#also the fact that Neal said ‘I’m not a suit guy��

[thieves-never-say-die]

Young!Mozzie: goatee and sometimes a wig

Young!Neal: different haircut and no suit

Young!Peter: a mustache

Young!El: absolutely no changes

[apiratewhopines]

In the Offing

Summary: AU - Storybrooke - Emma Swan is drafted to help Liam Jones clear his brother’s name in the disappearance of a former flame. As she digs deeper into the rash of missing person cases, she risks losing more than just her heart as she uncovers the truth.

Chapter One - Pilot

Summary: In which our heroine embarks on an adventure

“Let the exits pass, all the tar and glass

Til the road and sky align”

-Angela, The Lumineers

If asked, Emma Swan would land firmly in the ‘It was a dark and stormy night’ camp rather than the ‘Once Upon a Time’ one.

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in happiness and true love and good triumphing over evil. She did. Or at least she tried to believe in them, which was nearly the same thing.

It was just that in her experience, relationships were more likely to end in indifference and divergent roads at best or disappointment, deceit and violence at their worst. It rarely ended in laughter over the dinner table, surrounded by the people you loved and admired. In fact, it never ended that way for her. And she was fine with that. Or at least she tried to believe she was, which was not nearly the same thing.

So it was without the slightest bit of surprise that she made her way back to her office from yet another honey trap date, her third this week if anyone was keeping track. She didn’t anymore, had stopped wondering years ago how there were so many cheating spouses and deadbeat dads and none too bright criminals in one city. Nor did she have the energy to wonder why she found her doorway blocked by the broad form of her sometimes collaborator, sometimes competitor, always annoying quasi-neighbor.

“What do you want, Liam? I’m not staying. I’m only dropping off paperwork so I can go home and mourn the loss of human decency uninterrupted.”

“Perhaps a bath would be more helpful, lass. You smell like a walking distillery,” he replied, not bothered by her unfriendly tone and refusal to meet his eyes as she elbowed him out of the way and unlocked the door. “Were you drowning your sorrows or were they drowning you?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I caught the guy who did this and he smells like jail now so I would say I won,” she muttered, bristling only a little bit when he followed her inside. She would like to say that she and Liam had a complicated relationship but the truth was they tolerated each other when they had to and avoided each other when they didn’t. She could count on him to be professional, which unfortunately was not a given in their line of work, and his complete disinterest in her as a person was a quality she appreciated, having never been someone who craved attention or willingly engaged in small talk.

Now that she thought about it, he was probably one of the better connections she had made in Boston. If his self-righteous, holier-than-thou attitude chafed at times...well, no one was perfect. She had met him when her boss moved their bail bonds office operations to their current location and with his private investigation business occupying the suite next door, they would throw work each other’s way when it made sense. Despite knowing him for nearly two years, she would be hard-pressed to recall a single interaction after hours or off the job so even though she was tired and her feet were killing her from running down tonight’s skip in stiletto heels, she was a little curious about why he was there. “Barry isn’t here.”

“If I was looking for Barry, this is the last place I would be.”

She snorted as she dropped off a packet of reports on the nearest desk. The truth was that her boss, who also happened to own the business, was probably cruising off the coast of Florida at that very moment and hadn’t stepped foot in the office since they moved. But she considered absenteeism a great quality in a boss so she wasn’t complaining.

Sighing, she turned around to face him. She leaned against the desk behind her and hoped he didn’t notice her flexing her feet in an attempt to keep them from cramping. “As nice as it is to catch up, I’ve had a long night. Why don’t you tell me what you want?”

“Henry mentioned that he was going to spend the summer with his father when he came by last week,” Liam stated as if that explained everything. Henry’s capacity to make friends never ceased to astound her and was definitely a characteristic he inherited from Neal. Even curmudgeonly Liam Jones had fallen victim to her kid’s ability to engage with anyone. Little did her visitor suspect that reminding her that she had nearly eight weeks of going home to an empty apartment was not the best way for him to start a conversation.

It had been with great trepidation that she had agreed to the trip at all. After years of fielding her son’s questions about his father, she used her considerable tracking skills to finally run her ex to ground about eighteen months ago. Enough time had passed for her to forgive him, although she doubted she would ever forget, but she felt she owed Henry the chance to at least meet his father. And of course, they had hit it off as she had both hoped for and feared.

She had worried, apparently needlessly so, that Neal would quickly lose interest in the son he hadn’t know existed and was inconveniently located in a different state. However, the man who had no issues with abandoning her a decade ago had surprised her. He called Henry every day and made the trip at least once a month to visit. He had shown up and supported Henry in ways she hadn’t expected and it reminded her that not all the times had been bad and maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t a villain. When Neal had approached her about a long distance trip that spanned their son’s entire summer break, her first reaction was to forbid it but she knew Henry needed it. Although she would never admit it to Neal, she had also appreciated that he had brought it up with her first rather than sending Henry to talk her into it.

Still, it had physically hurt her to see them walking away together at the airport yesterday, similar gaits and probably with matching, wide smiles on their faces.

Now her interaction with her son would be reduced to a couple of texts a day and FaceTime calls a few times a week while Henry had the time of his life gallivanting around California with his father and future stepmother. In a flash, she went from tired and curious to tired and pissed. “Right. Glad you reminded me before I made it home and called the police about a kidnapping. Did you need something, Liam, or are you just trying to bother me?”

“Both. Obviously,” he said dryly.

“Great, he’s got jokes,” she groaned as she threw her head back in frustration. “I should warn you that I’ve already punched one jerk tonight. I’m hungry and exhausted and if you don’t get on with it, I’m not afraid to add another one to the list.”

He sighed and for the first time she noticed the tenseness in the way he was holding himself. Whatever the reason for his visit, it obviously had him wound up pretty tightly. Against her better judgement, she felt her curiosity stirring again.

“Fine, since you’re obviously not fit to be out in public,” he said with a vague gesture toward her whiskey-flavored dress, “order some delivery and let’s talk.”

—

The smell of cheese did a lot to restore her good humor. She watched him from under her lashes as he looked at the meat-lovers pizza with what approached horror in his expression. She never pegged him as a health food nut, although she could tell he took care of himself, so maybe what offended him was the grease that had soaked through the box to the papers that were stacked neatly on his desk. Tearing off a large slice, she hummed happily while she took the first scorching bite.

“I need a favor,” he stated without preamble before he too took a bite and glanced at her with a pained look in his eye.

She was pretty sure that this was the first time he had ever uttered those words in his life and that was probably the source of his discomfort rather than the molten lava cheese he just swallowed. She tried not to show any interest even though hundreds of questions wanted to escape her mouth. She wanted to ask when they started doing favors for each other and why he was acting like a caged animal. Instead, she settled for something that he would probably find a bit more in character considering their past interactions. “Would this be the type of favor that involved payment of some sort?”

“It will, if that gets the job done quicker,” Liam answered, staring intently at his half eaten slice.

“Well, that would depend on if we’re talking about an hourly rate or a flat fee,” she joked. “I have typically found that payment is the best way to insure a job gets done.”

Something was definitely bothering him and damn if that didn’t make the hair on the back of her neck stand up and chase a shiver down her spine. With a hint of disgust she threw her uneaten crust down on her plate. She already knew that whatever he was about to ask, she was going to agree to so she continued, “Might as well spit it out, I would like to go home and get some sleep sometime this century. What kind of favor do you need?

“The kind of favor that involves going away for a couple of weeks and solving a cold case.”

Of all the things she thought he was going to ask, actual work didn’t even make the top ten list so she was a little letdown. His discomfort had her prepared for anything from being a date to an ex’s wedding to a surprise twist of being asked to babysit his previously unknown kids. Even a mundane request to water his plants while he was on vacation would have been more interesting. She wasn’t entirely sure Liam was human and it would have been fascinating to see the lair he crawled back to when he wasn’t in the office.

“Why the cloak and dagger routine? You made me think something was horribly wrong,” she huffed. Picking up another slice, she thoughtfully examined his face. There was more to this request but she was afraid she was going to have to drag it out of him based on his body language. His eyes were shuttered, shoulders hunched in on himself, body twisted slightly to the side as if he had decided this was a mistake and he was on the verge of running out of the room. While she would dearly love to see Liam Jones run away from his problems like a mere mortal, she was clearly already too invested to let that happen. Quickly swiping her fingers across a napkin to rid them of the worst of the grease, she gently laid her hand on his forearm to hold him in place. “Whatever you need to say, it will go no further.”

Apparently those were the magic words to unlock whatever secret he thought he needed to keep because with a sharp intake of breath, he started his tale. “There is a town in Maine...”

—

Hours later, he was dropping her off at the entrance to her building with a promise to pick her up at six o’clock the following evening. She wasn’t crazy about starting out that late or the fact that they would hit the tail end of rush hour traffic but her mind was swimming with too many details to make her normal fuss. Honestly, she would need all the time she could get to go through the files stuffed in the briefcase he passed off to her as she emerged from the car.

Without registering the journey upstairs, she found herself opening the door to her apartment and immediately kicked off her heels with a moan while her toes curled a little to celebrate their freedom. Her dress had climbed up her thighs a bit during the car ride but she had a feeling she was the only one who noticed. She was pretty sure she could have been naked and Liam wouldn’t have paid any attention. He was just that kind of guy. Considering they were about to embark on a trip to his former hometown where they may end up having to give the impression of a relationship, she should probably be grateful that his only attraction to her seemed to be limited to her ability to find people and her reputation for being a spookily accurate human lie detector. For her part, all she wanted from him was a couple weeks of distraction from what was surely going to turn out to be a lonely summer. If she was getting paid for it, all the better.

Leaving her shoes where they fell in the entranceway, she grabbed a hair band from the narrow table that she privately thought of as their crap collector. She had never been the neatest person and she had passed that trait on to Henry so you could never predict what random stuff would be found on the table that served no other purpose than to be a catch all for the things they discarded when they arrived home.

Styling her long blonde hair into a messy bun, she pulled her ruined dress over her head and casually threw it in the direction of the laundry basket. Taking advantage of the fact that there wasn’t a ten-year-old at home that would be traumatized by her behavior, she lugged the briefcase to the kitchen island and spread the files across the countertop before walking back to her closet to slip into a pair of black yoga pants and a Red Sox tank top, not wanting to take the time to shower at the moment. Besides, she was the only one home to know how bad the smell of whiskey and sweat was after sitting for hours in a small office, stuffing her face with the unhealthiest pizza on the planet and getting drawn into the web of mystery that had made the always serious Mr. Jones even more somber.

Pouring a glass of wine, she climbed up on one of stools that formed a line that ran the length of the counter and pulled the top file to her. The photo paper-clipped to the inside showed a rundown pawn shop that might as well have had a neon sign flashing ‘Shady Place of Business.’ Below it was a list of names from various missing persons cases spanning thirty years.

Taking the first sip of wine, she murmured, “What have you gotten me into, Liam?”

She spent the next several hours combing through the files until her back hurt and her contacts felt scratchy in her eyes. It seemed like Jones Investigation had a file for everyone that lived in the town at the time of the burglary as well as newspaper clipping from the various investigations into the suspicious disappearance of citizens.

It was too much information to take in during the course of one night but Liam had been insistent that the files remain in Boston. He didn’t want to risk tipping off any suspects to the real reason for their trip should the paperwork be discovered. So, under direct orders from the former British Naval officer to memorize the facts, when she reached the end of the files, she would start over again. She sorted and resorted the files into stacks based on a variety of factors from chronological order to some distinguishing characteristic like age, proximity to crime, or possible motive.

If her attention kept wondering back to the grainy photo of one Killian Jones, brother of her dour compatriot, she blamed the wine and lack of sleep. Even the low quality of the picture couldn’t conceal that the younger Jones brother was an incredibly attractive man. However, he looked enough like Liam to make her interest unsettling and that was what finally pulled her away from her research and drove her to bed where she dreamed of blue eyes and a wicked smile.

—

For most of the trip, the only sound was of the sports commentators who nearly shouted out a play-by-play of a soccer match Liam had politely asked to listen to as they pulled out of her parking garage. The only other break in their silent commute was the subtle hum and thump of road noise occasionally making its way into the cabin. He had been unimpressed with her offer to take her car, not even bothering to acknowledge her when she suggested it and simply opening the lift gate to the large, dark colored Honda Pilot he had rented. If he noticed her surprise at finding several bags already in the truck and heard her sarcastic observation about packing light as she had to reposition some of his luggage to find a spot for her single gym sized duffel bag, he didn’t show it.

As she had predicted, they spent an hour stuck in traffic before getting beyond the city limits where the cars spread out and their follow drivers seemed to think that allowed them to indulge in NASCAR fantasies. She used the quiet to mentally go over the particulars of the case before them, secure in the knowledge that unless she magically sprouted another head Liam was unlikely to start up a conversation at this point in the trip.

Fact One: Leo and Ava Blanchard left for a date night and never returned home to their young daughter. There car was found broken down on the side of the road about a mile from their home. No sign of foul play, no trace of their whereabouts.

Fact Two: Shortly thereafter, there was a burglary at Gold’s Pawnshop on Main Street. No sign of forced entry and the owner claimed nothing had been stolen, but the alarm had been tripped from the inside. Having nothing to go on and with no stolen items to track down, the local law enforcement devoted a total of five minutes to the case. Basically as soon as the report was filed, the case was closed and life moved on.

Fact Three: Robert Nolan had a few too many at a bar one night, which apparently was a reoccurring circumstance, and never found his way back to his family. He was rumored to be involved in some illicit activities but no proof of a crime was ever found.

Fact Four: There appeared to be a bit of a lull for more than a decade and then a rapid secession of missing person reports: Regina Mills, Peter Wolfe, and finally Milah Gold.

It was the last one that seemed to drive Liam’s interest in the cases. Although he and his brother hadn’t relocated to the US until the early 2000s, it seemed his little brother quickly formed an attachment, which Emma read between the lines to mean had an affair, with the older wife of the town’s local businessman. After his wife vanished into thin air, Mr. Gold and the local police tried their best to pin her disappearance on Killian but could never come up with enough evidence to press charges.

The final piece came through sources Liam was disinclined to name. He had recently found out that a newly arrived visitor had been asking questions around town and according to his source, the visitor was a best-selling true crime author named August Booth who happened to be weeks away from publishing a tell-all book about the sordid history of the town.

Going into full protective mode, Liam had decided the best course of action was to return to the small town and solve the mystery, or potentially multiple mysteries if they were as interconnected as he thought, thereby clearing his brother’s name beyond all doubt.

If it had been anyone else who had asked for her help, she would have been flattered but she knew Liam to be practical above all else. He valued her skills but it was probably Henry’s absence that was the catalyst for this particular partnership. He needed an extra set of eyes and ears and she was a known element who was conveniently available for a long term undercover assignment. Still, he had trusted her with the family secrets, or at least his brother’s secrets, so she was trying to be mindful this wasn’t simply another case for him.

She wasn’t convinced the non-burglary and series of disappearances he seemed to think connected would turn out to be anything but she knew better than to discard possibilities this early on. She also wasn’t convinced that parading in front of his family and friends as a girlfriend was a good game plan.

“I think we need to revisit this cover story,” she said as he pulled off the highway and into the lot of a gas station.

“If you can find a more convincing reason for me to show up with a strange woman, I will gladly listen to it,” he replied before exiting the car and fading away into the dark night.

“No, I wouldn’t like anything from the store, thanks for asking,”she called out to his back, wanting to nettle him in retaliation for his rudeness although she doubted he heard her. According to the GPS, they were only about forty-five minutes from their destination, a place called Granny’s Diner. She tried to research the town, including restaurants, venues, and things to do but it was as if Storybrooke existed out of the modern age. While you could find it on maps, there wasn’t an internet presence at all. There were no tourism sites, despite the fact that most little towns that dot the Atlantic coast were in peak season for welcoming travelers. It appeared that chains and national franchises had no interest in the sleepy town either. There were no notable residents making their marks on the world at large, no complaints on business sites, no reviews of the natural beauty to be found in its forests and parks.

The sound of Liam returning to the vehicle and pumping gas broke her train of thought. Hearing the gentle chime of her phone, she took the opportunity to check her texts before they got back on the road. Smiling a little at seeing Henry’s name on her notifications, she clicked the message and was rewarded with a silly photo of him pretending to be eaten by a shark at one of the selfie stations located on a pier in whatever seaside town they were currently visiting. She text him back a thumb’s up, following it quickly with a good night and reminder that she would send him the details of where she was staying in the morning.

Running her finger gently over her son’s happy grin in the photo, she didn’t greet Liam as he climbed back into the car.

“That’s a nice picture,” he mumbled, clicking his seatbelt in place before pulling out and rejoining the dwindling line of cars heading north. “Is he having a good time?”

“Looks like it,” she answered, turning her head away somewhat embarrassed to feel the prick of tears in her eyes. She wasn’t an emotional person but she missed the kid something fierce.

Either he was being exceptionally sensitive to her distress or he didn’t notice it because they lapsed back into silence until they were about fifteen minutes from the town line. Deciding next to the last minute was as a good a time to broach the topic again as any, she picked up on her earlier comment as if it hadn’t been over half an hour ago. “Listen, I’m not saying I have a better cover but maybe we could not volunteer the girlfriend story. You know, keep our options open unless someone asks us directly. Or maybe actually tell them we are there to investigate.”

Hope for a rational debate on the merits of her suggestions was immediately crushed when he actually started to laugh. “You’ve never lived in a small town, have you?”

“No, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Emma, I left five years ago under some difficult circumstances—“

“What circumstances? How difficult?”

“That’s need to know, lass,” he interrupted in a tone that cautioned against any further questions. “If it had anything to do with our case, I would have already told you. Let me assure you that everyone will know of our arrival within minutes of the car entering town. There will be a description of you circulating before you wake up tomorrow morning. There is no way people aren’t going to ask us directly and repeatedly the nature of our visit and relationship.”

She was about to interrupt again so he held up a hand to stall her and added, “And if we decline to provide details, they will make them up. Trust me, it’s better to control the story than to have eyes following us everywhere trying figure it out for themselves. As far as openly investigating a crime, you’re daft if you think they won’t clam up the second you start asking questions. In my experience people are more comfortable being a gossip than a snitch. If we are simply a couple enjoying a trip down memory lane, we will be able to move much more freely.”

“But your brother,” she countered weakly because she had to admit he had a point. “How can you lie to him? Surely he can be trusted with the truth. Not to mention that if we are staying with him, he’s going to notice that we don’t like each other.”

“What are you talking about? I’m quite fond of you. You’re one of my best friends,” he said in indignation.

Her jaw went slack with shock as she tried to process how she had slipped into some bizarro alternate reality. What in their past could possibly have given him the idea that they were friends, besties even. “I don’t know what—“ she sputtered. “Is this some weird British thing?”

He barked out a laugh that was so unlike him that she doubled down on her alternate reality theory. “Calm down, Emma. It was a joke. We aren’t friends exactly but I don’t dislike you. It will be fine. Pretend I’m one of your fake dates for a couple of weeks. Lucky for you, I’m an old-fashioned guy. Killian won’t think anything of us bunking separately.”

“There is old-fashioned and then there is being a monk, Liam. But whatever. I still think you should trust your brother. Especially since it’s his neck we’re trying to save.”

“I would trust him with my life. What I can’t trust is that he won’t go off half-cocked and muck up the investigation. He’ll understand why I did this as long as we get results.”

She believed that he believed what he was saying. She also believed he was wrong. As a person who always preferred the truth, no matter how painful, her gut told her that it would be a mistake to keep the younger Jones in the dark about the true purpose of their trip. However, besties or not, she knew the mulish tilt to Liam’s mouth indicated that for him the discussion was over.

At that moment, the high beams illuminated the Welcome to Storybrooke sign. She felt an ominous dread settle over her as they approached, turning in her seat to look at the sign as they passed.

It was the last thing she saw before the world exploded in glass shards, twisted metal, and smoke.

[seriouslyhooked]

Can’t Say No (At Christmas)

CS one-shot set in the future. Hope is three and Emma and Killian are still very much in the throws of a happily ever after, but Killian wants to do something special for Emma for Christmas. With the help of their family and the town, he manages to fulfill a Christmas wish for his wife in exactly the kind of over-the-top fluffy and sweet way you’d expect from me. Includes holiday surprises, Christmas cheer, and a healthy dash of true love. Rated T. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey all! I really did not know if I was going to be able to get this drabble done, but I am so happy to say that I did and to share it with you all tonight. I know that this Christmas is going to be so different for so many of us, and that it has been a hard year of uncertainty and stress. My gift to our little fandom is this story, focused on Emma and Killian a few years after we got to see them in the show. It’s inspired by the spirit of Christmas, the cheesiness that only Hallmark movies can provide, and the song ‘No Problem’ by Dylan Schneider. I love the idea that Killian cannot deny Emma anything, and that at Christmas he has to make Emma’s wishes come true. I hate to spoil any more of this, but I will just say thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

“I don’t know how the hell you pulled this off, mate, but I got to hand it to you, this is really something special.”

The words David uttered from the bottom of the ladder were high praise, despite the dig at Killian’s favorite endearment. Tonight though, Killian would let the jab slide. He simply didn’t have the time or energy to pretend to argue with Emma’s father. Instead he hustled down the rungs and back to solid ground beside his friend. He took stock of the room once more, running his hand through his hair and tracing each corner of the barn with his gaze. There was very little about the place that was recognizable. It had been sufficiently transformed, from an old, dusty tomb of farm equipment, to a space fit for the evening ahead.

“It pays to be a good guy in the end,” Killian joked. Playing up the early days of their knowing each other when Killian was anything but a hero. “Turns out I’ve helped quite a lot of people these past few years. They were eager to return the favor.”

“That’s true enough, but I think the fact that you did this all for Emma plays a big part too.”

There was no doubt about that, and the mere reminder of his wife brought a smile to his lips. She was going to be surprised by this, and there was nothing that he loved more than surprising his Swan. Killian could hardly wait for the look of excitement that would spread across her face, and the light that would appear in her jade colored eyes. Her cheeks would flush from realization, and her hands would move unbiddenly, as if she couldn’t quite contain the excitement or suspense. Emma was always the most beautiful of women, and a miracle to be sure, but when treated to a gift that was truly worthy of her, she was transcendent, his own personal star and tempting taste of heaven.

“Any word from Snow?” Killian asked, checking his watch and seeing they had made good time, despite the hecticness of the day. He had enough time to catch a shower and prepare himself, but he needed to be sure that Emma and Hope were sufficiently occupied in the meantime.

“Better – she sent a video while you were hanging the last of the garland.”

David offered his phone and Killian laughed at the sight. Snow and Emma had taken Neal and Hope out of town to a nearby ski resort that was hosting all sorts of winter activities for kids. In the video Emma, Hope, and Neal were all making snow angels, until Neal gave the signal and he and Hope pivoted to throwing snowballs at Emma. The only problem was Hope was far too little and bundled up in snow gear to be effective. She was having the time of her life though, and at the end of the video, Emma scooped their daughter up and nuzzled her close, bestowing a kiss on her curly brown hair, which had escaped its winter cap. Hope was a dazzling blend of him and Emma, but her goodness and ability to inspire love was totally her mother’s doing.

“Perfect. You good here for the time being?” David nodded, pivoting from his assistant role to commander in chief with the quickness of one-time prince. Content that his tasks were in good hands, Killian headed out, eager to put the next parts of his plan in place.

Things moved quickly from there. He showered and readied himself for the kind of night his Emma had imagined, ignoring the strangeness of his reflection as he did. He would never feel quite right in these damn tuxedos, but Emma’s wish was specific and it included the blasted suit. It also included a number of gifts for Emma and for Hope, which he pulled from the one place in the house Emma never ventured to – the garage. From the back of the storage space there, he grabbed a number of boxes that he’d stuffed away last week, and brought them all inside. After checking the contents were free from any water or dirt, he was convinced things were as they should be, and he left the gifts underneath the Christmas tree.

The only thing left to craft was the note for Emma that would set her surprise in motion. He hadn’t dared to write it out before, wanting to save it for this moment. It felt right to speak from the heart and to put in words exactly how he felt tonight. Still, it took time to get the letter exactly right, and he must admit he grew a bit sentimental when crafting it. A time or two he fell into recent and more distant memories of their lives together, feeling the warmth in his soul that could only ever come from the truest love. Luckily, he had enough of his wits about him and time was on his side. Soon he heard the sound of a car pulling up the drive just as he closed the envelope with Emma’s name and placed it on the tree, and with the stealth accrued in his past life, he slipped out the back door just before his girls came in.

“Mama, look! Santa came early,” he heard Hope say as he quietly rounded the side of the house. For a moment he was truly tempted to steal a look and watch this scene play out, but he reminded himself that there was still more to be done, and instead headed down the street to where a not so patiently waiting Snow was parked.

“Killian, thank God! I thought you’d never get here!” she exclaimed as he opened the door, but before he could reply, young Neal let his own thoughts be known.

“Mom, it’s been like sixty seconds. Literally. Look, I timed it on the stopwatch Henry gave me. 63 seconds.

“No, has it only been a minute? I’m so excited I can’t tell. It feels like forever. I was waiting for this all day. It was so hard not to spill the beans.”

“But you didn’t, right?” Killian checked, pivoting to Neal for the truth. When the boy gave him a thumbs up, he let out a breath. “Good. But it all might be for not if we don’t get a move on.”

“Oh, right. We’ve got to go. We’ve got a Christmas miracle to deliver.” Neal groaned at the words and Killian remained quiet prompting Snow to ask the question, “Sorry, too cheesy?”

“For tonight? No, strangely it’s just right.”

And with that, they pulled away from the curb, headed back towards the barn and the long-awaited surprise.

……………….

“Mama, look! Santa came! Santa came!”

At first Emma didn’t understand the words from her daughter. She was just trying to get her bearings after peeling the snow clothes off of Hope and discarding her own jacket on the hook by the door. Her boots were barely off and her scarf was still wound around her neck. She couldn’t imagine how Hope still had so much energy, but then she remembered – three year olds were like comic book characters, with a super power of endless energy.

“Christmas Eve is tomorrow, honey,” Emma said, righting her clothes and letting go of a big breath, before walking towards the living room. “Two more sleeps until Santa.”

“But look, Mama, pwesents!”

Emma followed her daughters pointing finger across the way, and low and behold there were gifts under the tree that had not been there this morning. Her curiosity was peaked, but when she saw the white envelope secured in the branches of their evergreen tree, she had an inkling of what was happening.

“Killian,” she murmured walking forward, and running her fingertips across the delicate paper.

“Daddy?” Hope asked excitedly, and Emma nodded as she opened the envelope, only to fight off tears of love when she read the letter.

My Dearest Emma,

There are no gifts that I could ever give you that compare to all you’ve given me. I know and accept that, but this time of year is different. It’s a season predicated on love, light, and yes, even a bit of magic. So I had to try, for your sake and for mine.

Christmas is about showing the people you love what they mean to you. It’s about giving love and feeling love, and knowing that even in the dark of a winter night, there is hope and light ahead. It’s about reminding loved ones that you care, that you’re rooting for them, and that their dreams are your dreams too. You taught me that, you and Hope and Henry, and I swear to you that all I could ever want is to make you happy, and to grant the wishes you carry in your heart.

“Ooo, pwetty,” Hope said, dragging Emma’s eyes down to where her daughter had already begun opening the parcels below. Inside the white garment box was a gorgeous crimson colored dress, breathtaking in its elegant design. The satin and the beading were exquisite, and the color was to die for, and like something from a dream. Hope offered the box to her, knowing even at age three that it wasn’t the right size for her. “For you, Mama.”

“Thank you, princess,” Emma said, taking the box in hand, wanting to look at it in full, but knowing the letter was still more important.

You are everything to me, Emma. Everything and so much more. You and our children hold my whole universe in your hands. Tonight, I hope to take your hand in mine, and remind you that in life, all you really need is the perfect partner.

“He didn’t,” Emma whispered, looking down from the letter which had been signed with love by her pirate. Then she looked at the other presents Hope was opening. A beautiful pair of heels, a white fur muff, and a necklace that sparkled, along with all the same things for Hope that were more their daughter’s style and perfect for her size. The last gift was another envelope, with a card. On the top in cursive script it read ‘Selected Suitors for Emma Jones’ and the only name was Killian’s. “Oh my god, he did. It’s a dance. He planned a Christmas dance for me.”

“Dance?” Hope asked and Emma crouched down to help her daughter really open her own garment box, where a beautiful princess-style dress was waiting for her. As soon as she saw it Hope let out a sound of pure delight, clapping her hands together at a hastened clip. At that moment, the front door opened, and Emma looked, expecting to see Killian but instead seeing her son, dressed up in a tuxedo and looking downright dashing. It would have been a shock either way, but this year, when she’d been bracing herself for her son being away for the holiday, it felt like an even greater gift.

“Henry?” she asked, as Hope bolted for her brother. Instinctively, Henry scooped her up, accepting all her hugs and kisses before turning his eyes back to Emma.

“Surprise! Well, part of it anyway. But we’ve got to get a move on, or we’ll be late.”

“Where are we going?” Hope asked. Henry responded by whispering in her ear, low enough that Emma couldn’t hear. Whatever he said made Hope gasp. “Really? We’re going there?”

“Sure are. But we have to get ready. Don’t worry, Mom, I’ve got Hope. You do what you need to do.”

Emma was spurred into motion, grabbing the gifts marked for her and heading upstairs. In thirty minutes, she and Hope were both ready for whatever awaited them, and though Emma had her suspicions, she was in no way prepared when they arrived at the old McDonald farm. Pulling around back to the barn, there were dozens of people milling around. Everyone in town was here tonight, dressed up and partaking in merriment, but when they left the car and walked inside, Emma was truly stunned.

“It’s beautiful,” she said aloud, taking in the gorgeous decorations. The space was totally transformed, a perfect blend of rustic refinement. The colors were vivid and vibrant, the air was warm and filled with the scent of cinnamon and honey, and the joy here was palpable. There was a buzzing electricity that crackled in the air. This was what all those Christmas movies strove to recreate but could never quite capture, and Emma took it all in knowing that her husband had made this just for her.

Scanning the room for him, Emma was first greeted with the sight of her Mom and Dad and brother. They came forward immediately, hugging her and Hope and Henry and extending their thoughts.

“Oh, honey, you look spectacular!” her mother exclaimed with tears in her eyes, holding her hands and looking at her red dress. It was a truly wonderous design, that hugged every one of Emma’s curves just right while still feeling of the season. It was classic and timeless and more than a little sexy, but it was appropriate for the night, when everyone was dressed to the nines.

“So do you guys,” Emma said honestly, taking in her mom’s sapphire ball gown, and her Dad and brother’s tuxes.

“I’m a princess, Grandpa,” Hope said happily and Emma’s father immediately agreed as the band began to play a slower melody.

“There’s no denying that. Care to dance with me, Princess Hope?” He asked, bowing to her daughter. Hope giggled but took Emma’s hand instinctively, looking at her for permission and clarity.

“What about you, Mama?”

“Don’t worry, sprout,” Henry said nodding across the room and using his favorite nickname for his sister. “Dad’s got her taken care of.”

Emma’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Killian, as if this was a first date and not years into their marriage. She couldn’t help the butterflies swarming within her, and then, like magic the crowd of people parted, and there, across the room was her man. It should have come as no surprise how handsome he would look. Emma was well versed in how roguishly hot her pirate could be, but in a tux it was a whole other story. Maybe it was the rarity of seeing him like this, or maybe Killian was just one of those men who was born to wear a tux, but either way she was struck by him. Everything seemed to stop around her, and all she could sense was the man who completely owned her heart.

A few moments later they were together again. Emma hadn’t even realize she’d been walking towards him, and him to her, but when he took her hand she felt her blood hum in anticipation. She was caught in his eyes, sensing the mixture of love and desire that was so intoxicating, and waiting for him to speak, because words in this moment truly failed her.

“You look stunning, Swan,” he said to her, the gravel of his tone washing over her and sending a shiver down her spine in that delicious kind of way. “The fantasies I’d conjured in my mind’s eye could never do you justice.”

“So you were fantasizing about this, huh?” she asked, her voice thready as she turned, purposefully taunting him with a view of all her best angles. This time he let out a low growl that spiked her desire to tease him. God damn, there were people around! How could she be this hot and bothered? Oh right, she was married to a sinfully attractive and impossibly romantic man. This was par for the course.

“Aye, love, and I promise those musings will prove more than satisfactory when we get home.” His voice dipped low and she swallowed hard, trying to tamp down her own building need. Then something shifted in his eyes, and she knew before he said a word that something immensely thoughtful was about to be shared. “I hope it’s everything that you wanted, love. Those blasted ‘Hallmark towns’ have a lot more built-in Christmas cheer than Storybrooke, but all it took was a hint that this was what you wanted, and everyone came together.”

It dawned on her that the wish he was referring to was one that she’d made a few weekends ago when they were laying in bed watching TV. She usually skipped the Hallmark Christmas extravaganza, but this year she was feeling sentimental. Maybe it was the fact that Hope was finally hitting an age where she was starting to understand the season, or more likely it was the pregnancy hormones from their little one on the way. She was only twelve weeks along, and wasn’t even showing yet, but her self-coined pregnancy induced crazy brain was in full swing, and had been from the start. The only thing getting her through most days was Killian, and then he went and did something like this… it was too much for her, she couldn’t take it.

“I love you,” she confessed, blurting it out like it was some big secret instead of established fact. “Like a lot. A lot a lot.”

“A lot a lot,” Killian parroted with a grin, pulling her with him out to the dance floor before taking her in his arms. She melded into his muscled physique, trying not to swoon as the melody carried them away.

“You know I’m not as good at the whole poetic declarations thing as you are.”

“Few can be, love,” he joked. She raised her brow at him in quiet consternation, and he only laughed before turning her into a low dip on the dance floor and reminding her that he was in total control of himself out here. “But where words might fail you, action is your strong suit. You show me every day how much you love me, Emma. And every day I thank my lucky stars to have that love.”

He made a fair point. Emma was, after all, a woman of action, and so she decided to take some now. Though they were dancing, she stalled their moment to pull him in for a kiss, giving them both a taste of what was to come when the night drew to a close. The sparks between them ignited instantly, and without looking, Emma knew some of her magic was radiating from within. When they pulled apart she was almost dizzy from the delight, but Killian was even more effected. He had that boyish grin of his in full display, and that tiny hint of bashfulness that came when he’d done something really well. Only when she heard the oohing and aahing of the people around them did she realize their magic had created stars along the ceiling of the barn, making it appear that they were all dancing under an inky black sky bursting with constellations.

From a distance, Emma heard her daughter ask if it was ‘magic time’ now, but before she and Killian needed to step in, Regina told her ‘Not tonight, kid,’ and Henry whisked her off for her another dance. This gave Emma and Killian time, time to enjoy the fruits of all he’d done, and to revel in this moment for as long as they could.

“Merry Christmas, Killian. You’ve made it so perfect, I never want it to end.”

“What is it they say in those movies, love? Oh right – every day is Christmas when we’re together.”

And even though it was horribly corny, and she should have rolled her eyes at such a lame joke, Emma found that she couldn’t. She was simply too happy and grateful to feign otherwise. Instead she savored every moment of their Christmas dance, and the night they shared thereafter, knowing this would be one of the best days she’d ever had, and that somehow, some way, her pirate would find other means of making the future just as bright.

……………………

Girl I got a no problem Yeah, it's a bad habit, the way I gotta have it With or without you around All ya gotta do is call me, and tell me that you're lonely You're always stringing me out Yeah, they say the first step to quitting it Is admitting it, so here it is Girl, I think I got a no problem On my hands, 'cause I can't say no to you Once you start you know I can't stop it Even if I wanted to Yeah, I get tongue tied every time I try To do what I oughta do Girl, I got a no problem Yeah, 'cause I can't say no to you Girl, I should know better, yeah, I should know never To let you in just to leave If it's just two letters, then why can't I ever Find a way to piece 'em together Let's say the first step to quitting it Is admitting it, I'm admitting it, here it is Girl, I think I got a no problem On my hands, 'cause I can't say no to you Once you start you know I can't stop it Even if I wanted to Yeah, I get tongue tied every time I try To do what I oughta do Girl, I got a no problem Yeah, 'cause I can't say no to you Those smokey blue eyes staring back at me Yeah, you already know if you're asking me What the answer's always gonna be It's gonna be, yeah Girl, I think I got a no problem On my hands, 'cause I can't say no to you Once you start you know I can't stop it Even if I wanted to Yeah, I get tongue tied every time I try To do what I oughta do Girl, I got a no problem Yeah, 'cause I can't say no to you Those smokey blue eyes staring back at me Can't say no to you Yeah, you already know if you're asking me Girl, I got a no problem That the answer's always gonna be 'Cause I can't say no to you Girl, I got a no problem 'Cause I can't say no to you

Post-Note: So, what did you think? Hopefully you enjoyed this little dose of holiday cuteness and none of this is offensive in any way or to any story line. Most of you know I never watched the last season of the show, so I don’t know what they say happened to Henry and everybody. I only knew Emma and Killian did eventually have a baby girl named Hope. Anyway, I want to wish all of you a very Merry Christmas and healthy holiday season. I am grateful for you all, from the ride or die readers who comment on every post, to the people passing by who just wanted a little bit of Christmas cheer. You are such a force for good in my world, whoever you are, and I thank you for your light and kindness in these trying time. I wish you all the best this Christmas and in the New Year, and more than anything I wish you love! Sending my best vibes your way now and always, xE.

The Captain Swan Mixtape oneshot series:

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176,Part 177, Part 178, Part 179 , Part 180, Part 181, Part 182, Part 183, Part 184, Part 185, Part 186, Part 187, Part 188, Part 189, Part 190, Part 191, Part 192, Part 193, Part 194, Part 195

[yourladyem]

Walt Disney

One lesson you can learn from studying the life of Walt Disney is your actions and your words are what make up your integrity. How you act and what you say can either help or hinder your testimony to others. Walt Disney was a man of integrity and humility. He set up the chairs for his own private screening of Fantasia. He gave money out of his own wallet to any cast member who went the extra mile for a customer. He and Roy would forgo a paycheck at times in order to pay their staff when they were first starting out broke and creating Micky Mouse cartoons. He rode his own Park attractions in full disguise and timed his rides with a stopwatch to see if the employees were cheating his customers out of the full allotted time for each ride. He worked until the early hours of the morning painting the "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea" attraction the night before the grand opening of Disneyland.

Walt Disney was also a brilliant man ahead of his time. He sold over 3 million Mickey Mouse watches in 1935 in the middle of the Great Depression thanks to the genius of his marketing team. He invented animatronics and created Stereo sound when he made Fantasia with a multi-track sound system that made the audience feel as if they were at a live concert. It was called Fantasound.

The man who created one of the largest empires in the world, never cared about making money. In Pat Williams’ biography "How to Be Like Walt", Walt himself stated, “I’ve always been bored with the idea of just making money. I’ve wanted to do things, I wanted to build things. Get something going. People look at me in different ways. Some of them say ‘The guy has no regard for money.’ That’s not true. I have had regard for money. But I’m not like some people who worship money as something you’ve got to have piled up somewhere. I’ve only thought of money in one way, and that is to do something with it, you see?”

He disliked dealing with the financial side of the growing empire and left that to his CFO and brother, Roy. Walt hated it so much that after endless failed attempts, Roy finally convinced his younger brother to attend a stockholders meeting.

Two good things came out of that meeting. The first came when Walt saw the stone faces of the businessmen in their perfect expensive suits. He just found his inspiration for the bank bosses for his future film, Mary Poppins.

The second good thing came after he boldly read a simple letter from a man in Florida who owned a couple of shares telling Walt Disney, “I don’t care if I ever get any dividends. You just keep up the good work and keep making good pictures.” After reading the letter, Walt focused his attention back to the room and stated, “I wish this company had more shareholders like that one. He understands what Disney is all about. Now, it’s been very nice to see all of you, but if you don’t mind, I’ve got a studio to run.” and left the room. Roy never asked him to attend another meeting ever again.

Walt struggled to convince Roy to back the idea of Disneyland. Many of the famous classic films we know today including Alice in Wonderland, Fantasia, and Pinocchio bombed at the box office. Constantly in debt after so many failures, no matter how many awards the studio won over the years including setting records for a single nominee. It looked like the dream of Disneyland was going to be delayed even longer.

Instead of reaching out to rich friends in Hollywood or begging the stockholders, the people he turned to for the financial backing for Disneyland were his own employees. They believed in his dreams as much as he did. He wasn’t too confident in asking his own people for money and the first person he asked was the studio’s nurse, Hazel George. She not only donated to the cause but also spearheaded the in-house charity group Disneyland Backers and Boosters.

Another prominent woman at the Disney studios was Harriet Burns, the first female Imagineer who helped design and build the Disneyland attractions. And before she became the future Mrs. Disney, Lillian Bounds, was a young inker and painter at the Disney Brothers Studio (later renamed the Walt Disney Studios) along with her friend Kathleen. Two of Walt’s very first employees at the start up studio were women doing the hard jobs and not just errand girls who simply looked pretty and got coffee for the bosses.

Most of the staff loved Walt. He never discriminated or thought lowly of anyone no matter their race, background, religion, or anything else. Neal Gabler’s biography "Walt Disney: A Triumph of the American Imagination", suggests the slander and lies of him being Anti-Semite most likely came about from Anti-Semite Ben Sharpsteen who worked for the studio and Walt was “guilty by association.”

Pat Williams states, after consulting many Disney scholars, another likely reason for the rumors was because of a smear campaign against Disney during a strike in 1941. Union chief, Herb Sorrell once told Walt “I will smear you and I will make a dust bowl out of your studio.” Sorrell stayed true his word of tarnishing the Disney name. For nearly 80 years those rumors have circulated but nothing to back up those ridiculous claims. Firsthand accounts including other Jewish employees who hated Walt because he didn’t agree with their political stances, never accused Walt of being an Anti-Semite.

Kathleen and Richard Greene also addressed the question of Anti-Semitism in the Disney family in their book, “Inside the Dream: The Personal Story of Walt Disney”. They discussed the relationship a former Jewish neighbor of Roy and Walt’s childhood neighborhood in Kansas named Meyer Menda saying she never experienced any sort of Anti-Semitism from the Disney family. As well as Walt’s daughter Sharon dated a Jewish man at one time with no family objections.

Also, if Walt Disney was an Anti-Semite, he never would have hired the famous Sherman Brothers who wrote the music for "The Jungle Book", "Mary Poppins", "Aristocats", "Bedknobs and Broomsticks", and the song "It’s A Small World" for the attraction. Robert Sherman recalls in "How to Be Like Walt", the time Walt defended the Brothers and fired one of his own lawyers who hated minorities and who called the Sherman Brothers the “Jewish boys.”

In the biography by Pat Williams, "How to Be Like Walt", Joe Grant, a Jewish animator for Snow White and the Seven Dwarves and the only animator to animate both Fantasia films, said, “Some of the most influential people at the studio were Jewish.”

Neal Gabler’s biography, "Walt Disney: The Triumph of The American Imagination", mentions production manager Harry Tytle and Kay Kamen stated the Walt Disney studios had more Jews than the Book of Leviticus. Harry Tytle had changed his last name from Teitelbaum to hide his Jewish background but when he told Walt Disney he was half Jewish, Walt replied if he were all Jewish, he’d be better.

Pat Williams and Neal Gabler also report firsthand testimonies of Walt’s love for the Jewish community. Including, how Walt donated money to Jewish charities and even had a Protestant preacher, a Catholic priest, and a Jewish rabbi at the opening ceremony of Disneyland to bless the event. Pat Williams’ biography also states that in 1955 the B’Nai B’rith chapter of Beverly Hills cited Walt Disney as their man of the year.

Walt was never a racist, sexist, nor hated minorities of any kind. If he did, he never would have hired them for spotlighted high-profile positions and certainly never would have made the “It’s a Small World” attraction that not only celebrates the cultures of the world but also showing the world we aren’t that different from each other outside of customs and languages.

Pat Williams mentions the time Walt told Billy Graham on private tour of the Park “Billy, look around you. Look at all the people, representing all nationalities, all colors, all languages. And they are all smiling, all having fun together. Billy this is the real world. The fantasy is outside.”

One of his story artists was an African American named, Floyd Norman. He also testified saying, “I never felt any prejudice from Walt.” A statement found in Neal Gabler’s book.

Walt Disney loved all people no matter status, age, race, religion, or gender. Everyone was equal in his eyes and deserved the same amount of respect no matter what. He never even allowed his employees to call him Mr. Disney. Everyone was on a first name basis. He believed everyone deserved a fair and equal chance at life and he did his best in words and actions to shows that.

So why have the rumors lasted so long? The slander and lies sadly have continued to spur on because many people choose to simply regurgitate rumors out of laziness instead of researching the information themselves. Hollywood does it, college professors do it, and even biographers. Research information yourselves and never take rumors for fact without backing them up with real facts. Especially firsthand accounts and eyewitnesses. These testimonies were firsthand accounts of people who knew him and worked for him and the real Walt Disney was a kindhearted, loving, brilliant man ahead of his time who loved people, loved by his people, and wanted to create a utopia of his own for everyone to enjoy.

Sources:

How to Be Like Walt by Pat Williams

Walt Disney: The Triumph of The American Imagination by Neal Gabler

Inside the Dream: The Personal Story of Walt Disney by Kathleen and Richard Greene

Highly recommend these biographies! You might want highlighters and pens with you when you read them.

[avatoh]

RCIJ: Swimming in Summer

Hello @ryik-the-writer it’s me! Late-o santa!

@rumbellechristmasinjuly

Prompt: I don’t think he’s moving

Summary: Mr. Gold takes his son to the pool during the summer for fun. Belle, the lifeguard, saves his son’s life one fateful day leaving Gold in her debt.

Swimming in Summer:

“I don’t think he’s moving,” said Baelfire to his friend, Emma, as he poked at his sleeping father with a large pool noodle. “He could be dead.”

“Really?” Emma said in as sarcastic a tone as a small 10 year old girl could manage.

“Yeah,” Neal said, walking closer to his papa and pulling funny faces, increasingly getting closer to his father’s sleeping figure. “I think he’s done for.”

Emma rolled her eyes as Neal poked more at his pool-side lounging father. Neal flicked a bit of water his father’s way and was met with an unconscious grunt of disapproval that caused the boy to burst out laughing. His father still didn't wake.

“Oh, wow,” Baelfire whispered to himself, going slightly concerned. “Papa?” he said in a louder tone. “Papa, wake up!”

He was met with his father jolting awake, the glasses on his reclined nose falling off.

“What is it?” Gold hissed.

“Nothing. Just keeping you on your toes,” Neal said as he ran away, jumping back into the pool with a noisy and wet ‘splash’.

Gold was awake now. He had somehow fallen asleep in the warm sun at the poolside. The days were hot and the usually adequate temperature town of Storybrooke was now in the middle of an intense summer heat wave. He himself couldn’t even bear his usual 3 piece suit and had limited his own poolside dress to either a suit vest or a ¾ sleeve button up: it was that hot. 

School was out, there was no need for his son to go to summer school and due to the smallness of the town there weren't many summer programs. So, most of the days, Gold took his son to the public pool at the town’s rec center to get his energy out and to cool down. There were a few things that he as an adult could do, but most days he just brought a book and read while his son splashed in the water with his friends. Besides, he didn’t trust others like Miss French, the lifeguard, to be in charge of the safety of his son when she had about 60 others to watch over.

He knew that soon enough, he was going to have to relinquish some of his control and trust his son to make smart decisions for himself. But for now, gazing up from his book every now and then to make sure he saw his son’s head floating above the water put him at ease.

Currently, his son’s favorite thing to do was doing fancy dives off the diving boards and had just discovered the tallest one in the deep end of the diving pool wasn’t as scary as it had been to him the previous year. He was proud of his son overcoming his fear but often had to tell him to be a bit more careful about running and how he was jumping. Even the lifeguard, who he thought so incompetent, had blown her whistle at his son a few times for running near the diving board. At least she had noticed that.

Baelfire was approaching the line for the diving board while he opened his book back up and continued reading where he left off. A few minutes later he heard the distinct yelp of his son followed by a weak splash of water. 

Gold knew his son’s screams well, and he could usually distinguish a happy yell from an upset yell. The one that he had just heard hadn’t been a good one. He threw his book aside in a panicked manner, already knowing that something terrible had happened. Before he could even see what had happened to his son and get over to him, he saw the lifeguard, Belle French, jump off the lifeguard station and leap into the water. He rushed over to the diving area in a panic and looked into the water below. It looked like nothing. He couldn’t make out anyone under the rippling water, but he could tell that something had happened as the people in the pool were hanging onto the sides or frozen in their spot. A foggy pinkness appeared from under the deep water, followed by his son and Miss French emerging from the depths. Gold teetered on the edge of the pool, half wanting to leap in and help pull his son in and half not wanting to get in Miss French’s way and hindering her any further. 

His son was pulled to safety and Gold helped pull his son out of the water. He tried to hold onto his son, who seemed unresponsive, but got pushed away from Miss French with a shove that made his unstable body buckle.

“Hey-”

The lifeguard was checking on his son and started to give him CPR. Oh, that’s why he had been shoved away, he had realized. She was trying to save his son. Baelfire looked so little lying unconscious on the concrete surrounded by a bunch of strangers. He was certainly too young to die?! He couldn’t have been under water for more than a minute. Only 5 minutes earlier, Bae had been poking at him to wake up! His eyes were fixated on his son, who was limp in a pile of blood and water. His eyes refused to leave until he heard his son sputtering and coughing up water. He opened his eyes, which were rolled back and made erratically strange movements. Gold found himself right by his son’s side again, the lifeguard finally out of the way. 

“Papa?” his son asked, looking and sounding like he had just woken up. He attempted to get up but faltered.

“I can drive you to the hospital if you think it’s safe enough to move him to my car,” came a voice from the crowd that Gold identified as David Nolan, the town Sheriff.

“I suppose, but-” Miss French began to say.

“Is it or is it not fine?!” Gold demanded.

“I’m okay papa,” Baelfire said, getting to his knees. Gold hugged his son tightly to his chest.

They were only a few streets away from the hospital, three blocks away to be more precise. His son was awake and moving but still certainly needed to be checked out by a physician and given the clear. Gold looked at Miss French who gave him a nod and he helped his son to his feet, Bae was struggling a bit so he scooped his son up with some newly found strength and carried him to where Mr. Nolan was leading in the family sedan. Gold and Bae were in the backseat along with Mr. Nolan’s young daughter, who had tears streaming down her face and was sniffing wildly. It was then that Gold had noticed he had tears streaking down his own face.

When they arrived at the hospital, Baelfire was almost immediately taken into a room and was told that a doctor would see him shortly. The room was white and tiny and there was only one little chair and a bed for his son to sit on. Gold elected to stand up as he kept his son sitting on the bed. He was looking a little bit drowsy and was holding on to his father’s shirt. Gold now saw that his son was bleeding out from somewhere on his head. He didn’t dare investigate further, as he didn't want to hurt his son.

"How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I don’t feel that good,” Bae said meekly. “My hand really hurts too. I can’t move it.”

Gold hadn’t even noticed that there was anything wrong with his son’s hand. He had only noticed the blood coming from his head and the fact that his child had been unconscious. He did his best to keep a brave face and assured his son that the doctors would do what they could to help him and see what was wrong. It was the scariest thing in the world to almost have his son slip from his fingers like he almost just did.

About 15 minutes into waiting, a nurse did a quick examination and ordered some tests based on the results. Storybrooke was a small town and had an even smaller hospital staff, but thankfully there weren't too many emergency patients that day, so they soon were on the path to an almost all-day hospital trip. The thing that took the longest was the MRI scanner. It was a miracle that they even had the machine in the small town, but they did. Unfortunately, there were only a handful of people who knew how to operate the machine, and they were all preoccupied already. Gold was incredibly frustrated, but in the meantime there were other tests and procedures they had to go through. The X-ray technician, who also happened to be a dental hygienist on duty, got the results for them right away and let Gold know that his son’s wrist was most likely broken. Though they did have to wait for the doctor himself to come in and look at it.

The doctor came in almost 20 minutes later, but it had felt like hours. The doctor informed him that Bae had a mild concussion and had sprained his wrist

“Probably as a result of the fall,” the doctor said.

Bae was given a splint and a sling to keep him from moving his wrist, and they were given proper instruction on how to proceed. Gold had to unfortunately give David Nolan a phone call to let him know that they were done, since his car was still at the community pool. David had come out of a waiting room moments later. He had been at the hospital the whole time, explaining how he called his wife to pick up their daughter while he waited for them to finish up. Gold was glad of that and soon they all drove back to the community pool and got their own car to drive home. He couldn’t help but look at his son every 3 seconds as they made their way home.

<hr>

The following days, Gold had been on high alert as to his son’s well-being and Baelfire was well aware of this, asking for ice cream and things that Gold normally would give his son in moderation every few hours. The boy really knew how to play him, but still panicked from the previous ordeal, he gave into most of the demands.

There was a knock at the door: they hadn’t been expecting visitors and the Nolan family had just left from a visit a few hours ago. Gold went to the door to investigate, leaving his son alone by himself. He winced as he left, if this guy was a salesman or some church group, they were really going to feel his wrath. He opened the door to find the lifeguard, Belle French, at his doorstep. The darkness in his heart immediately lightened up, turning into warmth.

“Hello, Mr. Gold.” Belle said, “I just came by to check on Baelfire. I hope he’s doing alright.”

Gold, still suppressed at her being at his door, stood blankly.

“I just wanted to make sure that your son was okay. Nobody's heard a word from you regarding his condition and I haven’t stopped thinking about him! Please tell me he is alright!”

Gold’s mind caught up with his body. "He has a sprained wrist and a mild concussion. He was told to stay home for a while to heal up. I apologize that no word was sent out to you. It won’t happen again.”

“I sure hope not,” Belle said. “I’ve been moonlighting as a lifeguard during the summer for the past 4 years, and I’ve never had anything quite like that happen before!”

“It was an accident,” Gold justified, or at least this is what he’d been telling himself for the past few days to make sense of what had happened.

If only he had been paying more attention to his son and making sure that everything in the facility was safe. When he had questioned his son, all he said was that he slipped.

“Did you, by chance, see how my son got hurt?”

Belle paused and shifted uncomfortably for a moment.

“Yes. I must admit that I saw the whole thing. I just couldn’t reach him in time, I’m so sorry that this happened, and that I couldn’t prevent it. I just, I was far away and-”

“No need to apologize, I should be thanking you for saving my son’s life!”

Belle nodded.

“Well, I wanted to give you this gift basket and wish you two the best of luck and healing,” she said, shoving a well-put together basket in his hands. “I best be going now. I just wanted to hear for myself if your son was okay or not.”

Gold nodded slowly, accepting the present, dumbfounded at this woman’s kindness and big heart.

Belle swiftly walked back to her car as Mr. Gold stood on his doorstep, looking at her. She had just given a gift basket to the most feared man in Storybrooke, and he had thanked her for her help! Mr. Gold never thanked anyone. She had seen him around town and heard almost nothing but bad things about the man. Due to inheriting her late father and mother’s house, she never had many run-ins with Mr. Gold. She knew his son well from school as well as from the pool, but had never really interacted with the man himself besides a few choice occasions where he scolded her for not being more strict with the children making noise and running around the pool. 

She had always taken her job as a lifeguard seriously but also remembered what it was like to be a child excited for summer. If only she had been more strict with Baelfire, maybe the accident was preventable. She was sure that Mr. Gold was going to hold a grudge against her for letting his precious and only son have an accident like that. She had told her friends about what had happened, and they told her she better watch out for Mr. Gold and that they wouldn’t put it past him if he sued her for negligence.

“What kind of person would do such a thing? There’s no way somebody would do something like that."

“He would, trust me.”

Two of her friends agreed and she spent two restless nights fearing the most feared man in Storybrooke. Yet another person he had under his grasp. She was legitimately nervous about Baelfire, as nobody had heard or seen him since the accident. The town sheriff, the one person at the pool she ever saw Gold somewhat talking to, hadn’t been in either. She asked around but nobody knew what had happened or heard from him since.

The one thing that everyone knew in Storybrooke, other than that Mr. Gold was one evil and ruthless sonofabitch, was that he lived in the bright pink house near the edge of town. The paint job was legendary and bold. When she first came to live in Storybrooke four years ago, she really admired the building, always wondering who lived in such a bold house as that. When she asked was one of the first times she heard about the famous old Mr. Gold who runs the pawnshop and also ruins lives in the sleepy little town.

She noticed Baelfire right away, as the librarian in charge of Storybrooke Elementary and Middle School. The child had such a unique name and she asked him about the history of it, remarking that she had never met someone with his name before. “Most people call me Bae or sometimes Bailey,” he said, shrugging as she checked out his books. 

“You don’t like your name?” she had asked.

“I do, but it’s hard to say and a lot of people make fun of me for it.”

She nodded, understanding. From that day on, every time he came into the library she would say things like “How are you doing, Baelfire?” and “What kind of book are you getting today?” His class usually had library days once a week to get new books, but sometimes she saw him during lunch and recess time as well. He seemed to have 2 or 3 of the same friends but he was usually alone. Some children straight up seemed to ignore him or avoid him, but she had just chalked it up to kids being kids and kids being bullies. She inquired about it after seeing two children in a row change course down the aisle as soon as they saw him.

“Oh, that child’s the child of Mr. Gold,” one of the teachers in the teachers lounge told her. “A lot of children’s parents owe his father a lot of money, so they tell them to avoid antagonizing his son.”

“So they just don’t ever speak to him?” Belle asked, gobsmacked. “They don’t speak to this child because they owe his father rent money?”

“You don’t understand,” the teacher said, shaking her head. “If you anger Mr. Gold in any way, your head is on the chopping block and your life could be ruined. Nobody wants to teach his son in fear of his father’s wrath.” 

Belle laughed, not knowing if this teacher was exaggerating or not. When she saw their blank expression she had a feeling they were for real.

“Oh, wow.”

“Yes, he’s never given a teacher too much trouble of course. He’s actually put a lot of his own money into this school for his son’s sake. But one time, when his kid was in pre-school and he had a meltdown, he got the teacher fired. We haven’t heard from her since.”

“Oh my," Belle said again.

“Anyway, just watch out what you say to the kid, alright?” The teacher warned. 

“Don’t worry, I will,” Belle said.

She heeded the teacher's advice for about 2 weeks, but the child seemed harmless. He was very polite and very interested in reading. While the thought of his fearsome father was sometimes nagging her at the back of her mind, she decided to treat Baelfire as just a normal kid.

<hr>

Gold stood on his doorstep with the basket in hand and blinked, heading back upstairs to check on his son once more who was still on the same 15-minute episode of adventure time that he had been on when he left.

“The lifeguard came and got you a gift basket. She wanted to make sure that you were feeling well.”

“Really?!”

“Yes.” He set it on Baelfire’s dresser.

“She helped me,” Bae said.

“Yes, she saved you,” Gold said, warmly.

“How come you didn’t let her in? Aren’t we supposed to thank people when they give us things?”

His son had surprised him yet again. “Yes, you’re right. When you’re feeling better, we can both thank her together. So you need to get your strength up.”

“I feel fine,” Baelfire wined. “You’re the one who said I can’t go outside to play right now.”

“That’s because you have a cast on and have a wrist sprain. I’m afraid I’m going to have to keep you inside for awhile until the doctor says you're fine.”

“Papa, that’s no fun, it’s Summer!”

“Sorry, that’s the way it has to be.”

His son pouted but didn’t remark on anything further than that. They watched the rest of the episode and then Bae inquired if he could open the care package now. Gold had really wanted to see for himself what the lifeguard had given his son and make sure it was appropriate, but he nodded, anyway, trusting this woman he knew little to nothing about. Bae was overjoyed and tore at the clear plastic that was surrounding the basket. Gold could see a bunch of sweets and treats in the variety of chocolate and sours as well as a few other things, such as a hardcover children's book and another book that looked like it was a creative prompt-book. There was also a card which Bae was strangely excited about, due to him never receiving much mail addressed to him. Overall, the package was very age appropriate, thoughtful but not too extravagant. It basically was an activity to keep his son busy, which Gold was very happy for. That was probably the most thoughtful thing somebody had done for him in awhile. Again, Gold thought about how he ought to have done something for Belle instead of her doing something for him and his family. What should he do in return for her? He pondered as he saw his son look through the book, which was titled Percy Jackson, a book neither he or his son knew anything about. Perhaps they could read it together, though his son typically read things by himself nowadays. 

After allowing his son to eat some of the candy, he asked his son if he wanted to read the book together. Bae nodded.

“Maybe as a bedtime story?”

Gold was still glad that his son wanted to do such things. He was nearly 10 and on a few occasions told him that he was too old for bedtime stories. His son was growing up so fast. He felt like his son was just a baby in his arms. He had devoted his whole life to Bae’s care and upbringing, that he almost didn’t know what he would do when his son left him. He was nearing his pre-teen, which meant in 3 years time he would be a teenager. Remembering his own teenage years, with his own terrible father, he was a little scared at raising a son when he had no idea what a normal way to raise a kid was like. The thought terrified him. All he knew was that when his son wanted or needed him now, he would be there.

<hr>

After putting his son to bed, Gold retired to his office to do a little bit more work before he went to bed. Since he had Bae home all day and was still paying most of his attention to make sure that nothing was going to go horrifically wrong, he had been saving most of his work for late at night, which meant little sleep for him. He thought more about what he should do to thank Miss French. Perhaps a cheque? Would that be out of line or too much? How could he even put a price tag on his son’s life? He could also thank her with dinner or perhaps a gift basket in return, but he really didn’t know about that. He only knew that he had to do something. Gold finished up the rest of his work and then went to lay in bed, his mind restless and not letting him sleep.

The next morning, he made pancakes and his son and him sat at the kitchen table.

“Can we at least go for a walk, Papa?” Bae asked

Gold grimaced. Walking for the sake of walking was something he didn’t like too much, due to his ankle. It got sore rather easily when he walked for more than 30 minutes straight, but he agreed to it. It was good to get his son fresh air if he was asking for it. He took his good cane with him and the two set off, deciding to walk on the nearby sidewalk and just around the neighborhood. 

His son was doubly fast as him and often went off ahead alone, only to come back to his father. The boy had a lot of energy in him, and he had been cooped up for some time inside. Perhaps they should drive into town to walk, Gold supposed. The walk ended up being 40 minutes, and Gold was rather hot and sore by the end of it, while his son was unfazed. Exercise was something Gold should probably do more often, but the trouble was that his ankle killed him when he did most activities and he was pretty skinny and healthy, overall. He did know that he had a family history of heart trouble, and he wanted to be there for his son. Frankly, after his walk, he was a little more than a bit concerned about how winded he was from the walk. He never really went that far, so perhaps that was his main cause for concern.

He ended up taking his son to town the next day, where they planned on driving past the aquatics center to give Belle a Thank You card for the basket as well as for saving Bae’s life. It turned out that she was not working at the time, but the lifeguard on duty told them that she would be on the following day.

“Or you can leave the stuff with me. I can put it in the break room?”

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Gold said.

He was always more of a person to do things in person than through a third party, which was part of the reason he collected rent by going to each and everyone’s house. Rent was due in a few days and he was still deciding the best route on how to deal with Bae. The usual babysitter who watched his son was out of town and summer camp had already ended. He was going to have to find a new babysitter or ask a favor of the only people who were nice to him and his son: the Nolan’s, who had already done so much for him lately. He could always take Bae along with him, which he did sometimes when he had the pawnshop open or had to do a few errands, but his kid was already cooped up and miserable. The babysitter he regularly used was recommended by a mutual business acquaintance, but he had no idea how to go about inquiring about a new sitter who had reputable character. He asked the Nolan family, as well as his regular babysitter named Margot, if they knew anyone who could possibly watch his son and they both recommended the same person: Alice Jones.

Gold met with the temporary babysitter a little bit before trying to catch Belle at the pool again. The babysitter was 20 minutes early and sitting in her car before he figured out who was loitering in front of his house. His first impression of her was that she was a little bit odd, but she seemed sufficient and kind enough to watch Bae for the afternoon when he went around collecting the rent the next day. It wasn't like he had much choice in the matter, and his son seemed to like her.

He told her that he would see her tomorrow and then left with Baelfire to swing by the pool. This time, Belle was indeed there. She was so focused on the children in the pool, she didn't realize Gold coming to her side with their little thank you gift in hand.

“Miss French,” Gold said, as he handed Belle the small thank you basket. “A little token of my appreciation.”

“Oh my.”

She looked at the basket in hand and then out to the water as she got down from her lifeguard tower to reach for it.

“Thank you so much,” she said cheerily.

“Thank you for saving my son.”

“Yeah, thanks for saving me,” said Baelfire.

“No problem!”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you at work,” Gold said, “but I didn’t know any other way to contact you. I take it your house isn't as pink and noticeable as mine.”

Belle laughed. “You didn’t have to go through the trouble."

Some kids were beginning to roughhouse and Belle had to blow her whistle at them.

“I’ll let you get going then,”

“Thank you,” said Belle. “I hope to see Baelfire in the pool again before the end of the year if he’s able too,” she smiled.

“We’ll see.” With that, the Golds departed. He had done his duty.

<hr>

The next day Gold was rushed and panicked, trying to get all of the paperwork and receipts ready to try and hurry up and calculate all the rent in one go. He had been neglecting his work the past week, due to his son and he thought he was ready to collect rent but he was far from it. It seemed that he was going to run a little into overtime. Before Alice, the temporary babysitter, even came early that morning, Gold sent her a quick text asking if she could stay a little bit longer than he previously had asked if need be. Strangely the girl was already awake even though the sun was still coming out and informed him that she was free the whole day and would be willing to stay a little bit extra. This was the most relieving thing he had heard all day…

Alice arrived early once again, and Gold gave her the rundown before setting off to drop by his neglected pawn shop, which hadn’t been open all week. It was really more of his office than a legitimate business, but he still was sad that he hadn’t really had business hours in awhile. Usually, he stayed in the building an hour before he went to collect rent because sometimes residents liked going to him first before he came to them. 

Baelfire was still asleep when he set off, though he usually made sure his son was awake at a reasonable time, he told Alice to let him sleep in as long as he wanted to make it easier on her.

Getting in the door to the pawnshop there was already some poor soul waiting for him to open up who was asking for a rent extension as they had emergency expenses that month. Gold actually gave it to them, as he wasn’t in the mood to argue when he still had so much work to do before doing the first rounds of collections. Three more people came in for other various issues that he quickly resolved, and then he began his first rounds of collections, which took about an hour and a half before heading back to the pawnshop. Nobody liked rent day, not even him.

After getting about a third of his total rent collected, he was back at his shop and getting pretty hungry, realizing that he hadn’t remembered to pack himself anything as he had left in a hurry. He resolved to eat at Granny’s Diner before he started collecting more rent in that area.

The bell to Granny's rang as he walked into the building, as usual eyes turned his way.

“I’m here for the rent. I’m also here for my usual.”

He sat down at his usual booth and the Red woman, who usually helped him, gave him a tall glass of iced tea with a lemon slice.

“I’ll be back with your burger and the rent money, Mr. Gold.”

He nodded and pulled out his phone, contemplating asking for an update on his son. He was sure that Alice would tell him if anything was wrong and didn't want to seem too overprotective of his son. If almost like magic, Alice contacted him, giving him a short update on his son saying that Bae was doing well and asked if she could take him outside for a walk. He responded back and then his food came. Halfway through the meal, he saw Miss French walking his way. He hadn’t even seen her enter the building. She quietly walked up to him and stood right by his booth, looking down at him as he was finishing up chewing a bite of food. 

“Can I help you?”

“May I sit down?” she asked.

“Be my guest,” he motioned to the other side of the bench.

“Mr. Gold," she said, her voice low in case anyone was listening. “Um, I came here to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?”

“Um, that 'gift' that you gave me,” she slid him an envelope. “It was too much.”

She was talking about the cheque he had put in his thank you card. He had given it some thought and was determined that she would appreciate some money as a thank you for saving his son’s life. Perhaps he had thought wrong.

“I can’t believe it,” she started to say. “I had this sitting on the floor by my station the entire shift,” she exclaimed. “I can’t accept this.”

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said. “My apologies," he said, taking the envelope and sliding it in his breast pocket. "Will half the sum be more to your liking?”

“No! I just....” she paused trying to catch her words. “I can’t accept your money.”

“Fine. But is there anything I can do for you instead. I really can’t let my debt go unpaid. You saved my son’s life, after all.”

“You don’t owe me anything, really.”

“I insist.” Belle wavered and then her whole face lit up. “It seems you do have something in mind.”

“Well,” Belle started. “If you do ‘insist’ perhaps you can make a donation, a ‘small’ donation," she clarified, "to the school library or the summer swimming program. I’m sure the kids at Bae’s school would appreciate some new books and improved conditions.”

This woman was amazing. This woman was selfless. He was in awe.

“Done. On one condition,”

“What’s that?”

“You have to let me do something for you and you personally.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Umm…” Belle wavered. “You can enroll in my swimming class. I can always use a few more people.”

She eyed him and could tell he wasn’t going to buy that request as being selfless.

“Fine. You can help me with my sink. I know you’re a landlord who has a few contractors under your thumb and my sink’s been leaking. I haven’t gotten a plumber to come and look at it yet, but I’m pretty sure it needs work. If one of your guys could swing by and check it out, I’d appreciate it.”

“Consider it done. That’s all you want? Many folks don’t get the opportunity to ask me for things, so please take this into consideration.”

“Yes. That’s it. A donation to the school library and my sink.”

Gold nodded. “I’ll need to know your address and I can have it taken care of when it’s convenient for you.”

“Sure. Let me text you my address.”

The rest of the rent collecting went well that day. Gold came home to find his son in great spirits, and he said he had a lot of fun with the new babysitter. Belle still hadn't texted him, but it still hadn't even been a full day. 

About a full day later, while Gold was pouring through some of the logbooks he was working on, he found his phone had begun to ring. It was a call, not a text, a call! He picked it up and heard the soft timbre of Belle's voice.

“Hi.”

“Are you calling regarding the plumbing?”

“Yes. Do you think you can have someone come over on Friday and take a look at my sink? That’s my next day off, and I should be home most of the day.”

Gold only had one man working on Fridays, and he hoped it wouldn’t be an issue.

“That’s fine," he said. Do you have a preference in time? Earlier in the day or later?”

“How about 11?”

“We can make that work,” Gold said, not hesitating. “Are there any pets that he might have to worry about?”

“Just my cat, but he shouldn’t be any issue.”

“Alright. I’ll send somebody out on Friday to the address you texted me. Thank you, Miss French.”

“Sounds good, and thank you for doing this for me, Mr. Gold, I really appreciate it.”

She hung up and Gold immediately called the plumber on duty for that day and informed him to clear his schedule and take emergencies only because he had a special job for him.

Friday morning came and around 10 am he got a call from his plumber.

“Mr. Gold, there’s a septic emergency at the Glass Tower Apartment buildings. A bunch of the apartments are backing up and leaking, well, you know. The bad stuff. I called the other 2 guys to help me. It looks like it’s going to take awhile.”

Gold was upset at this news, mostly because one of his apartment buildings was apparently flooding with shit, but he was also upset due to the fact that he had to cancel the one small favor Belle had asked of him. Perhaps he could go and check out the problem himself. After all, he used to have to worry about building repairs when he didn’t have the income to afford to hire his own handymen. If the problem was too great to solve, he could always have one of his men look at it once the bigger problem was solved. Or just hire another outside plumber if she needed work asap. Going over to suss out the situation was the best course, especially because she expected him in an hour.

After a change of clothes, dressing in one of his less nice suits and putting on an undershirt, in case the problem was really bad, he headed over to Belle’s at precisely 11.

“Oh,” she said. “Mr. Gold. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Nor was I,” he said coming into the building. “There was an emergency in one of my buildings that required all 3 of my plumbers. I’m sure it will be the talk of the town in a few hours.”

“Oh my, I hope everything is alright.” 

“It’s alright, but I’m afraid there is only me to look at your sink today. I apologize and will leave if you want to wait for the plumbers on a different day.”

“I mean, you’re already here, might as well see what you can do. I tried to fix it myself but I don’t really know where Papa kept his tools and I’m 90% sure you’ll need tools to fix the problem I’m having.”

“That’s why I came prepared,” Gold said, raising his dusty old tool box. Belle nodded. “I used to do some sort of this stuff back in the day. I mostly know what I’m doing, but it’s been awhile. Can you please lead me to the problem?”

“Certainly, follow me.”

Belle led him to the kitchen and opened up the underneath of her sink up for him. There was a bucket collecting water and a long strip of crafting duct tape with a colorful rose pattern, holding things together.

“There’s a leak,” she explained. “It’s not a lot of water, and I can’t figure out exactly the source. I’ve been kind of putting it off, but it’s just gotten worse.”

“I see.”

Gold took off his suit jacket and bent down, in a bit of a painful way. He really hadn’t the need to bend like this in most cases. He used one of the dryer towels that was under the sink as support for his knees. He worked at removing the tape and then went digging through his tool box. Hopefully, the issue was a simple one, such as tightening a bolt or something. He tried the simple fixes first, until he was satisfied with his work. Belle was lingering looking at him the whole time, asking if she could do anything to help. When he was ready, he asked her to turn on the water and was met with a full on spray of water in his face.

“Oh God! I'm so sorry, Mr. Gold!”

He lurched back suddenly at full force, soaking wet and uncomfortable.

“Shit!”

He lay there in his puddle, uncomfortable and soaked and then did something almost unexpected as his uncharacteristic cursing: he stifled a laugh. This whole situation was all so ridiculous. 

“I’m so sorry,” Belle began laughing a bit as well after she heard him laughing a bit more. “Let me get you a clean towel.”

Gold lay there on the floor, a little sore as Belle walked off. Oh, he definitely looked like a fool, but he somehow didn’t care in Belle’s presence. He should have left it for the professionals, but he just felt like he had to do something for her! He attempted to get up, a little sore, unused to lurching back the way he did. 

Belle came back to the room with a towel and held him up without asking, which he was grateful for. She helped him to the kitchen chair and he began to dry himself off.

“So it looks like the leak is a bit more of a problem than I expected.”

“Appears so.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Gold,” she apologized, for the third time. 

“Don’t mention it to anybody else ever and I’ll call us square for squirting me in the face with sink water.”

“Deal.”

“It’s safe to say, the problem is beyond my help. I can help you put the tape back on, but you’ll probably have to avoid using that sink until I can get a real plumber to look at it.”

“Eat takeout tonight so I don’t use the sink, got it,” Belle answered.

“That will do.”

He started to unbutton his wet shirt a bit without care. She had already seen him soaking wet and his attire at the pool. Besides, he and his shirt would dry faster if he took it off for just a bit. He wasn’t a blushing exposed maiden, after all. Besides, he still had his undershirt on.

After a few moments of rest, he got up to help Belle clean the water from the floor and he winced. She turned her head.

“Did you need some ibuprofen or something.”

“That’d be great.”

He had made her get up again to go get him something. He felt bad. She returned to the room and went to grab him a cup of water, turning on the sink.

“Stop-”

More water splashed on the floor, albeit just a little drop.

“Oh. Guess this is a lot harder than it looks to stay away.” She handed him the glass.

He took the pills down and then stiffly crouched to the floor to help her clean the mess.

After everything was dry,  they sat down at the table where his shirt lay.

“This was quite the experience.”

“Trust me, if I told any of my friends how I have come to know you and what we’ve been through, they wouldn’t believe me.”

He nodded. “You certainly haven’t seen me at my best.”

She laughed a bit. “I never would have imagined you being the way you are. I mean, I’ve only seen you around town here and there. You’re not too bad, Gold.”

“Well you’re not too bad yourself.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, sorry.”

“It’s fine. I know what people say. Sometimes I believe myself to be the most hated man in Storybrooke.” 

“I don’t think that’s true,” Belle started to say.

“Name one other person people hate more.”

Belle thought for a moment. “The Mayor!” Gold let out a short stifle of a laugh. “See! You agree with me.”

“I suppose.”

“See, I don’t really have to deal with you too much. The Mayor on the other hand, she keeps on trying to de-fund the school and library. I feel like I have to argue and fight with her once a week cause everyone else is too afraid to confront her.”

“You’re pretty brave, this is a secret: but she’s even known to frighten me on occasions.”

“Together we can probably stand strong together.”

“Yes.”

Belle gave him a smile.

After a few more long minutes of chatting Gold had offered to take Belle out for dinner, “It’s only fair,” he explained. “You can’t really cook or do dishes today because of me.  I possibly made your sink worse than before.”

“It’s fine,” Belle said.

“I insist. What do you want to eat?”

“I dunno. Takeout is fine.”

“Takeout?”

“Yeah. We don’t have to go anywhere and sit down or anything. Takeout still results in no dishes or prep-work that needs a sink. Besides, me and you look pretty scruffy from the sink debacle earlier. People would talk if they saw me together, all ruffled up and stuff.”

Gold actually felt his cheeks redden. “Takeout is fine, Miss French.”

Perhaps this could be the start of something spectacular and new...?

[hettiesworld]

Pairing: Andy Barber x OFC (Isla) x Ransom Drysdale 

Summary: After the trial of his son, Jacob, Lynn asked Andy to take over Neal’s  job of prosecuting Hugh ‘Ransom’ Drysdale (He’s trying to get Ransom into prison). He then realised that Hugh is his twin brother that got separated from birth.

Warning(s): Spoilers from both D.J. and Knives Out, angst, fluff, mentions of murder, attempted murder, assault, arson (Idk tbh xD 😂)

Author’s note: Most of the gifs are not mine! For the trial, I’ll be using Mike Weiss (from Puncture) for Ransom (minus the beard, of course) to show he’s in a courthouse and he will have a suit on.

Chapter 2: Two Hearts

Andy sighed. His head is in his hands. He lifted his head to drink out of a beer bottle. 

Who was this guy? Why was he stalking his ex-wife for? Is he trying to accuse Jacob of murdering his classmate?

He felt dead inside. His tongue felt dry. His throat felt as if someone thrust a handful of itching powder inside. His eyes were scruffy. He looked down at the bottle, leaning back. He’s been sitting in this empty house, full with boxes of memories, for twelve hours straight.

He then got a call from Lynn. 

“Hello?”

“Andy? This is Lynn. There’s something I need you to do at the courthouse. It’s about a murder case.”

“What? No, Lynn. You know I can’t do that.”

“Well, it’s more than that. Arson, assault, attempted murder...”

As Lynn listed off the charges faced in this case. Andy stood up quickly. His face went through a lot of emotions before asking,

“Who’s the defendant?”

“I’m sorry Andy, I got to go. But you will get your notes when you come to trial tomorrow.”

The phone hung up and Andy sighed, throwing his phone on the carpet before shouting out, “Fuck!”

------------------------------------------------------

“Hugh. Hugh, can you speak to me?” 

Isla was trying to talk to her client.  Her legs were crossed with a clipboard on top. She was writing down her client’s thoughts as he talked to her. She stopped when she didn’t hear his voice.

“Hugh!”

He looked at her.

“What?”

“What is on your mind? Tell me.”

Hugh sighed and started to tell Isla about his meeting with his brother, Andy.

“I met my brother. The one my father told me not to meet ever in my life. He came over here when I was talking to you on the phone and he was angry. He said that I was at the hospital where his ex-wife was. And he said that I visited her.”

“And did you?”

He sighed and he was indecisive on if he should tell Isla the truth or not. So, he did what he did best.

He lied.

“No. Why would I do that if I don’t know who she is?”

“I don’t know, Hugh.” Isla sighed. She was told from Ransom only to call him Hugh, as she was the help. No wonder she had heard that before...

“Look. You are going on trial tomorrow. You have loads of witnesses and evidence against you. Also your house arrest ends tomorrow as well. I suggest not to get into trouble with your brother or his family. Or this is not gonna end well for you.”

“They’re divorced. Are you my lawyer or my therapist?” Ransom added.

Isla said nothing, but then realised something quite disturbing. She stood up, handbag and clipboard in hand. “That’s it for now, Hugh. See you in two days.”

“Wait, what? We’ve only got 10 minutes to go though.”

“Hugh. I’m gonna ask you something and I want you to be honest with me. Hugh, did you flirt with Andy’s ex-wife?”

“What? Why would you say that? No!”

“Hugh! Don’t lie to me! What did yo do when you visited her? Why did you visit her?” Demanded Isla.

Hugh said nothing.

“Fine. We’re done with this session then.”

Isla left, slamming the door behind her. Tears were in her eyes. Why would he do something this disturbing? Will this be in the trial if she comes out with this?

------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day. The trial.

Andy was sitting outside of the courthouse. The prosecutor was already inside. He was scared doing this for the Commonwealth again as he had been on the other side of this. He looked through his notes but he didn’t get a description of the person he was up against. Not even a picture.

He soon heard a throat clearing beside him. He looked up to see a woman, with a clipboard in her arms.

“Hi. Are you my co-lawyer?”

“Um... Are you Isla Wyler?” Inquired Andy, standing up and smoothing his suit down and taking out his hand.

“Yes I am. Are you Andy Barber?”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

“Nice to meet you.” She shook hands with Andy, smiling at him. They move their hands away and Isla got out her clipboard, looking through her notes.

“Did you get a profile of the guy we are up against?”

“No, I didn’t get it...” Andy looked through his notes.

Before Isla could give it to Andy, the court guard outside of the closed doors asked them if they were ready. They both nodded.

“Well, they’re ready for you.”

They go in and it was all busy and everyone was chatting with each other.

Until Andy saw.... him.

Ransom looked over to him and then slowly smirked. 

“No...” Andy looked at him in shock. He walked over to the prosecutor’s area and sat down.

Just then, the court guard, that was standing near the witness’s podium, asked everyone to stand up to show respect for the Judge, the court and the law. 

“All rise. This court is now in session.”

The judge then entered the room and eyed up both Ransom and Andy. The judge sat down and told everyone else to be seated.

“Please be seated.”

Everyone sat down and Andy glanced over towards Ransom. Why did he have to go against this guy? The one who was stalking Laurie? He probably knew about Jacob and his case already.

“Now, to the case in hand. The Commonwealth vs. Hugh Drysdale. Pressing charges for arson, attempted murder and assault. Of course, Hugh requires everyone to know that in fact, his real last name is not Drysdale, it is actually.... Barber?”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

@optimistic-dinosaur-nacho​ @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​ @lostinthoughtsandfeelings​ @princess-evans-addict​ @averyrogers83​ @pegasusdragontiger​ @donutloverxo​ @captain-a-rogerss​ @stop-obsessing-over-those-actors​ @iguessweallcrazyithinktho​

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Of Libraries and Ties (1/2)

Summary: Follow up to last month’s Of Comic Books and Sushi. Belle, Neal and Neal’s girlfriend Emma all end up at Gold’s for New Year’s. Belle falls in love with a particular room in Gold’s house, and a good time is had by all. 

Part one written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: Books, Tea, Big City, Drive. 

Part two written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: Surprise, Lingerie, Bedroom Eyes

Rated: Part one is T, part two will be E

=====

Of Libraries and Ties

Part One

Belle was still having a bit of trouble coming to terms with how small Storybrooke was in comparison to Boston. Ever since she’d come to America in the first place, she’d only ever lived in cities, her father figuring that there would be more opportunities in a big city than in a small town. Even back in Australia, she’d never lived anywhere quite as small as Storybrooke. 

“Are you ok?”

She glanced over at Neal in the driving seat of the little yellow bug. Emma was spark out asleep in the back. They’d decided that it would be more economical to cram everything into Emma’s car and all go up to Maine together, sharing the drive time, rather than all making their own ways to the same place. Andrew had invited them all for New Years - Neal obviously had a standing invitation as his son, Emma was welcome as Neal’s girlfriend, and Belle was welcome as Andrew’s own girlfriend.

It had taken Neal a while to get to grips with the idea of his roommate and his dad being together. It had taken Belle a little while to accept the fact that she was dating her roommate’s dad. Still, everything seemed to have worked out for the best, even if the relationship was still somewhat long-distance whilst Belle was still in college. She thought that they had the potential to go the distance, and she now knew Andrew enough to be assured that she wasn’t simply a flash in the pan, midlife crisis fling. 

“Yeah,” she said eventually, in answer to Neal’s question. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just never been anywhere like this before.”

“That’s not the only thing though, is it?” Neal had slowed the bug to a crawl to comply with the town’s speed limits. “Come on, you can tell me. I’m your best friend.”

“Yes, and your dad is also my boyfriend. I think that there might be a conflict of interest somewhere along the line here.”

“Hey, as long as you never, ever talk about sex in my earshot, we’ll be fine.” Neal grinned. “So, it’s something about Dad that’s getting you down?”

“Not getting me down, per se. It’s just that every other time we’ve seen each other, we’ve been in Boston. We’ve been in my comfort zone, so to speak. Now we’re in his. In his house, no less. It feels… strange.”

“Maybe. But think about it this way. Dad’s lived in that house for over twenty years, so it’s got a lot of him in it. You’ll learn a lot more about him in Storybrooke than you ever could in Boston.”

“I suppose you’re right.” It would definitely be nice to get a first-hand glimpse of Andrew’s life, rather than having to imagine it all for herself as they talked about it. And after all, he had seen her home and how she lived. It was only fair that she should get the same kind of insight into his own life. 

“Ok, we’re here.” Neal pulled into the drive of a very impressively pink house on the outskirts of the town. 

“Your dad’s house is pink.” Emma had woken up and was staring out of the windscreen at the house, rubbing her eyes. “Is your dad’s house pink? Or am I still dreaming?”

“No, the house is definitely pink,” Neal said cheerily. He waved to his dad, who had stepped out onto the porch to greet them. “Come on, let’s get inside before we freeze. I hope it doesn’t snow. Not that being snowed in at Dad’s is necessarily a bad thing, but I left all my coursework in Boston and it’s due next week.”

“Is Storybrooke famous for snow?”

“Not really, we’re too near the coast. As in, literally on it. But when it comes, it comes with a vengeance.”

They manhandled all the luggage out of the car and into the blessed warmth of the house. Emma and Neal immediately took off up the stairs to dump their stuff in Neal’s room, leaving Andrew and Belle standing under the mistletoe in the hall. He leaned in, kissing her lips softly, and Belle dropped her bag to hook her arms around his neck and pull him in closer for a deeper kiss. He was smiling as she broke away, his eyes bright and a little shy. Belle saw then that he was feeling all the same nervousness about welcoming her into his home as she was feeling about visiting him in it.

“I didn’t know where you would want to sleep,” he said eventually. “The spare bed is made up ready for you if you would prefer, but I’d really like it if you stayed with me.”

Belle kissed him again. “Of course I’d like to stay with you.”

“I’d hoped you would. I just didn’t know if you’d be worried about traumatising Neal or something.”

Belle snorted. “Hey, he’s got his own girlfriend to traumatise us with, he can’t talk.” She grinned. “Why don’t you give me a tour of the house?”

Andrew gave a soft huff of laughter. “Why not indeed. Without meaning to sound in the least bit presumptuous, we can start in my room so you can park your bag.”

Andrew’s room was gorgeous, all dark woods and jewel-like colours, and Belle had to admit that the space suited him perfectly. She ran her hands over the intricately carved headboard, heat beginning to rise in her face as she imagined all the wonderful uses that it could be put to later. 

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “It’s very you. This is the kind of place that I can always picture you in.”

“I’m glad you like it.” There was no mistaking the quiet pride in his voice. “But there’s another room that I think you’ll like even more.”

Belle held out a hand to him. “Lead on, McGold.”

He snorted at the throwback to their first date together in Boston, back before they had really known that they were dating, but he nonetheless took her hand and guided her into the next room. It had originally begun life as a small box bedroom, but now, the amount of floor to ceiling bookcases in it meant that the only furniture it had room for was an old leather armchair and an antique end table. 

“It’s not exactly a library like you’re used to, but it’s good enough, I think.”

“Oh Andrew, it’s perfect. I’d love a room like this in my own place.”

She slipped her arms around his middle and rested her chin against his shoulder. It was nice to be dating a guy who didn’t tower over her for once. It was even nicer that he remembered how much she liked books and had known how much she’d like this room. Despite their age difference and the undeniable fact that he was Neal’s dad, Belle felt that Andrew was far better suited to her than some of her exes. 

“Dad, what’s for dinner?”

Belle felt Andrew’s sigh, but she didn’t pull away from him as he replied. 

“Neal, it’s only three in the afternoon.”

“I know, but we’ve had a long drive from Boston. We’re starving!”

“There’s a box of Granny’s peanut butter cookies in the kitchen.”

“Yes! Thanks Dad!”

Andrew always brought a steady supply of the mysterious Granny’s cookies with him whenever he visited Boston, and Belle’s stomach gave an aptly timed growl. Andrew chuckled. 

“Come on, before Neal and Emma finish them all. We can have the rest of the tour later.”

X

Belle curled up in the leather chair under her blanket, lost in Dickens’ prose. Dinner had turned out to be chicken chasseur, and now Emma and Neal had volunteered to do the dishes whilst Andrew made a couple of last-minute phone calls. Although, given the amount of hilarity that Belle could hear coming from the kitchen, she felt justified in wondering if they were actually creating more mess than they were cleaning up. 

“I thought I might find you in here.”

She looked up to see Andrew standing in the doorway, a mug in each hand. “Tea?”

“Yes, please.”

He placed the mug down beside her and made to leave the room, but Belle caught his arm. “Hey, stay. I’m sure that there’s room in this chair for two. Neither of us are very big, after all.”

Andrew smiled. “All right.”

Belle got up to allow him to sit down, then she scrambled up onto his lap, tucking the blanket back in around them both. 

“There, this is perfect. Good books, good tea, good company. I can’t think of a better way to spend the evening, personally.”

“No.” Andrew took a sip from his own mug. “No, I think you’re right there.”

“The only thing that would make this better is if we had a roaring fire and a cat stretched out in front of it.”

“I’m allergic to cats. How about a dog?”

“A dog’s good too. One of those big shaggy ones that just lies there like a rug. A retriever or St Bernard.”

“We had a collie retriever cross when Neal was younger. Looked like a collie but bigger. And hairier. She was the most docile pushover ever.”

Belle laughed at the image. “What was her name?”

“Tiff. Well, Tiffany. She looked like she was wearing a little black dress, like Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”

Belle thought about the scene, of Andrew and a big dog and a small child. She could see it easily. What was more concerning was how easily she could see herself as part of the picture as well. She shook her head; she was only twenty-two, she wasn’t ready to be thinking that long-term yet, and she knew that Andrew respected that. She loved what they had together, and she hoped that it would last, but the future was very big and very long. 

She glanced over to the window where the first few flakes of snow were beginning to come down. 

“Neal’s going to be pissed.”

“What?” Andrew followed her sight line. “Oh, yes. He never did like snow all that much.”

They watched it drifting for a while until Belle got up to close the curtains, keeping them safe and snug. The massed hilarity from the kitchen appeared to have finally ceased. 

“Shall we go down and join them?” Andrew asked. Belle’s response was to settle back down onto his lap. 

“Nah. Let them have some time to themselves too. I like it here like this, just you and me.”

“I like it too.” Andrew paused. “You know, you’re always welcome here without Neal. You don’t have to wait until he comes to visit.”

“I know. That’s good. I think it would be a bit awkward otherwise.”

“I’m sorry if we’ve made things weird between you and Neal.”

Belle shrugged. “It was weird for about a week, but then we got over it. We’ll always be friends. I know too many of his secrets for us not to be.”

“Well, that makes two of us. Together we’re invincible.”

Belle laughed and leaned in to kiss him. Andrew accepted her readily, pulling her in close beneath the blanket. They might not know exactly where they were going in the future, but that didn’t matter. They were happy in the present. It was the middle of the Christmas season, and they were going to enjoy themselves without a care. 

Belle kissed Andrew again, never wanting to let go. This New Year’s was going to be great. 

[shipperqueen93]

For the prompts: how about something short and fluffy? Swanfire taking little Henry trick-or-treating?

Well this isn’t exactly what the prompt called for but I hope you like it all the same.

Edit: I forgot to mention that @ishtarelisheba was wonderful and beta'd this to fix my obscene lack of commas lol.

----------------

“What about Bambi? We could do those onesie suits of a deer, skunk, and a rabbit. Bam, you’ve got Bambi, Thumper and Flower! It’d be warm and very little effort,” Emma suggested to the room. 

She was spread out on the couch, her feet resting in Neal’s lap, Henry stretched out in a similar position on the floor. Halloween was coming up in a few weeks and while Henry had decided he was too old to go trick-or-treating, Mary Margaret was having a party and insisted that costumes were mandatory. It had been Henry’s idea to do a group costume, but the three of them hadn’t been able to come up with something they all agreed on. So far they had nixed Zootopia, Wizard of Oz, Alice in Wonderland, and Toy Story for various reasons. 

“Mom, I’m fifteen, I’m a little too old to be Bambi,” Henry said without looking up from his phone. He claimed that he was looking up suggestions, but the rapid clicking he kept doing suggested he was more likely texting the Vidrio girl he wouldn’t admit he was seeing. 

“Okay, so Bambi has been shot down. What else do we got?” Emma snickered upon realizing her bad play on words. The glare shot at her from Neal only made her laugh harder,and even Henry had to chuckle. 

“What about Finding Nemo? We don’t have to do the giant costumes, but maybe like a blue dress for Mom, Dad and I can get some orange shirts, and we can do face paint to get the stripes and everything,” Henry suggested without looking up from his phone. 

“Yeah, I’m not dipping into two tins of blue face paint just so I can scrub it off later. Hard pass on that one, Kid.” 

Henry shrugged from his position on the floor, still tapping away on his phone. Eyes narrowing slightly, Emma looked at Neal only to find he was also on his phone. A sharp jab to his ribs with her foot had him looking up sheepishly and tucking his phone away. Nodding to Henry continuing to text, she motioned for him to give a shot. 

“Henry, put the phone away while we figure this out.” 

“Just a second, Dad, Jacinda got in a fight with her step-sister.” He didn’t even look up as he replied. 

“Put the phone away or we will be dressing up as Bambi and I will find the fuzziest pink bunny costume and you will be Thumper while he’s twitterpated,” Emma threatened. 

That got his attention. Looking at his mom, he tried to discern how serious she was. The glare he received in response clearly stated that she wasn’t joking. “That’s just wrong, Mom.” 

“So is wanting a group costume but not helping out. I still say we should have just got some of those ‘This is my costume’ shirts. Fifteen bucks and we’d be set.”

“Yeah, and have Mary Margaret hunt us down for it? I’d like to live long enough to get my drivers license, thank you.” 

Emma had to consent to that assessment. Her cousin was only a few years older than her, but she had a very “mothering” presence that had you simultaneously trusting her and not wanting to cross her. The fact she was one of those women crazily obsessed with Halloween meant that every year growing up, even well into adulthood, Emma had been forced to dress up whether she wanted to or not. Now that Mary Margaret was married and had her first child, everything was ramped up even more. If they showed up without a real costume, not only would they have to listen to a lecture about being unprepared, but she definitely would have back up costumes for them. 

“Okay, you have a point, but we’re running out of ideas. What about Beauty and the Beast?”

Henry mulled over for a minute before nodding. “Yeah, I suppose that could work. You could be Belle, Dad as Beast, I could be Gaston”

“Try again, Kid. You are not being Gaston, the implications of that are just wrong. You can be Chip.”

“Come on, Mom, I’m not a baby. I’m not going to be Chip.”

“Fine, you can be the clock.”

“Mooooooom.”

“It’s pointless to argue, Henry.” Emma smirked, but Neal's interjection made the feeling short-lived. 

“Yeah, it is pointless. Papa and Belle are doing Beauty and the Beast.” The shocked faces he received almost had him laughing. 

“I’m sorry, I must have heard you wrong. You said your dad is both going to Mary Margaret’s party and dressing up?”

Neal shrugged. “Apparently. I was talking to Belle earlier this week and she said they are doing Beauty and the Beast. Gid is going to be Chip and Granny was helping her with the costume.” 

Emma shared a look with her son. He looked just as shocked as she was. She had been married to Neal for several years now, not to mention growing up with him, and she could still count on one hand how many times she had seen his father without his trademark suit. She was finding it hard to believe that he would agree to dress up as anything, let alone step into furry territory and be the Beast. “Oh, I’ve got to see this. We’ve got to decide on something.”

There was quiet while everyone seemed to think, running through the list of possible costumes and combinations. After several moments Henry spoke up. “What about Peter Pan?”

Emma turned the idea in her mind. It wasn’t a horrible idea. “Okay, if you’re Peter, and I’m, presumably, Wendy, who’s your dad going to be?”

“Captain Hook. Duh.”

Emma couldn’t help the shudder that rolled through her. “Nope. Veto. Not happening.”

Neal gave her a curious look. “Afraid of pirates?”

“No, not pirates, and I’m not scared by any means, but Hook always just came off as creepy as hell. I mean seriously, he’s a grown man obsessed with a little kid? Like he goes out of his way to hurt this child, not caring who he hurts in the meantime. Not to mention he’s just not attractive.” Emma shrugged.

Neal rolled his eyes, which earned him another jab to the ribs. 

“You come up with something if you are so great then.” Emma huffed. 

“Are you just going to shoot it down like all the others?” Neal teased.

“I’m going to shoot something alright,” Emma spat back at him, hearing Henry chuckle at their bickering. “Kid, pick your battles.” 

Neal dodged another attempted jab to the ribs, putting himself on the floor with Henry. “Maybe me and Henry should just do something together and you can figure something out on your own.”

“Neal, I swear to God, if you don’t come up with something, I will shove this remote so far-”

“Emma, there is a child here! Watch your language,” Neal chided, a little hypocritically given the way he used Henry to duck the pillows Emma threw at him. 

“Hey! Mom! Dad! Knock it off.” Henry laughed as Emma continued to throw pillows and small items at Neal and he continued to use Henry as a shield. Neal ruffled Henry’s hair with a smile as Emma ceased her assault on them. 

“Okay, so do you have an idea or not, Neal?” Emma asked as she relaxed back on the couch. 

“Of course I do, and you both are going to love it!” 

When Neal didn’t expand on his idea, it was Henry who actually hit him with a pillow. “Dad, come on. What’s your great idea?”

“Star Wars.”

Emma stared at him dumbfounded. How in all their planning had they missed the obvious? A glance at Henry had her satisfied that at least she wasn’t the only one shocked they had completely overlooked the possibility. They had seen the saga probably a hundred times, Henry watched it every time he was sick, she and Neal had gone to see the movies while they were dating. 

“I really hate that you came up with that idea and I didn’t.”

“Well, you can worship me if you want, I won’t stop you.”

“That’s never gonna happen, but sure, keep dreaming.” Emma dodged the pillow he tossed back at her. “Let’s talk this through. Henry, I’m assuming you want to be Luke?”

Henry shrugged approvingly. “Yeah that works. Can I get a lightsaber?”

“We’ll see. Okay, Henry is Luke, I’ll be Han, and Neal do you want Vader? Or Obi Wan?” Emma asked, ticking off possible characters.

“I thought I’d be Han. Why do you get him?” Neal asked almost petulantly.

“I mean, I called him first, but if it’s such a big deal, you can have him. I suppose I can be Vader. I’ll get a mask and we can do the whole ‘Luke I am your father!’ thing. It’ll be great, and... Why are you guys staring at me?” Emma trailed off when Henry shared a look with Neal. 

Both Neal and Henry were staring at her like she was missing something extremely obvious. “What’s the deal, guys?”

“Mom, shouldn’t you be Leia?” Henry posed the question as if it was a clear answer. 

“Sure, and you can be Thumper!” she shot back. Henry held up his hands in surrender and she turned to Neal. “Let me guess, you think I should be Leia, too?”

Neal shrugged. “I mean, you are the only woman. It’d make sense. Plus what’s Han without Leia?”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Sad and alone, which is what you’re going to be if you keep that attitude. So just because I’m a woman I have to be Leia?”

“What’s wrong with being Leia? You talked about her for weeks after we saw The Force Awakens.”

“Nothing is wrong with Leia, but that doesn’t mean I have to be her, especially just because we both have breasts.”

“Ew! Mom! Mom, you’re not allowed to say breasts. Okay? It’s just creepy and weird and, no. Oh gods. No, Dad, she can’t be Leia.” 

Emma pointed at Henry. “See, now you made me traumatize our son. He’s never going to be able to watch the Gold Bikini scene ever again.” 

Henry groaned and dropped his head back, palms pressed to his eyes as if to push the image out of his mind. Part of her was biting back a laugh while the other half of her was trying to focus on Neal. 

“I’m not saying that just because you’re a woman you have to be Leia. I was just saying it makes sense that if one of us is Han, then the other should be Leia.” 

Emma smirked and Neal felt his heart drop. 

--------------------------------------

Mary Margaret heard the doorbell ring at the same time as Leo threw his sippy cup on the floor. With a sigh, she reached the pick it up before calling out, “David can you get the door?” 

She waited for a reply or to hear the door opening, but neither came. Grumbling under her breath, she took Leo from his high chair, brushing stray crumbs off of his Dopey costume. A search in the seat of his chair turned up his missing hat. She and David had decided to go classic Disney this year with Snow White and Prince Charming, and Dopey had been a perfect choice for little Leo, even if her loveable dwarf did happen to hate wearing his hat. It didn’t matter though. Once everyone was here, it was going to be perfect. They had the perfect costumes, the perfect house, the perfect family. Everything was going to be perfect. 

The doorbell rang again. 

“David! The door!” she called out again. When still nothing came from upstairs she sighed and headed to get the door. A peek through the peephole showed Henry dressed as Luke Skywalker, lightsaber and all, smiling at her. Patting over her hair, she made sure any flyways were tucked away before putting Leo’s hat back on once more. Once everything was perfect, she opened the door. “Happy Hallow-oh…” 

Henry walked by her, giving her a greeting and mussing Leo’s hair, knocking his hat askew. Emma followed after him with a kiss to Mary Margaret’s cheek, the short wig and blaster at her hip clearly marking her as Han Solo. It was Neal following after slowly that left her truly speechless though. Long braided wig, slave outfit, and chain around his neck, Neal was Princess Leia in the gold bikini. 

“Don’t ask,” Neal said without even looking at her. 

Dread pooled in Mary Margaret’s stomach. Tonight was not going to be perfect. 

[let-it-raines]

Rising from the Ashes (9/?)

Summary: When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be. And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones. 

As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be. 

Rating: Mature

A/N: I’d just like to thank @shady-swan-jones for sending me the prompt that inspired this story. I thought it was simply going to be a one shot, but I’m having too much fun exploring everything as a part of a bigger story! And I know that you guys are really enjoying me ripping your hearts out. lol. ❤️

Double “-/-” around the flashback. 

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 

Tag list: @artistic-writer @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @resident-of-storybrooke @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @ekr032-blog-blog @mayquita @bmbbcs4evr @wellhellotragic @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @shady-swan-jones @snowbellewells @snow-into-ash @andiirivera @mariakov81 @thejollyroger-writer @shireness-says @kristi555 @facesiousbutton82 @superchocovian @jonirobinson64 

“Momma, do you know where my red jacket is?”

“Is it not in your closet?”

“Nope.”

She sighs, leaning her head back against the wall with Christmas ornaments piled between her legs. She’s been adding back the hooks that fell off while they were all up in storage for the past year. It’s pretty much all of the ornaments, and since she’s tired of doing this every year, she bought the nice hooks that are supposed to stay on. It just means that she has to do them all.

God, she cannot wait to go back to work even if it does mean leaving Ada at nursery because she needs another kind of structure than this.

“Do you need it right now?”

“Yeah. Avery’s mom is going to take us ice skating tonight, and you said the blue one isn’t warm enough.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay, I’ll go look for it later. Why don’t you go get your dad and ask him to come and help you to put all of these hooks on?”

“He’s napping.”

“Seriously?”

Henry shrugs. “Yeah, he said he was tired.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” she repeats to herself, running her hands through her hair. All she really wants is a nap as well, but she’s got Henry while Killian’s at the grocery store with Ada getting food for this afternoon while they decorate the tree. “Do you want to watch a movie while I go look for it?”

“Can I watch the Grinch?”

She smiles to herself before picking up all of the ornaments and placing them back in the container. “Yeah, I’ll set it up, and I promise I’ll be back to watch it with you as soon as I find your jacket for tonight? Do you also need your skates?”

“Yep.”

“Of course you do.”

She leans down to press a kiss into Henry’s hairline before setting the movie up for him. She’s got no idea where any of his stuff is, especially since they just went through the attic for all of their Christmas decorations, so she assumes it’s all simply somewhere in his closet.

So of course it’s not. His skates are, but she’s stupidly realized that they’re far too small. How did she not think about that? Probably because she’s had two straight days of hell that seem infinitely worse than everything else. She’s trying so damn hard to be positive, to remember all of David’s encouraging words, but it’s difficult when he’s not here reminding her of them in the hard times. And texting him isn’t exactly the same, especially when she’s not sure that she wants him to know absolutely everything that’s so messed up in her life.

It’s a lot.

She’d been so annoyed with Killian yesterday, everything he did rubbing her the wrong way, and she knows that it’s because she’d stayed up all night simply replaying conversations and memories and everything she should have left alone.

She was wallowing. She knows this, but recognizing something and stopping are two totally different things.

Then he’d come home from his dentist’s appointment with a smile on his face trying to talk to her like everything was as it should be, and she couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t, so she snapped. It felt so good to let her anger out, but she knows that she only got part of it released before she pulled back and stepped away, not wanting to take things too far, not wanting to say things she’d truly regret. They’re so damaged right now, and as good as it felt to yell at him, she knows that they’re on the same team despite what she said. Even if they burn down in flames and are left as nothing but ashes, they’re always going to be on the same team because of their kids.

God, she hurts.

And then while they’d been at the Christmas tree farm Killian had pulled her to the side and told her what happened to Henry at school. She could see the hesitation in his eyes, could see how nervous he was scratching behind his ear, but he told her everything. She knows it couldn’t have been easy for him, could see the vein bulging in his forehead as he relayed the story between two duglas fir trees, and as pissed as she was at the fact that there are parents at Henry’s school calling her a whore (which is absolutely ridiculous and takes women back a solid fifty years), she was infinitely more upset that Henry was having to go through something so ridiculous. He’s eight. He shouldn’t have issues like having to deal with his classmates calling his mom a whore.

He’d seemed fine as they walked along the lot, a smile on his face as he talked about how big each tree was to all three of them, but Killian didn’t hold back in talking about how upset he’d been. The words “we need to talk about all of this some more” were on the tip of her tongue when Henry yelled her name as he pointed up at a tree. They’d gotten interrupted, and she hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Killian again as she carried Ada over to where Henry was.

She really needs to talk to Killian because she can’t live like this anymore. She can’t live with her life full of more questions than answers and uncertainties than certainties. She can’t live like this. They have to talk.

And not just about them either. About everything.

Walking out of Henry’s room and down the hall to hers, she heads to her closet and starts going through all of the shirts and jackets looking for Henry’s red jacket. She has no idea why it would be in here, but it always seems like this is the place where things go missing. Sure enough, she sees the box she just marked ‘winter jackets’ sitting on the top shelf on Killian’s side of the closet. She can’t reach up there on her own, so it takes some maneuvering to get a chair out of the bedroom into the closet so she can stand up to get the box. She still has to press up on her toes to get it, and she thinks she’s got it until she stumbles and knocks the box down, having to catch herself on the bar that hangs all of Killian’s suit jackets that she just knocked over, all of the clothes tumbling to the ground with a large thud.

The saying when it rains it pours really seems to be sticking around for her right now.

It’s just raining suit jackets. And Henry’s red puffer jacket that tumbled out of the box.

It takes awhile to get the chair moves back so she can pick everything up, especially in her attempt to make sure all of the jackets are in the order that Killian likes (sometimes he’s so weird about things like this). His old dress whites are the last thing she hangs up, and as she’s straightening out the wrinkles in it, she feels a hard box in the pocket that immediately stops her in her tracks.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

She can feel her heartbeat in her ears. It’s actually in her ears, and if she was breathing, she’s sure that would be irregular too. Her hands shake as she reaches into the pocket, pulling out a small blue velvet box, and she nearly vomits right then and there. She shouldn’t open this. She shouldn’t. It’s not her business. This really isn’t her business, but now that she’s seen it, she doesn’t think she’s going to be able to live not knowing what’s inside.

She knows that it’s a ring, but for some reason she needs to see the physical proof of it.

Her teeth clamp together and her eyes close before she’s snapping it open, opening one eye to look at the diamond that’s in her hands. It’s gorgeous, just a simple oval diamond with a gold band that shines under the light in the closet.

This is – Killian was going to propose to her, she realizes, and her legs shake beneath her until she’s sliding down the wall and curling herself into a ball while she continues to stare at the ring, disbelief that it’s real. They’d talked about getting married. It wouldn’t have been completely out of the blue, but she had no idea that he’d bought a ring, that he must have been holding onto it for months now.

Finding out like this feels wrong, dirty even.

It should have never been like this.

None of this should have ever been like this.

“Hey, Ems, what was that sound?” Neal asks from her bedroom, and she quickly stuffs the ring into her shirt and her bra before he comes into view, half of his face covered in pillow creases. “Why are you on the floor?”

“I, um,” she starts, reaching up to fidget with her necklace, “I accidentally knocked down Killian’s suits when I was trying to get a box off of the top shelf, and I guess I’m on the floor trying to finish the clean up.”

Neal quirks an eyebrow at her, and she has to force a smile onto her face while her heart still beats quickly. That was a bad lie, and even she knows it. “I’m glad it was just the suits. It woke me up from my nap.”

“Sorry,” she cringes, getting up from the ground and brushing down her jeans before she grabs Henry’s jacket and holds it over her chest. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great. I’m just tired as all. It’s weird working a desk job again, especially because I stayed late yesterday to finish up some reports.”

“I cannot wait,” she laughs, nudging past him to walk out of the closet. “I love spending time with Ada, but I want to go back to work. Chilling at home isn’t really my thing.”

“Trust me, no one knows that more than me.”

Her steps stop at his words, but she shakes it off and keeps walking out of the room, hoping that Neal will follow her. Having him in her bedroom feels wrong, and all she can think about is the box pressing into the skin of her chest and a similar box that Neal gave her eleven years ago when he proposed under the cherry blossom trees in D.C. when they’d been out on a walk. She was so young then, so in love, and her mind can’t wrap itself around the difference in her life then and the difference in her life now.

“Yeah,” she chuckles awkwardly, twisting her head to make sure he’s following her as she stands in the hallway, boxes of Christmas decorations next to the stair railing that looks over the entrance to the house, waiting for them to come face to face with each other. “So, um, do you want to help out with some decorations? We tend to get really festive around here.”

“The giant tree in the living room tells me that.”

“We always get a big tree. It’s, like, this tradition now because I used to have this tiny fake tree when I lived in an apartment after you…after you died, and, well, um, Killian wasn’t having it. So now we have these giant real trees, and Henry gets to put this swan tree topper on it even though it looks ridiculous now.”

His lips curl up into a smile, his entire face crinkling, and she feels her own face do the same thing. “That’s wonderful. Do you guys do the whole Santa thing?”

“Yep. Santa comes to visit, and he leaves some smaller presents unwrapped on the couch while presents from us go wrapped under the tree. It’s Ada’s first Christmas, so I’m super excited about it. I guess it’s your first Christmas too. With Henry, I mean. So if you need help finding him a gift, I can go shopping with you.”

“He likes trains, doesn’t he? That’s what he said.”

“Yeah, but we have far too many trains in this house. Killian and I, I think, are going to get him a bike as his big gift, so I don’t know. You could get him something to go with that. Or maybe you could get him some more journals or crayons. Uh, books, he likes books. Or games for his Switch thing. We try to go minimal on the games, but he can get a couple. I’ll just have to tell you what games to get. Ooh, or – ”

“Emma,” Neal laughs, reaching over to put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing her sweater to get her to stop rambling, “you don’t have to list the entire toy catalog of toys. We can just go shopping or something. Though it’s not like we can go to Toys R Us anymore.”

“Look at you all up and current on the news,” she sighs, reaching up to quickly pat his shoulder before moving her hand back down to keep clutching Henry’s jacket to her chest.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to talk to my coworkers about shit when I don’t know anything that’s happened for years.”

“True. You want to go help set some decorations up now?”

“I’d like that. But, I, uh,” he mumbles, his feet staying put while he smiles with that crooked smile of his that she always found so charming, “I was wondering if you were okay, Ems. I know it’s been a lot of changes, but you’ve seemed a little frazzled over the past few weeks.”

“I’m fine,” she lies, pressing her lips together in what she hopes looks like a genuine smile. “You’re right that I’ve been a bit stressed, but we do have a lot going on.”

“And you and Jones, you’re fine too?”

“Yeah,” she spits out, knowing that she can’t start crying now. “We’re great. Like I said, even with how absolutely thrilled I am to have you back, it’s been a lot on me and Killian. I’m happy to do it, though.”

“I understand. It can’t be easy to have your husband living in your house with your boyfriend.”

Well shit. She knows he doesn’t mean anything by it, but she might as well tell him now. She’s going to start telling people how she feels today, and it might as well start with Neal. Maybe not everything, but she can start.

“We’ve divorced, Neal,” she mumbles, hoping that he can hear her as her eyes look at the light fixture just behind his head. Someone needs to dust that. “I don’t – I know that it’s not fair to you, but we are. I signed the papers last year to have you officially declared dead and us divorced. So technically we’re not married, and as much as I will always love you, I’m not sure that I see us ever getting back together or contesting the papers or whatever. I’m sorry.”

Her gaze falls back to his, and she can see a storm rage behind the brown of his eyes. They’re widened for a moment before he closes them, lashes landing against his cheeks while the corners of his lips curl up into a small smile that makes all of the lines on his face appear, the lines that she’s still getting used to.

She really did just blurt that out, didn’t she?

It feels damn good.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he begins, his voice as soft as she’s ever heard it, and she’s not sure if her heart breaks or heals as he opens his eyes again, water pooling in them that makes him look like Henry. “I mean, I kind of figured. I’ve been a little scared to talk about the legalities of it all, but I’ve pretty much known since you told me that you and Killian were together. You’ve been my wife in my mind for over a decade now, so I guess I’m still going to refer to you that way. I’ll try to work on it.”

“Neal, it’s fine,” she promises, stepping forward and wrapping him in a hug, hoping the Henry’s jacket will keep him from feeling the ring box. “It’s okay for you to need to adjust. You’ve been through hell, and you came back to an entirely new world. Henry and I, Killian too, we’re always going to love you.”

“I love you guys too,” he whispers as he buries his face in her hair.

For all of their problems, both past and present, she knows that nothing could ever change that she does love him in a way. He was her best friend for a long time, and he gave her Henry. For all the bad, there’s still good, and right now she can’t find it in her to dredge up all of the bad when having to tell Neal that she legally took him out of his own family.

But maybe that’s what she’ll work on next.

After they pull back from each other, they walk downstairs and turn to go back to the living room where Henry is still perched on the couch watching The Grinch, and she tosses him his jacket, listening to him murmur a “thank you” before she plops down next to him and pulls a box of ornaments toward she and Neal so he can help her thread all of them with the new hooks. It doesn’t take long with help, and they get everything done before the movie is over. Neal asks her if she wants to go ahead and start hanging the ornaments, but even with how upset she is with him right now, it doesn’t feel right without Killian. He should be here.

She wraps her arm around Henry’s shoulder and pulls him into her side, kissing his hair even if he protests a little bit. One day he’s going to be too cool to be affectionate with her, but today is not that day. He’s her little boy, and all she wants is for him to be happy. His day yesterday was so rough, and he doesn’t at all deserve anything that he’s had to go through because his parents’ lives are difficult and because other parents don’t know how to have private conversations. He deserves to get to watch Christmas movies and go ice skating with his best friend. He deserves for his parents not to be separated and moping despite how hard they’re trying not to seem upset.

She’s a mom. She’s been a mom for eight and a half years, whether she was ready for it or not, and life doesn’t stop for her no matter what’s going on. She has to keep going.

-/-

-/-

“Neal, I’m serious,” she groans, quickly twisting her hair into a braid so that her hair will stop falling in her face while she looks over her notes. “I don’t want to go out tonight.”

“Come on, babe,” he smiles, walking over to her and tucking her bangs behind her ear before she can pin them back, “it’ll be fun. You’ve been studying for days. It’ll be nice to get to go out.”

“I’ve been studying because I have finals coming up in two weeks, and I’ve got to keep my GPA up for my scholarship. It’s not like I’m going to make enough when I graduate to pay off loads of debt. Plus I still want to get my Masters and – ”

“Ems,” Neal whispers, leaning down to press a kiss on her cheek, “it’s okay. You work so hard, and I love you for that. But sometimes it’s good to take a break. Besides, when we get married, you can use my grant for your Masters. It won’t cost you any money.”

“Really? You’re sure that I can use it?”

“I’m positive. I looked into it and everything. I know your mom doesn’t have much money, but we’re going to be set.”

“I know you’re good at your job, but I don’t think it’s going to set us up for life.”

He shrugs before walking back to his dresser and pulling on a flannel shirt over his t-shirt. “I’ve got savings. I’m twenty-seven and have some leftover stuff that my mom left me when she died. It’s not like I’m just starting out. So we’ll be comfortable.”

She brings her bottom lip between her teeth, biting a bit while she weighs the pros and cons of going out tonight. It’d probably be fun. It’s been awhile since they’ve gone out.

“Okay, I’ll come with you, but I’m not going to drink tonight, okay? I’ve got to wake up early and go through my notes again since I only got to section three.”

“That sounds perfect.”

After she changes into jeans and a sweater, throwing her red jacket on to combat a bit of the cold, they go to Oceania, which is Neal’s favorite bar. She’s never seen the appeal of it, but it’s apparently where everyone here in the military goes on their nights off, no matter the branch. So she’s been here a few times, and it’s that fact that has her moving away from the bar and going to get a booth in the back. They’re much more comfortable, and she’s less likely to get hit on by random guys. She’s fine with it if only because she can take care of herself and it rarely goes too far, but when Neal has had a few beers, he doesn’t think the most rationally. She loves him, but sometimes when he pulls shit like that, she wants to tell him to fuck off.

It’s not often though. He’s a good guy, and she’s so happy that she’s found him. He’s probably the first person besides Ruth and David to really care for her, and he makes her feel like she’s found another home. A really good one. She spent most of her life alone, and while sometimes she still prefers it to be that way, it’s good to have a family.

She twists the ring on her finger, looking at the large diamond, and fiddles with it until she sees Neal coming back with their drinks. He’s just got a water for her, but she can see his almost empty glass of whiskey. She can also see that he’s bringing a group of people with him, guys following around him and talking to him, and she braces herself for the introductions. She’s always been so bad with names, and it doesn’t help that they always all look alike.

“Babe,” Neal greets, sliding into the booth next to her and giving her the glass of water, “I want you to meet a couple of guys. That’s Scarlett, Whale, and then you know that guy Jones I’m always talking about?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s him on the end there.”

She waves to all of them since she can’t reach over to them, and they all wave back. She’s never heard of Scarlett and Whale before, but she knows a bit about Jones. Killian. His first name is Killian even though Neal prefers last names. It’s a military thing, she guesses. Neal is always talking about him because they watch soccer together and sometimes train together outside of their units, but she doesn’t really know a lot about him. He’s not really how she pictured him either.

His hair is a little longer than a crew cut, his face not exactly clean shaven, and even in the dim lights of the bar she can see the blue of his eyes. He’s attractive. Anyone with eyes can see that, and the fact that he’s dressed in tight black jeans and a fitted t-shirt doesn’t hide the fact that he’s fit. But all of these guys are fit. It’s the nature of their jobs.

What she really doesn’t expect, however, is the accent.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, lass,” Killian greets, sliding into the booth across from her and flashing her a toothy grin. “Cassidy’s not one for talking too much about you, but I already know that you are far too good for him.”

“Undoubtedly,” she teases, laughing a bit at his joke while she pats Neal’s forearm. “But you can’t tell him that.”

“It’ll be between us, love.”

“I’m literally sitting right here.”

“I was enraptured by your fiancée’s beauty, mate,” Killian sighs, winking at her before looking at Neal. “Can you blame me?”

“A little bit yeah.”

“Hey,” she laughs, slapping his arm, “this is prime time where you say the same thing happens to you.”

Scarlett and Whale both whistle at that, and she turns to look at them still standing until they both squeeze into the booth next to Killian. She kind of forgot they were there.

“Cassidy, you’re supposed to compliment your lady.”

“Scarlett, you are the last person who should be giving me advice on this.”

“Hey, I dated Anna for years. I just fucked it all up.”

“Exactly,” Neal sighs, wrapping his arm around her shoulder while he chugs down the rest of his drink. “I’m not going to fuck this one up. Emma’s great, and she’s graduating from college soon, unlike every single one of us.”

“What are you studying, love?” Killian asks her, and everyone else at the table groans, much to her confusion. “Bloody hell, it’s not bad to ask someone what they’re studying. If you don’t want to hear about school, you can go sit someone else.”

“I know all about this, so I’m going to go get another drink,” Neal states before unwrapping his arm and getting up from the table. “Do you two want to come and join me?”

“Yep. It was nice to meet you, Emma,” Whale mumbles, smiling at her before getting out of the booth.

“Yeah, it was”, Scarlett adds. “I’m sure we’ll be back later. I want to talk to whoever is in charge of the music tonight.”

“It was nice to meet you guys too.” She watches them all walk away, their conversation fading the further they get and the louder the music playing over the speaker becomes. She’s never been great with small talk, so she’s a bit hesitant to be left with this stranger. He’s not really a stranger. She knows a little about him, but still. She wasn’t really prepared to be having a conversation with just him. “So, yeah,” she starts, focusing her eyes back on Killian as he taps his fingers on the table, “I’m getting my bachelor’s in psychology. I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do, but I was always somewhere between social worker, therapist, and guidance counselor for high school kids. I’m leaning more toward counselor because I think I’ll enjoy it while also helping out. My counselor is the one who encouraged me to go to college when I didn’t think it was a possibility for me, so yeah.”

“That sounds brilliant,” he tells her, and she’s not sure why she feels relieved hearing it, but she does. “I never went to university, as you heard. I’d always wanted to, but after I was unexpectedly moved here when I was twelve, things were a bit crazy and money was tight. And by the time I’d turned eighteen, the Navy was my best option. And if I really wished to, I could always go back to school.”

“It’s not for everyone, but I definitely think it’s worth it. So you’re from – ”

“England,” he finishes for her. “I grew up south of London, and my brother has moved back there since he married a woman from home. But I like it here, have citizenship and all that, so I decided to stay. Though I do like to go back every now and then to make sure I don’t lose my accent. It makes people think I’m a hell of a lot smarter than I really am.”

“I was thinking it probably helped you get girls.”

He smirks at her, actually smirks, and she feels a shiver run down her spine. “That too, but I find that I actually have to be interesting to keep a girlfriend.”

She laughs at that, especially with the way that his brows move over his forehead. He’s funny, and even though she barely knows him, she has a gut feeling that he’s one of Neal’s better friends. They’re not all bad, but some of them are assholes.

“I mean, looks only get you so far, so I’m glad you realized that.”

Killian leans forward on the table and props his chin up in his hand. “So you think I’m attractive then?”

“That is not what I said,” she protests, blush rising on her cheeks.

“It’s what I heard. It’s fine, love. I know that life is unfair for other men when I’ve got the looks and the personality.”

“And you’re humble.”

“That I am,” he sighs, leaning back and wiping the smirk off of his face to show a soft smile. “But seriously, I’m most definitely kidding. It doesn’t hurt to be confident, but I don’t want you to think I’m some undeniable asshole.”

She hums, trying to think of what to say in response. She has a feeling that he’s quick on his toes and can turn any conversation on a dime. He’s kind of a mystery to her, but then again, he might be an open enough book for her to figure out. “Well, I just met you, so I’m thinking you’ll have to prove it over more time than just now. But, fair warning, I consider all people to be assholes until they prove themselves otherwise, so you have the tide working against you.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Yes.”

One side of his mouth ticks up before he reaches up to scratch behind his ear. “I like you, Swan. I have a feeling you and I are going to be good mates.”

“Really now?”

“Yep. Now tell me all of the weird things you can about Neal so that I can mess with him later.”

“You want me to help you mess with my fiancé?”

“I do indeed.”

“Okay, but only if I get to help. What is love if there’s not a little teasing involved?”

“Really damn boring.”

-/-

-/-

The front door opens, and she reaches forward to pause the movie, much to Henry’s dismay.

“Why are you pausing it?”

“We’ve got to go help Daddy bring in the groceries.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Henry groans and throws his head back against the couch before he’s scrambling up and walking out of the room with she and Neal following right behind him.

“Don’t look so excited to help,” Killian jokes as he watches Henry walk through the front door. “Hey, Swan. Ada has been a bit cranky, and I didn’t have a bottle so – ”

“So she needs me,” she sighs, stopping her steps toward the front door and turning to get Ada from her car seat on the floor. “Got it.”

“Thanks, love.”

She smiles tightly at him before she’s adjusting Ada on her hip and watching everyone else go outside to get the groceries. It won’t take all three of them, but they’ll learn that when one of them is coming back empty-handed. “Alright, bug,” she sighs, walking back into the living room and settling down in a recliner so she’ll be comfortable. “I’m sure you had a good time with your daddy, but you are fussy and need me, which is both reassuring and kind of annoying. Imagine what life would be like if Daddy could breastfeed.”

It’s a weird thought, but it’s a valid one nonetheless.

She moves to roll up her sweater and unsnap her bra when she’s suddenly reminded of the box she has hidden in there, the box that no one else can see right now.

Shit.

This day has been an absolute rollercoaster.

Quickly, she pulls the box out of her bra and stuffs it into the waistband of her leggings, the bulge obvious under the material, and gets Ada adjusted as much as she can, hoping that no one will pay her too much attention for the next few minutes before she can return the ring to Killian’s uniform jacket and stuff away all of her thoughts.

Or maybe not. Maybe she should talk to him. That’s what she’s been thinking all day. Now that she’s calmed a bit, she respects his choice of needing time, but she doesn’t respect his choice of not listening to her and her feelings, of not giving her an option. It’s selfish, but she can’t live in this sense of limbo. And it’s not like Killian hasn’t been selfish too. It’s too hard to act like she and Killian are okay when they’re not. It’s too hard to have to balance her crumbling relationship and her children and her ex-husband.

God, her chest feels lighter now that she’s not harboring that secret from Neal anymore.

She and Killian are going to talk. They have to. She has to take her life back because she has fought too damn hard for things to be okay for everything to fall apart because her kid got his dad back.

She’s going to get her life back if it kills her.

It’s going to kill her if she doesn’t, if she can’t. She has to get her life back.

She’s been so damn hurt by Killian, but honestly, all she wants is to be with him as long as they can work everything out.

“Mom,” Henry shouts as he runs into the room, “We’ve got cookies, but you guys can’t make them tonight because what if Ada eats them all while I’m with Avery?”

“Ada can’t eat cookies, kid.” “But what if you put them in the blender so she can?”

“We will not make the cookies without you, and Ada will not eat them. But, you know, when she’s older she can eat cookies, and you have to share.”

“I know. So you promise you won’t make the cookies without me?”

She sticks out her pinky, and Henry intertwines his with hers. “Promise.”

They spend their afternoon decorating the tree and the house, bright lights and ornaments adorning nearly every room. Killian puts Henry on his shoulders, and Henry puts the swan on top of the tree, completing everything in the house down to the wreath on the door that has a monogrammed “J” on it despite the fact that their household is made up of two Joneses, two Cassidies, and one Swan.

And a partridge in a pear tree.

Or a swan in a Christmas tree.

She doesn’t know. She’s lost her mind.

But for a couple of hours things seem normal again, and she feels her face hurt from smiling. It’s been a long time since that’s happened, and as she sends Henry off to go ice skating with Avery, money in his pocket to rent some new skates, she lets herself revel in it for a moment before she deals with the box that’s still pressing into the skin of her hip.

Before she takes her life back.

Once she gets Ada down for her nap, she take a deep breath (and then a couple more) and walks back into the living room where Killian and Neal are watching TV. She doesn’t understand how he can spend time with Neal and not her. Why does he need a break from her but not from Neal? Why doesn’t any of this make sense?

“Hey, Killian,” she asks, and he twists his head to look at her as he taps his fingers across the back of the couch, “can I talk to you for a minute?”

His eyes slant for a moment before they open back up, and he presses his lips together before nodding his head and rising from the couch. “Tell me if they catch the guy, yeah?”

“Sure thing, man.”

Killian walks over to her, and the moment he opens his mouth to say something, she nods her head and moves around the corner to that she can walk up the stairs, knowing for sure that Killian is following behind her, his footsteps heavy on the wood as it creaks beneath his weight at the same time that the weight in her shoulders begins to increase, her body humming in anticipation of laying all of her cards out on the table. She’s been through too much shit to have to go through more of it.

“Okay,” she sighs as they both walk into the bedroom, Killian closing the door behind him.

“You said you wanted to talk,” he asks calmly, sitting down on the edge of the bed as his eyes glance over to the chair that’s sitting in the closet. “What’s up?”

Her stomach churns, but she pushes it down, shutting her eyes for a moment before she’s lifting her shirt and taking the ring box out of her waistband and placing it on the bed right next to Killian. She opens her eyes to watch him, but all he does is widen his eyes before his hand is reaching out and thumbing over the velvet, caring for it like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

Maybe it is to him.

Maybe to him it’s a physical representation of how their life should be.

“Emma – ”

“No,” she starts, straightening her back and crossing her arms over her chest, “I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen, okay? And then we can hash it out. We haven’t talked in months, and I’m sick of it. I can’t do it anymore. So you’re good to listen?”

He nods his head and presses his lips together again while his knuckles go white around the box.

“You are an idiot. Do you know that? You are an idiot, Killian. I love you so much that sometimes it hurts, and I thought that you felt the same way about me. I thought that you wanted a future with me, and finding that box today made me think that maybe you’ve changed your mind after all that we’ve been through. The damn break makes me think that too. I still want a future with you. I have never not wanted that. Do you understand me? Neal coming back is supposed to be a blessing. It’s not supposed to be something that’s going to tear us apart.”

“But what about him? What about your family? What about Henry?”

“You think that I want to be a man who accused me of having a drunken hookup with you and implied that that’s the only reason why I have my daughter? You think I want that? You think I want to be with a man who I don’t even know anymore? Who I barely knew then when I really think about it? Killian, I loved Neal a long time ago, still love him in a way now, but I was young. He was older. I thought he knew everything, that he could help me finally have the life I never got growing up.”

She shakes her head back and forth as the rage runs through her. She’s not even sure that it’s rage. It’s likely just the release of her emotions and of everything that’s been bottled up and festering below the surface.

“I was so bitter about my childhood still, about how no one wanted me for so long, and he did. He wanted me. You know all of this. You were there for a lot of it. But you weren’t there for the way that he would sometimes dismiss my feelings, for the way he would laugh at me when I got excited at things, for the way he wasn’t happy when I told him I was pregnant with Henry. I loved him, I thought the world of him, and I know that I’ve glossed over so much of that shit because I thought he had died and wanted Henry to think his dad was a hero. You thought he was a hero. And he is. But he is not the man I want to be with. So if you could get the stick out of your ass and just stop feeling guilty like I did and love me like you’re supposed to love me, I feel like we won’t have to play this stupid game anymore. I can’t...I can’t do it, Killian. I can’t hang on your string too.” By the time she’s finished talking, her chest is heaving, her shoulders moving up and down, and she can feel her heart beating between her ears. That’s not how anatomy works, but she can feel it. She can hear  it. It’s also what causes her to start laughing, for laughter to bubble up and rise through her chest before it escapes past her lips in a sound that she would describe as insanity in the form of laughter. There’s no other way. She’s lost her mind. She really has.

“Are you okay?”

“No, no,” she laughs, a hiccup escaping her as she tries to see Killian through the tears that are pooling in her eyes. “No, I’m not okay. I’m not okay. I’ve lost my mind, and I’ve lost my life. I’ve lost everything.”

The tears that stemmed from laughter suddenly sting hotly behind her eyes, and something shifts behind her as her legs become shaky and she moves to sit on the ground, her back resting against the dresser, a knob digging into her skin that might as well be cutting into her.

“You have not lost anything,” he murmurs, and she can see the blur of him as he squats down next to her and pulls her into an embrace that she doesn’t fight. She encourages it, wrapping her arms around his waist and sobbing into his shoulder as she can feel his hands moving up and down her back, tracing her spine. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I fucked up, that I didn’t listen to you, that I wouldn’t talk to you, that I thought that I knew best. I don’t, Emma. I don’t. I love you, and I was terrified to lose you. I am always  terrified to lose you, and I shouldn’t – I don’t know how to fix us when I’m the one who broke us.”

“I just want you to talk to me. I just want you to stop sleeping in the nursery and to come back in this room. I want you to stop feeling guilty. You are not keeping me from being from Neal. If I wanted to be with him, I would be. I love you, you insufferable jackass,” she sniffs, leaning back as much as she can with how their limbs are twisted so that she can look in his eyes, the blue cloudy enough to nearly look gray. “I love you,” she whispers, reaching up to caress his face, to feel his scruff against her fingertips, “and I want to have our family back. Isn’t that what you want? We were so happy. Don’t you want to go back to how we were?”

“More than anything.”

“Then stop being stubborn and talk to me so that we can be us again.”

He nods his head up and down before leaning forward and pressing his forehead against hers, the heat of his skin comfortable and familiar and wonderful. “I’m sorry.”

“I am too.”

“We need to talk about what’s going on with Henry at school.”

“We need to talk about a lot of things.”

“Aye, it’s just – ”

“What?” she smiles, her fingers still tracing his face, running over the scar on his cheek that he got when a mirror shattered on his ship and cut his face. Her heartbeat has calmed, the regularity of it returning, but all of the sudden it starts up again. This time not in fear, but in anticipation.

“I just really, desperately need to kiss you for a minute before we talk some more about how much of a jackass that I am and all of that other stuff.”

She laughs again, but this time it’s not quite so insane. It’s watery, but it’s happy. And instead of talking, she slams her lips forward to capture Killian’s lips with hers, and the softness is exactly like coming home after searching her entire life.

The kiss lingers for longer than she expects, a gentle caress turning into a desperate slow dance. She thought it would be frantic. In all of the nights that she allowed herself to imagine them coming together again, she always thought it would be frantic, but she should have known better. Sometimes they can be rough and hurried, coming together so quickly and harshly that they’re both left with bruises, but usually it’s soft and slow.

It’s like this.

It’s not frantic, but there’s still an urgency, a need, and she revels in the way that Killian’s nose presses heavily into her cheek, into the way that his scruff burns her as much as the heat of his hands snaking up underneath her shirt while her hands cup his jaw, feeling each movement of his mouth on hers.

The weights that have been on her shoulders, the ones that are lessening and gaining and changing every day, disappear into a lightness that she can’t explain. It’s giddiness and desire and love all wrapped up in one. They have so much to talk about, so much to figure out, but they need this. She can’t speak for Killian, not really, but somehow she knows.

When you love someone, you know.

Clothes are shed as the stand, and for the briefest moment she remembers Ada sleeping in her crib in the nursery and Neal watching television downstairs, but she really doesn’t need to be thinking about Neal when Killian’s hands are fumbling with the clasp of her bra, releasing it and letting her feel free as the rough pads of his thumbs ghost of her nipples while heat simmers under her skin. Ada, well Ada will sleep for another hour, maybe two, and if she wakes, they have the monitor.

It’s all a blur. She wants to remember it all, wants to memorize things like she did the first time they slept together, but the awkward fumbling and uncertainty are replaced by sure hands and even surer movements as they both rile each other up, metaphorical flames flickering across her skin as Killian hovers above her, teasing her until he slides in and begins rocking against her, full and thick and…like home.

She wishes she could think of something else, some other way to consider it, but Killian has been home to her for a long time, even longer than they’ve been together. He’s a steady partner for her, the person who often keeps her from spiraling, and he understands her. Maybe it’s that they both have some not so stellar childhoods. Maybe it’s that they have both been through great loss. Maybe they simply work in a way that she doesn’t need to dissect.

“Emma,” he whispers, his thrusts coming to a sudden halt and making her whine out in frustration. “Emma, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” “Then why are you crying?”

He releases her hip to thumb away at the tears that have apparently fallen. Oh. She didn’t…she didn’t even know or realize, too caught up in the ecstasy and emotion of it all to notice that she’s crying.

She didn’t know.

“Do you not want to do this?” Killian asks her, the concern evident in his eyes, and she can feel him retreating until she moves her hands from his back and cups his cheeks, running her own thumbs over his cheeks, tracing the scar again.

“No, baby, no,” she promises, pushing back her frustration of having Killian still inside when he was just deliciously hitting all of the right places so that she can focus on what’s actually important right now. “I want to do this. I do. Don’t think otherwise. I didn’t even realize I was crying. I just – I love you so much, and I can’t…I don’t know how to express that with just my words. I think my body is letting out months of anxiety and sadness and relief over finally feeling like something in my life is right again.”

“For someone who claims not to be good with words, you were pretty good with them there.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, slowly moving inside of her again, just a simple push and pull. He’s got this affection in his eyes, this life, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to the way that he looks at her like she hung the moon and created the tides of the ocean. Her breath always catches when it happens, her heart swelling, and she never wants it to stop. “That was really good, Swan. I love you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing. Let’s just…you want to have this conversation a little later? Isn’t that what we’re supposed to be doing?”

Killian chuckles, something deep and throaty, before his lips are consuming her and his hips are snapping into hers. She’ll take that as a yes.

There’s a heaviness to his body over hers, a meaning to each snap of his hips, but she can’t explain it. She can’t think about it too much. They’ve fought before, absolute blow outs, but it’s never been like these past few weeks. Joining together has never been quite like this. It’s not that the sex is better or worse or different. They’re both still just as skilled and as in tune with each other as they’ve been for years, but it’s different.

She’s been craving normalcy, but she’ll gladly take this different, gladly take getting her life back.

She’ll take having them back.

And as she violently trembles beneath him, everything becoming too much for her and the emotions spilling over once again, she knows that she’s got them.

[cianmars]

The Bookworms and the Library  Chapter 3: House Hunting AO3

James had never been so exhausted and so happy before. It was fall yet he stood in their new bookstore in a t-shirt: he was boiling- the heat in the place was malfunctioning so it felt like summer in there- despite this he was over the moon because they were nearly ready to open. He was shelving the first of the books as he waited for the guy to fix the heat.

He heard the bell above the shop door ring and he turned, expecting to see the heater-guy, but it was Belle. He placed the books on the shelf and crossed his arms over his chest, he looked at her with raised eyebrows, barely concealing his amusement. “Aren’t you meant to be finding your dream house, y’know not working here?”

Belle let out a loud sigh. She let her hand rest on the baby bump, which was protruding out from under her sweater. “I’ve been trying to but they all suck.”

“I’m sure they’re not that bad.” He was cut off by her thrusting flyers for the houses into his hand. He flicked through them, pulling a face as he did so. “Okay, you’re right these are shit, this one doesnt even have a roof!”

“I know!”

“Are these seriously the only ones around town? Davey said they saw nice ones when they were looking, and David may have grown up in a barn, but I know Snow at least has some standards - I doubt she would have looked at any of these.”

Belle let out another sigh and fell into a plastic covered armchair. “Most of the empty buildings around here belong to Rumple, the ones I know about anyway.” She explained.

James frowned. He moved to lean against a desk next to where Belle was sat. He looked down at her with the protective worry of a best friend. “He won’t sell one to you?”

“He probably would, but it’s awkward, and I want to find my own home, I want…”

She trailed off but he understood, she wanted to be in control, at least as much as she could while having to co-parent with him for the next 18 years. James nodded at her and stayed silent for a minute, in thought. “I could ask Snow if she still has the flyers for the other houses, if you like? I’m pretty sure that most of the places weren’t being sold by Rumple.”

Belle took a second to think before giving him a smile. “That would be good, thank you.” She reached over and squeezed his hand.

James had already been feeling hot, but having her hold his hand felt like a fire was starting inside of him, not necessarily dangerous more like a camp fire or the hearth of a home. He gave her a quick smile and pulled out his phone to text his sister in law, pulling his hand away from Belle as he did so.

He had a text from Snow within fifteen minutes, pictures of flyers for houses, all of which looked promising, all in different styles. He passed his phone over to Belle who grinned and started to show him houses she liked best, or pointing out some of the good features of the houses, he didn’t quite understand all of it but she seemed excited so he shared in it.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

James did a double take. “Where? Oh, to look at the houses?”

“Yeah, I might need some help judging them, or measuring things up- plus you can get out of this oven.”

James thought for a second, as of late he was constantly trying to evaluate his actions, trying desperately to not push too far, to stay friends without showing his crush, without her realising how much he truly cared for her…. But one look at her hopeful face and… “Okay. Just give me a couple of minutes to get ready.”

Without caring or thinking he took off his t-shirt.

Belle watched as he did so, she should look away, she should really look away. At the centre of his chest, among a litter of other scars, a large, harsh, jagged scar stood out   and was mirrored on his back: she winced at it without realising. She knew that he hadn’t been a good man when he died: he had spent money on dallances while his kingdom starved, he had killed giants, and left his ex girlfriend to die while he saved himself. But he had been the sword King George had forged through abuse when he was still a child. He had died for his crimes. Yet when he died he had chosen to work against Hades, he had seen the suffering of the dead people, he had chosen to become good. And when his niece led her family and friends to the underworld to save her love, Killian, he had helped them, and as a result he had later been rewarded a new life. Even now he was trying his best to be a good man.

And he was a good man, he had a couple of issues, she supposed, but he was working on them with Archie and on his own, he was kind, and caring, and funny, and although he tried to help her with my issues she had he also let her work on things on her own. He understood her need to be an individual. He understood her completely. And she understood him. He was her best friend in a way which she hadn’t had one before.  

Before she knew it he had a sweater on ready to go out to look at houses with her, for her, which somehow made her feel lonelier, it was just her and her unborn baby now.

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Belle could hear her feet echoing on the tile as she walked around the house.

“This is, it’s big?” James offered trying to be upbeat. He watched Belle take some steps around the living area of the open plan first floor. “I know Neal has a lot of stuff and he’s four, Dave says he had even more stuff when he was a baby, you could do with this.”

“Yeah... yeah the space is good.” Belle agreed, she smiled at him but frowned when she looked back at the place. “There’s a lot of light too, which I guess is to be expected with the giant windows.”

James frowned. “Y’know, your fake happy voice needs a bit of work.” He smirked when she looked at him surprised that he had figured out she was faking it. “I know you Belle.” He explained with a shrug.

“Yeah… yeah I guess you do.” She sent him a small smile. She looked him over once again, sure he wasn’t shirtless now, and had a chunky sweater on hiding his abs and his scars… but he still looked nice, really nice in fact. He had a nice smile, a nice face in fact. It was weird because she had never looked at David like that, yet here James was looking so… and he was meant to be identical to David but Belle felt entirely different about him, his personality, his face, his body. Not that she was thinking about it, about him like that, she was pregnant, and everything with Rumple, plus her and James were friends and business partners ; she couldn’t chance screwing all that up.

“So, what do you want?”

“What?” Her eyes went wide. Shit, had she said it out loud? Shit, shit, shit.

“The… house… what type of house are you wanting? Are you feeling okay, Belle, you look a little pale?” He walked over to her, frowning in concern, should he feel her temperature or something?

“Sorry baby brain.” She lied.

“You get that before the baby is even born?!”

“Yeah, it’s erm, well, the human body’s weird.”

“Do you need to take a break or some air or, I don’t know, what helps?”

“I’m fine now, thanks James. I don’t know what sort of house.”

“Old or new?”

“Old, but not so old that it doesn’t have heat and electric and like a leaky roof.”

“Okay, so this one is out, there’s two other ones which are older but not too old. Keep your head up, we’re going to find you a new home today, I promise.”

Belle grinned at him. “I know you pretend to be all grumpy and serious and scary but you’re really sweet.”

James looked at her with laughter in his face and eyes. “Just don’t tell anyone else that, I have a reputation to keep.” The two shared a look and a smile.

They were both falling even though they had sworn to themselves that they wouldn’t.

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The second place was a lot better suited to Belle. It was a cottage, not too small, it was nice, not falling down or a shack. It was on the edge of town, down a long dirt path in the woods.

“Hey, this place even has a proper fireplace, not like those ‘radiator’ things!” James called to her from the living room.

Belle beamed, running her hand along the top of the kitchen counter. “And the kitchen is amazing.” She stated when he came to see it. “And there’s plenty of room upstairs for me and the baby.”

James grinned and opened the backdoor to look at the yard. “The flyer said you get a lot of land, I think that means all the trees, and that big lake.”

“There’s a lake?!” Belle rushed over, squeezing into the doorway with him, she leant into his side.

James wrapped his arm around her to stop her from falling. “Yeah. I once went on an adventure of sorts, it was the first time I had to sail on my own. Did you know that it’s tiring to row a boat?”

Belle tried her best to hide her smile, but failed, quite spectacularly. “Yeah, I have some experience with rowing boats and adventures too.” She smiled when he looked impressed.

“Though you’ll have to fence it off within a year or so, with a little tyke being around here.”

Belle frowned. “Yeah you’re right. How much of the land is mine?” James shrugged so she brought out her phone to look at the plans online. “There’s no signal.”

James took out his phone. “Mine too.” He moved around a bit. “So, you remember that moving pic- movie, the one you forced me to watch, the erm, the horror one?” He asked slowly.

“Oh shit.” Belle looked around the place with new eyes. “I’ll be part of a horror movie.”

“I wouldn't be able to stop you from getting this place… but I’d rather you didn’t die; you’re kind of my only friend, my best friend in fact, and my partner- business partner.”

Belle’s heart skipped a beat until he quickly said business partner, then her heart, curiously, fell. She quickly regained her composure and smiled up at him. She lowered her hand, the back of her hand brushed against the back of his, as they stood side by side. Don’t, she had to remind herself. “Yeah, I think you’re right, I don’t know how you’d survive without me.”

James laughed, loudly and freely, as he could only around those he loved the most, and he always laughed louder and freer around Belle.

Belle watched him for a half second before laughing with him.

At their sides Belle took hold of his hand.

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As soon as Belle stepped foot into the front yard of the last place Belle knew it was the one. It was a contemporary beach house, or that’s what the flyer for it had said, and it wasn’t that far from the beach so she supposed it was fitting. It was grey stone at the bottom and white paneling on the rest of it. There were wooden troughs out the front one with flowers in and another with signs saying the vegetables which were busy growing under the soil. The garden was fenced in but it didn’t feel imprisoning like the first place they had looked at.

“Woah.”

Belle had almost forgotten that she was there with James. She looked up at him, taking in his face of complete wonder, Belle had grown up in a castle but it was nowhere near as splendid as the one James had grown up in she was wondering how he was so impressed by this. “You like this place?”

“Of course! I mean imagine this place a year or two in the future; you and the little one out making snow angels, or planting flowers and fruit and vegetables, teaching him the names of birds, or looking for bugs.”

Belle watched his eyes sparkling as he spoke, he was watching the house so intently she could almost see the scenes playing in his head, she remembered that this wasn’t the spoiled prince she heard her father speaking about in the Enchanted Forest, this was her James, he was a good and kind man, she wondered if he would ever settle down and start a family of his own. She looked at the garden and found that she could imagine what James had said to her. She placed her hands on her stomach. She couldn’t feel her baby but she knew he was safe in there, and he would be safe in this garden, even if she couldn’t imagine the baby being a month old, let alone two years old. “Let’s head inside.”

James led the way up the stairs to the porch and held the door open for Belle to walk through first. “My Lady.”

Belle smiled to herself and walked through the door. “Thank you, kind sir.”

James felt proud, he knew she’d understand his reference, she was the one who had made him watch all of Community after all. He noticed her eyes widening and her smile grow before he even looked inside of the house. He had to remind himself, again, to watch himself: he had a penance to serve, it was self imposed but as serious as any. He quickly turned his head to look at the house instead.

He understood why Belle was smiling, it really looked like the perfect family home. It was nearly open plan, there was a wall and a corner separating the areas of the living room and kitchen. The kitchen was modern and full, perfect for cooking and baking, there was a big table. James couldn’t help but imagining Belle sat there, with a book and her breakfast, the baby in a highchair, and James was there too. He subtly shook his head, he was being stupid, he was her friend, and that’s all he would be.

He walked after Belle, smiling as she happily pointed out all the different things she loved, and he added things which she knew she liked, there was a little conservatory bit which he wandered to.

“Hey Belle look at this.”

“Woah, I could see the sea from here!”

“You could fill it with bookcases and comfortable chairs and you could read while you look out at the sea.” He pointed out. “With your little one playing, or if he’s like you he’ll be reading.”

Belle’s smile brightened even more, if possible. She nudged her shoulder against his. “You’ll have to come around too, if you’re not too sick of seeing us at the bookstore all the time.”

James’ eyes met Belle’s. “I’d never get sick of you. Either of you.”

There was a pregnant pause. Belle went on her tiptoes, their faces were an inch away, Belle could see into his sparkling blue eyes, the way his tongue flickered out over his bottom lip…. No. No, she couldn’t.

She turned back into the main house. “Let’s look upstairs.”

James took a deep breath in. He had nearly bent his head down to kiss her… he had nearly…. Fuck. He needed to control himself better. He was clearly reading too much into Belle’s actions. She had just been trying to get a better look at things a little higher up. He ran his hand through his hair before allowing himself to smooth out his features and continue to follow Belle.

The looked at the bedrooms, of which there were four, there was a little office, and a family bathroom, along with an en-suite attached to the master bedroom. There was plenty of room, storage, and views from what would be the baby’s room of what James saw as the perfect garden.

“You’ve got to get this place.” He told her looking out of the window.

He turned around and saw Belle looking at her phone, she was frowning. “What’s wrong?”

“What? Erm, I’m just not sure. It might be a little too far from the bookstore.”

“It’s about a twenty minute drive, it’s not that far, and it’s not like you have certain hours to keep anyway.”

“Okay, but it’s, it’s too big.”

“You did say that you wanted a place you could stay in forever no matter how big your family grew.”

“But what if it’s too small?”

“Belle, what’s going on?”

“What? Nothing.”

“Something’s going on, you loved this house until you looked at your cell phone, did Gold say something? Or Moe?”

Belle let out a loud sigh.”It’s far from the centre of town… from you. I’ll see you in work but otherwise it’ll be hard to see you.”

James felt her words like a stab in his heart. “You think… You think that just because you’re moving further away I won’t be able to see you much anymore?”

“No. Well, yes, no- but you’re going to be far away, you’re not going to be able to easily walk here every day like you do while I’m living above the library. When I have the new baby I’m not going to be able to get to work and see you there every day, there are going to be times where I’ll probably be housebound maybe for a couple of weeks where I just won’t be able to see you-”

Belle’s rambling stopped as James’ calloused hands cupped her cheeks so gently that she wasn’t sure if he was actually touching her or not. His hands on her cheeks forced her to look straight into his stormy blue eyes. They were close enough that she could feel his breath caressing her skin.

“Do you really think that I would let a little distance stop me from seeing you?” He asked her, his voice was soft, and a little hurt by her even possibly thinking that. “I’ve been getting David to teach me how to drive, I have my test next week.” He admitted. “I figured that you might need some help being driven to places before and after you’ve had the baby. And if I’m in this realm for good, I should probably learn, I tried in the underworld but it wasn’t that successful- anyway,” he shook his head turning his attention back to what he had been meaning to say, “Belle, I’m going to be visiting you so much that you’re going to be bored and sick of me. You’re close enough to Davey’s house that I can just escape him being annoying when I visit by ducking out to see you instead.”

“You love your brother.”

“Yeah, I guess, but that doesn’t mean he’s not the most annoying person in the world.” He smiled at her, the smile only grew as she raised her hand and held onto his wrist as his hands were still on her face. “Belle this house is the most perfect house I’ve ever seen. You need to buy it.”

“As long as you promise that you’ll be around a lot.”

“I swear it.” His head ducked down a little.

Belle tilted her head back, moved it towards his, she went onto her tiptoes….

The jumped apart as the door to the baby’s room opened and the estate agent walked in. “So, what do you two think? This would make an amazing nursery, I’m sure you’ll be having even more as soon as possible, I can tell just from looking at you.”

James’ cheeks and ears flushed pink, his hand went to the back of his head, running his hand through his hair, a nervous tick he shared with his brother. He was about to open his mouth to explain, yet again, that they were just friends and he was just helping her, but he remembered Belle’s face as she explained again and again that she was a single mother, and how the estate agents always looked after she said so. He dropped his hand to his side and gently took Belle’s hand in his own, giving it a comradely squeeze

“Yes, this place is perfect. Though knowing Belle she’ll have several questions to ask you before she signs.” He gave the estate agent a dazzling smile, he watched he blush with pride, until he remembered how he had used that smile as a weapon in the Enchanted forest. He felt nauseous, the smile immediately disappeared from his face.  

He watched Belle follow the estate agent down to the kitchen to talk, and he trailed slowly behind them. The nausea he felt remembering his past deeds reminded him of his solemn promise to make amends. He couldn’t be selfish and chase after his own happiness after he had destroyed so many others’ lives and happy endings.

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Later, after Belle signed for the house and James treated her to dinner, James let on his back on his couch alone in his apartment- which just didn't seem like home after spending all day with Belle, he heard his phone chime, Snow asking how the house search went.

He frowned staring at Snow's comment 'Not what I meant', he didn't understand what she could possibly mean unless... unless... no, that's impossible, he was subtle about liking, loving, Belle, there was no way she could guess let alone know... No, Snow must have meant something else, he just didn't know what.

[lilacmoon83]

A Darker Curse

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 14: Desperate Souls

The last thing he remembered was raising his cane to this man and then the rage took over. It blinded him to the point that he was only vaguely aware that he was beating the crap out of him. It wasn't until his own son was pulling him away from the man that he realized what had happened.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Neal demanded to know, as Emma checked on his victim.

"I want him...arrested!" Keith rasped, as he looked up at them with a bloodied face.

"Relax...I'll take care of him. Your injuries aren't too serious, but you need to go to the hospital. I'll call a bus," Emma said, as she met Neal's gaze and he got her drift, as he slowly led his father out to the patrol car.

"Hey...what do I tell my boss about the damage?" the bartender questioned.

"Tell him to file a claim. His insurance probably has coverage for this sort of thing," Emma answered, as she called for an ambulance.

"Do I even want to know why you were beating the crap out of that guy?" Neal asked.

"He's scum...back in our land he's…" Gold started to say, but his son cut him.

"I don't care who he was back there!" Neal shouted, silencing him.

"You know, Emma was trying to tell me how you had changed and how you were actually helping her Dad without expecting anything. But now I'm not sure I can believe that!" Neal snapped.

"Bae please...you don't understand…" Rumple pleaded.

"Neal...it's Neal now," he corrected.

"And you're right...I don't get why you were beating the crap out of someone, but it just feels like more of the same from you," he spat, as Emma approached. The ambulance was just leaving and she sighed.

"You know, I don't have a choice, right?" she asked him regrettably. He nodded stiffly.

"Why are you showing him sympathy?" Neal questioned.

"Because despite the fact that beating the crap out of some guy is a really bad move...he's still allied with me and my parents against Cora," Emma replied, as she put him in the backseat. Neal sighed.

"Emma...he'll turn on you the moment it suits him. I've seen him do it," he argued.

"Yep and so have my parents. Cora is still the common enemy," Emma argued back.

"Emma...people fear him for a reason and I'm sorry, but your parents are foolish if they don't," Neal said, but that was the wrong thing to say, as she looked at him sharply.

"That's...that's not what I meant. I just...making deals with him never works out well for those on the other end, unless he's going to get something from it," he stammered.

"And at this point, I don't care if he gets to rule the world out of it, because getting my father back and making Cora pay is all we really care about right now," Emma admitted. Neal sighed.

"Look, I'm arresting him and I'm going to interrogate him when we get back to the station. What more do you want? A public lynching?" she asked.

"Of course not," he answered, as they got in the car.

"Care to share why you went postal on that guy?" Emma inquired.

"Not really," Gold responded.

"Try again," Emma pressed and he sighed in exasperation.

"He accosted a woman...let's leave it at that," he answered. She shrugged.

"Maybe if it wasn't you, then I could. But you're not Prince Charming. I know, because he's my Dad and it would be like him to beat the crap out of a guy for assaulting a woman, though probably not quite as badly as you did. But he's not a stranger to a giving a punch in the face when it's needed," Emma countered, which allowed Gold a small smirk of satisfaction. He appreciated her knowledge of her own history. Snow had done well in that.

"Unless it is your mother that's accosted," he countered back. She gave a nod of acknowledgement.

"Maybe, though my Mom does a lot of her own punching. Which makes me think that a beating like that means you have a history with this woman," Emma said, as they arrived at the station and marched him inside.

"Come on Emma...my Dad is the Dark One. He doesn't have history with any women," Neal argued.

"How the hell would you know?" she argued back and he realized that he wouldn't, so she continued once he closed his mouth.

"Are you really going to make me talk about this?" Gold asked.

"Yeah...because if it involves Cora, even indirectly, we need to know," Emma responded. He sighed.

"The woman is someone I once...cared for very much. Due to Cora's deception and interference, I believed her to have died before the curse," he explained. It was vague, but would be enough to convey why there was anger there.

"And now she just pops up here after all these years and without her memories, I assume?" Emma questioned. He nodded curtly.

"Convenient...but not sure why Cora would want to piss you off more by letting you know about her," the blonde said.

"I thought the same. But then she planned to have my son to use against me. That part just didn't work out for her," he reminded.

"Right…" Emma agreed.

"So then this Keith guy was probably trying to pick her up and it pissed you off," she surmised.

"Something like that and he's not just some guy. He was the Sheriff of Nottingham back in our land," Rumple told her.

"Seriously? That guy?" Emma asked and Gold nodded.

"Yes and trust me...no one would miss him," he replied.

"You know you can't use that as justification to beat the crap out of him," she chided.

"Actually, I could probably make a good case for that with him, but I'd rather just post my bond and go home," he replied.

"Yeah...and I have to wait for Albert Spencer to look over the case since he's our wonderful district attorney and knowing Cora, she's going to press him to deny bond," she admonished.

"The good news is that in less than twenty-four hours, we're electing a new Mayor so we can only hope it's Regina and then she can force him to plead your case down. Until then...I have to lock you up," she said regrettably. He nodded and walked into the cell.

"Well, then Cora better find a really good hiding place when she and your mother win tonight's election," he mused. She smirked.

"You seem confident that it's in the bag," she mused back.

"Well, the people in this town may fear Cora, but they fear me more...and my support is behind Regina. They'll vote accordingly," he boasted and she shook her head with a smirk.

"Or maybe they'll vote for Regina and my mother, because they actually want change and see a way out from Cora," she argued.

"Same thing," he argued back, while Neal watched the casual and somewhat friendly exchange between them with fascination. He knew his father was good at swaying people to do what he wanted, but this was Emma and she was far from easy to do this to. He couldn't quite wrap his mind around this repartee that his father seemed to have with Emma's family and he wasn't sure what exactly to make of it. His father couldn't have changed. It wasn't possible with him being the Dark One. Power controlled him. It was all he cared about. Surely when he got power back or worse actual magic, he was certain his true colors would return and Neal was going to be ready to call him on it when he did.

~*~

Mary stirred and opened her eyes, quickly noticing that she and David had fallen asleep together on the couch. It was innocent of course and she had slept better in his arms here than she ever would have alone in her bed.

"Good morning…" he said softly, as he gazed at her with a smile.

"Good morning…" she said fondly, as she gazed up at him and stretched.

"You know...I'm going to miss working with you at the shelter once you start your new job as Deputy Mayor," he mentioned. She looked at him coyly.

"Regina and I have to get elected first," she reminded.

"Please...this election is just a formality. Trust me, this town finally has the chance to vote Cora out. Regina is definitely going to win," he replied.

"Hopefully...but at least we still get to come home to each other at night and I'm sure as Deputy Mayor, I can find the time to come have lunch with the man I love," she mused, as she gently caressed his face. He smiled softly at that and the way his heart skipped a beat when she said that. He responded by initiating a kiss with her and they smiled at each other once their lips parted and they heard the baby on the monitor. They also heard Emma groan and stumble into his room. They weren't sure when she had gotten in, but from the sounds of it, hadn't been very long.

"I better go help her out. You can have the shower first," she said, as she kissed him quickly and hurried upstairs to help her daughter. David smiled at her, before taking Wilby out and then returning to clean up for the day.

~*~

Regina stood in front of her vanity, as she finished getting ready for the day. She put her earrings on and straightened her dress, before taking a deep breath. This was it. Tonight the town would vote. She would debate her mother in front of the entire town and then they would go to the polls directly after that.

"You shouldn't be nervous," a male voice said, as Ethan put his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. She smiled and turned so she could kiss him properly.

"Normally, I'd agree, but this is my mother we're talking about. She's not above playing dirty to get what she wants," she reminded. He shrugged.

"No doubt, I'm sure...but I have a good feeling about tonight. The people want change," he replied. She smiled.

"I hope you're right," she said, as they kissed again.

"Are you sure you have to go in today?" he asked in a husky tone.

"I assure you that she does," an unwelcome voice sounded from the door that they somehow hadn't heard open.

"Mother…" Regina hissed, as she fumed at the intrusion.

"Ah...guess that's my queue to get dressed," he said, as he made his way to the bathroom.

"I can't believe you…" Regina growled, as she stormed out of her bedroom and downstairs.

"It is one thing for you to barge into my home unannounced, but into my bedroom!" she hissed, as she went to the kitchen to turn on the morning coffee.

"Seems like I came just in time. I understand the need for comforts of the flesh, darling, but a bartender?" Cora said in a disapproving tone.

"Last time I checked, I do not need to run whom I date by you and you know damn well that he's more than a bartender," she hissed in a hushed tone.

"Oh yes...the thief you married and shamed your family with," Cora hissed back.

"I love Robin and you took him away from me during the curse, but it's going to come to an end. And then you're going to pay for everything you've done...especially for what you've done to Snow and David," Regina promised. Cora smirked.

"We'll see," she replied and Regina narrowed her gaze on her mother. She knew that look. It usually meant that her mother knew something that she didn't.

"I came here to offer you one last chance to stop this foolish attempt to unseat me, but I see that it's a waste of time," Cora stated.

"You're here because you're worried," Regina said. But Cora didn't betray any emotion in her expression.

"Tread lightly Regina. None of this will end the way you think it will and I won't be able to protect you...or your family from the consequences," Cora warned. A shiver ran down Regina's spine at that. There it was...the not so thinly veiled threat at her family, which meant Snow, David, Emma, August, and little David were her intended targets.

"You've hurt them enough, mother. You've ripped that family apart and Snow and David have both suffered enough," Regina pleaded.

"Oh, that's where you're wrong. It will never be enough for that wretched little Princess. I won't stop until she's groveling at my feet, begging me to stop torturing her family and I am grinding her bones to dust…" Cora hissed. Regina swallowed and could not keep the look of horror from her features.

"How the hell did you get like this?" she uttered.

"I'll see you tonight at the debate," Cora said simply, as she walked out and pulled out her cell phone.

"The plan is a go...it needs to happen today," she said simply, before hanging up.

~*~

Snow had spent the morning and the better part of the afternoon running errands around town, as she prepared for the debate and election that evening. Regina was facing off against her mother and though they were both fairly confident about her speech, she wanted her sister to have the whole day uninterrupted to prepare. Regina had warned Snow to be careful, because she was certain her mother was planning something shady. Snow had no doubt of that, but thankfully, she had made through all her errands without incident and they were ready for tonight. It was getting late in the day, so she decided to grab a couple of cocoas and then head to the animal shelter. Then she and David could go to City Hall together.

"Thanks Ruby," she said, as she picked up the drink tray and started off that way, just as she a text from August, telling her he was heading to City Hall early to start covering the whole event. She one handed texted that she loved him and would see him there, before she rounded the corner to cut through the alley that led to the animal shelter on a parallel street. But the hair stood up on the back of her neck, as she found Sidney Glass standing in her way. She looked behind her and sure enough, saw two men that were obviously muscle.

"She must really be worried if she's pulling a stunt like this," she commented, but Glass only smirked.

"Let's make this easy, Ms. Swan," he said.

"Oh, I don't do easy," she replied, as she tossed the cups containing the hot liquid at him. He cried out in pain, as the hot liquid made contact with his hands and face, while the two goons grabbed her and tried to restrain her, as she fought. She tried to scream, but one put his hand over her mouth. She responded by biting him and he recoiled, before shoving her into the wall. She hit it hard and her vision blurred, thanks to the contusion on her forehead now and slumped to the ground. She watched them through bleary eyes, as their voices sounded like they were underwater.

"Taking her to the library is too risky. Change of plans...take her out into the woods. We'll deal with her there," Sidney said. Snow vaguely felt herself being lifted up and carried away, before passing out.

~*~

David was about to clock out for the day when the vet called him into his office.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Dalton?" he asked. The man sighed and nodded, as he motioned for him to come in.

"Yes David, please sit down," he requested and the blonde obliged.

"There is no easy way to say this, David, but I'm afraid that I'm going to have to let you go," he announced. David was stunned, but kept his composure and nodded.

"I see. May I ask why? Did I do something wrong?" he asked.

"No...you are really good with the animals, but I'm just not sure you're the right fit for this job anymore," Mr. Dalton said, clearly very uncomfortable about what he was having to do. David nodded.

"Or maybe it's because the bank owns the loan on this place, right?" David asked and the vet looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He opened his mouth, but David put his hand up.

"It's okay...I don't blame you. One employee certainly isn't worth risking your business over. I'll get my things," David said sadly, as he left quietly. He really loved working with the animals and would miss it, but he wasn't going to buckle under what he knew as a blatant attempt by his soon to be ex-wife to get him to come running back to her. Once he had a small box packed up with his few belongings he kept at work, he made his way out to his truck, only to find Kathryn waiting for him there. He sighed and shook his head, almost angrily, as he ignored her and put the box in the cab.

"David…" she said.

"Just save it," he snapped and she was taken aback by his obvious anger. She did not like this new side of him at all.

"You know what you need to do to get your job back," she said simply. He snorted derisively.

"Yeah...just come crawling back to you, right?" he asked rhetorically.

"Well, you can forget it. I loved this job, but I love my new life more, so go to hell," he responded and she grabbed his arm, squeezing it as hard as she could.

"Dammit David...you will not talk to me like that! You are mine," she warned, as she scrambled to hold onto him. She wasn't even sure why she kept after him when it was so obvious that he loathed her. She was humiliating herself, but Cora had drilled it into her that she had to somehow get David back into her bed, so she had come up with this as a way to do it. But unfortunately for her, it wasn't working and she was just coming off desperate and crazy. She heard the whispers about her. While she was desperately trying to convince them that Mary Margaret Swan was a whore and a tramp, most could only talk about how she was desperate, delusional and a stalker. Cora had insisted though that they would stop seeing her that way if she tore David away from his tramp girlfriend, but nothing was working and she was frantic. And strangely, she was not so worried about the part of David's rejection, but about the part where Cora would be livid with her failure.

"You need to get him back, Kathryn...it's imperative. If you don't...bad things might happen to your father's reputation if certain things came to light," Cora had warned her earlier. Kathryn knew that if Regina beat her mother out as Mayor that all the favors her family garnered would go away. Add to that, Regina would only be too happy to air her family's dirty laundry to August Swan to publish in the Mirror. Essentially, her father had purchased her husband for her and Albert Spencer had sold his step-son. Like property. If it got out...well, she wasn't even sure what the ramifications against her family would be.

"For the last time...I am not yours. I don't care what that piece of paper says," he snapped.

"The only piece of paper I care about between us now is the divorce decree that I'll soon have," he added, as he opened the door to the cab.

"David please...if that gets out…" she started to say, but he interrupted her.

"Do you have any idea what it feels like to know you were sold like a piece of meat?" he snapped, but then shook his head.

"Of course you don't. I was just a kid when all that went down, but I'm finally going to own my own life for the first time and there is nothing you can do to stop me now," he told her.

"You were nothing before me!" she snarled. But he smirked.

"Yeah and two months ago, I probably would have believed you when you said that. But not anymore," he said, as he was about to continue unloading on her, but he suddenly got a funny feeling. He felt a few raindrops hit his skin and the hair on the back of his neck stood up, as he quickly got in the truck.

"David...this isn't over!" she shouted, as it started to pour rain.

"Yes, it is...and I need to find the woman I love," he shouted back, as he took off in the truck. For some reason, he suddenly had a deep, gut feeling that something was wrong. He felt it in his bones like nothing he had ever felt or so he thought. Mary Margaret was in trouble...he didn't know how he knew, but he knew and he had to find her...

[justanoutlawfic]

You’ll Be In My Heart: Chapt. 4

Summary: Regina and Robin get to know each other better, before she sees Henry again.

Also on AO3

Regina’s stomach was fighting butterflies as she made her way up the elevator with Robin. Even though he said he gotten a suite with two bedrooms, she still wondered what their home life would be like. He wouldn’t expect her to share a room with him, surely? She supposed she’d have to get used to sharing a space with him at some point, even if it wasn’t a bedroom. They’d be living with each other for at least the next 10 years.

 Would their marriage really last this long? Or was this all a formality until the adoption was final and then they’d go their separate ways, co-parenting Henry.

 She thought about the times she had told her lawyer to offer to the Locksley’s that she’d move out to California so they could see him, offering even partial custody. It was towards the end of the trial and she would’ve done anything to keep Henry with her. Daniel had already given up by that point, and she couldn’t blame him. They had known by a certain point that the judge was just against them, for a reason she could never really understand. They might not have been as rich as the Locksley family, but they also weren’t broke either.

 They reached the top floor of the hotel and Robin swiped the keycard for access to the suite. It was beautiful, with a sitting area right when they walked in and what looked to be a full kitchen off to the side. A bottle of wine sat on the middle of the coffee table in sitting area, with a note from the owner. Regina got a closer look, raising an eyebrow.

“They gave you your own wine to celebrate us getting married?”

Robin chuckled. “You’d be surprised. They think I’m such a snob, I wouldn’t drink anyone else’s.”

Regina saw two doors opposite one another, assuming they were the ones to the bedrooms. Despite the long flight and time change, she was too nervous to sleep. The next day, she’d be seeing her son. “I…I wouldn’t mind a glass.”

“Not tired?”

“I don’t think I could sleep even if I wanted to.”

Robin nodded, knowingly. “I’ve barely gotten any these past few days myself.”

 He found a corkscrew and got the wine open, before pouring out some glasses for them. Regina settled onto the couch, Robin sitting next to her. He held up his glass.

“To Henry.”

Regina nodded. “The one bright spot in all of this.” She clinked her glass with his before taking a sip, hating herself for actually liking it.

“So, tell me about yourself.”

“I thought you would know enough.”

“I know what a private investigator could find, but that’s only so much.” Robin took a gulp of the wine. “What happened between you and Daniel?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Losing a child doesn’t exactly do great things to a marriage.”

 Regina watched the heat rise to Robin’s cheeks and wanted to smack herself. He was trying to be nice and she just couldn’t let him. Letting out a sigh, she traced the rim of the glass.

 “I guess things were rocky as it was. We had been together a long time, since we were 17 years old. Went to college together, got married right after graduation. We waited a year to start trying and when we couldn’t, he wanted to try IVF.”

“And you?”

Regina shrugged. “I couldn’t go through it. I knew it was expensive and risky, and I’d rather our money go somewhere that I felt was more of a guarantee. He agreed for me, but I think it also meant he blamed me when things went wrong.”

Robin frowned. “Did he say that?”

“No, but he pulled away when a birth mother changed her mind. He’d constantly bring up trying IVF and it’d lead to a fight. To be honest, before we met Emma, I was considering it. Just to make him happy. And then I felt really relieved when they called us saying she and Neal wanted to meet.”

 Regina had to drink her wine again, she hadn’t admitted that to anyone, not even her closet friends.

 “I can’t imagine what all of those choices do to a person,” Robin said, sympathetically.

“He was happy when Henry was born. He didn’t do a lot of the work, but that was mostly due to his own schedule. Still, when Henry called him “Dada”, he beamed. When he was old enough to tumble to greet him at the door, he’d swoop him into his arms and not let go.” Regina couldn’t help but smile at the memories. “We were a happy family, pretending we still didn’t have problems.”

“And then he was taken away.”

Regina’s smile faded. “Yeah. I fought so hard to appeal and Daniel let me, but he didn’t say anything. By the time my lawyer told me it was becoming a waste of money, that there was just no way and by then, it wouldn’t even be in Henry’s best interest, we were just so apart. We co-existed, but that was it. I went to therapy, but he didn’t want to. It was like Henry never existed.”

“I’m sure he missed him.”

“I know he did. But it still didn’t change that I needed to be able to talk about it. One night, I caught him trying to take down Henry’s room and give the stuff away. I lost it, told him never to go in there again.” She stared down at the burgundy wine in her glass. “He left the next day.”

 Robin reached out, touching her hand, which made her look up out of reflex. His blue eyes seemed so kind, so filled with sorrow.

 “I’m sorry.”

“It was fine, probably for the best. We still talk occasionally, he’s remarried. They had a baby of their own last year.” She laughed, in spite of herself. “That was hard to see.”

“I get it. My ex just had a kid herself with her new wife.”

Regina tilted her head. “You were married before?”

“You didn’t know?” She shook her head. “Oh.”

“What was her name?”

“Marian. We also got married pretty young. My dad wasn’t her biggest fan, but I didn’t care about that. She stood by my side, helping me with all of them.”

“What changed?”

“The custody case.” Regina looked more confused and Robin shrugged. “She hated that I didn’t do much to stop my father or Emma. She said that she didn’t know who I was. Despite the fact that I begged them both to not go through with it.”

“And she left you over that?”

“She said it was more my family than me. She couldn’t be apart of something like us.” He shook his head. “Scared the crap out of Mary Margaret, she worried she’d never be able to find someone.”

“Damn,” Regina whispered into her glass. “That’s wild.”

“It’s what gave me the urge to start challenging my father more. When Emma didn’t step up with parenting, I did. I knew I couldn’t let him be raised by our parents or their help.”

“And Mary Margaret? You say she still lives there with her husband.”

“She used to idolize our dad, but I think the case made him realize what kind of man he really was. She’s only there because of how sick he is.” He smiled a bit at the thought of her. “She’s a good sister, and a really, really amazing aunt. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through these past few years without her.”

 Regina saw the look on his face and it made her feel guilty when it came to her own family. Her father had passed away when she was in college, leaving behind just her mother and sister. Zelena had been Cora’s from a previous relationship and while Henry Sr. had treated her with nothing but love, Cora had focused on Regina and her life. Nothing Zelena did compared to her sister and despite Regina trying to convince her big sister that she didn’t think what her mom did, Zelena still resented her for it. She had gotten a job in England right out of college and moved there, now married with a little girl. Regina tried to visit when she could, but they weren’t at all close. Cora had been critical of every move Regina made as a mother, including claiming that she didn’t try hard enough to save her marriage. They exchanged e-mails and a phone call about once a month, but outside that, Regina was good with not seeing her. She doubted she would even tell her mom about Henry or Robin outside of an e-mail.

 “I’m glad Henry has a good aunt,” Regina said. “My sister wasn’t really around to be that when he was with me.”

“I didn’t even think to ask if you wanted any of your family at the wedding.”

“My sister’s in England, my mom vacations mostly. I’m good.”

“Oh yeah, I definitely get that.”

 They sat there for another few hours, drinking the wine and getting to know each other a bit better. Regina learned that Robin had a love for spy movies and that he was actually quite good at archery, having learned at summer camp when he was a young boy. Henry hadn’t quite picked up on the love, he was more of an “indoor kid” that loved books. That puzzled Robin a bit, because none of their family had been that way. Regina couldn’t help but smile, remembering back to Henry living under her roof, when they would read at least three books a night. That had to have rubbed off on him in some way.

 Robin shared that he had a close relationship with his mom and that she had wanted to accept Regina’s offer for visitation, but Leopold had overridden her. Regina was careful to trash Emma to him, but even he seemed to hold some hostility to his sister. Even so, he said that he was proud of her for being the only one of them to have escaped their crazy family, even if it was only for a bit.

 Regina even opened up a bit about Zelena when he kept talking about his own sisters. They seemed to be able to relate on the controlling parents when it came to Cora and Leopold, joking that they’d probably get along great if they had ever met. She hated to admit it, but Robin was a nice guy. He was charming, kind and had a passion for nature. Regina so badly wished she could find a negative quality in him, but it was hard. Even their parenting styles seemed to align.

 Eventually, the bottle was empty and Regina was actually becoming tired. She said goodnight to Robin and made her way to her room, not bothering to turn on the light. She changed into some pajamas and brushed her teeth in the ensuite bathroom before sliding under the thousand count sheets. As she drifted off, she couldn’t help but smile, knowing she would see her son tomorrow.

The next morning, Regina found the butterflies return and she knew it wasn’t the glasses of wine she had inhaled. She showered and made her way into the sitting area where Robin had ordered room service, but she could barely enjoy her omelet. Regina just wanted to leave and see her son.

 Luckily, Robin sensed her anxiety and didn’t linger. After eating his own pancakes and inhaling some coffee, they headed out on the road. It took 45 minutes to get out of the downtown part of Napa and head further into the wine country. Regina kept her eyes peeled out the window, trying to get a lay of the land. They passed a few vineyards and she didn’t miss the Locksley’s. Robin didn’t pull in, but she saw the luxurious stone sign, along with the high walls. She wondered what it must have been like to be raised in a place that was probably like a castle. Suddenly, she was grateful that Henry didn’t live there, and that she wasn’t expected to. It seemed far too suffocating.

 Eventually, he pulled up a long driveway, which was paved with beautiful stones. When they got to the top, she immediately noticed a garden overflowing with different, unique flowers. The house itself was a tannish peach color, with a Spanish colonial roof. It wasn’t as big as she’d assume the Locksley manor would be, but much bigger than she had imagined Robin’s in her head. Suddenly, she wasn’t so worried about having to share a room with him.

 What made her feel a bit better, was that there was evidence that a child lived there. Chalk and various balls were in the yard, and a child’s bike leaned next to an adult against the garage. In the yard, she could see a huge playhouse shaped like a wooden castle, a swing set and slide. There was a pool not far from there, fenced off, with pool toys hanging out. Henry lived there.

 Her son lived there.

 Regina let out a shaky breath as she unfastened her seatbelt and followed Robin through the front door. Immediately, they were greeted by a grey and white kitten. Socks, she presumed. Regina bent down to scratch him behind the ears, before hearing the sound of running coming down the hall.

 “Uncle Robin!”

 Regina shot up, her eyes widening as a little boy rounded the corner. He had dark brown hair and hazel eyes, along with the biggest smile she had seen in a while. She’d know that smile anywhere.

 That was her son.

 Tears came to her eyes as she took him in. He had chocolate covered hands and it was smeared on his cheek as well. Outside that, he wore a more relaxed outfit than she had been expecting, a navy-blue t-shirt with Thor on the front and a pair of black gym shorts. He looked right past her, to his uncle, going to hug him but then stopping, assuming because of his hands. Regina couldn’t even let her thoughts linger on that. She was staring at her son, the one she hadn’t seen in 5 years. He had grown up so much in that time.

 “Hey buddy,” Robin said, ruffling his hair and giving him a hug anyway, not caring about his hands. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Henry pulled away, still beaming. “Aunt Mary Margaret and I are making brownies.”

“I can see that,” Robin replied with a slight laugh. “Why aren’t you in school?”

“We had a half-day. The teachers have meetings or something.”

 Henry’s eyes finally landed on Regina and he tilted his head, though his smile didn’t leave his face.

 “Who are you?’

 For once in her life, Regina was speechless. She didn’t know what to say or how to say it. He clearly didn’t remember her and who could blame him? The last she had seen him, he was 3-years-old and crying his eyes out. Who knew what Leopold or Emma had told him in the meantime.

 Luckily, Robin seemed to speak for her. “Henry, this is my wife, Regina. She’s going to be living with us from now on.”

 My wife. That was still going to take some getting used to. Regina might have given him a look, if her eyes weren’t glued on Henry, her heart beating a mile a minute.

“You might not remember this, Henry,” Robin continued. “But you and Regina knew each other when you were very little.”

Henry studied Regina further, which only further made her want to break down in tears, wrap him in her arms and never let go. It took him a minute before he spoke again, this time softer than how he had addressed his uncle. “You’re…you’re the mommy who adopted me.”

 The words made Regina’s breath catch and she felt like her knees might give out. Slowly, she knelt down to his eye level, wiling herself to not break when she spoke.

 “That’s right,” she said, softly. “You lived with me until you were three years old, then you came to live with your Uncle Robin and your…other mommy.” It killed her to refer to Emma as such, but she did it for Henry’s sake.

“And Grandpa.”

Regina did her best not flinch. “That’s right, your grandpa too.”

“My mommy died.”

She frowned, the tears threatening to fall again. At only 8 years old, Henry had been through more than his fair share. “I know, sweetie.” Out of instinct, she reached forward to stroke his chin. “And I am so sorry.”

“I was five when she died,” he explained, without missing a beat. He looked up at Robin, the smile returning to his face. It was clear how much he idolized his uncle. “But I still have Uncle Robin, he takes care of me. And we see Aunt Mary Margaret, Uncle David and Grandpa a lot.”

Robin nodded. “Well, now you have Regina to take care of you too.”

 Regina held her breath once more, knowing that there was a chance that Henry might not handle it well. No one would blame him if he rejected her. After all, the last time they had seen one another, he had been crying for her to not let go and she had. He could possibly hate her and Regina wouldn’t blame him. In many ways, she hated herself for not fighting harder.

 Instead, Henry’s smile grew a bit. “Can I stay up until 10 o’clock?”

“Nice try, bud,” Robin said, rolling his eyes ever so slightly. “You won’t be able to use this to get new rules set. Regina and I are on the same page.” Regina glanced up at him and he gave her a smile, which made her heart grow warm.

Henry gave a dramatic sigh and it made Regina want to wrap him into her arms, it reminded her far too much of the one he gave her back when she would tell him it was bedtime. Even so, the smile returned. “Did you meet Socks?”

“I was about to, yes,” she said, quickly wiping the tears that had managed to escape. “Your uncle says he was a birthday present.”

“He’s the best cat ever. I’m trying to teach him to do tricks, but Dad…” He trailed off, frowning a bit before correcting himself. “I mean, Uncle Robin says that cats don’t really do any.”

 Regina put her hand on his back, the closest she knew she’d be getting to a hug anytime soon without scaring him. A part of it was out of comfort, knowing how badly he probably wanted to call Robin “Dad” full time, though it was partially to keep her up. She hadn’t heard him call anyone “Daddy” since Daniel.

 A voice traveled from behind a doorway. “Henry? Henry, who are you talking to…” A short woman appeared. She had green eyes and a dark pixie cut, wearing an apron over a bright pink floral dress. It took Regina a minute to realize it was Mary Margaret. She had been a teenager during the custody battle and was now in her mid-20s. She blinked a few times before a smile appeared on her face. “Regina…I mean, you probably don’t remember me, I’m…”

“Mary Margaret.” Regina rose to her feet, nodding. “I remember.”

“It’s…it’s very nice to meet you. At least, officially. I always wanted to talk to you during the court case, but Mom and Dad said that’d be…”

“Mary Margaret,” Robin gave her a look and it instantly seemed to shut his sister up.

“Right, sorry.” Mary Margaret blushed a bit and Regina couldn’t help but smile. She clearly was trying. “I wasn’t expecting you two back so soon.”

“Well, I figured why wait?”

Mary Margaret nodded. “Uh huh. Does…”

“Hey, Henry, why don’t you show Regina your room? I’m sure she’d love to see it.”

Regina wasn’t sure what was going on between the brother and sister, this wasn’t the easy relationship that Robin had painted. Either way, she wasn’t about to deny her son that. “I do.”

 Henry took her by the hand, which caught her off guard a bit and lead her out of the room. They were far gone by the time Mary Margaret walked over to her brother, arms folded over her chest.

“I spoke to Dad this morning.”

“Oh?”

“He didn’t know you were leaving town.”

“Well…I don’t need to tell him everything.”

“He doesn’t know? Does he?”

“Mary Margaret…”

“Robin!” She let out in a harsh whisper. “Does she even know why she’s really here?”

“I couldn’t adopt Henry without her.”

“Yes, but did you explain everything?”

Robin sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I will.” He ducked his head at his sister’s look. “I will! In time.”

“Well, Dad wants to see you. He said to send you as soon as you came back.”

“I have to help Regina…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay here with he and Henry.” She fixed her brother with a look. “Go. Before he sends someone for you.”

[theonceoverthinker]

OUAT 2X19 - Lacey

I don’t know what this episode LACED itself with, but I’m tripping over how good it is!

Read below the cut and find out why!

Press Release

Mr. Gold enlists the aid of David to help him try to jog Belle’s now cursed memories and get her to love him again; and when it is revealed that the magic beans Anton and the dwarves have been harvesting have begun to grow and could possibly transport everybody home, Emma is torn over whether she would want to live in fairytale land or stay in our world. Meanwhile, in the fairytale land that was, Rumplestiltskin forces Belle to accompany him on a hunt to kill a thief, whom she had freed in the name of mercy. General Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness Past I love this flashback. We get to see the first chronological bit of good that Belle sees in Rumple, and it feels pretty earned. The structure here is good, showing Rumple reveal more and more of his goodness as it progresses while still not shying away from the more monstrous aspects of his personality. I’ll talk about that shortly, but that is so important to do when making a Rumple centric. And Belle is fantastic here too! While believing that Rumple can change, she’s true to her desire to be a hero and isn’t afraid to dole out vigilante kindness, something she does later on in the series! Present LACEY IS MY QUEEN! Look, I know that she’s little more than a one off in a lot of respects, but fuck it. I love this character. She’s part Valkyrie and part Cruella, a total boozer, but a wickedly fun time, too! Lacey is not just the anti-Belle, but she’s someone so fun and distinct. She drinks and plays pool and listens to rock music and is okay with beating the crap out of people! But what makes her so great in my eyes is how strong she is in her convictions that she’s not Belle and that Rumple has to respect her identity. I just love how she refuses to be projected on!

For as much as I like Emma, I feel because barely any time was dedicated to her subplot regarding returning home (Apart from giving Regina her first inklings of suspicion about the beans, which she could’ve learned through other means, honestly), it would’ve been better off being cut in favor of some DESPERATELY needed Rumple/Neal screen time. That having been said, I liked two and a half of the three scenes that the subplot revolved around for the stellar character interactions. All Encompassing More than anything, I appreciate this episode for how it handles Rumple’s character in both realms. Rumple is a difficult character to do because he cannot nor should be Woobie-fied. Here is a great example: Rumple has a monstrous nature. It’s not one that can’t be overcome and the narrative sets out to show that much, but it, even more than his cane, is his crutch for when he feels like the people in his life let him down. When outside influences of good can’t be depended on for a moral dessert, Rumple will default back to that nature. And when they can (Or at least give him a good ole pep talk), he proves himself capable of taking it down. What works about this episode for me is how that mindset is not framed as a good thing. Rumple’s reliance on his more monstrous nature as a crutch may have earned Lacey’s affections, but that aspect of the ending is not framed positively (Everything from the music to the lighting to the parallels to the past says as much), nor should it. Insights - Stream of Consciousness -The most unrealistic thing about this dream sequence is the fact that Rumple would ever hold a birthday party in his shop. I mean, look at that cake! He wouldn’t be smiling! He’d be grumbling about how frosting was getting all over the counter the whole time! -So Rumple CAN sleep! His bed is comfy! I’m just going to HC that one can either imbue sleep upon themselves with magic or that as one gets more seasoned with the Dark One curse, they can sleep. -This entire bit with Regina and Rumple realizing they’re family just cracks me up! -I really love the set that Regina and Rumple walk through during their conversation. I wish we got to see it more often. The windy path and the red fences make it damn memorable! -I like how Belle has finally accepted that Belle is her name! About time! -”You’ve been locked up long enough.” True dat. -Rumple, that pillow is gonna do fuck all to drown out Belle’s sobbing. She can’t press her head into that! -Rumple, that was a very un-you like way of poofing! -I love Rumple’s flair for the dramatics with that fucking arrow! I love you, you little shit! -”All magic comes with a price, and in your case, dearie, that’s me.” Is it just me, or does that sound like the opening to a Rumple/Robin Hood porno? XD -”I’m sure Mr. Gold will be thrilled.” He will by the end of the episode! XD -”The package.” Well, he certainly does have that, but just call him Hook! -Yes! Whoever is dangerous will matter if you go back to your land! Stop them here first! -Awww! I love seeing Anton! And he’s good at darts! Now I want him to play with Killian! FIC IDEA!!! -Grumpy! Why are you being so mean to Anton! Did you two have a domestic? -Anton is just the sweetest!!!! I just want to give him a huuuuggg! -”After what I did to Cora, I think restoring our land is the best way to mend it.” HOW?! Like, how would that work? Cora would still be dead (not that I believe for a second what you did was wrong, but I get it: guilt) and as Emma pointed out: “DANGER.” -Unngghh. I hate the latter half of this Charming family scene. Snow and David are offering Emma nothing but platitudes (And empty ones) in the face of her very real concerns. -I love Rumple’s pissed off face in the hospital. He looks like he sucked on a lemon. -I love the bartender at the Rabbit Hole! He’s so nice and proud of the joint, but still smart enough to be afraid of Rumple! -Lacey in that blue sleeveless top makes me...feel things. Very gay things. By the way, does Red Lace (Ruby/Lacey) exist? And if not, why not? -Rumple’s biggest act of cruelty is making Belle wear a fucking ball gown for however long it was between when Belle and Rumple first made their deal and when Rumple finally got her another dress. -Belle is such a BAMF with how she saves Robin Hood? -”I’m sorry. Do I look like a one-handed pirate with a pistol?” No, but you would ROCK that look! -Okay, the more I hear Regina talk about Neal, the more I want Rumple and Neal to CONVERSE! Like seriously! It’s been three episodes at this point! -SHEEP BROOOOOOOOSSSS!!! -I gotta say, I don’t appreciate the Lacey shaming, Rumple. -”David Nolan still won Mary Margaret’s heart.” No, he didn’t! -”Overpraised lasagna.” I take back what I said earlier: THIS is your biggest act of cruelty, Rumple! -”Someone who’d have killed all of you.” THANK YOU, RUMPLE! -”If you do, for the first time ever, I’m gonna owe you a favor.” DO IT!!! Like, pun intended, that is an offer good as Gold! XD -Gotta admire Belle’s poker face as Rumple prepares to torture Robin! XD -Jeez! Way to make Rumple sound like Gaston with her schtick about books! -”People who steal magic never have good intentions.” Speaking from experience or something, Rum Rum? -Rumple, you’re at a 10 and you need to come down to like an 8, okay? Cool. -I love Lacey listing off all of these bands and I completely HC that Weaver rocks out to ALL of them! -You can just see the cogs in Lacey’s brain twirl as she decides to give his suit-claden square a chance! XD -”Don Juan was nothing before he made a deal with me.” Rumple is basically the Hitch of the OUAT world! XD - I love how Emma is trying so damned hard to get along with Regina while also not losing the bite in her that someone would have after Regina and Cora tried killing her family. -I fucking love Lacey! She knows she on a date with the richest guy in town and she is gonna string him along for every fucking cent! XD Chicken parm and white wine? Hell yeah! -Lacey, stay forever! Like, I want Belle to take that serum so we can keep Lacey because she is just amazing! What a personality! What a funny and dark woman! -”I see a man who wouldn’t hurt anyone.” Rumple...you are something special, man. Warped, but special. -Lacey, I know you’re about to ditch, but at least glug some of that GIANT ASS glass of free wine you just got! Like, for fucking real! -Thank you, Rumple for finally giving Belle a dress she can conceivably move in! -”What would people think if I spared the life of someone who stole from me?” Considering you tortured him for a short while and the only reason he escaped was because of a third party, they’d probably still be pretty scared! -Belle ROCKS those gloves! -Sheriff, quit while you’re ahead! -Marian!!!! Hi!!!! -Honestly, Rumple, you’d be better off if Robin didn’t die. Then TWO people could ward off people from breaking deals with you. -”You are not the kind of man to leave a child fatherless.” As @onceuponatimeihadalife pointed out, you can see how these words affect Rumple. He’s reminded of both the prophecy he got from the Seer AND how Bae was left fatherless by his and Milah’s actions. It’s such a cleverly written show of Rumple’s other soft spot and how Belle on some level gets Rumple, even this early in their time together. -”She may have loved you, but I am not her.” LACEY FUCKING ROCKS MY SOCKS! I love how adamant Lacey is about her own identity! She forces Rumple to understand that she won’t be pushed into being someone she isn’t just to be his manic pixie dream girl, and that loudness is just fantastic. -”New guy always buys.” With what money?! -Ooh! I love that tracing magic Regina uses! It not only looks pretty, but is such a smart move on her part! -I feel bad for Keith. The one time he’s not the worst, he gets beat up for it. -Seeing Neal carry Henry is both funny and adorable! -Awwww! August and Henry are buddies!!! -Killian’s baccccck!!! And in fully bondage (I’m willing to bet @killian-whump appreciates that)!!! Arcs - How are These Storylines Progressing? The Storybrooke Citizens Going Home - This arc honestly hasn’t left much of an impression on me. I’d say it was due to lack of suspense, but even on this go around, I’ve found arcs that I knew the ending of to still be thrilling. This one, less so. It’s barely been brought up, and in this episode, we’ve barely seen Emma take the time to really go into greater details about her...dil-EMMA! And I don’t get everyone’s hurry to get out of town because there’s just as much danger back in the Enchanted Forest, even without Rumple and Regina (And even still, they could totally get there, let’s not fool ourselves). Rumple getting back to his son - I’m kind of frustrated that it’s been THREE episodes since Rumple and Neal spoke to each other in a scene. THREE. Rumple spent a century trying to get back to his son. I feel like he should be all but hounding Neal to spend time together. I want to see the payoff to this passion that drove Rumple to create (or at the very least steal) a curse that would screw over an entire land! Even just a one off acknowledgement of him trying to see Neal would be great! But no! Favorite Dynamic Sheep Bros. Not much to say here, but David and Rumple have a great rapport and seeing David help Rumple woo (or seemingly woo) Lacey is just funny! Josh and Robert have great chemistry and seeing Rumple and David’s personalities clash is a real treat! Writer Adam and Eddy have really had a terrific season! They’ve landed several astounding episodes, and I’m happy to say that this is another! There’s a very careful balance with character depiction and storytelling balance on display in this episode. Rumple and Lacey’s characters are handled so delicately. With Rumple, I like how there is no ambiguity of the fact that his morality can change on a dime. He has the power over how he conducts himself, and he very much values gratification for his efforts and will change his tune should things not work out in his favor. With Lacey, A&E went a long way to ensure that Lacey was someone who was annoying to Rumple, but not to the audience. She’s funny and the sheer fact of how much of an opposite to Belle she is just makes for an engaging ride! I did however not enjoy some of the dialogue. To me, some of the lines were either deceptive of character traits or a little heavy on platitudes. Culture I have thoughts on exactly who Lacey is as a character, mostly in regard to whether or not she is Belle’s true cursed form. I personally don’t think Lacey is Belle’s true cursed form, and I come to that conclusion based on not only pre-Regina instances of her cursed self, but the cursed selves of others. First, let’s talk about Belle post-memory wipe. If you recall, Sneezy had a memory wipe too, but he strictly reverted to his original cursed version. In the same manner, so did Belle. And when we finally got some extended scenes with her, we see she’s nothing like Lacey. While pretty panicked due to all the magical stuff and the car accident and all, she’s more or less pretty similar to her real self. Just listen to Belle’s kindness when Rumple talks to her early on in this episode at the hospital. Those words could’ve so come out of Belle’s mouth just as easily. She’s all set out to help Rumple aspire to be good and even shows him some real kindness again!

That brings me to my second point. When we look at the cursed Storybrooke characters like Snow, Charming, Ruby, and Grumpy in comparison to their real selves, there’s so such dramatic deviation the likes of Belle and Lacey. Their personalities chime much closer to home with maybe one or two differing qualities (Ex. Snow’s missing her bravery as MM, Charming’s missing his sense of honor as cursed David). This holds true for Belle’s memory wiped self pre-Regina far more than post-Regina.

So what does that make Lacey? IMHO, a corruption -- possibly even a reset. Regina clearly magicifies that matchbox to give Belle false memories, and the ensuing personality is something that is only made to screw over Rumple. In the past, Regina didn’t put much effort into Belle’s cursed form because as far as she knew, Rumple would never discover her. However, now that she’s about to be a player in Rumple’s life, Regina decides to stop her influence. I mean, I know Rumple claims they’re her “cursed” memories, but I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem right to me.

At the same time though, as I was writing this, I had a great conversation with @mrs-stiltskin where she pointed out that Belle’s relatively tamer pre-Regina cursed personality was more of a result of being a blank slate and Lacey was the actual creation of a personality, and that’s an interpretation that I also readily accept, AND it supports Rumple and Regina’s words too! Rating Golden Apple. What more can I even say? The story and its execution are fantastic. A&E balanced Rumple and Lacey like fucking katana swords. It’s a charming story (pun always intended) that’s pretty freakin’ funny when it needs to be while also being emotionally satisfying. Even the stuff I didn’t like gave way to some good scenes and I only disliked them because there was more that I wanted to see (*cough* RUMPLE AND NEAL *cough*). Flip My Ship - Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness” Rumbelle - The past has some pretty good Rumbelle. For one thing, I love how Rumple stumbles over trying to explain why he didn’t kill Belle. Suuuuuure, Rumple. Also, you gotta love how Rumple gives the Sheriff of Nottingham the most well deserved punishment ever for attempting to trade Belle like cattle! XD Also, that hug post-sparing was just ADORABLE!!! Finally, the library scene shows the first inklings of Rumple falling in love with Belle as their themes merge and the thematically binding line of the episode is spoken. AND before we go into Golden Lace territory, let’s talk about some present Rumbelle. Just look at Belle’s face and voice when Rumple appears in the hospital alive! She’s so happy!!! And it’s so nice how now that they’re able to talk, Belle can connect with Rumple so much more easily. Finally, I really like how angry Rumple gets at Regina for forcing Belle to revert to her cursed self. Golden Lace - Rumple is trying so freakin’ hard to impress Lacey and it’s adorable! Look at him tripping over himself as he tries to hold the menu at Granny’s! It’s honestly adorable! And Lacey couldn’t be more thirsty for Rumple’s darkness if she was locked in fucking Care-a-lot for a year beforehand! I love this bit of ANOTHER villain ship!!! Swanfire - Emma and Neal only get two minutes together, but they take full advantage of it! I like how Emma and Neal, while not fully knowledgeable of the other’s situation, are able to understand each other. And they have some nice chemistry! Aww! And Neal believes in Emma’s ability to figure the truth of August’s message out! ()()()()()()()()() What a great episode!!!! Thank you for reading my review and to the fabulous folks at @watchingfairytales! Btw, after exactly one vote (Thanks, Sarah!), I have decided to combine the finale review! It’s gonna be a LONG one!

Next time, while Lacey may be my queen, there’s another one just waiting to be in the spotlight once more. See you guys then! Season 2 Tally (157/220) Writer Tally for Season 2: Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis: (50/60) Jane Espenson (35/50) Andrew Chambliss and Ian Goldberg (31/50) David Goodman (24/30)* Robert Hull (24/30)* Christine Boylan (17/30) Kalinda Vazquez (28/30)* Daniel Thomsen (18/20)* * Indicates that their work for the season is complete

Operation Rewatch Archives

[seriouslyhooked]

Mr. Brightside

Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: This is a reader requested one shot based on the classic song ‘Mr. Brightside’ by the Killers. I have had this on the prompt list for roughly forever, and FINALLY got my muse to talk to me about what to do with this. It’s a CS Rock and Roll AU (is that a thing? It has to be a thing) where Killian is the lead singer of a band and the opening act for their world tour is Emma’s band. There’s been confusion about whether Emma is single or not, but eventually it’s all sorted out, and surprise – there’s a lot of fluff. It’s pretty loosely based on the song, all things considered, but since I will always love this song I am happy to include it in the mixtape. Hope you guys enjoy and thank you all for reading.

“All right sound check came back perfect – no problems there, lads. Looks like it’ll be a great show.”

The news from the band’s manager, Robin Locksley, should have improved Killian’s mood, but alas it did nothing to revive his spirits. His bad attitude was here to stay, a dark cloud hovering over what should have been a bloody brilliant day. Everyone else could tell he was feeling off. A few of his band mates had even asked what was bothering him, but Killian remained mum on the issue. He couldn’t talk about it. He just had to wait out the shit feelings that had arrived the moment their A&R reps came back to town this morning and pray for eventual relief from the madness of his thoughts.

“So the show starts in an hour. MistMavens will do their usual thirty minutes and then you guys are on twenty minutes later. Unless you want to shorten their set. Killian, thoughts?”

Killian shook his head after a moment’s contemplation. No, he didn’t want to take any of the time of the girl group before them away. They were just starting out in their careers. It was their first big tour and Killian knew they had more than enough talent to merit being here. Regardless of his hurt feelings he wanted to see them succeed, for better or worse. He wouldn’t allow resentment to deny worthy people their shot.

“Okay then. You all know what to do. Let’s give em’ the show they deserve.”

Robin’s final words were a signal to the crew and everyone else that they could go about other things for the time being. For the band, however, it signaled a time to touch base just the four of them. Typically Killian appreciated this, knowing he needed to hash out any final thoughts with the others in Legal Piracy to prepare for a decent gig, but right now his walls were up. He felt cagey, like he was trapped and unable to claw his way out of the anger and the hurt, and all it would take would be one wrong word from one of the band members and he’d snap, best mates or not.

“You think he ever sleeps?” David Nolan, the band’s bassist and Killian’s oldest friend asked, no doubt about Robin. This pulled a laugh from everyone, and even Killian forced a smile. It really was remarkable how much Robin could get done. He was always on top of things, and never lost his charm or his swagger in the meantime.

“Nah, man. Between us and the missus, that man’s got his hands full,” Graham replied, his fingers still twirling about his drumsticks even though he was no longer playing.

“I just can’t believe he bagged the Evil Queen. Did anyone see that coming?” Will, the final member of their foursome asked as he handed off his guitar to one of the stagehands below.

“Only everyone with eyes,” Killian replied a bit more sharply than anticipated. Then again, it wasn’t exactly a surprise. Everyone knew that Robin and the president of their record label, Regina Mills, had a thing for each other for years. What was shocking was how much Regina had seemingly changed because of the union. She had always been tense, abrasive, and overbearing before. Now she still reigned with an absolute power, but she’d mellowed out. It made her a much more bearable person to be around and Robin seemed to be just as well suited to the match as she did.

“Ha ha,” Will replied dryly. “Speaking of eyes, you going to secretly make some more at Emma tonight or are we doing the damn thing and fighting Neal already?”

“Come again?” Killian asked at the same time that David and Graham replied “Fighting.”

Killian stared in shock at his friends for saying this. It was one thing for them to comment about his infatuation with Emma, because as much as Killian wished he’d been subtle he knew that he hadn’t been. It was pretty damn obvious how he felt about her. He had made no real attempt to hide the fact that he cared for her, at least not until this morning when everything had fallen apart in an instant. But for his friends to realize that his recent hostility was due in part to their A&R rep, that was a step above. 

Part of Killian was angered by the fact that they would bring it up, since even the thought of Neal and Emma together cut him to the core, but he was also a bit pleased that his friends were ready to go and help him take out the sorry excuse for a man if he so chose. The thought of actually dueling with Neal had crossed Killian’s mind more than once throughout the day. After all, a man unwilling to fight for what he wanted was no real man at all. At least that was what Killian’s brother Liam was prone to saying.

“Oh come on, Killian, that dude’s a tool. We all know it’s you Emma should be with. Hell, I don’t even believe him when he says they’re together. She doesn’t look into him at all. She practically ran away from him all day. Either way, it’s time to man up and do something about it.”

“And you think fighting Cassidy is the way to go?” Killian asked, trying to conceal the fact that a tiny bit of hope flared to life that Emma might not really want this other man. “Emma’s not some prize to be won.”

“No, she’s the woman you love,” David replied evenly. “And she loves you back, man. There’s no doubting that.”

“If she loved me, she wouldn’t be with him, would she?” Killian asked, but before his friends could reply he backed away with his hands out stretched. “I’m not doing this. I’ll see you at the show.”

Moving through the stage setup and into the back of the arena, Killian willed himself to get lost in the shuffle but it was hard to do given the fact that this was his concert and he was so recognizable. In all the years that Killian and his friends had been hustling like crazy to get to this kind of success, he never imagined that anything could dull the shine of fame and fortune. He and the band had worked too damn hard to have anything come in between him and the happiness he imagined would come when every door was open to them, when people around the world listened to their music, and would give anything to see their show. Yet here he was, angry, resentful, and bitter as could be because all of this meant nothing to him, not when he didn’t have what mattered most of all.

It would be impossible to pinpoint the exact moment when love had come crashing into his life, but he would imagine it was right at the beginning, the morning he and the band first met their opening act for their new American tour. On that morning Killian hadn’t known what awaited him, but when he first met Emma Swan, a brilliant, sassy, fierce and fiery siren of a woman, he was helpless to resist her.

“So you’re the notorious Killian Jones,” she’d said as their hands met in greeting. Killian felt the sharp tingle of awareness when skin met skin, and he watched as Emma’s eyes widened ever so slightly and her breathing seemed to pick up at the same time.

“Oh, so you’ve heard of me then?” Killian asked, trying to be seductive and charming all at once, but he hadn’t expected her laughter. It wasn’t meant to be a joke, but in retrospect it was a corny reply through and through.

“Uh, yeah, I’ve heard of the lead singer of the band we’re opening for,” she replied, her tone laced in humor and an insinuation that clearly said ‘duh, what kind of question is that?’

“Right. Well Swan – that’s an interesting name. Don’t hear that very often.”

“You don’t?” Emma asked, her brow furrowing in confusion as to why he was bringing up her last name, and hell if he could explain it. Truth be told he was nervous, a first for him probably in his whole life. He had no rational explanation for it but his hands were shaking and his mind was moving a mile a minute. He’d just kind of blurted that fact out and now he had to try and find a way to recover before this beautiful woman wrote him off as completely unhinged or incompetent.

“No, love. I think it’s for the best though. Only someone as lovely as you deserves such a connotation.” 

There, that was a bit better. His ability to speak to a woman wasn’t completely lost after all, and though he was now laying it on rather thick, Killian wasn’t exaggerating about how attractive Emma was. Once he said the words though, his sole hope became that she would be receptive, and when she smiled at him and the slightest trace of pink kissed her cheeks, he felt like getting down on his knees and thanking God above. It felt like the sweetest victory to win her over, and to earn a genuine grin from this intriguing woman he wanted to know better.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re way too charming?” Emma asked, her voice lower than it had been just a moment ago. The sound of it tugged at something inside of Killian, because he knew from the heat and the gravel that this wasn’t a one sided interest on his part. Despite her ability to seem unaffected, Emma was feeling this connection as well, though she tried to hide it with another jest. “You’re lucky you’re a rock star – guys with lines like that in the real world get written off as corny.”

“People have called me a lot of things, love, but corny isn’t one of them.”

“Well if the shoe fits…” Emma said with a shrug, and it had taken everything in Killian not to pull her close and kiss her senseless. But alas, they hadn’t been alone and it was hardly the time or place to try and see if such a match could work.

Over the next few weeks the interest that Killian felt only grew stronger by the day. He would run into Emma all the time, seeing her in rehearsals and watching her sets night in and night out. She was beyond talented, with a voice that evoked undeniable feeling in any song at any time. She could sing a ballad or an anthem or a cover of some long lost classic and be so well suited to all of them it was astounding. She had real talent, and the rest of her band did too. Yet it wasn’t her affinity for music that drew Killian in most, it was who she was as a person. Fiercely loyal to her friends and her crew, Emma was a fighter and a lover all in one. She treated everyone with kindness and respect, valued the time of each person in their orbit, no matter how menial their job, but she always stood her ground. She didn’t accept bad treatment for herself or for anyone else, and Killian couldn’t help but see her as this almost savior, sweeping in to different situations and protecting the underdogs at every turn. She was such an enigma, but at the same time Killian felt like he’d never understood a person better in his life than he did Emma Swan.

It was insane for him to care so much about a woman so quickly, and since past mistakes in love had made him cynical and uninterested in anything like a repeat performance, it seriously fucked him up for a time. The first few weeks they knew each other Killian battled this innate desire to spend time with her and the wariness that his past had taught him to hold close. Despite his attempts at avoiding attachment, however, he could feel himself falling under her spell. Little by little his heart ran away from him, and before he knew it he was hers. 

A turning point came where he realized that resistance was futile, and before he knew it they were spending each night together. They stayed back on the bus or in the hotel, leaving their friends to explore the local nightlife while they watched a movie, took a walk, or had dinner just the two of them. It was intimate even though neither of them ever crossed the line, and the best part was that it was normal. He wasn’t Killian Jones, rock star, and she wasn’t defined by her up and coming status either. They were just two people getting to know each other and forming a connection so few people ever had. And then the moment finally came, the one where he couldn’t wait anymore to make a move. He was so certain of his regard for Emma he had to let her know.

Instinct guided him in that instant to side with a display of his affection over the words that always seemed to get tangled up in his presence. She was so close, grinning at some witty comment he’d made about the movie before them and he took his opportunity, pressing his lips to hers and feeling the impact of a kiss with the woman of his dreams. What started as easy affection ignited, for all it took was one second for Emma to be there with him. Her response was glorious, seductive, and healing all in one. It told Killian he wasn’t alone in this, and he reveled in the chemistry between them. Something this hot and this intense couldn’t be forced – it was a magic so unique people lived their whole lives and never felt it, and Killian would have given anything to take it further, to steal her away to his suite, strip the clothes from her body, and take her over and over again until morning light came. But somehow, through some strength of character and purpose he never knew he had, he pulled back, looking into Emma’s lust-filled eyes and taking in her words of amazement.

“I can’t believe you did that,” she whispered, her lips full and her face flush with the influence of their kiss.

“Can’t you?” Killian asked, a grin forming on his face as he allowed himself to truly feel this untouchable sense of happiness. “Haven’t I made my intentions clear?”

“Well yeah, I mean I thought I knew, but… I don’t know, I’ve just been waiting for what feels like forever for that to happen.”

“Aye, love. The wait was too long, but this is only the beginning, Emma. You have my word on that.”

The rest of the night was a beautiful blur of feeling, and he and Emma made the most of the fleeting moments they had before their friends returned. But when the end of the night came, Killian was confident that they would have tomorrow. If he had his way they’d have a million more of such moments together, that was how far he’d fallen for Emma, but fate it seemed was not so interested in granting him that happily ever after. Instead of rising to a new day where he could tell the world that Emma was his and that he was hers in turn, he’d stumbled upon a scene at breakfast that broke his heart and his very spirit as well.

At first Killian didn’t register anything was amiss, but when he spotted Neal cozied up to Emma, standing too close for it to be anything innocent, it felt like the floor fell out from under him. Killian could only bear to look at them for a second, but the damage was done to his heart and to that happiness he’d thought was here to stay. Since then he’d been avoiding Emma. He hadn’t been subtle about it either, boldly leaving rooms or making sure they only shared a space when there were a half a dozen or more eyes watching. It was bloody difficult work, because even with everything he still wanted her close. But he had to do it. The honorable thing to do was to leave her alone if she belonged to another.

“Killian?”

The voice that called to him was undeniably Emma’s, and for a moment he thought he might have dreamed it up. He took stock of his surroundings, realizing that he’d ended up at the farthest corner of the venue. The spot was shielded away from prying public eyes, and it allowed him to tune out the world and just gaze at the cityscape below. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts, Killian hadn’t even realized Emma was near him, and he took a calming breath, trying to keep himself in check for this interaction. It was all for nothing though, because as soon as he turned and saw her, ready for her set tonight and looking more stunning than any woman had a right to, he was lost.

“Swan,” he said, knowing his greeting was cold, but he didn’t have any other words. If he didn’t keep things short between them he’d confess it all, and he couldn’t stand the embarrassment that would entail. No, what he’d seen that morning had made it very clear – Emma belonged to another and he’d be making a fool of himself to try to plead for a chance when she was satisfied elsewhere. “Don’t you have a set starting shortly?”

“Yes,” Emma said, taking a step forward. Killian wanted to do the same, feeling the need to get closer to her but he held back and watched her closely, trying to understand what she was feeling. Her face was filled with emotion, but it was all too hard to read when he was charged up on his own. “But I had to talk to you. I can’t go out there tonight if I don’t.”

“Is everything all right?” Killian asked, still trying to rein himself in even as worry spiked inside his heart. Was she okay? Was she hurt? A thousand scenarios ran through her mind and he had to remind himself she wasn’t his to protect.

“No,” Emma said softly as she took another step towards him. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I haven’t, Emma, I’ve been -,”

“You promised me you’d never lie to me, remember?” Emma said, reminding him of a moment they’d had a few weeks back, a night Killian thought might lead to more but where he’d yet again proven too chicken to actually make his move.

“Aye, love, I remember.”

“I know you saw me and Neal together,” Emma said, causing Killian to tense up instantly.

“How?” Killian asked, knowing that he hadn’t been seen as he left and that even an hour ago Emma had no idea what was wrong.

“Robin told me.”

Killian couldn’t believe it. He was stunned. His manager of all people had told Emma the truth? But it broke every code. Here he was thinking that Robin was his friend even if he worked for him, but then why would he go behind Killian’s back and do this? It was unconscionable and Killian was poised to leave the room and give Locksley a piece of his mind when Emma reached out for his hand. Killian knew he should let it go. It wasn’t right or smart to do this, but heaven help him he couldn’t, not when nothing the world over could ever feel so right.

“He didn’t tell me to betray you, Killian. I gave him an ultimatum – either he told me or I’d walk.”

Killian scoffed at the crazy idea. There was no bloody way that she and her band would have not performed. This was the chance of a lifetime, but the open, honest, and sincerely genuine look in Emma’s eyes indicated otherwise. “Emma, that’s crazy! What on earth were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I needed answers!” she exclaimed before releasing a breath that was shaky and spoke to her heightened state of emotion. “Something happened – one night we’re perfect and things are going great and the next morning everything was ruined. I didn’t know what was going on.”

“Well what was I supposed to think?” Killian asked, his voice at the edge of breaking as he tried to hold it together. “There’s clearly something between you too. Cassidy’s confirmed you’re seeing him to anyone who would listen all damn day.”

“He did what?!” Emma screeched, clearly shocked and irate at the revelation. “No I’m not ‘seeing him.’ What you saw was him making a play but I didn’t want any part of it because …”

Emma trailed off her words, a blush coming to her face as she looked away from Killian. It was the first time that she seemed afraid in all of this and it shook Killian to the core. Here was this strong woman with a fire inside her that he admired constantly, but right now she seemed worried, and he had this instinctual feeling that the worry was about him. Could he dare to hope? He didn’t know, but he reached out and tilted her chin back up to look at him, noticing the way she leaned into his touch and wanting to take more even though he needed her words first.

“Because…?”

“Because I would never do that when I want someone else.”

In that moment Killian knew at last that the two of them were in this together. She hadn’t confessed her feelings, but her jade colored eyes told him everything that words couldn’t yet say. It meant the world to him to know this, but it also hurt to think that he’d prolonged their pain by avoiding her all this time. God, if he had just walked in a moment later he knew Emma would have sorted things out. He should have trusted Emma, should have believed that such a spark couldn’t exist between two people if one was truly taken with another, but fear had clouded his judgment. Now he had to let the fear go, and he had to be sure once and for all that Emma knew where he stood.

“Please let it be me,” Killian whispered as his hand cupped her cheek and Emma looked on the verge of tears as she nodded.

“It is you,” she said, and Killian felt triumphant. All he could think was that he needed to kiss her again, but something still plagued Emma’s mind. He could see her uneasiness, and he needed to know what it was so they could fix it and move on. Then the realization of what would cause her hurt slammed into him and he realized he was the one who had caused her lingering pain.

“But I’ve fucked things up,” he said solemnly. “I ran from you without so much as a word. I allowed myself to jump to every bad conclusion without trusting in you. How can you ever trust me – feel safe with me – if I couldn’t have faith in what we have?”

“I’m terrified,” Emma admitted. “Not that you’ll run again, because I know you won’t. You have that look of determination and I know what that means,” she joked, pulling a forced chuckle from Killian.

“And yet…” Killian prompted, needing to hear whatever this was so he could know how to properly make amends.

“It’s just I fell so fast for you I wasn’t prepared when things got bad. I always keep people at a distance. If they can’t get close they can’t hurt you. I have my walls and they work at keeping people away, but you broke them down. You made me love you and -,”

“You love me?” Killian asked, shocked at the revelation as Emma’s eyes went wide and she realized what she let slip.

“I – well I mean – well the thing is -,”

Killian could have waited to see what Emma’s nervous stammering turned into, but instead he chose to go with his gut, pulling her in for a kiss he’d wanted for far too long. It was the sweetest relief, not only to have Emma in his arms where she belonged, but to know beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was not in this alone. Emma might have been the first to say the words, but Killian loved her in a way that defied explanation. He’d be shocked if her feelings could possibly compare, but when they pulled apart and he saw the mix of hope and happiness in her expression, Killian dared to dream that maybe they could.

“It’s always been you, Emma. Even before we ever met, I was looking for something – for someone – who would help make all of this matter. And when I found you I knew, I knew that I loved you right from the start, and that I always will. You’ve changed me, love, and I know this has been a rocky beginning, but I swear to you that’s done now. You have all of me and that includes every ounce of my trust. I won’t doubt us again.  I promise you I won’t.”

“People will think we’re crazy,” Emma whispered, though she didn’t look so adverse to the idea. Her fingertips had come up to graze along his jawline and Killian leaned into the motion, craving her touch and living for the spark of excitement that lit up her eyes.

“Let them,” he replied. “It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. All that matters is what you want.”

“Well in that case…”

It was Emma’s turn now to pull him in for another heated exchange, and the kiss this time was charged with a pent up need both of them had been holding onto for what felt like forever. There was nothing more to say; this was love and it always would be, and now Emma and Killian were of a like mind, wanting to be as close as possible and to seal that love in the best possible way. Unfortunately, just as the kiss was pushing past the limits of propriety, with roaming hands and clothes coming dangerously close to falling away, a knock sounded at the door.

“All right you two, much as we all love the true love reunion we’ve got a show to do!”

Emma’s friend Ruby’s voice was filled with teasing as it filtered through the door and Emma rolled her eyes even as she laughed. It seemed the real world could not be put on hold indefinitely, and Ruby was right – there was a show just minutes away from starting.

“Not that we don’t appreciate you taking one for the team, Emma,” Graham said from where he must have been in the hallway as well. “He’s been a little Grumpy without his girl to keep him happy.”

“He is a lot brighter when they’re together,” David mused prompting Will to start suggesting new nicknames for him like ‘Captain Chipper’ and ‘Mr. Brightside.’ The onslaught of commentary made Killian groan.

“Bloody hell, how many of them are out there do you think?” he asked Emma, who was shaking her head as she chuckled to herself.

“My bet? All of them. And we should really go, because there’s no chance of them leaving until we do.”

“Fair enough, love. But just know this – tonight, when the final song is played and the night is finally through, you’re mine.”

“Good,” Emma said with a final swift kiss. “Because you’re mine too.”

And with that, the two of them faced the music, starting a new journey that both of them would come to cherish for now and always.

……………

Coming out of my cage And I've been doing just fine Gotta gotta be down Because I want it all It started out with a kiss How did it end up like this It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss Now I'm falling asleep And she's calling a cab While he's having a smoke And she's taking a drag Now they're going to bed And my stomach is sick And it's all in my head But she's touching his chest Now, he takes off her dress Now, letting me go I just can't look its killing me And taking control Jealousy, turning saints into the sea Swimming through sick lullabies Choking on your alibis But it's just the price I pay Destiny is calling me Open up my eager eyes Cause I'm Mr Brightside I'm coming out of my cage And I've been doing just fine Gotta gotta be down Because I want it all It started out with a kiss How did it end up like this It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss Now I'm falling asleep And she's calling a cab While he's having a smoke And she's taking a drag Now they're going to bed And my stomach is sick And it's all in my head But she's touching his chest Now, he takes off her dress Now, letting me go 'Cause I just can't look its killing me And taking control Jealousy, turning saints into the sea Swimming through sick lullabies Choking on your alibi But it's just the price I pay Destiny is calling me Open up my eager eyes 'Cause I'm Mr Brightside I never I never I never I never

Post-Note: So I have wanted to take this basic story idea and make it a multi-chapter for years now, but every time I get close to doing it another story always comes barging in. It’s because of that that I am really grateful to the reader who asked for this song about a year ago (God how did so much time pass?). This was a cathartic thing for me, and it allowed me to jump-start my muse and get other works written as well. Hope that you all enjoyed it, and also if you guys know of great AUs where Emma, Killian or both are in a band please let me know! I would LOVE to read more of this trope because it’s such a fun one! Anyway, thanks so much to all of you for reading and I hope you have a great rest of your weekend!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176,Part 177, Part 178, Part 179 , Part 180

[branlovestowrite]

Complicating Factors: Chapter 7

This is my WIP that I have been posting over at FanFiction.Net. I am reposting the chapters here as I continue to write the new chapters.

Complicating Factors

Rating: M for language and smut in later chapters

Summary: Emma Swan is a single mother trying to contact her ex and father of her child, Neal Cassidy. While she expected some awkwardness when meeting Neal’s mother, Milah Gold, she never expected the undeniable attraction she feels toward Milah’s younger boyfriend, Killian Jones. No Magic, Modern AU. Captain Swan.

Previous Chapters: Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6

Also on fanfiction.net.

He was going to be there in 30 minutes, and Emma had no idea what to wear. She didn't want to dress too provocative and give him the wrong idea, but she also didn't want to look too matronly. She let out a grunt of frustration. She heard Mary Margaret laugh and say something to Henry before walking into Emma's room.

"I'm sure whatever you wear, you'll look great. Just be comfortable."

"Are you sure you're good with watching Henry? You spend all day with kids. I wouldn't blame you if you avoided them in your off time."

"It's no problem. I am happy to help. David says this is my penance for trying to be a matchmaker, but I will happily pay it. Besides, I'm going to need practice."

"Practice for what? You're a preschool teacher. You've seen it all."

"Yes, but I work with groups of kids. I'm going to need more practice handling a kid one on one."

"Wait...are you saying what I think you're saying? Are you pregnant?"

"Yes!" Mary Margaret said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "You're not supposed to say anything until after the first trimester is over, but you know I can't keep a secret. I made a deal with David that I could tell you, but we are keeping it secret from everyone else for now."

"I'm so happy for you guys!" Emma walked across the room and wrapped her arms around her friend. "When are you due?"

"October 23rd."

"That's my birthday."

"I know! You and Baby Nolan will be birthday buddies. But don't tell Henry yet. Four-year olds are worse at keeping secrets than I am."

Emma gave her friend a warm smile. "Lucky for you, I can keep a secret. I am so very happy for you. Have you thought of any names?"

"Well, if it's a girl, we want to name her Ava Ruth, after our mothers."

"That's beautiful. What about if it's a boy?"

"I like Leopold, after my father, but David says we'd set our son up for a lifetime of ridicule if we name him that."

"I have to agree with your husband."

"Where'd you get Henry's name?"

"A neighbor I used to have, Mr. Perkins. The one who taught me to bake. His first name was Henry. He was one of the first people to really care for me. I looked for him after I got out, but he died about a year after Henry was born."

"Oh Emma. I'm so sorry." Mary Margaret pulled her friend into a comforting embrace.

"It's ok. I mourned for him already. He was a good man, and I have my memories." She pulled away and looked at her bed, which was littered with nearly her entire wardrobe. "For now I need to figure out what to wear for this date. Do you think it's too late to cancel?"

"Don't you dare!" Mary Margaret scolded. She reached into the pile and fished out a pink dress. "This is nice."

"No way," Emma replied. "Mu bought me that dress for a sting she set up. I am not wearing that on a real date."

Emma finally settled on dark jeans, a silk blouse, and her black boots. It was casual, but still dressy enough. Mary Margaret approved, and Henry said "you look pretty mama!" She smiled at her son and looked at the clock. Graham was five minutes late. Despite her earlier reluctance, Emma was mad at him. She grabbed her phone and dialed his number.

"Graham. Where are you?" She paused, listening to his response, "You did? Would his name happen to be Killian? Yes, I know him. No, you don't- Okay. See you soon."

She hung up and immediately her anxiety returned.

"Killian?" Mary Margaret asked. "Isn't that Milah's boyfriend?"

"Ex-boyfriend," Emma corrected. "Did I forget to tell you they broke up?"

"You must have, because I wouldn't have set you up with Graham if I knew Killian was single."

"You too? Why does everyone want me to be with Killian?"

"Because you are obviously attracted to him, which is a rare enough occurrence to make it significant."

"Well, I'm gonna have to get past it. He's living in this building now. If there wasn't reason enough to avoid getting involved with him before, there certainly is now."

"Okay. Just so you you know, you're setting yourself up for failure. Do me a favor and let Graham down easy. He is a good guy."

"Stop that talk. You're not helping." Emma was ready to continue her argument, when she heard a knock on the door. She opened it to see Graham standing there.

"Emma, you look lovely. A thousand apologies for being late."

Emma softened upon hearing his sweet words. "Don't worry about it. You were doing a good deed."

"Hello Mary Margaret. Henry."

Henry turned around and leaned over the back of the couch. He gave Graham a critical look, looking much older than his four years. After a moment of intense silence, he finally spoke. "Do you like boats?"

"Um... I've never given it much thought. I have nothing against them. Just haven't spent much time on them."

"So..." Henry asked. "Do you like them?"

Emma laughed nervously. "Henry, go easy on him."

"Okay mommy," he replied, giving her a toothy grin.

She walked over and gave him a kiss on the forehead. "Be good."

"Yes mommy. I love you."

"Love you too kid."

"Have fun!" Mary Margaret said as Emma and Graham walked out of the apartment and headed toward the elevator.

Killian felt more nervous than he had in a long time. Ruby, Emma, and Henry would be arriving within the hour. He'd spent the morning scrubbing the small apartment from top to bottom and rearranging the furniture to suit his liking. This Will fellow liked sleek, modern furnishings. They weren't really Killian's style, but they would serve the purpose.

He set out a few two-liter bottles of soda and a jug of sweet tea he'd found at the grocery store. He knew that sweet tea was not the beverage of choice in the northern part of the US, but he'd become addicted to the stuff when he lived in South Carolina. Milah never liked it. She always said that it was a waste of good tea leaves. Now that he was living on his own, he'd indulged himself and bought a jug. He got out three tall glasses and one plastic cup, picked up especially for the occasion. It was not specifically designed for children, but it had a sailboat on it, and he couldn't help but think of Henry when he saw it. And he figured it wasn't a bad idea for the lad to have a plastic cup, just in case.

He stood in the middle of the kitchen and looked down at his outfit for the tenth time since he'd changed. He was trying very hard to draw a balance between dressy and casual. He'd gone for dark jeans and a black button down shirt. It was more open at the collar than he preferred, mostly due to the fact that he felt overheated. The temperature in the room was comfortable, but his internal temperature spiked because of nerves. He couldn't help but wonder all day, and truly the entire night prior, how Emma's date had gone. Graham seemed like a decent fellow. He feared that Emma would fall for the detective and end all of his own hopes.

He was roused from these musings by a knock at the door. He jumped, looking at the clock and realizing it was already 5:30. He opened the door and found Emma and Henry standing there.

"Killian! I brought my pirate ship. You can be the Captain. Can we play?"

"Hang on Henry," Emma said. "Let's get inside and get settled first." She turned to look at Killian. "I'm sorry we're a bit early. He was so excited about coming over here. If it's too soon, we can go back to our apartment for a bit longer."

"No, no. I am glad to have you both. Although it may be a while before we can eat, depending on when Ruby gets here."

"No problem. I bought snacks," She said, holding up a grocery bag.

"Henry, lad, can you go set up the pirate ship by the couch? I'll help your mother put the food away and be right there."

"Aye aye, captain!" Henry said.

Killian showed Emma to the kitchen and helped her put away the salad, loaf of garlic bread, and bag of frozen mozzarella sticks. He started the oven to heat up the cheese sticks and pulled out a sheet pan, setting it on the counter. He looked up to find Emma standing close enough that he could feel her breath on his skin. He paused for a moment, unable to speak as his eyes searched hers.

"You alright, love?"

She looked nervous and frozen in place. She gestured behind him. "I was going to grab the bag of mozzarella sticks."

"Oh, yes. Of course." He stepped aside and began anxiously scratching behind his ear.

Once the appetizer was in the oven, they moved to the living room to join Henry. Emma sat on the couch while Killian joined Henry on the floor. They were caught up in their story when he heard the kitchen timer go off.

"That's the mozzarella sticks," Emma said. "I'll get them. You guys keep playing."

He heard her in the kitchen, preparing the appetizer. She opened and closed more than a few cabinets and drawers, getting her bearings, but she didn't call out for help. He was glad, as he will still learning where everything was and wasn't sure he'd be of much help. She walked back out and set down a plate with the sticks and a cup of marinara sauce on the coffee table.

"Mommy, can I have a drink?"

"Of course sweetie. Let's go in the kitchen and see what Mr. Killian has."

They retreated back to the kitchen just as there was another knock on the door. "That'll be Ruby," Killian called to them. "I'll get it."

He opened the door and let the other lass in. She was stunningly beautiful, but Killian could only see her as a friend. She burst through the door, filling the room with energy as she brandished an aluminium tray with what he assumed must be the lasagna, along with a square-shaped box.

"Sorry I'm late!" She said in a rush. "Granny hired a new night manager, Dorothy, and she gave me such a hard time about taking the lasagna. Said we were stealing profits. As if Granny doesn't throw out at least one of these every week. I bought a pie to appease her, so we have dessert!"

"Yum!" Emma said, coming from the kitchen. "What kind?"

"Apple," Ruby replied.

Emma turned to Killian. "Do you have ice cream?"

"I don't believe so."

"Well, good thing I always keep some on hand. I'll run down to my apartment and grab it."

"Later, Emma!" Ruby scolded. "Let's catch up now."

They all walked into the kitchen. Henry grabbed his new cup and held it up. "Aunt Ruby! Look at this cool cup!"

"Very nice!" Ruby said. "It's a sail boat. Are there any more cool cups like that?"

"I'm sorry, but no," Killian said. "I saw that while I was at the store and thought Henry might like it, so I picked it up."

"You got this cup special for me?" Henry asked. "He likes boats mommy! I like him better than the guy you had dinner with yesterday."

Emma flushed. "Henry, it's not polite to speak like that."

"Like what?" he asked with a confused expression.

Before Emma could reply, Ruby interjected. "You had a date last night? How do I not know about this?"

"Because I bribed Mrs. Roberts to not say anything."

"Sneaky..." Ruby said. "Tell me about him, who was he?"

"David's new partner, Graham." Emma's eyes flashed nervously to Killian's. "I can tell you more later."

They managed to get the lasagna started, and moved into the living room to eat the mozzarella sticks. Ruby told them more about her encounter with Dorothy.

"She kept stalling me every time I tried to leave. I think she was flirting with me."

"Could be," Emma said. "Do you like her?"

"Honestly? Yes. I've dated other women before, but never seriously. But I could see myself in a relationship with her. Is that crazy? We just met."

"Sometimes you just know," Killian said, without thinking. He looked up to see Emma's eyes. He could almost hear the thoughts in her head, screaming at her to retreat.

She stood up then. "I'm gonna go grab that ice cream."

Ruby rolled her eyes. "Killian, go with her. Henry and I can play pirates while you two work out whatever is going on with you."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Emma said. Killian stood in silent shock.

"Of course you don't," Ruby replied. "But despite whatever crazy thoughts are going through your head, you and Killian need to have a long overdue conversation to address the chemistry between yourselves. So go up to your apartment, have it out, and come back here when you're ready to have a pleasant dinner without all this sexual tension."

"Seshual tension?" Henry asked. "What's that?"

Before Emma could reprimand her friend, Ruby answered Henry. "It's when two grown ups like each other, but are afraid of their feelings."

"That's silly," Henry replied. "If they like each other, they should just be friends."

"Listen to the kid," Ruby said. She turned back to Henry. "Your mommy and Mr. Killian are going to have a grown up talk while you and I play some more pirates."

"Awesome!"

Emma stood in her kitchen. Killian was in the living room. She'd never wanted to run away more in her life than at this moment. She was effectively trapped. Ruby had her son and wouldn't let Emma take him home until she came to some sort of resolution with Killian. Ruby was very perceptive and would see through any attempts to deceive. Emma thought briefly of telling Ruby to go screw herself and taking Henry home, but then she'd have to deal with the fallout of losing her best friend and living in a building with a man who knew she'd rather break a friendship than talk about her feelings for him.

She took a deep breath and walked into the living room. "Would you like to sit down?" She asked, pointing to the couch.

He sat on the end closest to the door, and she occupied the other side. They both sat near the edge, putting as much distance as possible between themselves. The silence was deafening. Killian began scratching behind his ear again, which must be his nervous tick. Just when Emma thought she couldn't take the quiet any longer, he spoke.

"I am attracted to you, Emma."

"Well, I'm not going to lie. I was attracted to you when we first met. But then I found out you were dating Milah, and I tried to get past it. Is that why you broke up with Milah? Because you wanted to be with me?"

"No. She broke up with me because we always fought. And we want different things. I am trying to rediscover myself now that I'm on my own."

His confession struck Emma, and she relaxed a little. She stood momentarily and settled down on the middle of the couch, closer to Killian. "I know what that's like. I had to rebuild my life after I got out of jail."

"How did you do it?"

"I had Henry. And Regina, though it took her and I a while to get to a friendly place. And then Ruby and Mu, and everyone else. I guess it takes time. Friends help."

"I am finding that I don't have many of those."

"Friends? Well, I'll be your friend. You're a nice guy, Killian, and Henry really likes you."

"Just friends?" He asked, turning toward her. One of his eyebrows cocked up nearly to his hairline and his eyes held a playful expression.

Was he actually flirting with her? She felt a traitorous thrill in her heart at the thought. Against her better judgment, she responded. "Please. You couldn't handle it."

"Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it," he countered, giving her a challenging look.

She looked at him. He really was incredibly attractive. His eyes were a brilliant blue, contrasting perfectly with his dark hair. His lips looked soft and full, and she couldn't stop herself from wondering how it would feel to run her fingers across his stubble. Without fully realizing what she was doing, she grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled his body to hers. Their lips collided in a deep kiss. She opened her mouth slightly and his tongue slipped through, gliding along her own. Her head moved and he moved with her, nipping at her lower lip. His hand came up to her head and tangled with the hair at the nape of her neck. She reciprocated, carding her fingers through the hair on the back of his head. They were perched on the edge of the couch, and she kept a tight grip on his shirt collar to keep herself from falling. The kiss was electric. She felt it all over, a warm, tingling feeling. It was better than any kiss she'd ever had. She wanted to be able to kiss him like this forever. At that thought, alarm bells went off in her head, and she pulled away, resting her forehead against his.

"That was..." he began.

She didn't want him to speak and break the spell. She moved to capture his lips again with her own, but froze just millimeters from his mouth. She couldn't do this, no matter how much she wanted it. So, instead, she finished his sentence. "A one-time thing," she said against his mouth. She released his shirt collar and stood up, walking into the kitchen. "Go back to your place. I'll be down in a bit. I just need to compose myself."

"As you wish." She heard him open the front door and exit, shutting it gently behind him.

Emma's emotions came crashing down upon her. As a child, one of her favorite movies had been The Princess Bride. She'd always hoped for someone to say "as you wish" to her the way Westley had to Buttercup. The memory brought tears to her eyes as she replayed Killian's voice saying that very line. It alternated with the lingering feelings from perhaps the best kiss of her life. The attraction she felt for Graham was nothing compared to this. It was overwhelming, all consuming. Every cell in her body called for Killian. She wanted to be with him forever. But the memories of Neal's betrayal also played in her head. As much as she felt pain at the hurt Neal caused her, she knew it would be a thousand-times worse if Killian hurt her.

Fear won the battle among her warring emotions, and she began to harden herself against any further entreaties from Professor Jones.

Killian's head was reeling as he stepped out of Emma's apartment. He had gone from anxious and sad to flirtatious and hopeful in a matter of minutes. The kiss with Emma had been incredible. He could still feel a tingle on his lips. He reached up and softly touched them, letting out a long breath. She was a challenge. She obviously liked him, but feared the prospect of getting involved with him. He ran his fingers through his hair and walked toward the elevator as he agonized over what to do.

He returned to his flat to find Ruby and Henry on the couch, watching some cartoons.

"I hope you don't mind," Ruby said. "I found your Netflix account and put on a show for Henry."

"Not at all," Killian said.

Ruby looked at him quizzically. She stood up from the couch. Henry was engrossed in his show and didn't even register her movement. Ruby grabbed Killian's bicep and pulled him to the kitchen. "What happened? Where's Emma?" She asked, keeping her tone low.

"Nothing. Emma just said she needed a minute and she'd be along shortly."

She gave him a scrutinizing look. "No, there's something you're not saying. I can tell. I know we just met, but trust me, you don't want to hide things from me. I have an uncanny ability to sniff them out."

Her gaze made Killian uncomfortable, and he stared down at the floor. "She kissed me," he said, in nearly a whisper.

The brunette's mouth fell open in a wide gasp, but she quickly recovered. "Let me guess, she freaked out, told you it couldn't happen again, and asked you to go ahead without her?"

"Yes...that's nearly exactly what happened. How did you know?"

"I know Emma. She'll come back in a bit, make up some lame excuse, and take Henry home. She won't stay for dinner."

"I expected as much. I do wish she would talk with me about her fears."

"It takes a lot more to get her to open up. How was the kiss?"

Ruby's frankness startled Killian, but he also found it refreshing. "It was bloody brilliant. I've never felt a connection like that."

"Good. That's good. She'll come around. You have to give her space. Let her figure it out in her own head. But don't disappear, either. She's had enough abandonment."

"So I need to stick around but give her space? That's a bit contradictory."

"I know. She's a tough nut to crack, but she's worth it."

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because Emma never makes her own happiness a priority. She always puts everyone else first. She felt a connection with you the moment she met you, but she's denying it because she thinks she is obligated to. Even though she is loath to admit it, she wants to be with you. I think you could make her happy. I'm pretty good at reading people."

"Thank you, lass." He sighed. "I never thought I could love someone like I loved my Milah, until I met Emma."

"Definitely don't tell her that yet," Ruby laughed.

"Of course," Killian said with a smile.

Emma came back a few minutes later and did just as Ruby predicted. After Emma and Henry left, Ruby helped him prepare two plates for the Swans and they carried them to her flat. He did not linger, just provided her the plates and bid her and her boy goodnight. Afterward, he and Ruby had a pleasant dinner. He quickly found she was becoming a great friend. They parted with a congenial hug.

"See you around, Jones," she said.

"You too Lucas," Killian replied with a smile. He was grateful to have a friend and ally in all this.

On Sunday morning Emma was awakened by a text from what she assumed was Gold's number. It was just an address, nothing additional. She replied back to ask if that was the place for the meeting, but got no reply. She checked it out on the map. It was in the South End neighborhood, which surprised her. She'd expected this meeting to be in a shady part of town, not one of the most expensive places to live in Boston. She shrugged and forwarded the text to Regina. Regina was nervous about this plan, but went along with it. She'd bought a can of pepper spray and insisted Emma take it in case something bad happened. Emma knew how to take care of herself, but she appreciated Regina's concern.

She looked at the clock and decided to go ahead and call Milah to update her. She'd told Milah about the conversation with Gold on Monday, and Milah had readily agreed to come along. Emma dialed the number and waited for an answer.

"Hello?"

"Milah, it's Emma. I got the location from Gold. It's some fancy place over in South End. Does that sound right to you?"

"Yes, he owns a few properties in that neighborhood that he uses as short-term rentals for executives. He's probably got Neal staying in one."

"He owns more than one property in South End? How rich is your ex?"

"Too rich for his own good. But this is a good development. The location is upscale enough that he'll probably want to keep a low profile. I don't think he'll try anything stupid today."

"I'm glad to hear that. We're supposed to be there at 5:00. What time should Henry and I come by to get you?"

"How about 4:00? And we'll take my car."

"I don't mind driving."

"I know, but Neal won't know my car. Your Bug is very notable. Plus, I have a panic button on my key ring, so I can raise the alarm if need be. But I truly don't believe it will come to that.

"Okay," Emma conceded. "We'll see you at 4:00."

Emma and Henry spent the day tidying up and running errands. She willed herself not to think of Killian or the kiss they shared. It was hard, though, because Henry kept talking about how much he liked Killian. They were walking into the building after grocery shopping when they ran into the man himself.

"Swan," he said as soon as he saw them.

"Killian. How are you?"

"Significantly better than when we met in this lobby last week."

Had it only been a week ago? The past few days had been such a whirlwind. "Well, that's good. We need to get these groceries unloaded. I'll see you later?"

"Hang on, let me help." He followed them into the elevator and pressed the button for her floor. As the car began to move, he looked at her. "Can we talk?"

She looked nervously at him. "I don't know. I still have some chores to do, and we've got plans at 4:00."

"It won't take long. Let me help you put your groceries away?"

"Alright." The elevator stopped on her floor and Killian followed her and Henry to their apartment. Henry was being unusually quiet, but Emma put that down to fatigue. She looked at the clock when they got in. It was 2:30. "Henry, go lay down and take a short nap. I don't want you tired and angry when we see your grandma later today."

"Yes mommy," Henry said without any sign of protest. He must really be tired. He went to his room and closed the door. She would go check on him in a minute.

"You've got plans with Milah?" Killian asked.

"We do."

"I'm glad to hear that." He paused, and the tension in the room was palpable.

Despite her better intentions, Emma felt an overwhelming urge to kiss him. She rooted her feet to the ground, determined not to give in. She could take the tension no longer. "Killian..." she began, but he cut her off.

"I am sorry if things between us got awkward. I don't regret anything I said, but I also don't wish to pressure you in any way. I truly appreciate your offer of friendship, and I hope it is still available."

She melted at his words. "It is. I meant what I said about you being a nice guy. I'd love to be your friend." She extended her hand and he took it in a firm shake.

"Thank you," he said as he pulled his hand back. "Well, I will let you get back to your chores. Please give Milah my regards."

"I will."

She was grateful that Killian left then, because her resolve was crumbling. He really was a good man. She was glad she had not acted on her more sensual urges. She hadn't decided if she would tell Milah about the kiss, and a repeat performance would have complicated matters much further.

[ifishouldvanish]

The Boston Hour (9/?)

In which Belle is an Antiques Roadshow super-fan and Gold is her favorite appraiser.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Rumford resolves to give Belle a proper kiss before their second date is through, but his nerves keep getting in the way. Also he can't stop accidentally flirting? Someone help him and also maybe scrape Belle off of the floor. RATING: T WORDS: 14,511 (I really don’t know what happened) A/N: So… this chapter’s going to consist of a lot of shorter scenes rather than one or two long ones. Oops. TMI’s here - [x].

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Eight] [Read on AO3]

Oh, what a night.

It all began when Belle's phone started vibrating beside her on the nightstand. She rose out of bed and drifted over to the door of her hotel room to answer it, and there he was. Rumford. The light in the hallway shone from behind him and he glowed like an angel. A beautiful, perfect, designer suit-wearing, Glaswegian angel.

“Please accept my apologies, Miss French. I know it's late, but…” he stepped toward her and reached out to take her hands. “I just couldn't stay away.”

“Neither could I,” Belle said. “Come in. There's churros.”

“Of course,” he said, quietly following her into her apartment. “But first– there's something I must tell you.”

“Yes,” she assured. “Oh Rumford, you can tell me anything.”

He stepped closer and cupped her face with his hands, gazing into her eyes. “The library called, Belle. The budget's been doubled, and you've just been promoted to library director.”

Belle smiled widely, blinking away the tears that were already beginning to form in her eyes. “...I have?”

“Yes, sweetheart.” He nodded and brushed her cheek with the pad of his thumb, and the sound of his voice seemed to linger in her ears as though time had slowed just for the two of them. “Also, all of your student loan debt has been forgiven, and that puppy you picked up and brought to the shelter two months ago was just adopted.”

“...Wow.” Belle chuckled in delighted surprise and gazed back at him reverently. His eyes were so warm and brown and calm, and looking into them made her feel so at peace. Like for the moment, everything in the world was exactly as it should be. “You’re amazing.”

“No, Belle. ” He insisted, staring into her eyes with a thrilling intensity. “...You're amazing.” He pulled her in for a kiss, and Belle felt as though her consciousness had left her body and entered the cosmos. It was hungry and full of need, yet soft at the same. The way she always imagined it would be.

“Oh, Rumford–” she whispered, kissing him back.

“I'm madly in love with you, Belle.”

“Yes. And I love you, Rumford.” She said between kisses. “I've always loved you.” She tried to hold him tighter, but the harder she squeezed, the more he seemed to slip away.

“Please– Belle–” he whispered into her ear. “Let me show you. Let me make love to you.”

“Yes,” she sighed, “Show me, Rumford.”

He guided her down onto her bed, which was conveniently just behind her despite the fact that they had literally been standing in the living room a second ago.

Not important.

Belle watched as he undressed– jacket, waistcoat, tie. Shirt. Undershirt. Each layer gone until he grasped his belt. He undid the buckle slowly, slipped the length of leather out from his belt loops, and laid it beside her. She wrapped her fingers around it and licked her lips, her eyes fixed on his dexterous hands as he unzipped his trousers. He moved to push them past his hips, and–

“It's ladies’ night! And the feeling’s right! Oh yes, it's ladies’ night–”

Rumford stopped stripping for her and darted his eyes around the room with furrowed brows. “...Is that you?”

Belle shook her head. “It can wait.”

She was right. His chest was smooth.

He moved again to take his trousers off, and–

“Oh yes, it's ladies’ night And the feeling's right! Oh yes, it's ladies’ night! Oh, what a night!”

Rumford sighed and began to put his clothes back on. “I think you should answer it, dearie.”

“No–” she reached out to him, but he was already too far away. “Rumford, wait!”

Belle woke with a start, her eyes greeted by the darkness of the hotel room. She snapped her attention to the brightly lit screen on her phone as it flashed Ruby's name and continued blaring the personalized ringtone she'd chosen for her.

“Romantic lady... Single baby... Sophisticated mama! Come on, you disco lady!”

She let out a long, frustrated groan.

Rumford professing his love to her? A promotion to library director? More churros? She should've known. Maybe at the very least, the thing about the puppy was true though. That would be nice.

With a huff, Belle swiped the phone off of the end table and answered it. “Ruby. Hey.”

There was giggling, cheering, and then a series of shuffling noises on the other end of the line. “I hope I'm not interrupting anything…” Ruby teased.

Belle looked over at the empty side of the bed and sighed. “No… Just… a um, nothing. It was nothing. What um… what are you…”

“Please tell me the reason you sound totally disoriented is because he banged you into a sex coma from which you have yet to fully recover.”

Belle scratched her head. “Mm… No. I'm uh, I'm at the hotel?”

“And your debonair doctor?”

“Uh… I dunno.” She shrugged, rubbing a hand over her face. Why couldn't Ruby have waited until after her sex dream to make this call?

“Wait, what the hell happened!?”

“Nothing.” Belle rolled over in bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. “Just–”

“Nothing!? Belle, it's 1AM! You're supposed to be– I don't know, sitting on his face or something!”

“...Oh.” She let out a big yawn. “No, he's not that kind of man, Ruby. We're um, taking it slow, I think.”

Ruby scoffed. “Boring.”

“Is not.” Belle pushed herself up for a moment to fluff her pillow, then laid her head back down with a happy sigh. “I had such a good time. He– He's so sweet, Ruby. I really, really like him.”

“Yeah. I'm aware, babe.”

“No,” Belle huffed, “I mean like, I really like him. Not just… I don't know,” she shrugged, “the idea of him.”

“Well, isn't that precious.” Ruby deadpanned. “You guys at least made out though, right?”

Belle hesitated. “Well… I mean, not technically–”

“Ugh, you two are the worst.” She laughed.

Belle allowed herself a little smile at the gentle teasing. “W-we made plans, though?”

Ruby stopped giggling at that. “I'm listening...”

“We're um, gonna see each other again tomorrow,” she said, wiggling her toes under the covers at the thought. “We're gonna go to the flea market together…”

“Oh, thank God.” Ruby exhaled.

“And he um… He kissed my hand! Ruby, it was the sweetest thing!” Belle blurted as quickly as she could, not wanting her to have a chance to cut in and mock the chasteness of the gesture.

Instead, a squeal erupted from her phone's speaker. “Oh my God! He did!? Seriously!?”

Belle nodded a moment before remembering this was a phone call. “Oh– He did! And then I um– I kissed his cheek? And um…” she took a deep breath to calm herself. “It was magical and I almost died.”

“Well, I'm glad, Belles.” Ruby said, the time in her voice suddenly much softer. “I mean, I know I like to poke fun at you about him, but… now that I've met him, maybe I'm willing to admit that he's…”

“The sexiest man alive?”

“No,” she groaned. “I just mean I think he's a good man. Like, a keeper. And I'm happy you two nerds had a good time and are gonna see each other again. So you can… you know, do more nerdy stuff together.”

“Really?”

Ruby approved. Ruby never approved. Or if she did, she never came out and said it. At least not for anyone in Belle's impressive dating history that consisted of a whopping two other people.

Belle shook her head and cleared her throat. “But uh, what about you? Are you still out with Dorothy?”

“Yeah! Yeah, we've just been dancing the night away over here!” She said. “I'm gonna drive her car back to her hotel in a bit because she's kinda tipsy… then I'll either crash there or grab an Uber back to you? We'll see how tired I am.”

“Oh. Okay.” Belle said. “But you guys… had a good time?”

“Yeah. I think so. I mean, maybe not magical and almost-died good,” she teased, “But yeah.”

“That's good. I'm glad you–’

“Actually, I did almost fall on my ass while I was doing my running man.”

Belle snorted and threw a hand over her face.

“I'll let you go now, though. Just checking you got back okay– and congratulations on getting kissed on the hand.” She chuckled. “May you never wash it again.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Belle stammered. “I think that would be unsanitary–”

“That was just a joke, Belles. Please wash your hands. If not tonight, just make sure you do it before it's your turn to make dinner Tuesday–”

“Oh, stop it!” Belle squawked. “I washed my hands when I went to the bathroom! Besides…” she sighed. “I bet tomorrow, there'll be real kiss.”

“Just promise me you won't stop brushing your teeth. Because that morning breath is already–”

“Goodnight, Ruby.” Belle huffed.

“Goodnight.” She snickered. “Love you, Belles.”

“I love you too.”

*****

It was about six in the morning when Rumford's phone buzzed on the nightstand. He’d already been up since four, replaying the events of the night before in his head. Remembering the way Belle smiled at him, how cute she was when she laughed, when she nibbled her lip, when she chewed her food. How completely wonderful she was in virtually every other regard.

She'd kissed his cheek.

He touched the spot on his face as if to relive it– not just the sensation on his skin, but the sensation in his heart. A gentle squeeze that left him with a pleasant ache.

Letting out a contented sigh, he finally reached over to pick his phone up. He winced when the screen lit up, blinded by the brightness of it. He covered his eyes with his arm for a moment, then tried reading it again.

New message from Neal.

He smiled and unlocked the screen.

“How'd the date go????”

The question was followed by a string of little faces and symbols Rumford decided were meant to convey the extent of his son's morbid curiosity. He checked the time again and shifted in bed. Under the circumstances, Neal being in another timezone was a bit of a blessing. He sat up a little, tapped the dial button, and patiently waited for Neal to pick up.

“Dad!”

He smiled and relaxed against the pillows more comfortably at the sound of his voice. “Hey, son. How are things?”

“Same as they were when I called you last night.” Neal said. “But you had a date.”

Rumford scoffed and rubbed a hand over his face.

“So...?”

“I ah, had a wonderful time.” He said. “She's lovely.”

There was a stretch of silence before Neal baited him with an, “And...?”

He knit his brows together. “What?”

“Did ya kiss her?”

“Oh. I– kissed her, yeah.” He mumbled evasively, balling his fist up at the corner of his mouth.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Neal laughed. “Actually, you know what? No. Don't answer tha–”

“I gave her a kiss on the hand.”

“Oh.” Neal sighed in relief. “Wait– the hand?”

“I don't know.” Rumford sighed. “I-it felt right at the time.”

“I mean .. It sounds kind of romantic, I guess...” He trailed off.

“I-I was nervous. And she'd been drinking earlier, I didn't–” He stammered.

“Are you gonna see her again?”

“I am.” Rumford answered right away, a smile tugging at his lips. “Today, actually. Before my flight. She'll be joining me at the flea market.”

“Whoa! The flea market!?” Neal teased. Movin’ fast there, Pop. Better be careful.”

He huffed and threw the covers off of his body, pushing himself out of bed with a little grunt.

“Alright, alright. But seriously, dad– You like… like her?”

Did he like her? Rumford’s heart fluttered in his chest at the mere thought of her. “...I do.” He said, grateful that his son couldn't see the dopey grin on his face.

“Then you better give her a real kiss this time.”

“Oh. A-ah– I…”

“On the mouth.”

Rumford took a deep breath and peered through the curtains at the relatively quiet street below. “I'll… keep that in mind Neal, thank you.” He dismissed.

“I mean it.” He said. “Not the cheek, or the forehead, or the hand , you fuckin’ nerd–”

“Language.”

Neal groaned and tried again. “You… giant nerd?”

“Why am I talking to you about this anyway?” Rumford muttered, pulling the curtains open wide and flooding the room with morning night. “You're my son, for God's sake.”

“What? I'm an adult. I'm just trying to help you get laid!”

“Neal!”

“Okay, okay!” He said, and he was rolling his eyes, for sure– Rumford could tell.

“Just, you shouldn't be concerning yourself with your father's… love life.”

“Yeah well, too bad. I've been concerned for like, ten years. Not about to stop now.”

“Ten!?”

“What? You need a girlfriend, Pop. ...Or a boyfriend. Whichever.”

“Boyfriend? Y-you think I–”

“The whole dressing nice and collecting fancy lamps thing might have had me convinced when I was like, fourteen. I'm not proud of it, okay?”

Rumford hiked his brows. Well, that explained about a dozen offhand comments his son had made to him about one of his colleagues at that age.

“That Jefferson's a good looking guy, huh? Sharp dresser?”

“You guys have a lot in common. Both dads… both single…”

“Maybe you should invite him over for dinner. Talk about… not research stuff.”

“You know Papa, you're the best dad ever and I love you no matter what.”

Rumford scoffed and shook his head. Ridiculous. Jefferson was simply a natural flirt. Everyone in his academic circle knew it. And even if he may have unconsciously flirted back, it didn't have to mean anything. That was just how they got on. Their sense of humor, as it were. Playful banter between friends.

He paused and blinked. Alright, so in retrospect, there may have been some attraction there, but it's not like anything ever came of it. At least, certainly nothing that made him feel the way he did around Miss French last night.

He coughed and dragged his feet over to the coffee maker, beginning to prod at the assortment of tea bags on the tray beside it.

“You're not gonna introduce her to that guy though, are you?” Neal asked.

“Are you implying I shouldn't?”

“Dude, he's like a... creepy uncle! I don't know!”

“Please. He's harmless.” Rumford said, plucking out a bag of green tea and setting it aside. “And you don't even have any uncles.”

“Fair enough. But hey, dad. You sound a lot better now.”

He paused midway from grabbing a cup and furrowed his brows. “How do you mean?”

“You're less nervous.”

“Oh. Well, aye.” He chuckled. “I suppose I am.”

“Eh, you probably just aren't awake yet.” Neal said.

“Your confidence in your father is astounding.” Rumford deadpanned. “But I'll have you know, I've been up since four. If I'm not awake by now…” he trailed off.

“I'm just going to wait until after you've had your morning tea to say I'm impressed.”

Rumford scoffed and busied himself with the coffee maker, setting it up to dispense some hot water. “I'm gonnae take her to Cogsworth's.” He finally said.

“Ugh! Why!? That guy's a fuckin’ douche!”

“Language!” He snipped. “Christ, son– ye kiss your mum wi’that mouth?”

“Yeah?” Neal snorted. “Where do you think I got it from?”

Rumford tapped his finger on the countertop for a moment. It was a valid point. Neal's mother had a mouth like a sailor. He let out a resigned huff and returned to the question. “Because, Neal. She's a librarian, and I think she would appreciate it.”

“I guess. But he's still a dou– jerk.”

Ah . Perhaps his attempts to clean his son's mouth up weren't so futile after all, Rumford thought with a smile.

“Enough about me, now. What are your plans for today? Anything interesting?”

“Not really.”

“Oh, come on– Can't ye give your old man something? Anything?”

“Like what?”

Rumford pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is this what our phone calls will be like every week when you're off at school?”

“Probably.” Neal snorted. “But like, with more of me begging you for money.”

Rumford sighed and tapped his finger in the counter again.

“I'm just kidding, pop. But it's Sunday. No plans. Just… be around the flat, watching TV and stuff I guess.”

“And your mother?”

“Oh. There's some new exhibition at one of the museums about polly… polyp–”

“Polynesia.”

“Yes. That. But I don't feel like going.”

“I think you should go.”

Neal sighed. “But–”

“I know, I know.” Rumford cut in. “But she's your mother. She doesn't get to spend as much time with you, and well… she loves you. In her way.”

“I guess.”

“Besides, haven't you studied Oceania in any of your art history classes at school?”

“My high school had one art history class, dad. And they crammed everything that wasn't done by old white dudes or the Egyptians into like, two weeks.”

Rumford scoffed. He’d liked to think that history classes these days had become less Eurocentric than they were in his youth. Apparently that wasn’t the case.

“Well, there you go!” He said. “I think any aspiring graphic designer could benefit greatly from looking at traditional Polynesian art. The use of positive and negative space, the visual rhythm, the balance achieved in asymmetrical compositions…” He trailed off.

“I said I guess.” Neal grumbled.

“Lovely.” Rumford smiled. “I'm sure it will make her day.”

Another miserable sound came from the other end of the line.

“Oh, it’ll be fine!” Rumford said. “The idiot box will still be waiting for you when you get back home.”

  *****

Belle had been sitting patiently in the hotel lobby since 9:17 AM, and was beginning to regret her choice of seating. The awkwardly shaped and overly firm armless chair faced away from the front doors and the cramp she was getting in her neck was far from being helped from turning around to look every time she heard them slide open.

Woosh.

Young couple.

Woosh.

Businesswoman.

Woosh.

Family of five.

Woosh.

A band of unsupervised children.

Woosh.

Nope. Oh no. She wasn’t going to look this time– curiosity and impatience be damned. Rumford said he’d pick her up at ten. It was 9:52. He had a whole eight minutes. Then she’d give herself permission to worry that he’d realized what a wacko she was and hightailed it back to syracuse.

“Miss French?”

Yes. Eight minutes. Give or take five to account for traffic. If he still wasn’t here by 10:06, the she’d run back up to the hotel room and question all of her life choices.

Unless something had come up? What if his son called and there was some sort of emergency? She never gave him her number (rookie mistake!), but she had his.

“Miss French?”

Should she call him? Or would that be desperate? No, no. 10:30. She’d wait until 10:30. Give or take fifteen min– wait.

“Ack!” Finally registering the presence beside her, Belle jumped and clasped her hand over her mouth. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”

It was him. Rumford. Punctual at 9:54. He’d forgone his usual suit and tie today. His jacket was navy, rather than his usual black or charcoal– at least, she was pretty sure it was navy. Hard to tell in this lighting. And instead of a rich, jewel-toned dress shirt, vest, and tie, he simply wore a crisp, white, linen shirt with the top button undone. He always looks so dapper in this three-piece suit and tie, but this? This was good too.

Very, very good.

Say hello to him, the helpful voice in her head chimed in.

Belle shook off her stupor and stood up, smoothing out her dress. “H-hi.”

He furrowed his brows. “Good morning…” He said with a flummoxed, lopsided little smirk on his face.

“Yes.” She glanced down at the tiny exposed bit of his chest and wet her lips. Maybe as the day wore on, he’d shed the jacket. Or undo another button. A girl could dream.

She looked down at the casual, lemon yellow sundress she wore and wrapped an arm around herself. Her flat sandals probably made her look stumpy, and for Pete’s sake, she’d just gotten her toes done three days ago! How did she get a chip in her pedicure already!? Rumford was looking as sharp and sexy as ever and she looked like a potato! A cute potato, Ruby had assured her– but a potato nonetheless.

“I mean–” she coughed, “good morning.”

“Good morning.” He repeated, chuckling a little uncomfortably. His eyes drifted from her face, and Belle turned her head to see what it was before realizing he was staring at her shoulder, which was bare save for the thin straps of her bra and dress.

Under-dressed! Under-dressed! Under-dressed! The significantly less helpful voice in her head shouted.

It was a cute bra though, she assured herself. It was frilly and delicate with little rosebuds on the straps and cost her like, eighty dollars. Surely, if he could waltz around without a tie and with a button undone like some sort of Grecian sex god, she could wear spaghetti straps and cute lingerie, right? It was only fair.

Yes. She wasn’t under-dressed. He was over- dressed! Who wore slacks to the flea market anyway!?

...Dr Rumford Gold did, and it was reason number 468 why she wanted to marry him.

He blushed and cleared his throat, looking her in the eyes again. “H-how are you? Have you ah, eaten yet?”

“Yeah. Yes.” She nodded, and he just smiled back, not saying a word.

God, he was cute. With his dimples and his cheeks and the way all the fine lines around his eyes scrunched with the slightest change in his expression.

“Oh!” She snapped out of it and shook her head. “Um, how about you?”

His grin widened and he nodded quickly. “Aye. I’m fine.”

“Cool. Good. Um…” She cleared her throat and wrung her hands over her belly. This was the part where they hugged or shook hands or something, right? Or was it too late for that? After all, they’d practically had a whole conversation already– Hi, good morning, how are you? Very good talk.

Rumford seemed to mirror her uncertainty, which was a small comfort. His eyes darted to and from her features several times and his hands twitched hesitantly. The strange silence between them stretched long enough to the point that any possible embarrassment Belle might bring upon herself by making a move suddenly seemed preferable, so she went for it– Slipped her arms around him and gave him a hug.

Rumford was so warm and fit so perfectly in her arms. His body was somewhat rigid, but he slowly relaxed into the embrace and oh God he was actually hugging her back. Hugs were good.

Very, very good.

“...Good morning,” she mumbled for a third time against his shoulder. He’s a loving father, Belle recalled as she helped herself to a deep whiff of his cologne. Of course he gives amazing hugs.

They pulled apart slowly, cautiously, and went back to fumbling with their hands.

“Y-you sleep well?” He asked, breaking the silence.

“Oh.” Belle felt herself blush and threw a hand over her mouth to keep the truth from falling out. “Uh… honestly?”

I had a dream last night that I got promoted to library director and you came back to my hotel room to bang me into a sex coma, but then I woke up before you could get your pants off, so after a half hour of trying to fall back asleep so I could finish said dream, I gave up and spent the rest of the night thinking about what a good kisser you probably are, what kind of a lover you might be, and trying to figure out what to wear today, as if I’d packed more than one outfit.

“...I’ve um, slept better.” She settled with.

He scoffed and glanced away for a moment, his cheeks reddening as he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Same here, I’m afraid.”

Same here? Did that mean he also spent the night fantasizing about all the things they could to together with their mouths?

“You know what?” Belle said, “I just– I’ve never seen you um… not wearing a tie? And uh…” Practically naked? No, no. Not that. Don't say that.

“Oh. Well, just dressing a little more… practical. For where we’re going.” He said, looking away as the color of his cheeks deepened further. “The ah, the tie gets a little stuffy in the heat, is all.” He folded his arms over his chest, but it wasn’t a confident stance by any means. He was making himself small, shuffling his feet uneasily. Was he taking that the wrong way?

He was definitely taking it the wrong way.

“Yeah. Absolutely. Of course.” She blurted. “I mean, you look nice though. Very um, very nice. Really hot.” His brows raised and she shook her head. “Outside, I mean. It’s h-hot outside and you look nice.”

He chuckled weakly and glanced out the window over his shoulder. “Aye. It is ah…” he coughed and turned back to her, a half-smirk slowly creeping across his face. “...hot outside.”

Belle blinked owlishly.

Wait, was that–? Did he just–?

Dr Rumford Gold might have just called you hot.

“Well, um,” she tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear and swallowed. “I’m uh, ready to– to go if you are.”

“Right.” He said, shaking his head. “I’ll… show you to the car, then.” He looked down at her hand while his own twitched at his side, and Belle watched it for a moment, debating whether or not to take it. He beat her to the punch, however, and she felt his touch. Searching her eyes for any sign of protest, Rumford gently grasped her hand. She gave him an encouraging squeeze, earning herself a timid, dimpled smile in return.

“God, you are really cute,” she said before she could help herself.

Rumford went rigid again and blinked. “E-excuse me?”

“Nothing.” Belle shook her head. “I just…” She trailed off, pretending to have something in her eye. You’re not even drunk this time, Belle. No excuse.

He stared at her for a moment and swallowed. “Let's go, shall we?”

*****

Yellow suited her. The bright, cheery color matched her sunny disposition, and Rumford found himself drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Her passion for books, for knowledge, for life, all bubbled out of her during the car ride, and whatever doubts he may have had about their outing were wiped away by the delighted look on her face when they finally arrived at the flea market.

He’d been planning on helping her out of the car– being a gentleman like his auntie Edith always taught him– but Belle was an eager step or two ahead of him, which he only found more endearing. As she bounded out of the car and towards the entrance, he couldn’t help thinking how her spiritedness matched his auntie Ainsley's. She quickly noticed he’d fallen behind and skipped back over to him, her plump cheeks already a little flushed from the bit of exertion.

“So what are we looking for today?” She asked, falling in step with him as he caught up.

“Oh, nothing in particular,” he said. “One never really knows what they’ll find. Just have to look.”

Her mouth twisted into a thoughtful little pout. “What sorts of things do you usually pick up? Do you always find something, or do you sometimes look around for hours only to leave empty handed?”

Rumford couldn't help grinning at all of her questions. “I can usually find something.” He said with a half shrug. “A watch or piece of jewelry, if nothing else. But ah… a good haul– art, furniture, those sorts of things– maybe happens once every three trips or so.”

She nibbled her lip for as long as she could before breaking into a smile. “...And is this a third or so trip?” She asked, wiggling her brows.

His eyes drifted upwards as he tried to recall the last few trips he’d made to a market or estate sale. “...Fourth, I believe.”

“So that means you’re due to find something special then, hm?” She said. “You know, statistically speaking?”

“I suppose I am.” He chuckled. A sudden aplomb came over him then, and he turned to face her better. “Though one might argue, Miss French,” he took her hand and looked into her eyes, rubbing his thumb in little circles over the back of her hand. “That I already found something quite special yesterday.”

She fought back another smile, trying so hard at it that had he not known any better, he might think she’d just sucked on a lemon– That is to say, it was one of the most charming things he’d ever bared witness to.

“Well now, it’s hardly anything to smile about, Miss French.” He teased in as stern a voice as he could muster. “Means this trip could very likely prove to be a complete waste of time.”

Belle shook her head and laughed. “No, I wouldn’t say that.” She said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

Rumford turned away, his courage gone as quickly as it came, and hid his face behind his hair. What was he supposed to say to that? Belle let go of his hand, and he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed by the fact. Surely, both were possible?

“So… jewelry isn’t as profitable for as say... furniture?” She asked. “Last night you mentioned that you usually buy it at scrap value.”

He happily latched onto the change of subject. “It’s really not.” He coughed. “Everyone wants to sell their jewelry, but not many people come in looking to buy it, you know? Sits in the case for months. People who come into the shop are usually looking to furnish their homes. They're after statement pieces, period pieces.

“Hm.” She pouted again before narrowing her eyes at him. “What about you?” She asked. “Do you have a favorite style? Do you ever keep any of the stuff you buy for yourself?”

“Oh, well…” That was a question customers asked him almost every day at the shop. The sort who were looking to buy antiques for the mere sake of it, to be kept as vulgar displays of wealth. The sort who would rather co-opt his taste rather than develop their own. But Belle wasn't any such customer, and this wasn't his shop. “I-I like the Queen Anne style, art nouveau... Love the elegant details, the sinuous lines, the rich finishes.” He answered truthfully. “But it's been a long while since I took anything home. I've been dealing antiques a long time, you know? At this point, if I wanted to keep anything more for myself,” he chuckled, “I'm afraid I'd need a bigger house.”

She let out a giggle and sighed. “Your house must be amazing.”

“Oh.” he blushed and rubbed a hand over his neck. She was really going to have to stop doing that. Saying nice things about him. To his face. “Oh, ah dunno. It's a bit cluttered, really. Certainly lived-in.”

Cluttered and lived-in. That sounded better than bordering on disaster. Half-dissected trinkets littered the unused side of his dining room table. Every other available surface was covered with knickknacks he hadn't quite found the right place for yet. The living room was becoming an obstacle course of antique frames and crates full of bric-a-brac. Fixer-upper dressers, sideboards, and chairs occupied the garage, leaving him no choice but to evict his Cadillac to the driveway. He’d once had a cleaning lady who came by every week, but eventually he deemed it not worthwhile, as the parts of the house he’d instructed her not to bother touching soon became the majority of the house.

He wasn't as bad as his aunties, though. No, no. They were hoarders. But him? He just happened to have a lot of stuff and not enough space to put it– Important distinction, that.

“Well, I'm sure it looks like a palace compared to mine and Ruby's apartment.” Belle snorted. “...With all our clearance IKEA and thrifted nineties furniture.”

“Oh, I'm sure it's charming all the same.” He said. After all, he would expect nothing less of any space that was graced by Belle's warm presence on a daily basis. She could probably make a cardboard box feel homey.

The crowd thickened as they reached the entrance to the market’s east wing, and Rumford instinctively took Belle's hand again– keeping her close the way he always did when he brought Neal when he was a boy. His pulse thickened in his throat as he realized what he'd just done– but then she looked up at him and smiled, nudging herself against him so that they were shoulder to shoulder.

Rumford swallowed and blinked. Cleared his throat. Tried his best not to look at her lips. Failed.

You gotta give her a real kiss this time. On the mouth.

His tongue suddenly felt too dry, too big for his mouth. He supposed it wouldn't be much to lower his head and press his lips to hers. Gently, briefly. But– No, no. The timing wasn't right. They'd get to that. Later. Much later. He had time.

He managed to tear his gaze from her lips to those bright blue eyes, and that did nothing to help. He wanted to kiss her. But how could he? Every muscle in his body seemed to lock in place at the thought. The voice in his head telling him it would be unfathomably presumptuous of him to kiss her managed to be far louder than the memory of every flirtatious remark she'd made to him in the past twenty-four hours.

Sure, she said you were amazing and handsome and sweet and sexy and– well, a good candidate for a mustache– but that didn't mean she actually wanted you to kiss her. Best not to assume, right?

They made it through the thick of the crowd, and she slipped her hand from his so she could run ahead and see everything. After glancing around the market in awe for a moment, she clasped her hands together and spun around. “There’s so much here! It's almost as big as the mall back in Storybrooke!”

Rumford chuckled and nodded as he caught up to her. “Aye, it's something, isn't it?”

Her eyes went past him to behold the many little booths again and widened. “And there's so much food!”

“Indeed there is.”

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “God, it smells so good… Have you tried all of it?”

He attempted a contemplative scowl, but could only smile instead. Her enthusiasm was simply too contagious for anything else. “Not all, no. But a fair bit.”

“Any recommendations?” She asked, stepping toe-to-toe with him. “I wanna try something!”

He blinked down at her and the expectant gleam in her eyes, his smile still stubbornly in place. He cleared his throat and looked around for a moment. “Well, the ice cream over there is delicious.” He said, nodding in its direction.

She followed his gaze to the booth straight ahead.

“Some mint chocolate chip in a waffle cone...” He recommended. “And the chocolate from that booth there is to die for. The gourmet popcorn is also quite good, over here– you can get it with some chocolate drizzled on top…” He continued to point across the market at the different vendors, but his eyes never strayed from her face for long.

“Those things aren't food, ” Belle admonished. “They're sweets!”

Rumford scoffed and leaned forward, closing the distance between them. “Oh, I assure you, ice cream and chocolate are very much food in my book.”

Belle narrowed her eyes at him, fighting back a smile, and Gods, was he beginning to enjoy that too much. These futile attempts to mask her excitement and joy at even the smallest things. She was as bright and warm as the sun, and he wanted to bask in her glow like a cat lying in a bay window on a clear and quiet afternoon.

“Does someone have a sweet tooth, Mr Gold?” She teased, raising a brow.

He met her gaze and wet his lips. “I'm afraid so, Miss French.”

Her lips parted and she inched closer to him, peering up at him through her eyelashes.

Oh, God. What did he just say? Where did it come from? Regardless, it was definitely a line, wasn't it?

Yesterday David told him he was flirting with her, and he'd been right. He was flirting with her. Without even thinking about it. During her appraisal. At the bar last night. Reciprocating her comment about the hot weather, saying he'd found something special yesterday, and now this?

He should just kiss her right now. It was as good a setup as one could hope for. She was sweet, he had a sweet tooth. Teeth, mouth. Mouths, kissing. Kissing on the mouth. But wasn't the timing odd? You were supposed to end a date with a good kiss rather than start it with one, no? What if he kissed her now, but their goodbye kiss wasn't as good? He'd be setting himself up for failure, surely. Rumford Gold? Aye, just expect every kiss from that bastard to be even more disappointing than the last.

He was definitely thinking about it too much, he knew that much. The moment was probably gone by now, anyway. He pulled his focus away from her inviting lips to her gleaming eyes, and if the moment was gone, she at least didn't seem to notice.

When's the last time you put yourself out there? David had asked.

But this would be their first kiss! Of what he hoped would be many, many kisses! It should be special, shouldn't it? He should have just kissed her last night. Ended their date with a nice kiss, gotten it out of the way then. Had he done that, kissing her now would be so simple. All the subsequent kisses would be no big deal at all, but the first one?

No, no. He couldn't. Not right now. He still had plenty of time.

“...So.” He cleared his throat and put on a smile. “What might you like to try?”

*****

“Your mint looks delicious.” Belle said, watching him enjoy his cone. So he hadn't kissed her yet– A disappointing setback, sure, but they still had plenty of time. And admittedly, watching his lips and tongue work as he mouthed at his ice cream wasn't so bad either.  Was she really jealous of an ice cream cone?

Yes. Yes, she was.

Rumford licked his lips and looked at her with a smile. “Would you care to try it?” He asked, holding out to her.

She bit back a smile and nodded, but how did she wanna do this? Should she take the cone from him, or just lean forward and have him hold it for her? Well, that was no contest. Clearly, the latter was the more coquettish option of the two. Taking a small step forward, she leaned in and opened her mouth, but wait– Would it be too forward of her to look him in the eyes as she licked his cone? Probably . No, eyes closed was probably best. Spare themselves the porno stare and an awkward and obvious attempt to avoid direct eye contact.

So she closed her eyes and took a mouthful of his mint chocolate chip ice cream. A large enough bite to demonstrate her enthusiasm, but not so large as to get carried away. Moderation was key. Probably.

It was delicious indeed, and she didn't miss the look on his face as she opened her eyes and licked the taste from her lips.

He blinked and coughed. “...Good?”

“Mhm!” She smiled. “How about you? Would you care to try my strawberry?”

He hesitated a moment and nodded. “Certainly.”

Belle was prepared for this. She'd been staring at him eat his ice cream the whole damn time. Earlier, he'd smiled directly at her and licked his lips, so if he looked at her now as he tried her ice cream there’d be no surprises, right?

Wrong.

Definitely not even close to the same thing. Jerk didn't even try to close his eyes or look away. Full-blown porno stare. While he did things. With his mouth. To her own ice cream.

“...Delicious.” He said, pulling away and licking his lips. “Thank you.”

“...Yeah…” She agreed dumbly. “Thank you too.”

He had to know what he was doing, right? He had to.

Because several minutes later, when her ice cream began to melt, he’d taken his napkin and swept it along her wrist as it started to dribble down her arm. He’d grasped her wrist, his touch so gentle– a tease, really– and looked her in the eyes as he brushed the napkin along her arm. Smiled and said, “There we are,” as he finished, when he really could have just said, “Hey, you've got ice cream on you.”

So, totally a move on his part.

That was fine, though. Because a moment later, he took a large, finishing bite of his cone and got a dab of mint on the tip of his nose. Belle wasn't one to squander an opportunity like that when it presented itself. She swiped it off with her finger and popped it into her mouth, then complimented him on his nose and how handsome and distinguished it made him look.

“You have a really nice nose.” She said. “It makes you look very uh… handsome and distinguished.”

He blushed terribly and looked away, so Belle continued eating her cone– what was left of it at this point anyway. She couldn't figure out how to look cute while eating the bottom part of the cone, and now it was dripping all over the ground. As long as Rumford wasn't looking at her she might as well go to town though, right?

But then he cleared his throat and leaned into her ear. His voice came in a deep murmur. “And you, Miss French, possess a boldness that inspires a man to look inside himself and seek his own.”

What. Belle stopped slurping the melted ice cream from the bottom of her cone and froze. He’d been driving her mad all morning and she was the one who possessed a boldness? A boldness that made him want to be bold too? How was she supposed to respond to that? A simple thank you seemed insufficient. She shoved the remainder of her ice cream cone into her mouth to buy herself a moment to think about it.

You make me feel like a natural woman?

More than a woman.

You make me feel mighty real?

Dammit Belle, those are songs. Chew slower and think about this.

“Well, if it isn't Mr Gold!” A voice boomed from one of the stalls, pulling Belle out of her thoughts. “Rum, you old bastard– how the hell have you been!?”

She swallowed her ice cream and settled her eyes on Rumford, who gave her an apologetic look and smiled.

“That's–?”

“Aye.” He chuckled and nodded in the man's direction. “Let me introduce you.”

“Of course.” Belle smiled, ditching her napkin in the nearby trash can and wiping her hand on her dress. Classy.

Rumford rest his hand on the small of her back, leading her to a stall headed by an older, balding man with a pink complexion, unruly white hair, and bushy eyebrows. Behind him were several crammed shelves that seemed to hold more junk than anything else, but he sat quite proudly at the counter in his rackety old lawn chair nonetheless.

“Here to rip me off again, are you?” He asked.

Rumford scoffed. “Ripping people off is your business strategy, not mine.”

“Hey now, not so loud–” the man leaned in and lowered his voice to a whisper. “You're gonna scare the customers away.”

Rumford arched a brow, a crooked smirk curling his lips. “Actually… I believe it was the funny smell that put me off the first time.”

Belle giggled at that, and it wasn't until then that the man seemed to notice her.

“I see you have company.” He said, sitting up straight and giving her an appraising look. “Who is this?”

Rumford's cheeks quickly turned a delightful shade of pink. “Yes, ah… Belle. This is Zoso. Zoso, this is um, this is Belle.” He stammered. “...Belle French. She's ah, she's…” he hesitated and looked to her for help, “...a f-friend?”

“Aha…” Zoso grinned, looking to Belle. “You know, this guy doesn’t share his sources with just anybody. You must be a keeper.” He reached across the table to shake her hand, and she smiled at Rumford who was now about as red as a tomato. “...Now blink twice if you need me to call security,” he added in a mock whisper.

Belle shook her head and laughed, giving him a firm handshake. “It’s lovely to meet you, Zoso.”

“Anyway, welcome to my humble abode. Actually, Rum–” Zoso snapped a finger at him, “I'm glad you showed up today. I got something that I think'll make you shit your pants.”

Rumford hiked his brows. “I certainly hope not,” he said, watching as Zoso pushed himself out of his chair with a labored grunt. The man carefully waded toward the cluttered shelves and overflowing boxes behind him. “...If it's another Hummel figure, I'm going to be very disappointed.” Rumford joked.

Zoso let out a full-belly laugh. “Of course not!” He said, swatting a hand as he disappeared amongst his wares. “How long have we known each other? You know I wouldn't do you like that! You're my number one customer!”

“I'm flattered.”

Zoso poked his head out from behind one of the shelves. “Seriously, this one's got great taste,” he told Belle, winking and sticking a thumb out at Rumford. “Impeccable.”

“Oh, I agree.” She smiled, looking at Rumford and nibbling her lip. He quickly glanced away as their eyes met, hiding behind his hair. How he could go from smooth talker to shrinking violet one minute to the next, Belle couldn't figure out– but what she did know was that she wanted to snog him senseless either way.

“I mean it, though–” Zoso said, “it's no fun selling this stuff to those idiots who don't know what they're looking at. They believe everything I tell 'em. That is, until I tell them the price, at least. Then I'm suddenly a hack who doesn't know what he's talking about.”

“You are a hack who doesn't know what he's talking about.” Rumford scoffed.

“I know exactly what I'm talking about.” He hollered from the back. “Whether or not I'm lying is a different story!”

Belle let out another giggle. She wasn't sure what she was expecting when Rumford told her about his friend at the flea market, but Zoso was proving to be quite a character.

Something fragile fell from one of the racks, and Belle and Rumford winced as it crashed to the floor.

She cleared her throat. “Erm, do you need help? Mr Zoso?” She asked, leaning over the counter to see what he was doing.

“Nah, it's fine. …Was just another damn Hummel.” He deadpanned, and there was some more commotion as he continued to dig through his inventory. “Ah, here we are...” He said, finally reappearing from behind the shelves carrying a Tiffany lamp with a dragonfly pattern on its shade. “...What do you think?”

“Oh.” His interest piqued, Rumford tilted his head and stepped closer to the counter as Zoso set the lamp on the table. “It's actually the right shape this time.” He commented, and Zoso rolled his eyes. “Right motif as well.”

“Well, go on. Do your thing,” Zoso said, stepping back.

Gently bracing the lampshade with one hand, Rumford leaned in closely, holding his ear to it. He knocked on it a few times with the other hand, and the tiny panes of glass shook slightly. “...Wee bit of rattle,” he said with a little nod. “That's good.” He pulled away to study the individual pieces of stained glass and touched a finger to an amber-colored tile. Squinting at it for a moment, he finally gave a satisfied little hum and studied the rest of the shade, tracing his finger along several of the hairline cracks in the glass. Then he picked the lamp up by its base, scowling as he examined the hardware and wiring. “Hm. That all looks to be in order…” he shrugged, looking back up at Zoso. “Have you any acetone on hand?”

Zoso shot Belle an exasperated look. “Can you believe this one?” He groaned. Nonetheless, he crouched down behind his counter and produced a small bottle of nail polish remover and an old t-shirt. “...Figured you might ask.”

Rumford smiled and dabbed the corner of the rag with some nail polish remover. He began gently rubbing it on a few of the glass pieces, a smile slowly blooming across his face as each tile passed whatever test he was administering.

“What are we looking for?” Belle asked. She'd seen a handful of Tiffany style lamps get appraised on the show, but she'd never seen anyone perform a test like this. “Wait–”

Rumford looked at her with a knowing, patient smile as she thought about it. Acetone. Stained glass. But… nothing was happening.

“Oh! The color.” She realized. “You're seeing if the glass is really stained or just painted.”

“Precisely. A genuine Tiffany... uses glass that has been colored by adding metals or metal oxides to the mixture while the glass is still molten.” He explained softly as he continued to work. “On imitations, the color is simply applied to the surface. Comes right off once you apply a thinner to it.”

“But– but what if it hadn't been a genuine Tiffany?” Belle asked. “You'd have ruined it!”

Rumford smiled. “Which is why we don't perform this test unless we're fairly certain of its authenticity first. And we'd never do it on the show.” He chuckled and set the rag down. “Well, color me impressed, Zoso.” He admired the mosaic on the shade again and stepped aside, inviting Belle to take a closer look with the crook of his fingers.

She toed up beside him and he splayed a hand over her back, gently pulling her closer. The touch made her heart feel like it would burst, and he really needed to stop being so tactile before she melted into a puddle of goo on the ground. “It's um, it's really beautiful.” She stammered.

“We've got opalescent glass, favrile glass, streamer glass…” Rumford explained, pointing out the different sheens and patterns on each of the glass tiles. “Oh!” He grinned excitedly at her and tapped a finger on a green piece that had a speckled appearance. “Ring mottle right there. You don't see too much of that.”

Belle squinted at the piece of glass and frowned. “Why not? It's gorgeous.”

“Tiffany developed the technique for ring mottle in the early 20th century, but the technique was lost when the studio closed in 1928. Wasn't rediscovered until the sixties.”

“Wow.” Belle sighed, smiling back at him. Rumford Gold had his arm around her and was giving her a lesson on how to identify antiques. She was pretty sure she had at least a dozen different fantasies that started like this.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?”

“It is. I love how the spots resemble the coloring of leaves.” She said. “I mean, yellow spots on a plant usually indicate it has a fungal infection or mites,” she couldn't help pointing out, “but it's um, a nice detail.”

Rumford looked away from the lampshade and gazed back at her, tilting his head. “...Fascinating. Do you garden, Miss French?”

“Oh.” Feeling herself blushing, Belle bit down on her lip and glanced away. “Well, my mom kept a rose bush and I grow my own tomatoes. And um, some herbs.”

He wet this lips and smiled. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Well, um… you know,” Belle shrugged. “It's not a big deal. But uh… the um,” she cleared her throat and pointed at the lampshade again. “The opalescent glass for the dragonfly's wings is beautiful as well.”

“Aye. It is, isn't it?” He said, and his arm tightened ever so slightly around her waist as his thumb began to rub back and forth through the fabric of her dress. “That's ultimately what drove Louis Comfort Tiffany to develop so many different types of stained glass– a desire to better replicate the ah…”

“Colors and textures found in nature.” Belle finished.

The corner of his mouth tugged into a smirk. “Yes. Precisely.”

“Louis Comfort Tiffany is one of the few American artists most strongly associated with art nouveau, so…you know.” She shrugged. “Nature.”

“But did you know that some of Tiffany Studios’ most successful designs– including the dragonfly we have here– were not conceived by Tiffany himself, but rather his lead designer, a woman named Carol Driscoll?”

Belle raised her brows. “I did not.”

“Should hardly come as a surprise, really.” He said, then leaned in closely and murmured, “In all my years studying antiques, one truth I find myself discovering time and time again, Miss French, is that behind every successful man is an intelligent and capable woman like yourself.”

“Oh!” Belle giggled. “Rumford!”

“What? One mustn't be shy about their own merits, Miss French.”

“I just–” she tucked her hair behind her ear and shifted on her feet. “Rumford, I don't know what to say…”

The hand on her waist slid up to squeeze her shoulder. “You don't have to say anything,” he crooned.

“You shouldn't be shy about your merits either.” She said. Maybe he'd take the hint and kiss her already.

“Well, I'm afraid I can't help feeling a little inadequate,” he whispered into her ear, “In front of such charming company...”

“Oh.” She blushed.

Zoso cleared his throat pointedly. “So– You want it or not?”

Rumford coughed and pulled his arm from Belle's waist, and she quickly turned away, balling a fist over her face to hide her flustered grin and pink cheeks. He just called her intelligent and capable and charming.

“Depends how much do you want for it.” Rumford answered.

“Eight.” Zoso said firmly.

“Hm.” He scowled. “I was thinking two and a half.”

“Two and a half?!” Zoso squawked. “That's an insult!”

Rumford rolled his eyes and scoffed. Resting both palms on the edge of the counter, he leaned in slightly and wet his lips. “An insult?” He asked, his tone suddenly razor-sharp. “Tell me– how many serious buyers do ye have, Zoso? Honest? If no’ me, you can look forward to a bunch of dumpster divers and weekend hobbyists trying tae haggle you down to a few hundred. Besides, ye know I have to make a profit on these things.”

Zoso rolled his eyes. “Fine. Six.”

“Hm.” Rumford frowned. “No deal. It's still gonnae be two and a half for me.”

“You confirmed the authenticity yourself! Some of them go for tens of thousands!”

“Aye– At auction. And others go for four.”

“But it's got ring mottle!”

“Which is why I'm not asking less.”

Having finally recovered from the arrow Rumford had pierced her heart with ago, Belle darted her eyes back and forth between the two men, watching as they bounced counter offers at each other like players in a tennis match. The Rumford in front of her now, this staunch negotiator, was such a stark contrast from the gentle and sweet one she'd been walking with all morning. Not that she minded in the slightest with the way he was practically snarling, his voice growing deeper and his accent thicker. Good grief.

Was that what he sounded like in bed? No, no. Dangerous train of thought, Belle. Stop right there.

“Okay, okay...” Zoso huffed. “You can take it home today for three. But I want a cut off what it sells for. Twenty percent. Finder’s fee.”

“Fifteen.” Rumford said. “Off of my profit. But I tell you what– I'll make it twenty-five percent if it sells for forty or more.”

Zoso folded his arms over his chest. “Only a tiny fraction of these things sell for over thirty-five.” He countered. “You might be good, but you ain't Christie's or Sotheby's . Make it twenty or more.”

A satisfied grin spread across Rumford's face. “...Deal.”

“I want that in writing, too.”

He nodded. “If that would make you feel better.”

“You're damn right it would. I know better than to trust you crazy Scottish bastards.”

Rumford just laughed and pulled out his checkbook and a pen. “...Another two hundred to cover the shipping?”

“Sure.” Zoso shrugged. “Or I can just hold onto it if you'd rather have the redhead pick it up.”

“Her name is Miss Holloran.”

“Yeah, I'm never going to remember that.”

Rumford rolled his eyes and scribbled his pen. “Piece like this? You're right– I'll have her pick it up.” He tore out the check and handed it across the table. “So, what else have you got?”

“Come ‘round back and see for yourself.” Zoso said, gesturing at the shelves behind him. “And sorry about the mess, by the way. Had I known you were bringing a date, I would've tidied up a bit for ya.”

“Oh, really?” Rumford asked, raising a skeptical brow.

“...Nah.” He shrugged. “I was just trying to sound polite.”

Belle snorted and shook her head, following Rumford as he stepped around the counter.

“See? She thinks I'm funny.”

“It's fine, really.” Belle assured. “I don't mind at all.”

Rumford offered her his hand as they stepped over one of the many boxes that littered the floor. “Careful,” he whispered, and she laced her fingers between his as she regained her footing, giving him a light squeeze and a smile. He blushed and glanced away. “Let's ah… why don't we– th-this way.” He stammered, leading her down one of the narrow aisles.

“So are you in the antiques business as well, uh… Miss French?” Zoso asked from the other side.

“Oh, no.” She called out over the shelves. “I'm a librarian. Well, I will be soon. I'm just an assistant for now, until I finish my degree in a few months.”

“...Huh. So you like books and stuff?”

“Oh yes,” she chuckled. “I love books.”

“Make sure this one takes you to Cogsworth’s shop, then.” Zoso said, appearing at the end of the aisle. “Guy's got books out the wazoo. Lot of rare and out of print stuff, too.”

“Hmm…” Belle bit back a smile and gave Rumford a sidelong look. “He didn't mention anything about that.” She teased.

Zoso clicked his tongue. “I'm disappointed in you, Babs.”

Rumford stopped poking around the shelves of bric-a-brac and huffed. He tossed a sideways at him glance over his shoulder. “Well perhaps it was meant to be a surprise,” he muttered.

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” Zoso said. “So. Belle– Where did you find the old mutt?”

“Oh. Well, um…” Belle began, “we actually uh, met yesterday. On the show.”

“No kidding.” He scoffed. “Well that would explain why he's sweating more than usual.”

She stifled a giggle and, sensing Rumford's embarrassment, gave him a warm smile that she hoped would put him at ease.

“How'd the event go anyway, Rum? I mean– good, obviously,” Zoso chuckled, gesturing at the two of them before disappearing behind another rack, “but you look at anything interesting?”

“As a matter of fact,” he looked at Belle and smiled, circling his thumb over the back of her hand. “I did.”

Belle blushed and fought back another smile. His confidence and flirtatiousness is directly proportionate to his proximity to antiques, she decided.

“Well…? Anything you'd care to share with the rest of the class?”

“Miss French here actually showed me a very rare book.” He explained, moving a few things around on the shelf to get to a blue glass vase that had caught his eye.

“Huck Finn? Origin of Species? Wuthering Heights?”

“Her Handsome Hero.” Belle answered proudly.

“Mm… never heard of it.

“Neither had I.” Rumford said, continuing to examine the vase. It had a sterling silver base and the glass had an elegant, fluted shape. “But… we believe it may have been printed by an elusive group of Parisian feminist artists who dabbled in the occult.”

“Oh wow.” Zoso chuckled. “Where'd you get your hands on something like that?”

“My mother gave it to me.” Belle said. “It's been in my family for generations.”

“No shit.”

“Hey Zoso–” Rumford called out. “Cobalt vase, sterling silver? I'm guessing... no later than 1890?”

“That ugly thing?” He joked. “...Two-fifty.”

“One-twenty-five.”

“Eh... sure.” Zoso huffed, coming over and snatching it out of his hands so he could set it on the counter up front. “Only because I think you're alright.”

By the time they left Zoso's, Rumford's purchases had grown to include two more vases, a gilded frame, a mantle clock, and a violin– all of which he would have have his assistant pickup next week. Buried behind some boxes, Belle had even found a California job case containing some moveable type. The typeface inside was missing most of its glyphs, but she had the pleasure of watching Rumford's face light up as she explained to him what it was– as well as the pleasure of watching him blush like a fool when she bought it for him to either give Neal, or keep as a reminder of him when he left for school. Rumford insisted he could pay for it, but Belle put her foot down, arguing it was the least she could do to say thank you after he'd paid for their drinks last night. With that settled, they were off to Cogsworth's bookshop.

Cogsworth's was even more impressive than Zoso had made it sound. The shop took up three stalls, and shelves crammed with books were tightly arranged in the space.

“What do you think?” Rumford asked as they stepped inside, the air thick with the musky smell of old pages and leather.

The scent had already lured Belle in. She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. “It's amazing.”

He leaned into her ear and cleared his throat gently. “Try not to mind the owner. He can be… Well, a bit of a pretentious arse.” He whispered.

Belle peered across the shop to the counter where a man stood twirling his exceptionally well-groomed mustache. She fought back a giggle but couldn't help snorting anyway. “I see.”

“Here,” Rumford said, taking her hand and nodding toward the back. “I'll show you where he keeps the good stuff.”

Belle giddily followed his lead as he guided her to a collection of early editions. They were locked in a glass case with a sign that read, “I DON'T ENJOY HAVING MY TIME WASTED: SERIOUS BUYERS ONLY PLEASE!!! -MANAGEMENT”

Belle blinked owlishly at the sign for a moment and shrugged. She and Rumford then proceeded to spend a good ten minutes pointing out titles of interest. A copy of Persuasion. Wuthering Heights. Around the World in Eighty Days. Great Expectations. Next year, Belle decided, she'd come back and spend her bonus on an Austen rather than a pair of Guccis.

The two of them slowly drifted apart as they browsed the rest of the shop, Rumford floating toward non-fiction as she followed her heart to British literature. A lovely copy of North and South caught her attention, and she quickly pulled it from the shelf to thumb through it.

“Ahem. Just what do you think you're doing, miss?”

The man with the mustache appeared at her side and Belle jumped, almost dropping the book in her hands. “Oh, nothing.” She chuckled, “just looking around. You um, have a lot of wonderful editions here.”

“Yes, that I do. But it seems to me you're doing a fair bit more than looking.” He said, darting a pointed glance at her hands.

She tilted her head. “Um… I'm sorry, what?”

“You know, the oils from your fingers can compromise the inks on the cover.”

Belle scoffed. “And the humidity in here can compromise the bindings.”

The man sniffed and turned around. “Just be careful with the inventory, please…”

Belle rolled her eyes and returned the book to its shelf. “Jerk,” she muttered under her breath, wading deeper into the shop where several bargain bins were lined up. Perhaps she could browse those without being supervised like a child, she thought sourly.

Most of the books proved to be low-brow, short-lived pop culture sensations. Teen romances. Badly written erotica. Wildly inaccurate historical fiction. Others were outdated reference books for things like computer software not much younger than she was herself. Belle rolled her eyes and let out a huff.

She glanced around at the other boxes until her eyes landed on one labeled manuscripts and journals - ask for price. Her interest piqued, she stepped over and peered inside. The few on the top seemed to be nothing of any interest, as old as they looked. But one with a purple and black binding caught her eye. The cover was nearly falling off and the pages had severe foxing, but its contents seemed to be legible for the most part. It appeared to be a diary, with entries written in French that were dated over a hundred years old. She scanned over a few pages, picking up a few details here and there– an arranged marriage with a man named Philippe, an unnamed lover, and plans to sneak out and attend a modernist exhibition. Belle smiled at the thought, and gasped when she flipped a few more pages and found a drawing.

“Rumford?” She tried to call out to him, but it came out as a whisper. “Dr– Mr Gold?”

“Yes? Belle?” His voice sounded from among the shelves somewhere.

“Rumford, where are you? You have to see this!” She whispered.

He appeared at her side, his eyes darting back and forth between the journal and her face in confusion. “What is it?”

“This journal– I think it… it's… nevermind, just look!” She stammered, pointing a finger at the drawing.

“Oh my.” He blinked, pulling his frames out of his pocket. He nudged them up his nose and pulled the journal closer to get a better look.

“So you see it too, right?” She asked.

“Yes. It's…” he traced a finger along the lines of the illustration, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards into a little smirk. “Well, it's just like the engravings in your book.”

“What if… what if this journal belonged to the illustrator? All the entries, they're dated 1879, and there's no way this just a coincidence, right?”

“Unlikely.” Rumford whispered. “Those plates are strange enough as it is.” He cleared his throat and spoke up. “Mr Cogsworth?” He hollered across the shop.

“Yes?”

“When was the last time you brought in new manuscripts?”

“Just last week.”

“You're kidding.” He said, feigning nonchalance. “From where?”

“Oh, just some estate sale in Alabama.”

“Mm… anything imported? Say from France, Germany?”

“Oh, yes. I bought a lot about two months ago.”

“About how many, would you say?”

“Oh,” he scoffed, “I couldn't say. They should all be in there, though. Other than Civil War documents and the like, I'm afraid the manuscripts don't sell very well.”

Belle began shoveling journals out of the box, stacking them up neatly on top of an adjacent crate, and shot Rumford a pointed look. He nodded and began checking each of them, setting aside anything written in French.

“Is there something I can help you find?”

Belle opened her mouth to speak, but Rumford shook his head. “No, just curious, is all.”

In the end, Belle and Rumford had dug three journals out of the box that they agreed had to belong to the same person. They were all in French, the handwriting matched, and they each contained several more sketches with uncanny stylistic resemblances to the plates in her book.

“We'll take these three.” Belle said, setting them on the counter.

“Hm. Interesting selections…” Cogsworth murmured, picking them up one at a time to determine their value. “Makes me wonder why you chose them…” he said, arching a brow.

“Oh,” Rumford chuckled, “nothing in particu–”

“I'm learning French.” Belle cut in. “What better way to challenge oneself than by reading a journal, don't you think? All the nuance of informal language gets so… lost in formal education, you know?”

Cogsworth narrowed his eyes at the both of them. “There's something you're not telling me.” He said, setting the book down. “What are these?”

Rumford scoffed. “Exactly what they look like. The private journals of a member of the French bourgeoisie.”

“Should be riveting,” Belle nodded. “I'm a sucker for cheap drama. You don't even wanna know how much reality TV I watch.”

“You know… perhaps I should take some time with these first.” Cogsworth said. “Who knows– they just might prove to be invaluable pieces of history.”

Belle snorted. “Could be. But what are the odds, you know?”

“I'm sure the person you bought them from already pilfered the good stuff for themselves, honestly.” Rumford pointed out.

“Hm. Well, I suppose you do have a point…” he mumbled.

“So uh, how much again?” Belle asked, fishing her wallet out of her purse.

“Fifty.” Cogsworth declared. “...Each.”

She finished plucking the some cash of her her wallet and looked up at him with her jaw halfway to the floor. “What!?”

“That's ridiculous!”

“Well, if they are just journals, as you say… I completely understand why you might not think they're worth the price tag.”

“Five each.” Belle offered. “You said it yourself. None of your customers want to buy some random old diary written in French.”

“They’re primary sources from fin de ciclé Paris.”

“1879 isn't fin de ciclé!” Belle snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Thirty.”

“Five each and not a cent more.” She insisted, leaning over the counter and narrowing her eyes at him.

“Alright. Fifty gets you all three.”

“That sounds fair,” Rumford chimed in, retrieving his wallet.

“Oh, no–” Belle said, holding up a finger in his face. “I'm not walking out of here until he gives me all three for fifteen dollars.”

“Belle, it's fine, honest, I can–”

“All due respect, Dr Gold, but this is about the principle of the thing.”

Rumford scoffed and eased his shoulders, tucking his wallet away and taking a half step back.

Cogsworth huffed and glared at Rumford. “Well, if you're going to be difficult about it, I suppose I can do–”

“What are you looking at me for?” He asked, furrowing his brows. “You’re negotiating with her, not me!”

“You’re damn right he is.” Belle said, leaning further over the counter.

“...Thirty for the lot?” Cogsworth offered weakly.

She pulled the most intimidating scowl she could muster. He blinked owlishly and coughed, shrinking back.

“...Very well then, miss.” He mumbled. “...F-five each, was it?”

Belle smacked her dollar bills onto the counter top and smiled. “...Thank you.” She said sweetly.

Cogsworth quickly bagged their purchases and slid them across the counter. “A p-pleasure doing business with you, miss.” He stammered. “P-please c-come again sometime?”

“The pleasure–” she said, swiping the bag from him, “was all mine.”

*****

“So that was ah... impressive.” Rumford chuckled once they'd left Cogsworth's shop.

“That was so exciting!” She beamed, bouncing on her toes. “No wonder you come here all the time! What else can we buy? I wanna do that again!”

“Oh. Well, I'm glad.” And how could he not smile back at her when she was looking at him like that?

“I mean, did you see that!?” She asked. “He was all, ‘fifty each’ and I was like, 'nuh-uh! No way, pal!’”

Rumford nodded, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. “I did.”

Belle draped her arms over his shoulders and laced her fingers behind his neck. “I'm having so much fun…” she said, swaying from left to right.

“That's– that's good.”

Belle sighed. “You're so handsome and sweet.”

Rumford chuckled nervously. “You're very beautiful and… exhilarating.”

Stupid, he thought. You should be kissing her, you fool.

She kept looking up at him and nibbled her lip. “When I get back to Storybrooke, I'm gonna digitize and transcribe these journals…” she murmured deeply, like a seduction.

“That... sounds like a good plan.” He nodded. Kiss her.

“And then I can send them to you…”

“Aye, I would appreciate that.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and nibbled her lip. “How good is your French? Should I translate them for you?”

“Not as good as yours, I'd wager. ...Miss French.”

She bit back a grin and her eyes darted across his features. “You're funny.”

“And you're brilliant.”

She didn't seem to react at first, instead just pursing her lips.

Kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss her!

“Hm… I have to pee!” She blurted.

Rumford scoffed and pulled away, feeling the now-familiar mixture of relief and disappointment for the seventh time today– only this time with more self-loathing. Just bloody kiss her already!

“We should do something about that. Here, come.” He said, taking her hand and leading her to the restrooms.

He relieved her of her bags and waited outside, his heart thumping jubilantly when she smiled over her shoulder at him before finally disappearing into the ladies’ room. In no time at all, a vendor selling flowers began approaching, and Rumford looked off in the distance, trying to avoid eye contact.

The vendor cleared his throat. “A rose for your chérie?” He asked in a painfully exaggerated French accent.

“Oh, no thank you.” Rumford said, blushing a little. “I'm fine.”

“OK, OK. Je comprends.” The man nodded and began to walk off, but then spun on his heels and came back. “Perhaps… some advice for you, amoureux?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Such as?”

“You like the girl, yes? She is the fire of your loins?”

Rumford scoffed in disbelief. “I-I–” He stammered.

“Do not be so shy, monsieur. I can tell. Way you look at her, way she look at you. I can see them, the sparks of a new love, non?”

“I… I think so. I-I mean it could be.”

“Ah! And I tell you I know so! But I tell you also this– there is no better way to the heart of your chérie than with–” he plucked a bloom from his bucket and handed it to him. “...A single red rose.”

Rumford looked at the flower that had been placed in his hand and frowned. “I'm sorry,” he said, trying to give it back to him, “I'm not really interested–”

“Shh, shh…” the man hushed, pushing it back. “It is gift. From me, to you and your lady love.” He winked and walked off before Rumford could say anything else.

He glanced around the market for a trash bin before scolding himself. You can't just throw it out! How bloody rude would that be? The bastard's standing right there!

A figure in yellow emerged from the bathrooms, and he swallowed hard. Nothing for it now.

Belle skipped over cheerfully, her blue eyes lighting up as soon as they landed on the rose. He cleared his throat and smiled.

“For me?” She asked, making that lemon-sucking face he stood a snowball's chance in hell against.

He cracked a lopsided smile and nodded. “I-if you'll have it.”

She beamed and took the stem from him, doing a little curtsey. “It's lovely.” She said, holding it up to her precious little nose and letting the petals brush over her lips as she inhaled deeply. “Thank you, Rumford.”

He dipped in a slight bow, feeling his face grow hot. As he stood upright again, Belle hesitated a moment, then leaned in to press a quick peck to his cheek.

Breathless. That was one word to describe the feeling in his chest. Positively breathless.

“I…” He mumbled. Kiss her back! Kiss her back! Kiss her back, you bampot!

She raised her brows, waiting to hear what he had to say.

“Uh, h-here's your purse.” He blurted, holding it out to her.

“...Oh.” She blinked. “Yeah, thanks.”

Tosser. Stupid, bloody tosser. What the hell was that!? You can tell her she's brilliant and bold and capable, touch her and whisper in her ear, for Christ's sake– but you can't just bloody kiss the woman!?

“Your um… your flight is in a few hours, you said?” She asked, and Rumford's heart sank.

He cleared his throat, which had become unbearably dry. “Ah... yes.” He answered weakly.

“Well, I guess we should uh, head back then.” She said, fumbling her hands over her belly and shifting on her feet. “I um, wouldn't want you to have to rush or anything.”

“Right.” He nodded, his voice coming out as a whisper. “To the car, then.”

The ride back was a quiet one, absent of all the excitement and promise the morning had held. No conversation bubbled out of her now, Belle instead gazing out the window and watching all the buildings pass by. Occasionally she peeked at her phone and typed something.

Telling her friend what a disappointment this day was, probably.

Eejit, Rumford scolded himself. You had your chance. Several chances. And you pissed every single one of them away. Coward.

He pulled up to a parking meter in front of her hotel and looked at her with a wan smile.

“Thanks. For um, everything.” Belle said, unbuckling her seatbelt. “I um, I had a really good time.”

“Aye.” He nodded automatically, ignoring the heaviness in his chest. “It was a pleasure.”

She clutched her purse and reached to open the door.

“Wait.” He blurted, quickly unfastening his seatbelt and swinging his door open. “Let me get that for you.”

“Oh. Oh, you don't have to–”

But he was already out of the car, the sound of the closing door cutting her off as he rushed to the passenger’s side. He flung the door open and offered his hand.

“I-I’ll see you in.”

She hesitated a moment before smiling and taking his hand. “Okay,” she said, hopping out of the car.

They silently walked across the lobby to the elevators and pressed the lift button. While they waited, Rumford stared at the vase of flowers on the small table next to him and scowled. Fake. Overdue for a dusting. The elevator doors opened, but they stepped aside to let a family with small children take the lift. Waited again. What was even the point of bloody fake flowers, anyway? The doors opened again, and this time, they offered the ride to a pair of hotel staff with absurdly large carts. Waited some more.

Belle slipped her phone out of her purse to check her texts, then tucked it away and cleared her throat. “Ruby's actually got everything packed already. She'll be down in a minute.”

Rumford's pulse pounded in his ears. Last chance! The voice in his head shouted.  Now or never!

“I…”

Belle looked up at him and tilted her head, waiting.

“I-I’d like to see you again.” He spit out before he could psych himself out for the dozenth time.

Belle bit back a smile and took his hand, gently entwining their fingers as she turned to face him. “...Me too.”

He let out a relieved sigh. Thank God.

“Perhaps…” he continued, “perhaps you could come visit the shop sometime?”

“Definitely.” Her grin widened and she nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I'd um, I'd really, really like that.”

“O-or I could visit Storybrooke.” He blurted. Why should she have to schlep to Syracuse? Surely he could go to Maine. She was the one with classes to finish up and a job with inflexible hours.

“Oh! Yeah, I mean, Ruby's grandma owns the inn in town. So she could like, you know.”

“Oh.” How thoughtful of her. “Well, I-I’ve two guest suites at the house, if you… or I could give you some recommen–”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Staying at your place. That um, that sounds really nice.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe, um–” Her cheeks reddened and she looked away. “Maybe when I finish translating the journals, we could uh, go over them together? Like... in person, I mean.” She shrugged.

He smiled and nodded, the thundering of his pulse finally fading away. “I'd like that.”

“Me too.” She said tremulously and wet her lips.

He glanced around the lobby for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line. Cleared his throat.

This is it. Just do it.

“B– Belle?”

She arched a brow. “Mhmm?”

“May I–” He cut himself off and scoffed uneasily. “May I ah… I mean, um, would you. Would you mind it if… well, if I were to– to k-kiss you?”

There. He said it. Now he just had to wait.

*****

Belle blinked up at him with parted lips.

Would she mind it if he kissed her!? She'd only been thinking about it since one o'clock this morning!

She nodded and toed closer to him, her hands already reaching out so they could run through his hair. Oh yes. This was happening.

He smiled and took half a step forward, gently cupping her elbows in each hand and drawing her closer. He hesitated a moment, his eyes darting across her features as if he wanted to make sure he'd remember them.

Belle did not hesitate. She pounced up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. Hard.

Rumford let out a small grunt and stumbled backwards, and she stumbled forwards with him, her fingers finally combing and clutching through that beautiful, silken hair and pulling him closer. His lips were soft and perfect, but most importantly, they were touching her lips.

He broke the kiss with a little chuckle as he found his balance, but then his hands slid around her waist, splaying over her back and pulling her in again.

She moaned softly at the sensation of his hands on her. It was all the invitation she needed to start climbing him like a tree. She pressed herself closer against him and parted her lips to deepen the kiss, and was not disappointed when she felt his tongue brush against her bottom lip.

Belle French was going to die. This Sunday, July twenty-third, two thousand seventeen. Cause of death: Sucking Dr Rumford Gold's face.

And what a way to go.

She gave a pleasured moan and lunged forward for more , causing him to stumble back again. They bumped into the side table, and the sound of their heavy breaths was interrupted by the wobbling of the vase atop it.

“Oh–” Rumford parted from her just enough to give her a panicked look, pulling one of his hands off of her and blindly reaching for the vase before it could topple over and crash onto the floor. He managed to steady it and let out a relieved chuckle, and she cut him off with another kiss.

His hand flew back to grip her side and Belle twirled her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. He shuddered and gave an encouraging humming sound that made her whole body tingle. It was like licking a nine volt battery– If nine volt batteries were gorgeous, middle-aged personal property appraisers from Scotland and didn't have that gross metallic taste.

They pulled apart to catch their breath, both smiling and without a word, asking each other: ‘again?’

She nodded, and he nodded, and not a second later, their lips were pressed together again. This time he cupped her face, and she slid her hands down his chest, gripping at his shirt.

Gods yes, Belle French would die a happy woman. If she could get another taste of his tongue– a very happy woman. She opened up for him again, an invitation, and–

“Somebody's shopping trip was a smashing success.”

Belle and Rumford flinched and pulled apart, breathless as they spun around to follow Ruby's voice.

“Looks like you two are lost.” She snickered. “If you wanna get a room, the check-in is that way.”

Belle wiped the dewiness from her lips with the back of her hand. “...Ruby. ...Hi.”

Rumford coughed and attempted to straighten the tie he’d forgotten he wasn't wearing today. “Miss Lucas.”

Ruby's eyes scanned up and down the pair of them. After a beat, she smacked her lips and pat her hand on the weekend bag draped over her shoulder. “We’re ready to go.” She said. “...At least, I am. You two look like you might need to book another night.” She teased.

Belle and Rumford turned to face each other again.

“O-oh. I-I have to be at the shop–” He stammered.

“I'm working tomorrow...” Belle mumbled, casting her eyes on the floor.

Ruby raised her brows and blinked at them for a moment. “...That was a joke, guys.”

“Oh!” Belle nodded and chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah.”

Rumford made a sound that was somewhere between a cough and a laugh. “Right. Of course.”

“We’ve got a long drive ahead of us, Belles. I'll go get the car and wait out front.” Ruby winked, darting her eyes between the two of them. “It was nice to meet you, Dr Gold!” She sang over her shoulder at him as she walked away.

Belle took his hand again. “I'll um, I'll translate those journals and uh, call you.”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Please.”

“Actually, let me text you so you um...have my number.”

“Right.”

Dr Rumford Gold was going to have her number.

She pulled out her phone and tapped a quick “Hi.” She hesitated and erased it, instead typing, “Thank you for showing me such a lovely time,” and sealing it with an emoji kiss.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and Belle waited eagerly as he took it out and read her message. A smile and a blush both bloomed across his face the longer he stared at it.

“Thank you. Belle.”

She shifted on her feet, wringing her hands over her belly before reaching up on her toes and pecking him on the cheek again. He gave her one last timid, dimpled smile and took her hand. Just like the night before, he brushed lips against her knuckles, and Belle let out a contented sigh.

He was amazing.

“I um… I guess this is uh...” she stammered, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Goodbye?”

She nodded and smoothed out her dress. “Yeah, but um– I'll see you again, though.” She said, trying her best not to phrase it like a question. “Soon.”

Rumford nodded. “I look forward to that.”

A/N:  Updates on this are gonna slow down (even more) again because I have some one-shots I want to wrap up and I plan on participating in RSS again this year. :*