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emospritelet · 6 years ago

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Kiss of Life - chapter 7

For @rumple-belle, whose birthday is today! This chapter adds in a little more of Gold’s POV than the original ficlets.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6]

AO3 link

Dr Gold was very rarely sick, but when it happened his immune system always seemed to capitulate completely and he’d end up feeling worse than anyone in the town. Or at least that’s how it felt to him. He had first started to think that something was wrong when he had no appetite for dinner and had been overwhelmed by fatigue. He had drunk a glass of brandy and gone to bed early, hoping a decent night's sleep would chase away whatever was stalking him, but when his bladder woke him at five-thirty he could barely stand, and had to accept that he had the flu. He telephoned Dr Whale immediately, who assured him that his patients were as well as could be expected. He then called Dr Milliner, who told him to get back to fucking bed and stop being a control freak.

Gold had spent the remainder of the day curled up in bed shaking, wrapped in blankets and trying to remember to keep drinking water. There were drawbacks to living alone, and nursing oneself through illness was one of them. He had tried to prepare for the next few days as well as he could; a box of tissues sat on the nightstand, along with paracetamol to relieve his fever, and the water jug and glass. He knew he needed to eat, but he couldn't face anything, and he had neither the energy nor the inclination to prepare a meal.

When Miss French had arrived, letting herself into his house and climbing the stairs uninvited, he had thought she was an hallucination. She had certainly seemed like the product of his fevered imagination, with her soft voice and her perfect lips and her blue eyes filled with tenderness. The touch of her cool hand on his brow had felt like heaven, and he had been more than content to lie back and let her press a damp cloth to his face and neck. She had informed him that she was going to make him something to eat, and although he had no appetite, he was determined to eat whatever she cooked. It didn’t seem fair that she had done a full day’s work and was now looking after him, too, but he couldn’t deny that it was a comfort to have her there.

He was aware that she had no medical training, but she would have made an excellent nurse. She had the right mix of empathy, the ability to calm and comfort, and the refusal to take any of his shit. It was all rather alluring, and if he hadn't felt as though he was knocking at Death's door he might have spent longer contemplating exactly how he felt about that. As it was, he lay still, waiting for her to return. There was silence from down in the kitchen, and he closed his eyes, turning his head to find a cool spot on the pillow as he tugged the blankets close around his neck. She would return soon, and he could tell her to get home and get some rest.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

He smiled slightly at the sound of her voice, and opened his eyes a crack. She was standing in front of him, fingers plucking at the buttons of her blouse. His eyes widened as she began to unfasten them, revealing smooth, pale skin and a white lace bra. Dark curls gleamed in the light, falling softly around her milky shoulders. Her eyes seemed wider and darker, her chest heaving a little, lips shining wetly.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like," she repeated softly. “So I thought I’d give you all of it."

She slipped off the blouse, letting it fall. He tried to speak, but something had stolen his voice and made his body freeze. She slowly unfastened the bra, revealing firm, perfect breasts with nipples the colour of pale roses. He tried to lick his lips, his mouth dry, and she unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it. She wore no underwear, and his eyes roamed over her curves, trying to commit her form to memory, the long lines of her limbs, the dark curls shining around her shoulders, the hollow of her waist and the soft cleft between her thighs. He could feel himself hardening at the sight of her, desire he had thought long-dead surging to life within him. She climbed onto the bed, crawling up until she was leaning over him.

“I’ll give you anything,” she whispered, and bent her head to kiss him.

“Dr Gold?”

He woke with a start, sucking in a breath as his eyes flew open. Belle French was gazing at him from the doorway, fully dressed with her hair tied back off her face and a wide smile, and there he was, curled up in the blankets with a raging erection like some old pervert.

“I made some soup,” she said. “I’ll bring you some up in a second, I just thought you might want some more water.”

“Yes.” He fumbled at the blankets, thankful he hadn’t kicked them off and exposed the evidence of his fevered mind. “Yes, thank you. Could you put some ice in it?” And then throw it at my crotch, please?

She sent him another bright smile, which only made him feel more like a worthless fool, and snatched up the water jug. She trotted away again, and he lay back against the pillows with a groan, willing his cock to go back to sleep. Clearly the fever had turned his head.

Belle had managed to find her way around Dr Gold's kitchen, and it was a treat to find it both well-stocked and spotlessly clean. She wondered if he had help in that, and remembered that Ruby had said something about Ashley Boyd cleaning for him. Hardly surprising given the long hours he worked. His fridge was not what she would have expected of a man who lived alone; there were plenty of fresh vegetables, cheeses, cooked meats and condiments. He also owned an impressive collection of cookware, and she gathered together the ingredients to make a hearty vegetable and lentil soup. It tasted good, rich with chicken stock and fragrant with thyme and sage.

She found a hand blender in the drawer, and pulsed the soup until it thickened, ladling some into a bowl and setting it on a tray with some buttered bread. She wasn’t sure that Dr Gold would eat the bread, but if not she could always have it herself. She had already taken him up some iced water and checked his fever. He was burning up, but that was only to be expected, and had seemed surprised by her presence, as though he had forgotten she was there in his house. With any luck the medication she had given him would ease his aches and pains, and the soup would give him strength.

She carried the tray upstairs, pushing open the bedroom door with her rear and entering the darkened room. He was a huddled mass in the blankets, and she transferred the tray to one arm as she fumbled for the switch on the bedside lamp. Light flooded out, and Dr Gold seemed to wake with a jerk, a flailing arm knocking the tray and sending hot soup all over her.

Gold had been dozing, feverish visions running through his mind, but sudden light dragged him from sleep, his body aching, his mind groggy. He jerked in protest, and a shriek of pain drove away any lingering drowsiness, consciousness returning like a full-armed slap to the face. He opened his eyes wide to see Miss French almost throwing an empty tray onto the floor and peeling off her shirt, exposing her lace bra and the pale skin of her arms and torso, her chest and belly reddened. There was a smell of savoury - something - in the air. Vegetable soup? Hot vegetable soup. Oh God…

“I’m sorry!” he gasped. “Did I - what did I do?”

She was already running from the room, skirt swishing around her legs, and he flopped back against the pillows with a groan, fumbling around for the wet washcloth she had been kind enough to leave across his fevered brow, which was now tucked beside his neck, turning his pillow damp. The sound of running water started up from the bathroom, and he looked to the side of the bed, spying a discarded tray, an upside-down plate with what looked like bread and butter (butter side down, naturally) and an empty bowl. Her blouse was on the floor next to it, covered in soup, and he groaned again. Great. She cares for you, mops your brow, makes you soup, and as a thank you, you give her second degree burns. Fucking idiot!

He tried to push himself up, feeling as weak as a day-old kitten.

“Miss French?” he called. “Are you alright?”

The water was still running, and he pushed back the covers, getting to his feet and almost falling on his arse. Bloody flu! He groped for his cane, arms shaking as he got it under him, and stumbled towards the bedroom door just as the sound of the water shut off. It took him two attempts to turn the handle, and as he opened the door Miss French came back in, a towel wrapped around her beneath her arms and a wide-eyed look of surprise on her face. His mouth fell open, his heart thumping. Her hair was damp, curls sticking to her skin, and for a moment he wondered what she would look like if he took the towel from her. If she smiled at him and stepped forward and let it fall, putting her arms around him and raising her head to kiss him.

“I - I hope you don’t mind,” she said apologetically, clutching the towel tighter. “It - it was really hot, and I knew I had to get cold water on the burns straight away. Showering was the fastest thing I could think of.”

“Of - of course,” he managed, clutching the cane handle as though it was the only thing sustaining him. “I’m so sorry. Clumsy of me.”

“Oh, it was an accident,” she said hastily, looking up at him through thick lashes. “Really, it’s not so bad. I think I caught it in time, it just stings a little.”

He nodded, relieved, and she frowned at him.

“And you shouldn’t be out of bed,” she said severely. “Get back there. I’ll clean this lot up and get you a fresh bowl.”

“Right,” he said, his tone meek, and shuffled back to bed.

“I’m gonna need to borrow something to wear,” she added. “You mind if I take your shirt? I’ll wash it afterwards, I promise.”

He froze, a ripple of desire going through him at the thought of her wearing something of his.

“Of course,” he said. “Take whatever you need.”

She snagged his shirt from the chair, hooking the silk over one finger, and ducked out of the room again, headed for the bathroom. He got into bed, shaking hands pulling the covers up to his chest. Visions of her were flitting through his mind and causing mischief: the sight of her pale skin and her breasts cupped by white lace, all too similar to the highly inappropriate dream his fevered mind had conjured up. He wondered how old she was. Twenties? Mid-twenties at most, which meant that he was old enough to be her father, and if she had realised the direction his thoughts had taken, she would have slapped his face and stormed out. He shook his head, reaching for the damp washcloth. It appeared that it wasn't just his brow that needed cooling.

Belle put her skirt and underwear back on and shrugged on Dr Gold’s shirt, the silk feeling delicious against her skin. It smelt of his cologne, and the faint muskiness of his own scent, and she fastened the buttons down the front and tied it in a knot at the waist before going back into the bedroom and picking up her discarded, soup-covered blouse. Gold was lying with the wet cloth over his eyes, the blankets pulled up to his chin, and Belle shook her head fondly. The man was clearly suffering, and she hoped that the little she could do would bring him some comfort.

She went downstairs to fetch a fresh bowl of soup, and Gold managed to sit up when she returned, a somewhat sheepish look on his face as she handed him the bowl, along with fresh bread and butter. He wouldn't quite meet her eyes, and she figured he felt bad for throwing soup all over her. She left him eating, going to fetch a bowl of soapy water, sponge and cloths to mop up the spilt soup and clear it from the rug. The rug would need a proper clean, but she did the best she could, hearing the clink of his spoon in the bowl as she worked.

“This is very good,” he ventured, and she looked up, raising an eyebrow.

“Can you actually taste anything?” she asked, with a grin.

“Okay, not much,” he admitted. “But it’s hot and I’m sure it’s doing me good.”

“Well, there’s plenty more,” she said, turning back to sponging the rug clean.

“You should have some.”

“I will, I just need to do this and then wash my things.”

There was silence for a moment, except for the scrape of his spoon. Belle cleared up the last of the soup, rinsing her sponge in the bowl of soapy water and straightening up.

“You should get home,” he said, mopping soup with the bread and butter. “You don’t need to stay here with me, I’ll be alright.”

“Snow’s come down thick,” she said. “Pretty sure if I tried to walk, I’d freeze to death. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

He eyed her over his spoon, dark eyes unreadable.

“I’m sorry your shift carried on this long,” he said wryly, and Belle giggled.

“I don’t mind, really,” she said. “As long as you don’t mind me staying. Is there a spare room?”

“Three,” he said, scooping up the last of the soup. “Take your pick. All the beds are made up.”

“Big house for one person,” she remarked.

“Yes,” he said, after a pause. “I like it, though.”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” she said hastily. “Your kitchen’s great. Do you cook a lot?”

He let the soup bowl rest in his lap, looking at her with a spark of interest.

“Actually, I do,” he said. “Food is vital to health, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would.” She leaned in to take the bowl from him, pressing a hand to his forehead and frowning. “You’re still burning up. Is there anything I can give you for the fever?”

“I have medication here, and I'll take some before I go to sleep,” he said. “Please, go and eat. I don’t want you to get sick too.”

Belle smiled at him, taking the empty plate and bowl from him and watching as he slid down beneath the blankets once more. She went downstairs, taking a few minutes to call her father and let him know she wouldn't be home. He seemed unworried that she was stuck with, in her words 'a sick friend', merely telling her that he didn't want the flu and that she was a fool for exposing herself to it. Belle rolled her eyes before telling him there were eggs and bacon for breakfast, but that she wouldn't be home to cook it. He grumbled at that, but rang off without another word, and she sighed in annoyance.

She washed the few dishes in the sink and, after some exploration, found the washing machine and dryer in the basement. She put her skirt and blouse in the washing machine with some soap, noting that the basement was as clean and orderly as the rest of the house, gardening implements hanging from hooks on the walls and a workbench clear of clutter. Once back in the kitchen, she heated up some of the soup for herself, eaten seated at the kitchen table with buttered bread to dip in. The house was silent but for the low ticking of clocks on the wall and out in the hallway. It was getting late, and she finished up her soup and washed her dishes, stacking them on the drainer.

When she returned to the basement, the washing machine had finished its cycle, and she hung her blouse and skirt up to dry, hoping it would shake loose some of the creases. She could wash her underwear in the bathroom, and have a clean outfit to wear to work the next day. The hours of being on her feet were taking their toll, and so she went back upstairs with some ice in a glass to add to Dr Gold's water jug. When she entered his room he was huddled in the blankets again, but he sat up to take two pills and swallow them down with some water.

“I’ll be right next door,” she said soothingly. “Just call if you need anything.”

He sent her a crooked little smile that made her heart thump.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely. “You should consider a career in nursing, Miss French. You’re a natural.”

“I actually studied library science,” she said. “Not a lot of calling for that in Storybrooke, though. Maybe I’ll consider it.”

She straightened up, laying the cool cloth over his forehead again.

“And it’s Belle,” she added. “You’ve seen me in my bra, I think we’ve gone beyond formality.”

She stomped off, leaving him making a sort of choking noise behind her, and grinned to herself. He’d get used to it.

#fic: kiss of life #rumbelle fic #my fic #rumbelle #dr gold x candy striper belle

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clamjumper5-blog · 6 years ago

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Quick and Easy Homemade Cherry Ice Cream

I have another recipe for Cherry Chocolate Ice Cream that was one of the very first ice cream recipes I ever posted on Our Best Bites. It’s one of my all-time favorites, and involves pitted fresh cherries in a cooked custard-base with shaved chocolate and generous hints of almond flavor. It’s decadently delicious, but also a lot of work. I’ve mentioned before that in the summer time my ice cream maker pretty much sits out on my counter 24-7. Cream and whole milk are constantly stocked and we whip up some version of this quick and easy homemade vanilla several times a week, usually with whatever fresh summer fruit we have sitting around. I have a feeling when my kids are old and grown, this will be one of the their favorite summer memories. Lately I’ve been buying frozen cherries for a new morning protein smoothie I’ve been making a lot, and once I whipped up this little Cherry Ice Cream number, it’s been making regular appearances at our house. As in, I pretty much have a constant batch in the freezer! This quick and easy homemade cherry ice cream takes just minutes to prep and tastes amazing.

Making Homemade Ice Cream

This ice cream starts out with a simple base of cream, whole milk, sugar, and vanilla, with one special ingredient: almond extract. I’ve actually been adding almond extract to my regular vanilla ice cream as well and it adds the BEST flavor that no one can put their finger on but everyone loves! But when you’re making pretty much anything with cherries, it’s a must.

Pre-Chilling Your Ice Cream Base

I’ve found that pre-chilling this mixture makes a big difference in the finished ice cream so I try to mix up that part earlier and have it sitting in my fridge. Sometimes I even make a huge batch of this part and just keep it in an empty milk jug labeled “Ice Cream Mix” so it’s ready to go. Even if your cream and milk come straight out the fridge before mixing- you’d think that would be the same amount of “chill” but for whatever reason I’ve found it always works better if I mix everything up, then chill for a while. If you don’t have time for that step, no problem, but if you do, I would.

Let’s Talk about Fresh Cherries

I found that the frozen fresh cherries in the grocery store are JUST as great as fresh and soooo easy because there is no pitting involved, AND they’re already cold. Look for bags like this in the freezer section.

I don’t start making the cherry mixture until the ice cream is in the actual ice cream machine processing, and about half-way done. At that point, take about 2 cups of frozen cherries and you’ll want to either roughly chop them up with a big knife, OR do what I do and stick them in your blender. I use the small jar on my Blendtec and with just a few quick pulses they are finely chopped like cherry snow.

I’m not sure if standard blenders will work as well, but you’ll have to let me know! This is a super easy way for me to do it, however a large knife works great, too. Because cherries have natural sugar content, they don’t freeze solid like ice cubes, they’ll be slightly soft, which makes chopping really easy. Mix those with just a little sugar and a little more almond extract and then pop them back in the fridge or freezer to stay cold.

I told you to wait until the ice cream was processing to do this because if they sit too long to macerate they will just turn super juicy and watery and we don’t want to add that type of moisture to our ice cream.

Blending in the Cherries

Once the ice cream is creamy and frozen and looks like soft serve, you’ll mix in the cherry mixture. You can put it in the actual ice cream maker in the final minutes, or stir it in by hand. I tend to always stir things in by hand because I like them left just a tad bit swirled with ribbons of vanilla throughout, but it’s fantastic all mixed together in a glorious shade of pink. After that’s done you’ll transfer your ice cream to a container and put it in the freezer to firm up. These are my most favorite containers for ice cream, by the way.

If you’re curious about ice cream makers, I’ve linked all of our favorites in this post. I currently use a Breville Ice Cream Compressor, a bigger investment, but I love the fact that there are no bowls to pre-freeze so no planning ahead is necessary!

This ice cream tastes so fresh and summery and we love the bits of cherries throughout. Because it’s an egg-free no-cook base it will be just a bit icier than a custard based ice cream, but I love that about no-cook ice creams. They are really nostalgic for me since that’s what we always made when I was growing up.

The beautiful shades of purple-pink are pretty stunning as well. The “sauce” you’re seeing is just more of that cherry part of the recipe that I added a little more sugar to and drizzled over the top. I hope you try this one and love it as much as my family does, let me know if you make it!

These are EXTRA delicious in homemade waffle cones, or homemade chocolate waffle cones. Check out our full index of homemade ice cream recipes, here!

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Quick and Easy Homemade Cherry Ice Cream

Description

This homemade no cook cherry ice cream is quick and easy and filled with all the best parts of summer!

Ingredients

2 cups cream (heavy or regular) 1 cup whole milk 1 cup sugar, divided 1 tablespoon vanilla extract 1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon almond extract, divided 2 cups frozen pitted cherries

Instructions

Whisk cream, milk, 3/4 cup sugar, vanilla, and 1 tablespoon almond extract. If you have time to chill this mixture, chill for a few hours. Process according to ice cream maker instructions.

When ice cream is about half way done churning, roughly chop cherries, or process in a blender or small food processor until finely chopped. Mix in remaining 1/4 cup sugar and 1 teaspoon almond extract. Place mixture in freezer to remain chilled.

When ice cream is in final moments of churning, add cherry mixture OR wait until ice cream is finished and stir in by hand. Place in freezer-safe container and chill until firm, several hours or overnight.

Source: https://ourbestbites.com/quick-and-easy-homemade-cherry-ice-cream/

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