they would say stuff that didn't sound silly.

"My mum died when I was little. Sometimes I still miss her."

"My father left me. He died before I could make peace with him."

"I'm a slow learner. I always have this feeling of not being enough."

"I have dyslexia. Been picked upon a lot because of that."

No. Neal didn't understand one a bit why they had been saying all those stuff to each other, but he knew two things. Miss Belle liked his Papa. And Papa liked her back.

Neal was just a boy, but he wasn't stupid. They didn't like each other like he and Emma, the only kid who was willing to speak with him at school, but more like Emma's parents. Neal was sure of it. It took him a couple of months of watching them, but he couldn't understand how he was able to see this, yet both of them could not.

"How was school?"

Neal jumped surprised, clutching the papers he was holding in his hands, so lost in thoughts that he didn't hear his Papa come in into the kitchen after saying his Goodbyes to Granny. He flashed him a big smile and slid off the stool. He carefully extended one of the papers towards his father while still holding onto the other one.

Gold took it carefully into his hand, arching a curious eyebrow.

"Missus Nolan said to draw places that mattered to us," Neal said while watching carefully for his father's reaction. The man smiled softly.

"My pawnshop?" Neal nodded, then took a step forward, peering at the page as his father lowered it slightly, so it was easier for him to see. The boy tapped the painting with his index finger.

"That's you."

"Yes, I can see the resemblance." There was a hint of humour in his father voice - not a mocking one, but slightly amused, and Neal beamed proudly at him.

"I should really buy you a painting kit," Gold added as he saw the happiness on his son's face.

He wasn't joking - the picture was very good for a nine-year-old. From the details of various items on the displays to his person standing behind the counter leaned over what seemed to be the ledger.

Gold ruffled his son's hair fondly before limping towards the fridge and pining the picture to its doors with a magnet. He turned around with a smile. Neal looked at his work with big eyes as if not entirely believing his father would put it on display like that. Gold shook his head. The next time Neal would paint anything for him, he would definitely put it in his pawnshop if only to make his son even happier.

Only then did he notice that the boy was still holding another sheet of paper.

"And what's that?" He asked.

"Oh," Neal looked down suddenly shy, and Gold limped towards him waiting patiently for him to continue. "I-I also drew this?"

Gold gently took the shily offered sheet into his hand and had to draw a sharp breath as he saw what it depicted. It was the interior of the town's library, but the bookshelves were by the walls and a huge chandelier hanged from the ceiling. In the middle, there was Belle, but not dressed as she used to, but instead in a long, golden dress. She was holding a book, reading it with a soft smile. There was another person there. Dressed in blue. Gold had to swallow hard because he knew who the other person was, just as he had known with the other picture. It was him.

"I finished it yesterday," Neal was saying, and Gold had to force his eyes away from the painting back to his son, who rubbed his hands together in a gesture very similar to his father's. "Do you like it?"

"Of course I do," he answered without missing a beat despite his shock. "It's beautiful," he added when seeing Neal was still looking down.

Neal raised his head, smiling shyly.

"It was our homework. We had to draw a fairytale."

"And what a kind of a fairytale is this?"

"Beauty and the Beast," Neal fixed him with a look that said the answer was obvious and Gold was stupid not to see it. He looked back down at the picture giving it a second look. Oh yes. The Disney version. He shook his head with a fond smile.

"Of course, it is."

He was the Beast. And Belle was Beauty. Both of them ready to dance, by the look of it, and Gold really didn't know how to feel about that.

"Um, Papa?"

He looked up, realizing he was still staring at the picture. Neal was looking at him expectantly.

"Can I go and play with Emma today?"

"Don't you have any homework to do first?"

"I thought, maybe we could do it with Emma later?"

The boy sounded hopeful, and Gold knew one thing - it was tough to say no to his boy when he was looking at him like that.

"You are aware I'll check with Missus Nolan if it happened or not, aren't you?"

"Does it mean I can go?"

Gold couldn't help it. He smiled.

"Pack your bag. I'll drop you off."

"Yes! Thanks, Papa!"

The boy ran up to him and hugged him around the middle then bolted towards the stairs.

"Slow down, I won't drive off!" he shouted after him with amusement. "Bring the library books with you when you get down!"

"Yes, sir!" came the muffled shout from upstairs.

Gold shook his head, then put the picture on the table. He would have to think about where to put it later. Gold patted his pockets, then frowned when not finding his car keys. He limped to the living room and sure thing, he found them on the table. He heard Neal's fast footsteps as he ran down the stairs and turned around to see the boy disappearing in the kitchen.

"In here!"

The boy popped his head around the doorframe all ready a moment later with his backpack and stack of books in his hands smiling happily.

As they left home, Gold didn't notice that the fairytale picture no longer laid on the table. Nor did he see the small corner of a white sheet of paper sticking out from between the books he was about to return to the library.

He dropped Neal by the Nolans with a promise to pick him up later, then drove off towards his shop. There were still things he could take care off, like looking through the inventory, while Neal was away, but first, the stop at the library was in order. He picked the books from the backseat and after locking the car, limped across the street.

"Mr. Gold! I didn't expect to see you so soon!"

"My son, it seems, put his mind on reading every book in your children section, miss French," he answered with a smile at the enthusiastic greeting as he closed the library doors behind him.

"It's good then that there are many books left to read in there yet." She smiled at him as he approached and something stirred inside of him at this sight. That confusion that changed into the curiosity that now he believed was neither of those two and possibly never had been. In the months he had been talking with the woman, that feeling should go away. Instead, it had become stronger. It was harder to deny it for what it was.

"If you have anything about pirates I would gladly accept it," he said despite his thoughts.

"I do actually, but I might have something even better. Wait a moment."

He put the stack of books at the desk and watched her from the corner of his eye as she made way between the shelves. She was dressed in a blue dress that matched her eyes and Gold had to try very hard not to stare. He caught himself thinking how she would look like in a dress like the one Neal had drawn her in, the thought alone made his heart rate quicken.

He was hopeless.

"Here you are," Belle returned with a book in her hand and stood close to him watching his reaction. Gold arched his eyebrow in curiosity upon seeing the title.

"'20,000 Ligues Under the Sea'. Yes, I see what you mean."

"I'm a little surprised Neal's not here with you." She said while checking out the book.

"Oh, he's at the Nolans. It seems, my worries about enrolling him in school were farfetched," he answered while leaning slightly on the desk. Belle smiled at that.

"I'm happy he found a friend in Emma. She's a lovely kid, even if she's a little troublemaker."

Gold grimaced.

"Yes, well. I'm not sure who's worse influence on whom."

It was a wonder the Nolans didn't have any objections to their daughter spending time with his son, considering him being Neal's father and all. Belle seemed to read his mind as she tilted her head to the side, watching him.

"You're a good father, Mr Gold. And a good man."

"My ex-wife may differ."

"With all due respect, Mr Gold, I don't believe a woman who in all rights kidnapped her son just almost to abandon him has a say in that matter."

Gold dipped his head to hid his expression. It was almost surreal how this woman was supportive of him ever since she had learned of the story why he was away for a year. Finding his son, winning the custody battle, and then taking time away with Neal before coming back to town to make the change easier for the boy - Belle French had learned about it all. Nobody else knew the full story. Just her. And her constant support was something that Gold couldn't be grateful enough.

"Well, it's not like she's the only one in thinking that."

"They don't know you as well as I do."

"Of that, I am glad, Miss French," he answered with a small smile. She slid the book towards him, then bit down gently on her lower lip, nervously tugging a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"You can call me Belle if you want. I won't mind," she said after a while, looking up at him shily.

He shook his head, fondly. He would like that very much, but it would be no good.

"As tempting as it is, you must think about your job here. Too much fraternizing with the town's villain may not sit well with others."

"There are only a handful of people whose opinion matters to me, Mr Gold. I learned a long time ago I wouldn't satisfy everyone."

"Didn't we all."

Belle smiled, not put off by his somehow bitter sounding response.

"The offer stays, and won't go anywhere."

"I'll keep that in mind, Miss French," he said as he tucked the book under his arm.

"I like dancing," Belle said which made him turn his head towards her puzzled at the sudden change in topic. "That's today's truth. I like it, but others think I don't."

"And why's that?"

She shrugged her shoulders, averting her gaze.

"I've never the been one for clubbing, probably that's why. But I do enjoy it, even tho I don't have anybody to dance with." She added.

Gold watched her closely after she threw a small smile his way. There was a trace of sadness in her eyes.

"Well," he cleared his throat. "I'm not much of a dancer, not since the car accident, but I used to enjoy it."

Her gaze snapped up to him, and he smirked at her surprised expression.

"Is this an invitation, Mr Gold?"

"It could be if you're not afraid of a crippled man stepping on your toes."

"What would people say," she said with a small smile, throwing his earlier words at him. He taped his lame leg with his cane.

"I believe that someone said something along the lines of it being overrated."

The doors to the library opened as someone walked in and Gold straightened up, his shoulders tensing at someone else's presence. It was time for him to leave.

"The offer stays, miss French," the corner of his mouth curved upwards just for her. She caught it just as the use of her previous words. He didn't wait for her replay, but limped out of the library, feeling her gaze on the back of his head.

He couldn't quite believe himself. Did he just do what he thought he did? Did he more or less invite the woman for a dance?

Gold couldn't remember the last time he had danced, but somehow Belle's confession (and she was Belle, not miss French, no matter how he denied it out loud) pushed him to say what he had thought all way since Neal's picture - that he would like that scene to happen for real. So he had said it without thinking, but as he limped towards his shop, Gold couldn't say he regretted it. On the contrary, it was as if some weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

Weird. Maybe it was because he had finally understood what that thing he had been feeling towards Belle. It wasn't confusion, nor curiosity. It was love. And Robert Gold was utterly screwed because he didn't know what to do about it. He would be lucky if the woman would like to have anything to do with him (which surprisingly seemed to be the case), but to reciprocate the feeling? Improbable at best.

The mental image of her in a golden dress didn't help matters at all.

***

Belle kept her gaze on the doors up to the moment she couldn't see Gold anymore beyond them, their conversation running in her mind on a loop. She hadn't expected him to respond as he had. More than that, she was still surprised at how easily she was teasing the man. After all those months it still shocked her, because every time she had been talking with Mr Gold, Belle felt like someone else eternally. With no one else she was able to be so open, not even with Ruby. And Gold understood her. He had never rushed her or pushed her to say more than she was willing to.

Belle caught herself smiling. God, she was helpless. And Ruby was right - she did fancy her landlord. Belle would even risk saying it was more than a simple crush. A crush would have passed, yet the emotions she was feeling lingered. It didn't help tho that despite her willingness to open more to Gold, she was still afraid to make the next move. Because for all the talk about bravery, Belle was scared of rejection. At least this way she had something akin to friendship. Even tho she couldn't seem to convince the man to use her first name.

Belle shook her head in fondness. How could anyone think this man some sort of an evil imp, she would never understand. All others had to do was to look at the way he acted with his son to know who he really was. It seemed some people prefered to see what that they wanted to. Oh, she wasn't stupid or naive; she had seen him interact with others, especially when crossed with them, he could be quite brutal with words then. But she had also noticed quite early on, that when acting like that he usually had very good reason to. Yet, in all those months, Gold had never raised his voice at her, not even once. To her, he was an excellent gentleman.

And then there was today's conversation. She really didn't know what to think.

Belle looked at the clock. Aside from Gold, only three people had visited the library so far, and it didn't look like any more would come anytime soon. It would be a good time to put the returned books to their places. Those from yesterday's evening were the first to go. Soon only one stack was left. Belle looked to the side where Neal's books were lying and smiled while picking up the first one. Mr Gold was right, with a tempo like that the boy would soon finish all the age-appropriate books. She was about to move to replace them on the shelves when a paper sticking out between the volumes caught her eye.

Belle's curiosity changed into shock as she saw the painted picture that was hidden. A child's drawing and unmistakenly Neal's. Her throat felt suddenly tight as she looked at her face staring at her from the paper. And she wasn't alone.

Why would Neal draw his father and her in what looked to be a scene from Beauty and the Beast? It was beautiful, but what caught Belle's eye the most was the expression on Gold's face. It was soft and unguarded (as much as she could tell, Neal was very good for his age, but he was still just a child.). Was he always smiling at her like in the picture?

Belle swallowed and tore her eyes from the drawing with difficulty. Her heart was beating wildly, and all her instincts were telling her to stay where she was and not do a thing. But she couldn't. Not this time.

Do a brave thing, and the bravery will fallow.

Belle grabbed her keys from the desk and walked out from the library with the drawing still clutched in her sweaty palm. She crossed the street, not really looking at her surroundings as the nerves were almost eating her alive. If she were more focused, she would have spotted two small figures following her from a distance. But she wasn't so Belle reached the pawnshop oblivious to the spies on her tail.

The small bell above the door jingled at her entrance. The shop looked deserted, but as it wasn't closed, then the owner must lurk somewhere.

"Excuse me, Mr. Gold?" Her voice sounded nervous, and she had to clear her throat. It didn't help much.

"I'm sorry the shop is closed - Miss French," Gold limped from the back room, but stopped short upon seeing her. He quickly recovered and leaned on his cane. "I didn't expect to see you so soon. Did something happen?"

"Um, I think... I think it belongs to you?"

She nervously approached him and watched as the smirk on his face gave way to confusion to be then replaced by understanding as she handled him the drawing. He didn't say anything, just looked intensively at it as the silence stretched between them. It felt heavy, more than ever before, and Belle couldn't stop herself from stepping from one foot to the other with a twisting feeling in her stomach.

"Where did you get this?" He finally asked, almost in a whisper.

"It got caught between the books. I, well, I thought you might want it back."

"It's Neal's. I hope you don't feel offended by it."

He still wasn't looking at her, and Belle frowned at how distant his voice sounded.

"Why would I?"

"I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it. He's just a child."

Her frown deepened.

"Mr Gold, why would I be offended by Neal drawing me as a princess?"

"I'm sure you would prefer someone other for the prince. I don't know why he did that. I apologize and promise it won't happen again."

He turned around hastily to move away. His posture stiff as putting an invisible wall between them. It was as if he wanted to escape from her, and all of it because of the drawing. She didn't want it - him pulling himself away from her. Belle's heart screamed for him not to do it, and her body followed.

"Mr Gold, wait!" her hand shot out clutching him by the elbow, stopping him in his tracks. He stood utterly still, and only then, Belle realized that it was the first time any of them had touched one another aside from the dreaded coffee accident. She swallowed hard, suddenly out of words.

Gold slowly turned around, finally looking her in the eyes. They were uncertain, and Belle wondered if hers were too. Her mouth felt dry, and she had to wet her lips, hoping it would help. It didn't. Her hand still didn't let go. She wanted to say something to reassure him. To say it was alright that she didn't want anybody else for the prince, that for her, it was perfect. To ask why his son had drawn them as he had, what had he seen that made him do it, but at that moment, while looking Gold in the eyes, she knew. And something else eternally left her mouth.

"I have never been kissed before."

His eyes winded, and she watched him swallow.

"It's not good to tell lies, miss French," he replayed with a strained voice.

"It's not a lie. The absolute truth."

He watched her, his eyes danced over her face for any indication that she was making fun of him, but finding nothing. She held his gaze steadily, even if her heart was beating so fast it hurt.

"I'm sorry, it's hard to believe that the woman so beautiful as you haven't been kissed even once."

The corner of her mouth twitched slightly.

"Well, it seemed I wasn't interesting enough for men," she said, shrugging her shoulders slightly.

"Then those men were fools," he huffed offended without missing a beat, making her smile widen.

"It was supposed to be a truth for a truth, Mr Gold."

"I wasn't lying about that either, Miss French. But I guess it wasn't personal enough..." He stopped himself before looking down. It seemed he was wrestling with something before he raised his gaze back up, and Belle had to try very hard not to gasp at the look in his eyes. "There is one thing I've wanted to do for some time... I didn't really know I wanted it at first - too much of a coward, I suppose to admit what was staring right at me..."

He drifted off, but slowly his left hand came up to tug the stray lock of hair behind her ear, and Belle had to suppress a shudder at the contact.

"What is it?" she whispered, mesmerized by his gaze.

Gold took a step closer, his gaze fleeting for a moment to her parted lips, before meeting her eyes again and swallowing. They were so close, their chests almost touching.

"You can hate me after knowing, Belle."

Belle. She loved the way he said her name. His voice bearly above the whisper, his eyes dark pools that she couldn't look away from.

"We won't know it, till you say it."

"I would better show it."

He leaned forward, closing the distance between them, and Belle closed her eyes as his lips closed over hers. The kiss was soft, almost like a brush of a feather, as if Gold was still little afraid of her reaction. Afraid she would push him away. She didn't. The anxiety she had felt before coming to the shop that lingered up to this moment, simply vanished, leaving her lightheaded. The kiss ended as quickly as it happened, and Belle opened her eyes to see Gold looking at her worriedly still only a breath away from her. She smiled.

"I may need to check one more time to decide about the hating part, Mr Gold," she said teasingly and beamed with happiness at seeing his features relax before he broke into a wide grin.

"Ronald. My name's Ronald."

He leaned down again, and this time she met him in the middle. Belle moved her lips against his slowly, hesitantly, not eternally sure of what she should be doing. Gold didn't seem to mind her clumsy efforts; he just smiled softly against her, before tilting his head slightly to the side to make it more comfortable for her. Belle didn't know when her hand ended on his neck or when his on her arm, just that it felt more wonderful than anything that had experienced before. She wanted more, couldn't wait for more, and the thought Robert seemed to feel exactly the same made her want to weep from joy.

Ronald. He had given her his name. As far as she knew, no one used his first name. And with his lips moving against hers, their bodies so close to one another, she felt like flying.

"I don't believe hate is the right word to describe what I feel," she admitted after they finally broke apart.

"And what is?" He asked.

"Love. How about that?"

He smiled, his eyes glinting with mischievous, but loving sparks, making it hard to resist kissing him again, once she had tasted what it felt like Belle didn't want to stop.

"Yes. That sounds about right."

Belle grinned and pulled him towards her, stealing a small peak to the lips before throwing her arms around his neck. Gold hugged her close, closing his eyes, his heart finally slowing down.

Yes. It took him some time to properly name his emotions, but now that he had, it felt liberating. A weight that was constantly on his shoulders lifted, not only because admitting to his feelings but also because of the other thing - Belle felt the same. At this moment he promised himself one thing, he would make it right. For Belle and Neal, he would make it right, for them to be happy. He felt Belle's lips curving in a smile against his neck and promised himself he would do everything in his power not to screw it up.

"Just so you know, I'm still counting on that dance," she murmured, and he relaxed pulling away slightly, but not letting go. Gold brushed his fingers over her cheek astonished, by the loving look she was giving him.

"We can dance for forever if that's what you want."

"Oh, but then there would be no time for other things, right?"

"Close to forever then."

Belle laughed, and he couldn't help himself and let out a chuckle.

Yeah, life was looking good.

Neither Gold nor Belle noticed two small figures watching them between the blinds from outside the shop window.

"I told you the drawing would work."

"Yeah, but I was the one who drew it!"

"But the idea was mine!"

The children grinned in triumph before straightening themself and bumping their fists together. Their plan had worked. From Emma giving the idea for homework to her mother to this point and Neal couldn't be more satisfied.

"So a milkshake at Granny's?" He asked while they made their way away from the window. It would do no good for the grown-ups to spot them now.

Emma nodded.

"Miss Lucas is waiting for the news and as the news are good... " She looked towards Neal with a smirk. Free milkshakes were too tempting to pass. "Race you!" Emma clapped him on the shoulder and runoff.

"Hey!" Neal ran after her with a lightness to his step, not missing a beat. He felt happy. Free Milkshakes were one thing, but nothing would beat the other - His Papa was happy, that was enough to make Neal laugh.

And it was just the beginning.

#rumbelle christmas in july #RCIJ 2020 #boushh2187 #Rumplestiltskin #Belle Gold #once upon a time #fanfiction #myfic #rumbelle fic #rumbelle

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notalwayslate · 4 years ago

Text

Building Dreams

For @eirian-houpe

It is I your Secret Santa. It appears that tumblr was not a fan of my anon messages,but I”m so happy to be able to reveal myself! No more anon! :)

Prompt: There’s nothing I can do

Summary: When the town’s mayor sets her sights on destroying Belle French’s plans of reopening the library, the ever fearsome Mr. Gold makes a deal with an unlikely source to ensure the library becomes a reality for his secret crush.

Building Dreams.

“There’s nothing I can do.”

Hearing those five words often filled Robert Gold with annoyance as they were usually spouted off by some pitiful tenant who had gotten themselves into an insurmountable problem and couldn’t pay their rent on time. But in this case, his stomach dropped as he overheard these words of desperation coming out of the mouth of a distraught Belle French as she sat in a booth behind him at Granny’s diner.

“There’s nothing I can do, Ruby. The mayor is insistent that the library be ready in three weeks so she can have her grand reopening ceremony, but with the limited resources she allotted me, I have to do all the repairs myself. I can’t fix every book shelf, repaint the library, and organize an entire library catalog in three weeks.”

It was merely two months ago when Ms. French had presented her pitch to reopen Storybrooke’s long abandoned library to the city council, of which he was a member. Unbeknownst to Regina, the town’s mayor, he had secretly assisted Ms. French in preparing for her presentation and had already secured the needed votes from the other council members prior to that day.

Miffed that her sole objections to the library reopening were dismissed so quickly by the committee, it was obvious to Gold that Regina stewed over the fact that he appeared to have more pull and power over the town, then her.

He had carelessly assumed that after a few days of sulking Regina would get over it, but after hearing this, it appeared that the Mayor was determined to have Ms. French’s library project fail out of spite.

“Can’t you just ask for more time?” Ruby questioned.

“I already did. The mayor said if I couldn’t execute this simple of a task, than she would have to find someone else who could. So if I can’t get it done, I’m fired.”

His blood boiled in anger. So Regina was already threatening to take this job away from her? He fought the urge to march over to the Mayor’s office, and place his hands around her throat. How dare she threaten someone as pure and loving as Ms. French. He would not let this stand, could not let this stand. That library would be ready to open in three weeks come hell or high water.

As the bell above the pawnshop door rang out, Gold barely had time to glance up before a fuming Leroy came charging towards the counter.

“If you are even thinking about raising our rent Gold, so help me….”

Gold lifted his hand, immediately silencing the short grumpy man’s tirade.

“I am not raising your rent….yet.”

Befuddled, Leroy’s posture relaxed slightly. “Well why else would you want to see me then?”

With a devilish smile, Golden explained in detail, how he would waive Leroy and his brothers’ rent for the next three months in exchange for their assistance in helping Ms. French fix up the library in time for the Mayor’s grand reopening.

“So what you’re saying is we help this broad out and we don’t have to pay rent for three months?”

Sighing at the coarse depiction of Ms. French as a broad, Gold nodded. “Yes, but with one caveat. You must not tell Ms. French of our deal.”

“So what do I say if she asks?”

“That you and your brothers simply want to volunteer to assist her at no cost.”

Leroy gave him a quizzical look.

“I don’t get it. What do you get out of all this?”

Sneering he showed his teeth. “That is none of your business.”

Although still clearly suspicious by the entire matter, Leroy readily agreed to the deal, promising Gold that he and his six brothers would start renovations the very next day.

Although rough around the edges, Gold knew that the Miner brothers were hard workers, and had little doubt that they would indeed have the library remodeled in time. If not, he would make as many deals as necessary to ensure that Ms. French’s dreams of running this library came to fruition.

Two weeks later, Gold sauntered into Granny’s taking his usual seat at the counter. He went to take his first sip of coffee, when a purse smashed down on the counter next to him.

“What the hell are you up to Gold?”

Not being deterred by the outburst, he took a long sip of coffee, gently placing the cup back down, before turning his attention towards the agitated face of the town’s mayor.

“Ah, Madam Mayor, to what do I owe the displeasure of your company this morning?”

“I know about your little deal with those seven imbeciles.”

Gritting his teeth, he tried to maintain a steady composure, although inwardly he was seething. He would deal with that blabbermouth little rat Leroy later; right now he had to remind Regina that he was not one she wanted to tangle with.

“Why whatever do you mean?”

Rolling her eyes she leaned in. “Cut the crap Gold. Now what I want to know is why you’re getting involved in this? Why are you helping her?”

Narrowing his eyes his cold stare bore into hers. “When the committee approved this plan months ago we did so with the intent of it being a success. Ms. French is a viable asset to this town, and is more than capable of handling this project, when given an equal playing field against your obvious sabotage. So I suggest you leave Ms. French and this library alone or I will really give you something to fret about."

An arrogant smirk hit Regina’s red painted lips. “You like her.”

Scoffing Gold turned back towards the counter, as Regina’s hot breath tickled at his ears.

“I had my suspicions at that meeting. Oh, what a grand idea Ms. French, I would love to hear more of your thoughts Ms. French.” She mimicked in a mocking tone. “ How pathetic. She’s half your age, Gold. Do you really think giving her this library is going to get her to sleep with you?”

Not wanting to give her the pleasure of getting a reaction from him, he sat there silently sipping on his coffee as Regina continued to hurl insult after insult into his ear. He didn’t worry about the other patrons hearing her tirade as Regina kept her voice low, clearly trying to protect her public image of a caring respectful servant of the people. After a few more agonizing jabs about his age, he heard her let out a sarcastic chuckle.

“You know what you can have your little library Gold. It will be satisfying enough to watch when all of your perverted little delusions about you and that librarian come crashing down around you.” With that last insult, she picked her purse up off the counter, moving towards the door. “See you at the opening next week Mr. Gold,” she spouted exiting the diner.

Try as he might, Gold could not shake Regina’s taunting words, as he sat at his workshop later that day tinkering with the broken gears of an antique watch. Although he tried to convince himself that he only stepped in to help Ms. French because he wanted this project to succeed his heart knew the truth… he was in love with Belle French.

His feelings for her blossomed years ago when she had started working full time at her father’s flower shop, after graduating from high school. He had always had problems with her father Maurice, a drunk, who often wasted the shop’s money on booze and gambling rather than paying his rent on time.

He was impressed when Maurice’s daughter suggested that he collect the rent every week, instead of monthly, with the reasoning that she could pay him before her father dipped his hands into the register. And so it was with this new arrangement that he visited the flower shop every week with the intent to collect rent, but as he did so he found himself falling into longer conversations with Ms. French. After a few months, he found himself actually looking forward to their interactions, and soon their visits were the highlights of his week.

He was impressed with not only her beauty but her intellect and soon found himself falling for her. Although he wanted her desperately, he kept his feelings hidden, knowing that she was far too good to be with a broken down old man like himself. Every week he went, and every week he fell more in love with her.

During one of their many conversations she had confided in him that her dream was to one day become a librarian. Once he learned of her aspirations, he quietly started to look into the old abandoned town’s library and soon discovered that it was a viable option to reopen.

With the information in hand, he had encouraged her to follow her dreams. He was all too delighted when she agreed, and was impressed at how quickly she threw herself into researching all aspects of the project. Of course he gave her his valuable assistance by using his pull to bypass the usual red tape of government, and provided her with the needed permits and budgets that she required for her proposal.

And now here she was just days away from becoming a librarian with a newly renovated library. His heart burst with love and pride at the thought.

The ringing bell pulled him from his thoughts alerting him that someone had entered his shop. He groaned, praying that it wasn’t Regina coming back for another round of insults. Pushing the curtain back, he stopped dead in his tracks, as Ms. French stood before him.

She looked shorter than usual, a feat contributed to the fact that she was wearing tennis shoes instead of her high heels. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and he could see splotches of paint on her tightly fitted blue jeans that showed off her shapely curve. Even after an obvious day of hard work and remodeling, she had never looked more beautiful.

“Hello Mr. Gold.” She beamed at him, and for a moment he forgot how to speak.

“Hello Ms. French.”

She frowned. “Belle. Please call me Belle.”

She had corrected him for years, and yet he could never find the nerve to address her so informally.

“What can I do for you Ms…Belle,” he corrected himself bringing a small smile to her lips.

“Well as you can probably tell,” she glanced down at herself, “I’ve been spending most of my time finishing up the library.”

“And how is that going by the way?” he feigned ignorance even though Leroy texted him daily on its progress. He was already well aware that the library was nearly complete, and would be ready for the ceremony next week.

“Great. I could never have pulled it all together without the help of the Miner brothers. I can never repay them for their kindness. I just can’t believe any of this is real, and I’m really going to be a librarian.”

Seeing the look of excitement in her eyes, Gold’s heart skipped a beat. She deserved this library and every bit of happiness that went along with it.

“You earned it, Belle.”

Her radiant smile took his breath away.

“We earned it, Mr. Gold. Don’t think I have forgotten that I could never have done this without you. I can’t wait for you to see it.”

For a moment her smile faltered, and he could have sworn he saw a look of apprehension in her eyes. “Speaking of which, I’m having a sort of a sneak peak of the library this Sunday, something much smaller and intimate then the Mayor’s grand reopening ceremony, and I was really hoping that you would attend?”

He was stunned for a moment that she would invite him to her own personal soiree. He knew his fearsome reputation around town, and just assumed that she wouldn’t want his presence darkening her moment.

“Are you sure you want me there?”

She looked like he had punched her in the gut, and he immediately cursed himself for causing her distress.

“Of course I want you there.” She spoke sullenly.

“Then I would be honored to attend.”

He let out a sigh of relief as a smile returned to her face. Clasping her hands together in excitement, she gave him further details and gleefully stated she would see him at 7 on Sunday, before bouncing out of his shop.

Sunday came all too soon, as Gold stood in his closet for the last hour fussing over which shirt and tie he would wear, before deciding upon his dark blue shirt with red tie. Why was he so nervous? He could be social, and casually mingle with Belle’s friends, without making a total fool out of himself, right?

His mind raced at who else he thought would be there. Of course she would invite Ruby, and Leroy and his brothers. He couldn’t help but wonder if her father would be there. If he had the nerve to show up drunk to Belle’s function, Gold wasn’t sure what he would do to the man. He wanted everything to be perfect for her that night, and for a moment he considered if he should just stay home and not ruin the atmosphere, before remembering that he had given her his word that he would be there.

With a nervous swell in his stomach, he made the short drive to the town square. He pulled into his regular parking spot in front of the pawnshop, looking across the street at the clock tower above the library. It was 6:45.

It was still early and he debated if he should wait in his Cadillac until it was closer to seven. Seeing no other cars or people nearby he fretted that she might need some last minute help to set up. Taking a deep breath he exited the car, making his way to the entrance of the library.

Just as his hand reached for the handle, the door swung open towards him, as Leroy marched out followed closely in line by his six brothers. Glancing his way, Leroy froze in place causing a line of collisions.

“He’s here,” Leroy called out over his shoulder, as the message made its way down the brothers, ending with the smallest, Clark who shouted the statement into the library.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Gold shook his head in disbelief. “Was that announcement really necessary? I can assure you people know when I enter a room.”

“Right,” Leroy paused before taking a step forward. “Well we have to go Mr. Gold. Have a wonderful night.”

Gold planted his hand firmly on Leroy’s chest, halting him mid step.

“Wait. You and I have some unfinished business to discuss. I had a very informative conversation with our Mayor a few days ago.”

“Oh?” Leroy questioned, as Gold felt his entire body trembling under his fingertips.

“Oh yes. Imagine my surprise when she told me how a pitiful little piss ant told her that I was the one…” His threat ceased as Belle’s smiling face emerged from the doorway. Quickly wiping the sneer from his face, he took his hand off of Leroy’s chest.

“Mr. Gold, I’m so glad you came,” she beamed, as he straightened his stance.

“Are you still sure you want to do this sister?” Leroy asked over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off of Gold.

“You guys have a wonderful night,” Belle pronounced, as Gold stepped to the side allowing the seven brothers to walk past him unscathed.

With the seven irritations out of sight, Gold was finally able to relish how breathtakingly beautiful Belle looked standing before him. She wore a laced blue dress with a red belt and red heels. He inwardly praised his own choice of shirt and tie, as their complimentary outfits made them look like a perfectly matched pair.

“Won’t you please come in,” Belle held the door open allowing him to enter the foyer. Once in, he moved to the side, awaiting her to guide him into the library. He was surprised that the Miner brothers had left, as he had surely thought Belle would have invited them to this small gathering, but he didn’t want to be rude and question her choices.

Looking around Gold was in awe at how perfectly put together the library turned out. He listened intently as she pointed out all of the changes and repairs that were made about the room.

As they moved further into the library, his stomach growled as the enticing smell of food hit his nostrils. As they rounded the corner, he froze in place at the sight.

Before him was a small table, delicately set with just two place settings. Perplexed he looked at Belle, as she took a deep breath.

“Would you please have dinner with me, Mr. Gold?”

All manner of speech left him, as he stood gaping at her. He didn’t understand. Other people were coming weren’t they? There was no possible way that a woman like Belle French would possibly want to have a romantic dinner with him.

As he continued to stare at her in disbelief, she bit her lip, and he saw a look of worry in her eyes. Next thing he knew, she started to ramble.

“It’s just…I’ve really missed our weekly talks, and you know… I just wanted to thank you and see you. I’ve missed you… and when I found out you had the Miner brothers help me…I”

Her last statement snapped him back into a cold reality. She knew about his deal. So that is what all of this was about. She felt like she owed him something. This was the exact reason he didn’t want her to know, so she didn’t feel some type of obligation towards him. Regina was right, he was a perverted old man.

“So Leroy told you?”

Her eyes went wide, a clear indication that she had not realized what she had just confessed. “Well…yes but...”

Gold shook his head in anger. Clearly Leroy did not understand the consequences of breaking deals with him, but he would soon learn.

“Please don’t be angry with him.” He could see that she was trying to placate his anger, but he was having none of it.

“When did he tell you?”

Sighing Belle’s arms fell to her side. “The first day they were here.”

The first day? The very first day? Closing his eyes, Gold started to imagine all of the ways that he would make Leroy suffer for this. Obviously he would triple his rent, but thoughts of cutting out his tongue flashed in his mind, before Belle’s voice regained his attention.

“I know you didn’t want me to know and you are upset, but I still very much would like to have dinner with you Mr. Gold.”

“You don’t owe me a dinner or anything else, Ms. French.” He turned to leave as she shouted.

“I have been in love with you for years.”

Her words halted him.

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to tell you that. You are the only person in my life who I felt really got me. You believed in me, encouraged me to follow my dreams. I know you think I’m too young, and that I’m doing this out of some misguided loyalty, but I can promise you one thing Mr. Gold. I loved you long before this whole library proposal existed and will love you long after all of this Mr. Gold.”

Tears pooled in his eyes at her confession. Turning, he stumbled for a moment in surprise to find that she had moved before him. Slowly he lifted his hand as his knuckles tenderly graced her cheek.

“Robert.”

Her brows drew together in confusion.

“Call me Robert,” he said.

“I love you Robert,” she said looking deeply into his eyes.

“And I love you Belle.”

Slowly she moved towards him, and he moaned at the taste of her lips. Far too soon, she pulled away from the kiss, smiling at him.

“So does that mean you will stay for dinner?”

A crooked grin graced his lips. “So there’s no one else coming tonight?”

Laughing she shook her head no. “Just you and I. I hope you are not too disappointed though,” she teased.

“Well at least I’m still getting a sneak peek at the library,” he winked, placing her arm in his, as he guided them over to the set table.

“Oh, Mr. Gold, I’m quite sure you will be getting a sneak peek at a great many things tonight,” she purred.

#rumbelle christmas in july #eirian-houpe #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #rjic

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killingkueen · 4 years ago

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Much More Than This

Hello, hello, hello @mrs-stiltskin! Can you believe it’s me again???

Prompt: cats, dogs, books, opposites attract

Summary: Mr. Gold tries not to pay much attention to the new librarian and her husband. He tries very, very hard. He almost succeeds.

Rated very E

A/N The First: There is some very mellow m/m as well as some m/f/m, so keep an open mind. It’s also the first slash I’ve ever written—today is the day I became a fanfic author.

2A2N: I have never met a Scottish person in my life

Edited to add AO3 link

OOO

The sky was moody and grey. It hadn’t yet determined if that was because the sun hadn’t fully risen, or if it was a sign of rain. It didn’t matter to Mr. Gold, who parked his Cadillac behind his shop. He parked there everyday, after all. And every day he took his cane and his keys in hand, and opened his shop. Mr. Gold had a strict schedule, a strict routine. That was how he liked it.

At the back door, key out and ready to be slotted into the lock, Gold paused. There were boots sticking out of the bottom of his shop. Boots attached to two squirming legs, the toes digging into the ground for leverage. If he strained his ears, he could make out faint muttering, followed by a psspsspss.

Gold stared, baffled. The boots were old, but not shabby, and along the lines of what he’d seen the dock-workers wear. He didn’t think any of the men who worked there would have the nerve to—what, exactly? Was this a robbery? If it were, he’d give points for creativity.

Whatever he was doing, he was an unwelcome change to Gold’s routine. He had a shop to open. Gold lifted his cane, knocking the handle against the wood paneling of his shop, firm and loud. As he hoped, the man startled, a muffled thud accompanied with what was now cursing as his head hit the floor above him.

The man scrambled out, his limbs kicking up dirt as he backtracked.

Mr. Gold almost smiled. This was the most excitement he had seen in months.

“And just what do you think you’re doing underneath my shop, dearie?”

The man now stood on his knees. His eyes, widened in surprise, snapped to Gold’s face.

“Glasgo’!” he exclaimed. “Isnae this a shock! ”

Gold raised an eyebrow. Not many people in town much cared where he’d come from, and a good amount of them swore it was somewhere much warmer than Scotland. Glasgow was a dreary place full of nothing of value to him, and he couldn’t say he missed his homeland.

“From Scotland yourself?” Gold found himself asking.

“Aye, I grew up in the highlands in a wee toon near Inverness.” He brushed off the front of his jacket, dusty from crawling around in the dirt. “I thooght I was stuck wi' these Americans, ye ken.” His smile widened, thrilled at the chance meeting.

That still didn't give him the answer he wanted. “What are you doing under my shop?" he asked again. What was he doing in Storybrooke, for that matter? It was still too early in the season for tourists.

The man’s eyes were too wide for his face, and very expressive. They darted away, to the library across the street, and for just a moment he looked like a kid who’d been sent home with a note from the teacher. The library. Of course.

Gold had heard the new librarian arrived last week, having come all the way from—London, was it? The UK, at least. He remembered the name he’d read when he filed the contracts with the city council: Isabelle French. He had seen a second visa for the husband, though Gold couldn't recall reading the name. He would bet his current inventory he was looking at him.

“Mr. French,” Gold said, deciding he didn’t much care what the man’s name was. He relished the look of surprise that appeared on his face for the second time that morning. It made Gold feel more on balance, knowing things people didn’t expect him to. Much more regular, keeping the townsfolk on their toes.

“Och aye, that’s reit.” A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. He half shrugged. “That’s me, innit.” His shoulders straightened with—pride, was it?

The man was thin, and the baggy clothes he wore only made him look smaller. Even on his knees, Gold could tell he wouldn’t stand any taller than himself, and tall was certainly not a word he could claim. His hair was shaggy but not quite to the point of being unkempt, and he needed a shave.

He also needed to know how things worked around here.

“Mr. French,” he said again, digging his cane into the ground. It was quite easy to look down his nose at him, when the man was already so far below him. “Just what were you doing under my shop?”

“Ah,” French blinked. “I havenae adjusted tae bein' haur yit. Jet lag, I’spose.” At Gold’s unamused expression, he hastened to add, “Sae, I was oot walkin' thes morn when I saw a moggie athwart th' causey. Puir hin' was injured. When I tried tae approach it, it ran under yer shop an' noo won’t come it.”

Gold was viscerally aware he hadn’t set foot in Scotland in nearly thirty years.

“There is a cat under my shop,” he surmised.

“Aye.” He stared up at him, brown eyes wide and waiting.

“What?“ Gold asked impatiently.

“You sound almost American,” French said around a half-smile.

That’s where they were, isn’t it? He pursed his lips. “How are you going to get the cat out, then?”

“If I had something tae wrap her in, I could pull her out safely, I think.” His eyes trailed to Gold’s throat and he knew what he was going to ask the moment before he did. “Do you mind if I knick your scarf?”

Yes, I absolutely do, Gold thought. He pulled the scarf from his throat, the cold air biting at his neck and collar bone, now bare. It was soft and wide, perfect for the early spring, and long enough to wrap around his neck twice and still dangle nicely. It annoyed him, probably more than it should, that it technically was perfect to wrap a cat in.

He held it out to French wordlessly.

“Cheers,” French said, disappearing under the wooden base, leaving Gold to stare at the heel of his boots once again.

Cane in hand, Gold waited.

French spoke in a low, even voice. Gold couldn’t make out what he was saying but it sounded comforting. Hopefully the cat agreed. After a few silent moments, Gold heard a terrible yowling, like a broken siren.

Making much slower progress than before, French inched his way from under the shop, the yowling becoming louder and louder.

“I suppose the noise is a good sign,” Gold said, voice raised over the beastie.

“She’s got a pair of lungs on her,” French agreed. He was smothered in dirt again, the knees of his jeans particularly dark.

He eased himself to his knees, rearranging the bundle in his arms so he had a much firmer grip before he carefully moved to his feet. The cat was wrapped quite securely in the scarf, enough so that Gold could only see a small tuft of dark fur peak through. He took it as further good news that he couldn’t see any obvious wet spots seeping into the fabric. Mr. Gold didn’t like blood.

After a long moment, French coughed. “Where tae now then?” He was cradling the cat like it was a child, holding it firmly to his chest. His hand rubbed circles against it’s back, which did nothing to silence the shrieking.

“You’re not bringing that mongrel inside,” Gold said.

“You dinnae look like much of a veterinarian,” French fired back.

Gold narrowed his eyes. Yes, it would be a vet he’d want. “Marian Hood owns a clinic that’s across the street from the elementary school.” She was known to be quite an early riser herself; chances were she was already inside her building, getting ready for the day.

French looked at him expectantly.

Sighing, he said, “Go north a few blocks and then take a left at the movie theatre. Once you reach Marco’s Woodworking, take another left. You’ll find it eventually.”

“Right. Thanks for the help, Mr. Gold.”

With that, the man turned to leave. Gold looked to the sky. It seemed to be settling on rain, after all. Hm. Gold wasn’t going to offer him a ride; the man had just been rolling around in the dirt. Besides, he had a shop to open.

“Mr. French,” he called, just as the man reached the sidewalk. “It’s too long to walk.”

“Oh,” he said, frowning. “But I don’t have a—”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Gold started to limp to his caddy. “Get in before I change my mind, Mr. French,” he said, opening the passenger side door with no small amount of sarcastic grandeur.

The ride was broken only by the pathetic wailing of the poor creature, and the quieting shushing of the man who held her.

Gold would open his shop as soon as he dropped them off. Then his routine would be back to normal, and he’d again be ignorant to the existence of Mr. and Mrs. French.

OOO

The sunshine was bright through the windows of the pawn shop. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky when Mr. Gold opened for the day. Only blue skies could be seen through his shop windows when he heard the bell signal someone had opened his door.

Gold didn’t look up from his ledger. An air of aloof casualness always worked best as a starting point. They were the ones encroaching on his day, after all.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” he said, making a mark that he would erase later as the sound of heels clicked across his floor. He didn’t look up when the clicking stopped in front of him at the counter. After a pause, a plastic bag was set down on the glass.

Something to pawn, then. Shame. He was almost in the mood to argue about rent. Gold’s eyes flickered up. Standing before him was a woman he’d never seen before. She was quite pretty. At least her profile was; she was currently scanning the shelves of their various glassware and bits and bobs.

“Do you have many books here?” She turned in a slow circle to take it all in.

“No.”

The woman looked at him. “There’s antiques here, too, right? It’s not just a pawn shop?”

“Books aren’t really what most people think of when they think of antiques.”

“No, because then they’re usually called first editions.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, and nodded his head slightly, conceding her point. “All the same. My apologies.” His regular buyers weren’t interested in books, and certainly no one in town was either.

“I suppose I’m surrounded by enough books, as it is,” she said, sighing.

Gold had a feeling he knew who this newcomer was. He should leave it alone. He had enough work to keep him busy.

“If you’re interested, I can ask my contacts. I know a person or two in the rare books trade.” He knew exactly no one but they’d be easy enough to track down.

She smiled, delighted surprise brightening her eyes. He had been mistaken before, calling her pretty.

“That’s so kind of you to offer. I’ll let you know.”

Mrs. Isabelle French, new head librarian of the Storybrooke Library, was beautiful.

He nodded, not trusting anything he could say to her. She smiled again. It felt like a bullet straight to his chest.

“Yes, well.” Her hand went to the bag, almost forgotten on the counter. “I’m afraid I’m actually here about a different matter. You no doubt know who I am already, but all the same: hello. My name is Belle French, and it’s nice to meet you.” She opened the bag, taking out a familiar scarf.

“I know it’s rude to return something without having it cleaned, especially over a week later and especially with how my husband absconded with it in the first place, but it’s a very fine material? And hand dyed, which of course you would already know.” She bit her lip. The previous surprise on her face had long since evaporated, leaving nothing but worry.

The scarf had been a gift from his son from when the lad had taken a school trip to Europe. Neal had bought it from a boutique he probably shouldn't have been in, proud to present his papa with something that met his high standards. The silk was lovely and soft. It was his favorite; the final thing he reached for when he left the house on chilly days. His son had given it to him, after all, which made it irreplaceable.

“It’s just a scarf, Mrs. French.”

He shook the fabric, wanting to see the full extent of the damage. Near the center were two dark patches, clotting the silk. And there, at the end of one side, was two more.

“The thing is, the lady at the dry cleaners wasn’t sure if it could be saved. We’re on a strict budget until I get paid, and with the surprise expense of emergency vet bills,” she risked a slightly ironic smile, “I can’t justify paying for a service that might not even work.”

“I was the one who gave it to your husband,” he reminded her. “He didn’t snatch it from me. I was under the impression the cat wasn’t yours.”

“She wasn’t.” Shrugging, she said, “She at least hasn’t been chipped nor reported missing. Rum can’t bear the thought of leaving her at the pound, and so it would seem we have a new roommate. And honestly, if we were going to pay for the cost of fixing her up, we might as well take her in. Rum always said he was a dog person through and through, but he’s thrilled we have her now. Honestly it’s worth the bill to see him this happy.”

Mrs. French shook her head, blushing at her rambling. “My point was, if you took the scarf to the dry cleaners yourself, or just bought a replacement, we’ll pay you back for it as soon as my first paycheck comes in.”

“That won’t be for two months, at least.” Government jobs were notoriously finicky when it came to billing cycles, and the town having what could be considered a minuscule government didn’t make the paperwork any less annoying.

“I’m happy to sign something.”

“It’s just a scarf,” Gold heard himself say again. “Don’t worry yourself.”

The woman opened and closed her hands, confused about the lifeline placed in front of her. No doubt she’d been regaled with stories of the cruel, evil landlord from the townsfolk. On a different day he’d be more than happy to meet her expectations. Perhaps he merely wanted to make a good first impression.

She finally seemed to settle on a smile, small and relieved. “As soon as I get the library open, be sure to come visit, alright? I’ll get you signed up for a card, free of charge.”

Was that a wink? Gold had always thought library cards were already free, but then again, the town had been without a library for as long as he’d lived in it.

“Perhaps.” With careful hands, he folded Neal’s scarf into an orderly rectangle. He knew a few tricks for cleaning silk. “Good day, Mrs. French.”

After only a moment of hesitation, the sound of her heels clicked out his door.

OOO

Gold decided the best thing to do was put the Frenchs out of his mind. Better yet, avoid them entirely, as it was clear he couldn’t be trusted around either of them.

That didn’t stop him from hearing things. For instance, Belle had moved to the UK from Australia with her father when she was in primary school. She’d met her husband when she was finishing up her master’s degree and coming off a particularly nasty breakup. As Gold heard it, things were fine until her husband was laid off and they had to move in with her father in London. Unhappy, she went looking for any job that would get them out. A head librarian position in middle of nowhere, Maine? Fine. Perfect. And wasn’t that something else, that they only officially married so he could come with her to her new job in America.

Most interestingly, Gold heard they would sometimes go to the diner for breakfast. The morning Gold walked into Granny’s, it wasn’t like he was expecting to see them, or anything. He just thought it was high time he became a patron of the most popular Storybrooke establishment. Support small business, that kind of thing.

“Glasgow,” he heard before the door had even closed behind him.

Mr. French was waving him over to the booth he shared with his wife, a wide grin on his face.

Gold was going to ignore him, of course. He was going to stare straight ahead and pretend he hadn’t heard.

“Mr. French,” he said, walking slowly over to them. “Good morning.”

“Mr. French?” his wife repeated slowly, raising an eyebrow.

A bashful smile Gold couldn’t explain appeared on French’s face. He shrugged at his wife helplessly.

“Join us for a wee bite, Glasgow? We huvnae ordered yet.” He gestured to the menus spread before them, as if Gold needed proof.

He frowned. He already let them off the hook for the scarf. It was mostly his own fault, after all, and he was nothing if not fair. They didn’t pay rent to him, either, since they were residing in the caretaker’s apartment. Moving across continents was expensive; perhaps they hadn’t budgeted enough for it, especially considering the paycheck problem. If that were the case, they could come to his shop and ask like everyone else.

“I only came in for a cup of coffee,” he demurred.

“Oh.” His face fell, like he was actually disappointed. “You can sit here with it, if you want.”

“If he doesn’t want to join us, we can’t make him, Mr. French.” The look on Belle’s face was unreadable as she stared at him over her mug.

“I liked the sound of it, alright?” His mouth pulled up at the corner. “If that’s what he wants to call me, I’m nae gonna stop him.”

She snorted, her own grin breaking free as she laughed.

Gold looked towards the counter forlornly. He was finding he did not have enough caffeine in his system yet. He supposed he could walk away and wait by the counter like everyone else did, but something kept him by the French’s table. Belle had a pretty laugh. Maybe that was it.

“Mr. French is my father,” she finally explained with an eye roll and shake of her head. “This ridiculous man is Robert McWeaver.”

“Nice tae meet you.”

“Apologies for assuming.” He should have paid more attention to the paperwork. It wasn’t like him, not to pay attention.

“You couldnae have known.” Robert McWeaver took a sip from his own mug. “What would you recommend, then?”

“What?”

“To eat. What’s good?”

Gold wouldn’t know. This was his first time stepping inside for anything other than rent.

“I’m getting the pancakes,” Belle said, eyes on the menu. “Rum’s leaning towards the full breakfast.”

“As close tae an English breakfast as I can get. They got one thing right, eh, the English?” He laughed at his own joke, mouth wide, the crows feet at his eyes giving him a distinguished, friendly look. Gold’s own just made him look old. With his loose clothes and easy smile, McWeaver was the definition of laid back, almost—cool. Someone people gravitated towards. Not that Gold knew anything about it.

But that was the most constant thing he’d heard, wasn’t it? With their wide smiles and kind eyes, it was no wonder how the townsfolk had adopted them so readily. Anyone would be lucky to be their friend, to share in their warmth.

“Take a seat,” Belle said, smiling. “We’ll put an order in, get you your coffee.”

God help him, he almost did just that.

What was with these two?

“Some other day,” he said, turning on his heel. “Ms. French, Mr. McWeaver.”

“We'll hold you to—“ the door latched shut cut off what they were about to say.

Brooding, Gold walked to his shop. Whatever those two were after, they weren’t getting it from him. Besides, there was no room in their happy lives for the heartless, asshole landlord. It was better for everyone if he left them alone. He had held himself apart from the rest of the town for years. That was how he liked it.

Not bothering to flip the sign, Gold went straight to the back, deciding to bury himself in polishing every piece of jewelry in the shop until the lot of it could power a solar panel.

He was working through his collection of wedding rings when the front door opened, bell jangling. A quick look at the clock told him he was supposed to have opened twenty minutes ago. Whatever happened to his routine?

Not bothering with his cane, he stood up and pushed the curtain aside. He promptly froze.

“Alright, Glasgow?”

“Mr. McWeaver,” Gold said, frowning at the nickname. He needed to say something before it became permanent. “Ms. French.”

“Call me Rum.” His smile was back, broad and open as ever.

Gold said nothing, just stood in between the doorway. He had expected to have more time before they came to deal. After his retreat that morning, perhaps they thought it best to get it over with.

“You, uh, left before ordering anything.” Belle placed a to-go cup and a bag down in front of him. “We got you a muffin, too, in case you get peckish.”

They stared at him expectantly. Only when their smiles started to dim did Gold manage to clear his throat.

“Thank you,” he offered.

“We weren’t sure how you liked your coffee, so we just got it black,” Belle said helpfully. “I hope that’s all right.”

Gold liked it with enough sugar to make his auntie's teeth pop out.

“Black is fine.”

He was rewarded with a smile.

“Well,” she said, rocking back on her heels. “We have a shipment of new books coming that I need to sign for, so we’ll get out of your hair. Have a great day, Mr. Gold.”

Before he could do more than nod a goodbye, they were out the door, the bell ringing after them. He watched as Rum reached out to take Belle’s hand. Gold watched as they reached the library doors and she dug through her purse one handed for the keys. Rum kissed her neck, and he couldn’t hear the squeal as she batted him away, but he could imagine it. They were like teenagers; blissfully happy and seemingly untouched by the real world.

Gold looked at his coffee, and saw the heat guard had fallen down. He opened the bag. The muffin was blueberry, his favorite.

Staying away from them would be best.

OOO

Gold soon developed a new routine. Every morning he’d stand by the front counter of his shop and wait for Belle and Rum to make their way to the diner. He never wanted to go himself, but something always convinced him; maybe if Belle’s dress was blue, or if Rum had his arm around her waist rather than looped through her own. Gold would watch until they were out of sight, then finish up whatever busy work he was doing. After locking the door to his shop he’d make his own way down the street.

When he got to Granny’s, he waited at the front so he could order coffee to go. At least he would, if he ever got that far. As soon as Gold was through the door, Rum would call out to him and insist he join their table. Belle and Rum were never ready to order anyway, which was just as well, as he liked to rest his leg before making the short walk back to his shop. And Gold was finding he quite liked the breakfast spread.

So it went in the mornings. Gold knew sometimes they ate dinner there as well, but there was no pattern to when they went and Gold hadn’t run into them on the night’s he popped in, for rent or otherwise.

Currently, Gold had already walked through the door. He was waiting at the front, by the register. Rum usually noticed him by now. He tapped the handle of his cane. The front bar was white and shiny, as it always was. The glasses behind, stacked and waiting for the waitresses to fill them up, all glistened.

Gold shot a glance at their table. Rum was facing him, his elbows on the table, head in his hands, his face rapt as he listened to whatever Belle was saying. He nodded once or twice.

Gold frowned. He wondered what she was saying. Last week, after stumbling on a story about World War I soldiers and how they bonded over their trauma, she had gone on a tangent of medics and the first studies of shell shock. The time before, how cigars were made. It was no wonder Rum hadn't noticed his entrance if Belle was talking about her current passion. She could have anyone riveted with as little as a sigh.

He stepped aside as one of the tables finished up and left, passing him on their way out. This wasn’t part of the routine. Gold was never supposed to actually order coffee to go.

He had overstepped, that was it. They had likely seen him walk in, but hadn’t said anything in the hopes he left without intruding. He could leave them alone for a single morning to enjoy breakfast as a married couple, for once. Did that mean they didn’t want him there anymore? Maybe they were both too nice to say it to his face, and were waiting for him to take the hint instead.

Gold glared at the cups, standing pristine along the wall, as if he could intimidate them into giving him answers.

That was how Ruby found him when she came out of the kitchen, finally.

“Mr. Gold,” she greeted. “Are you going to sit down?”

He ignored her.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her look at Rum and Belle’s table, then back at him. She rolled her eyes.

“Granny,” she bellowed behind her, causing Gold to jump. “Has the special been updated? Like, on the board?”

“I wrote it last night,” Granny yelled back, muffled by the distance.

“Alright.” Ruby’s eyes were on him, something smug and knowing in their depths.

“Glasgow!”

Attention grabbed by Ruby, Rum finally looked up toward the counter to where Gold was brooding.

“You’re late today,” he called with a frown. “Everything all right?”

Ruby snorted. Gold shot her a glare which she promptly ignored.

“Take a seat, Mr. Gold,” she said with a bright smile. “I’ll get started on drinks.”

Rum was still staring at him, eyes overwide and welcoming. He had such an expressive face, so open, so telling, so. Gold wondered what he’d look like below him, panting and wanton.

When Gold continued to stand there, Belle turned as well, looking over her shoulder. Her hair was down today, the sheek brown curls cascading down her back. His fingers itched with his want to bury them in her hair, cradle her head while he kissed her.

These were not new thoughts; they had always been there, just below the surface. He swallowed, trying to bury his feelings deep in his stomach, keeping them from sight.

With numb feet, he limped to the table. Belle scooted to the side, making room for him to slide next to her. He liked the mornings he sat next to Belle; he could smell her perfume, light and floral like roses. And Gold liked when he was facing Rum; half the fun of listening to Belle was watching her husband.

“We havenae ordered yet,” he was saying now, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward. “Just waitin’ for you.”

They were too sweet for him. All this time, Gold was pretending it was just good timing on his part. Oh, but it hurt his heart, to be expected.

“Sorry for the delay,” he said quietly.

“It’s no problem at all.” Belle bumped him with her shoulder. The heat of her burned. “I was just regaling Rum about a new book Ariel recommended, about Octopuses, of all things.”

“Calling them ‘octopi’ is wrong, apparently,” Rum said. “And they have three hearts. And,” he sat up straighter, taking his arms off the table when he spotted Ruby approaching from the kitchen. “And, they remember their handlers, and especially the grudges they hold against each of them.”

“How about we order, and then we’ll catch you up to speed,” she teased.

“I would love nothing more,” he said. He meant every word, from the bottom of his decrepit heart.

OOO

When Gold told himself he had to stay away from them, he meant it. It was Belle and Rum who didn’t seem to get the memo. And okay, maybe he had developed a taste for Granny’s coffee.

At least he could admit to himself now that he didn’t want to stay away. The chance that they felt as deeply for him as he did for them was impossible, the thought of them willingly taking him into their bed was unthinkable. But he could have their friendship. If their mornings together in the diner was all he had of them, he’d cherish that time fiercely.

Seeing one of them alone wasn’t something that happened often, though. Yet here Rum was, no sign of his wife in sight, fidgeting in his shop as if he were a stranger.

“What are you doing here?” Gold asked.

“What, am I not allowed?”

His accent had mellowed in the couple months he’d been in town, through necessity if nothing else. It was a continued source of amusement for Belle that their accents thickened whenever they talked to each other.

Gold put down his pen. He was going through a list of items from an estate sale down south, but that could wait. Spreading his arms across his counter, he gave Rum his full attention, patiently waiting for him to get to the point, or leave. He was used to these sorts of games. Usually he could guess what the other player wanted, though.

Gold would have thought if they wanted something from him they would have asked a long time ago, but situations changed. He hadn’t heard of Rum rescuing any more wayward animals.

Rum’s full attention was currently on the paintings that hung on the wall behind him. Perhaps it was about his pride.

“Do you need a job?” Gold asked.

That surprised Rum enough to make him look over. “A job?” he asked, frowning.

“You don’t work,” Gold pointed out. He knew what Belle’s salary was. It was enough to sustain a two person household, but barely. He couldn’t imagine there was any left at the end of the month to for savings.

“Legally, I can’t. Couldnae get a work visa. Figured it was lucky enough Belle wanted me to come with her at all.” He shrugged. “If it comes to it, I’ll wash dishes at Granny’s. Said she’d pay me under the table.”

“I see.”

“I like not working, to be honest. I’m good at being a house husband.” He flashed a crooked smile, but there something hesitant in it, like he expected derision.

“That so?”

Rum wandered closer, leaning his hip against the counter. “Yeah. I like being able to make a home for Belle. It’s a great feeling, when she comes back to a tidy apartment and a warm meal.”

An image of Rum in a retro house dress, makeup neat and apron pressed, flashed in his mind. Better to focus on that then the stab between his ribs, knowing he was going to a cold, empty house devoid of Rum and Belle’s warmth.

“Now that’s an idea, innit?” Rum perked up, eyes expectant.

For a second, Gold was worried he had spoken aloud. “What is?”

“Dinner. I’m a good cook. Come and try it.”

Gold barked a laugh. Of all the things for him to suggest.

Rum looked down, his smile fading quickly. “It was just an idea,” he mumbled.

Afraid he’d leave, Gold reached out, grabbing his hand where he lay on the counter.

“I thought you were going to ask me for money,” he tried to explain. “Or some other sort of deal.”

Rum looked at their hands. He flexed his, but didn’t pull away. “Uh, right. Makes sense.” He straightened. “So, dinner? You’ll come?”

“Of course. When were you thinking?”

He shrugged. “Tonight, tomorrow. When—Friday!” Rum shouted, tugging his hand like an electrical current had gone through them. “Come Friday.”

“Okay,” he agreed, bemused.

“Just, uh, you open later on Saturdays? And Belle does too, at the library. Friday is best.”

“Expecting a late night?”

His eyes widened, brows drawing together. “Maybe? You know, just in case.”

“I’ll bring the wine,” Gold said after a pause.

“That would be perfect.” This time when Rum smiled, it looked genuine. “It’s a date.”

OOO

He had chosen a rosé. He hadn’t asked much about what Rum was planning on serving, wanting to be surprised. And rosés paired nicely with all most things..

With one final brush down the front of his suit, he knocked on the apartment door. Seconds later it opened, revealing Belle wearing a bright dress and a brighter smile.

For a moment he was struck mute, words lost as he stared at her. She was so lovely.

“Come in, come in,” she said, not seeming to notice his state. She reached out for him, sliding her hand along his back as she guided him inside. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

The apartment was small, but cozy. The living room was big enough to accommodate a TV and a sofa, and to the left a dining table with four chairs, but not much else. Not that it kept Belle from piling books on every conceivable surface, including the floor along the walls. Gold couldn’t help but smile at that. Everything was neat and tidy, excepting the books. A perfect home, all things considered.

Rum poked his head out of the kitchen. “Hey, Glasgow,” he called. “Make yourself comfortable.”

He hadn’t been too far off when he imagined the apron. “Smells good,” he said, not having anything better to say. And it did, the heady aroma or sizzling meat and spices heavy in the air. It would seem Rum hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he was good at this.

“I hope you like it. Should be ready soon.” He disappeared into the kitchen.

Gold felt Belle’s arm tighten around him. When he looked, there was a small smile playing on her lips.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She gave him a final squeeze before letting go. She took the bottle of wine from him before walking to the table. “He wants to impress you. We both do.”

That warmed him up from the inside in a way he chose not to examine too closely right then. “That right? You cook, too?”

“God, no. But I am the master of doing dishes.”

They were interrupted by a meow, coming from the ground.

“Hello again,” he said to their roommate. “You’re looking well.” He had never gotten a good look at the cat when Rum rescued her from beneath his shop. She was a handsome creature, a long-haired tuxedo. She looked completely healed, and would have looked completely normal too, had it not been for a missing eye. The socket was closed, and almost unnoticeable if it weren’t for the brilliant blue of her other eye.

That one eye blinked up at him. She mewled again before turning around, and he expected her to stalk off. Instead, she sat on his shoes. She weighed as much as a sack of feathers.

“You can’t have him, too,” Belle said.

The cat started to purr. Apparently, she thought otherwise.

Belle shook her head. “She’s intent on stealing all the men in my life, I swear.”

Gold wasn’t sure what to say to that. “What’s her name?” He asked. That was safe.

“Oh you’ll like this,” Belle said with a conspiratorial smile. “We named her Forte, on account of her looking like a music sheet, and being quite loud when she wants to be.”

“Aye, I remember. Fortan means luck in Gaelic,” Gold offered.

“Yes! Rum was quite proud of that. He can’t usually think of puns.”

Gold shifted, lifting up a foot experimentally. Forte ignored the hint.

Fine, then.

When he looked at Belle, she was staring at him, biting her lip.

“What?”

She shook her head. “I’m happy you’re here.”

Gold managed a nod. “I’m happy I’m here, too.” He tried to flash a smile. He hoped she didn’t mistake it for a grimace.

“Good.” Her gaze was intense, scorching.

Unable to bear it, he looked down at the cat, still on his feet. Her tail brushed his legs. He heard a timer go off.

“Belle,” Rum called. “Can I have a hand?”

“Take a seat, if she’ll let you go, the little monster,” Belle said cheerfully.

“I’ll pour the wine,” he said.

She shot a smile over her shoulder, disappearing into the kitchen.

He lifted his foot again, and Forte accepted he was serious this time. She slunk over to the couch, jumping up to the cushion gracefully before plopping down.

Gold had just filled the final wine glass when Belle came back. She set a basket of dinner rolls on the table, along with a bowl of salad. “He wanted to make buttered cabbage,” Belle said. “Apparently it’s a good side dish for this in Scotland, but I put my foot down.”

“Thank God for you, Belle French.” He pulled her chair out for her, making sure she was quite settled before taking his own seat.

Rum chose that moment to appear, dish in hand. He set it proudly in the center of the table, removing the foil with a flourish. All Gold could see was a white top,even except where a fork had been run through to create a swirling effect. The peaks were a crispy, golden brown.

“Shepherd's pie,” Rum announced. “Though I couldn’t get lamb on such short notice, so it’s actually cottage pie.” He shrugged. “Still good, I hope.”

“Still good,” Gold agreed, feeling his mouth water. Sizzling ground beef, cooked with onions, peas and carrots, drenched in a rich brown gravy. Then topped with a thick layer of creamy, buttery mashed potatoes. He hadn’t had it in years.

Rum was indeed a good cook. He scraped his plate clean, full from having second helpings.

“Was there something specific you had in mind for after dinner?” Gold asked, taking a sip of wine. The bottle was empty; an easy thing to do when split between three people.

Belle and Rum shared a look. “What do you mean?” Belle asked.

“Rum mentioned a late night. I assumed that meant board games. You seem the type,” he said warmly. Gold had been looking forward to it, honestly. He hadn’t played anything of the sort since before Neal moved out. “Something tells me you’d make a worthy opponent at Scrabble,” he said to Belle.

Belle shot her husband a look, who was looking intently at his wine glass. “He told me he had lost his nerve.”

“Sorry?” His heart stopped in his chest. This wasn’t supposed to be about a deal. That’s what Rum had said.

She seemed to read the disappointment in his face. “My husband and I owe you nothing of monetary value, Gold. We have no intention of changing this.”

“All I can offer are things of monetary value.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Rum muttered, staring at the legs of wine as they cascaded down his glass.

Belle cleared her throat. “I do actually have Scrabble, somewhere. And we have a deck of cards. If you’d like, we can certainly find a game to play. But we were thinking of a group activity of a different nature,” she said, licking her lips. His eyes followed the path of her tongue, and she smiled, wide and sultry.

“Ah?” His brain short-circuited. She couldn’t be implying what he thought she was. He looked to Rum for help, but he was staring at his wine as if trying to boil it with his mind.

Belle took pity on him. “Join us for a night.”

“A night.”

She nodded.

“Of sex.”

Another nod.

“Only one?” He asked before he could stop himself.

That got Rum’s attention. His head shot up, and he put his glass down with more force than necessary, almost knocking it over. The beginnings of a crooked smile played on his lips.

“Doesnae have to be.”

“Let’s see how we like it, first,” Belle said reasonably.

Gold didn’t ask why, out of every other sorry bastard in this town, they chose him. He didn’t question their taste or their eyesight. Instead, Gold nodded. Yes, a night with them was everything he had ever wanted.

Belle swallowed the last of her wine, head thrown back as she drained her glass. Gold followed the line of her throat as she swallowed, finally feeling like he was allowed to look.

“Leave the dishes,” she said to Rum. She scooted her chair back, holding out her hands to them. “And let’s go to bed.”

OOO

From there, it was easy.

Gold followed them into their bedroom, Rum being careful to shut the door behind them so Forte couldn’t get in to interrupt. The room was just as tidy as the rest of the apartment, with stacks of books on every conceivable surface. The bed was queen size, and he liked the thought of them three of them sharing the space. He hoped they’d let him stay for a while, after.

Rum cleared his throat, drawing Gold’s attention.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, quiet, almost shy.

Gold licked his lips.

“Yes.”

Before he could blink, Rum’s hands were on either side of his face, his thumbs brushing his cheek bones before his mouth collided with his. He started sucking on his bottom lip, causing Gold to whimper. Rum’s hand slid up, brushing through his short hair while the other ran along the back of his neck before settling in the space just above his collar bone.

Gold’s own hands were clutching the sides of Rum’s baggy shirt, pulling him closer and closer. As his tongue pushed past his lips, one hand cradled his jaw, turning his head slightly so he could push inside for a deeper kiss. Rum moaned happily, trying to suck on his tongue.

When they finally broke apart for air, Belle grabbed his head, turning it so she could kiss him deeply next. He leaned into her, almost stumbling before catching himself on her shoulder. Expecting the fabric of her dress, he was met with her bare skin. Gold broke the kiss so he could see.

While Gold and Rum had been busy necking, Belle had taken the time to undress. All she wore now was her lingerie, the dark blue silk making her skin almost glow.

If Gold hadn’t been hard already, seeing her chest, her belly, her legs, would have undone him completely.

“Oh,” he breathed. He kissed her again, feeling her smile. She undid his tie, then started to unbutton his shirt, slowly leading him to the bed. Gold didn’t have his cane, he couldn’t remember where he had left it, but it didn’t matter with Belle and Rum there to guide him forward.

When he was laying down on the bed, Belle kissed him again, pushing his back into the comforter as her mouth ravaged him.

He lifted his hips so Rum could pull off his trousers, then socks, and Belle finally got him to shrug out of his shirt. She eyed his chest hungrily, like he was dessert.

Belle went for his throat then, sucking and licking the skin there. He moaned as she worked lower, nibbling across his collar bone. Gold’s hands reached for her, wanting to fill his hands with her creamy skin.

“No touching,” Belle decided, giggling as she grabbed his arms, pinning them to his sides. She lightly bit his nipple, the breath of her laugh skimming over his wet chest as he gave a jolt.

Rum kissed his hip bone, before taking off his boxers. Then he was bare and achingly hard. Now free of all his clothes, splayed on his back, there was no friction, no barrier, to keep him sane. Just consistent, blazing want.

“Rum,” he groaned as Belle continued to kiss, lick and bite his chest. “Please.”

Rum shrugged out of his own shirt, was undoing the zipper on his jeans. Gold watched them fall to the floor before he stepped out of them. His eyes came up to settle on Rum’s bulge.

“Please,” he said again, voice hoarse.

Rum made eye contact. His eyes jumped to Gold’s cock, bobbing and thick. Then his hands were on the inside of Gold’s thighs, pushing his legs apart so he could settle between them. Gold saw a flash of his pink tongue before his mouth had swallowed his cock whole.

Gold yelped, his hips jerking upwards sharply. Instead of gagging (Gold had an apology already at the ready), Rum groaned. He pulled back so he could suck the head, then swallowed him down again.

Rum moaned blissfully around him, hallowing his cheeks as he sucked. Gold whimpered, desperately trying to keep his hips still. But fuck, he was good at this. After a few minutes of bobbing on his cock, Rum swallowed, taking him deeper until he hit the back of his throat and his nose was pressed to his pubic bone.

Gold grit his teeth, not wanting to come yet. But it was hard, impossibly hard, when Rum’s mouth was so hot, so good. When Belle’s hands were skimming up and down his sides, tortiously slow.

She looked down at her husband, hungrily sucking Gold off. Her eyes were blown out completely, and she wet her lips. Almost absently, she pinched Gold’s nipple. He whined high in his throat.

“He’s so good with his mouth, isn’t he?” she said, voice low. “God, that tongue.”

Gold could only whine, and keep whining as Rum sucked harder.

“I’m there,” he tried to warn him. “Fuck, Rum, I’m—“

Rum pulled back, but he kept the head in his mouth and used his hand to wank him off. Gold came across his tongue, panting. Closing his eyes, he sunk further into the soft bed, trying to catch his breath.

“Save any for me?” He heard Belle ask.

“Sorry, love,” he said, and Gold heard a smacking of lips.

“No, you’re not.” They kissed. Belle moaned; she could taste Gold on his tongue. Fuck.

“You can have him for round two.” Rum rubbed his thighs, using them for balance as he leaned forward and gave another kiss to Gold’s hip bone.

“I’m holding you to that.”

There was the soft sound of fabric gliding against skin. Gold felt the bed shift as Belle straddled his hips, legs on either side of his thighs. He opened his eyes when Belle kissed him; she was gloriously bare. His arms wound around her shoulders, a hand burying in her hair, keeping her in place.

He expected Rum to come close, but instead he backed off. Instead, he moved behind Belle. Gold felt a wave of molten heat go through him at the thought of Belle being fucked by her husband while she lay over him, panting in his ear as she took it deep and hard.

Wanting to entice Rum, Gold ran his hands down her soft sides, over her rump. He gripped her where her arse cheeks met her leg, his pinky and ring finger over her cunt lips, and he held her open, on display. She was already so wet, he had to let go so he could get a better grip.

Belle hummed, pushing her breasts into his chest and sticking her arse up, giving her husband a better view.

“Like this, Gold?” she asked, sucking on his neck. He hoped she left a mark.

“Fuck,” Rum breathed, his eyes drawn to her open cunt. “Oh, Gold, if only you had this view.”

“Describe it to me,” Gold said.

“She’s so wet and pink. Fuck, Belle.”

Her breath caught, and she pushed her arse back. Gold guessed Rum was using his fingers on her.

“You’re so wet. Did you like that, watching us?”

“Of course.” She wiggled, spreading her legs wider, bringing her knees up as best she could. Gold spread his legs again, too, helping to keep her open. “You two look amazing together. So beautiful.”

“What else?” Gold asked. He felt fingers skim from Belle’s thighs to his. Rum cupped his balls. He gasped, feeling a thumb press into his perineum, then down to circle around his anus, before coming back up.

“And here’s you, all spent. I did that. You taste so good, Gold. I want to suck you again.”

Gold moaned as Rum pressed his soft cock against Belle’s heat. She was ready and wet and perfect.

“Fuck, I can’t wait for you to get hard.”

Belle whined, trying to get the angle right to move her clit against Gold’s pelvis. “You said I got him next.”

Rum laughed. He let go of Gold so he could run his hands over the back of Belle’s thighs. “I did. Do you want to fuck her, Gold?”

He hissed an affirmative, hands leaving imprints where they still held Belle open.

“Should we wait, Belle? Let him have you first?”

“No, God! Rum! I need it now,” she begged, wiggling. “Fuck me now.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah, I’ll fuck you.” He let go, eyes turning a bit more critical so he could figure out the position. “Close your legs, Gold, so I can fit,” he ordered, softly. Gold happily acquiesced, and he watched as Rum settled behind Belle, his knees pressing into the bed in between theirs.

Slowly, he guided his cock into his wife.

Gold let go of her arse, hand moving to tip her head up, searching for her eyes. “Look at me,” he murmured, wanting to see the moment she was filled up.

Belle bit her lip in bliss. Her eyes widened slightly when Rum bottomed out. He leaned forward so he could kiss her shoulder, giving them both time to adjust to the position.

“Good?” Rum asked.

She shuddered when she pushed her hips back into his, her clit sliding along Gold’s pelvis beautifully. “Oh, that’s perfect,” she breathed, eyes locked onto his.

“I’m not going to last,” her husband warned, pulling back before fucking into her.

Belle moaned, grinding onto Gold as she leaned into her husband’s thrusting hips. “Neither will I.”

One hand in her hair, the other gripping her upper arm, Gold held his breath as he watched her. She was stunning, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes clouded over with lust.

“Are you going to come, Belle?” Gold asked her. “Does he feel good inside you? Fuck, I bet he feels so good.”

Belle could barely nod. “Deep. Hard,” she panted. “Almost there.”

Her breath caught, and she clenched hard on Rum’s cock, slamming back against him, then stilling. Her orgasm triggered his, and with a grunt, he emptied inside her, hips stuttering.

Gold pulled her down for a kiss, and she went happily, boneless and sated. Once Rum caught his breath, he pulled out, flopping down beside Gold with a sigh.

Belle tucked herself against Gold’s chest, watching her husband cool down beside them.

The silence that fell on them was easy and soft, broken only by the occasional pawing of Forte at the door.

When she mewled, Rum looked up, and it seemed like he might let her in.

“Not yet,” Belle said. “I was promised round two.”

She pushed herself up, looking down so she could see where she had been rubbing herself against Gold’s pelvis. Rum’s spend seeped out of her, slicking her way.

“Fuck,” Gold breathed, unable to tear his eyes away.

It didn’t take much longer for Gold to harden again, helped by Belle’s skillful hand. She wasted no time in mounting him. She slid all the way down his shaft. She pumped her hips, delighted at feeling him so deep.

She was so wet; so hot and wet and already filled with cum and it was a good thing Gold had climaxed once already because he wasn’t sure how he would have lasted otherwise.

As it was, he was happy to watch as Belle took him for a ride. Gold’s attention was quickly drawn to her breasts, and he watched them bounce up and down. He wanted to suckle them, feel their weight in his hands. He hadn’t paid nearly enough attention to that part of her yet.

Rum moved so his head was laying on his chest, fingers circling one of Gold’s nipples as his eyes were glued to the area Belle and him were connected. As Belle moved up and down, Rum began to kiss and nip at Gold’s pecks, then his rib cage, his abdomen. He circled his tongue inside Gold’s belly button, making his stomach clench and his hips jolt. Belle’s moving hips kept him from being able to go down any further, and he sweetly got her attention.

“Lean back a little,” he requested.

That meant she stopped moving against him, and Gold moaned in protest.

“Like this?” She was spread open again, thighs wide, hands supporting her weight where they rested on either side of Gold’s legs.

“Exactly like that.” Rum latched onto her clit and sucked. She gasped, hips bucking hard against Gold’s cock.

“Fuck, Rum,” she said, clenching.

They set up a new rhythm. Belle worked herself up and down Gold’s cock while Rum sucked at the base of him, and Gold did his best not to utterly combust. Belle ground down when she got to the bottom, and Rum’s tongue flicked up to meet her.

The closer she got to finishing, the closer she stayed, and soon all she was doing was grinding back and forth on his cock, Rum latched to her clit.

Gold’s legs spread in answer to Rum’s searching hand; he felt it close around his balls and his hips jolted in response. Fuck, but that was heaven; Belle riding his cock while Rum played with him like he was a pair of ben wa balls. He moaned, low and deep and long, when Rum tugged them down, then up against the base of him, squeezing.

His hands gripped Belle’s hips tightly as he held her against him and emptied himself into her. He couldn't even moan; she’d taken the breath straight from his lungs.

With a final but heartfelt, “fuck,” Belle clenched, thighs shaking in aftershock. Gold would forever remember the blissful smile on her face as she came on his cock.

Before she could fall over, and it looked like she might, the poor lamb—Rum was there to wrap her in his arms, and help her down. Rum pulled down the comforter with no help from them, but soon enough, they settled into bed, curled into the sheets on either side of Gold. Rum kissed his neck below his ear, entwining their legs as Belle happily murmured into his chest.

“Do you need another one?” Gold asked into Rum’s hair.

He felt the smile against his neck. “I already have everything I need.”

Gold was still boneless when he finally looked at the clock; it was late but not terribly so.

“When do you want me to leave?” He didn’t want to ask, but felt he should. Besides, he didn’t think he could manage a round three. He could barely keep his eyes open, and he felt satisfied and content in a way he hadn’t in years.

Rum mumbled something unintelligible, legs tightening around Gold’s, face pressed harder against his shoulder.

“Don’t leave,” Belle murmured, moving closer herself. She blindly tried to kiss his cheek and missed. “In the morning, Rum will make tomato on toast.”

“Oh. Okay,” he said, not needing to be convinced.

In the morning, he’d wake to Forte’s tail flicking in his face and Belle wearing his shirt, Rum still curled into his side, but for now he was content to sink into sleep.

#rcij #rumbelle fic #Rumbelle Christmas in July

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