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kelyon · 4 years ago

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Golden Cuffs Epilogue: The Future

Cover art by @paradigmparadoxical

Rumbelle Dark Castle BDSM AU

They talk about what’s coming next

Read on AO3

Snow piled up outside the uncurtained windows of the dining room, but Belle was warm on the couch by the fire. There was a pair of stuffed armchairs by the hearth now, instead of only one, and the long couch was positioned in between them. It was the warmest part of the room, where Belle liked to wait for Rumpelstiltskin to come home to her.

There was a new chair at the dining room table as well, just as grand as the carved oak that had always been there. Three times a day, Belle took her meals sitting at Rumple’s right hand. He presented her food to her on a tray, just as he had when she had been his thing. But now Belle always ate with a knife and a fork and a spoon--unless one of them thought it would be amusing for her to do something else.

Overall, the dining room was more crowded than it had been when Belle had first come to the castle. Not only had the number of chairs doubled, but new footstools and tables had appeared beside them. Rumpelstiltskin had even set up a spinning wheel in the corner, so he wouldn’t have to hide away in his tower when he needed to think. The armchairs were set up on either side of the fireplace, with the long couch between them. All three pieces bordered the lush carpet where she had first laid out for Rumpelstilskin to watch her pleasure herself.

Nowadays they attempted to act with more decorum outside of their bedroom. They didn’t always succeed. Though their relationship had progressed and matured over the months of their marriage, Belle and Rumple often found themselves defaulting to the first activity they had ever done together. Their appetites for each other had not waned. Belle was still amazed by how much she could have of her husband, and then how quickly she could begin to crave him again.

She treasured all the time they had together, to make up for the all times he had to leave her alone. He left the castle frequently, and often at odd hours. Sometimes he would be gone for only a moment, but more than once he had disappeared in the morning and then woken her when he joined her in their bed. Though Rumpelstiltskin rarely slept, he said he liked to be with her at night. He had told her he liked the stillness of their bedroom, that listening to her breathing was a calming force in the midst of all the tumult around them.

She knew his plans were progressing. He told her of the pieces he had set into place--some of them years and years ago--and how they had only just begun to move into the alignment that was necessary for his master plan to come to fruition. Belle understood the business that took him away from her, but she couldn’t help leaving her mark on him while he was hers.

During the evenings he spent at home, they had picked up the habit of sitting together in their stuffed chairs. They would converse or read aloud to each other, when no other amusement presented itself. Of course, the real game was in seeing how long they could stay in separate chairs, before he knelt at her feet or she sat in his lap or they simultaneously realized how much more comfortable it would be if they were both on the couch, where they could stretch out or curl up or put themselves in any number of positions.

The couch was Belle’s favorite addition to the castle’s furniture. She had a special fondness for anything that was big enough to share with her husband. It was all cloth and soft stuffing, with a design of blooming roses embroidered along the cushions. To her mind, it was much cozier than the leather armchairs, and it was a better reading spot than their bed. Especially on winter days like this, she was happy to spend hours wrapped up in blankets with a cup of tea and a good book.

Since Belle had come back to the castle, the population of books in the dining room had exploded. Though Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t enter the library, he was able to summon any volume that was needed. And because Belle had no desire to ever set foot in the library again, the books never made it back to their shelves. They stayed in the rooms where they had last been read, piled on tabletops or stacked on the floor. The castle was now delightfully cluttered with books. It was the home that Belle had always dreamed of.

On this snowy day, she was re-reading Jefferson’s wedding present to her, a book he had picked up in one of his other worlds. It claimed to be a history of two kingdoms called Florin and Guilder, and the marriage negotiations of one kingdom’s crown prince. There were pages and pages of very dry texts about the queens and princesses of these countries packing up excessively-detailed wardrobes and traveling to visit each other to arrange a suitable match. The first chapters were so dull, even to Belle, that she was half-tempted to put the book down and never pick it up again.

But Belle was never one to judge solely on first impressions.

The more she read it, the more entranced she grew by the creeping subplots. The book, it seemed, wasn’t really about the snobbish prince and the cold-blooded count and the war the prince was trying to start by sabotaging his weddings. The real heart of the story seemed to be about a farm girl of rare beauty and the farm boy who loved her but could never say it. And even when the farm girl was made into a princess and sent off to marry the prince and the farm boy was lost at sea and then became a famous pirate, it seemed inevitable that they would be together. No obstacle could stop their love, even death could only delay it a little.

It was nothing like her own love story, but she still deeply felt the truth of it.

The doors to the dining room flew open with crash and Rumpelstiltskin strode in. “Terrible news!” he announced grandly.

Belle looked up from her page. “Are you being dramatic? Or is something truly terrible?”

He spun on his heel, his long cloak flaring out behind his shoulders. Belle liked that cloak; it was the fur-trimmed one that he’d gotten in a deal from Prince Charming. It gave her Rumple such panache, such style. He tended to wear it when he was feeling playful. The cloak billowed out from behind him as he strode over to her place by the fire. He gripped the back of the couch like a clawing menace.

“Oh, this news is terrible indeed, my sweet! Fearsome and horrifying--news that will send all good people in paroxysms of dread!”

Smiling, Belle pointed her stockinged toes to indicate the section of the couch that was empty. She set her book down on a small table, next to her empty tea cup. “News that frightens good people usually delights evil ones,” she said.

Rumpelstiltskin grinned and jumped over the back of the couch. By the time he landed next to her, his cloak had disappeared. Safe in their home, he wore his comfortable clothes--a red woolen shirt and loose-cut gray leather trousers.

He took her hands and leaned over to kiss her lightly on the lips. “You’re right, my dearest Belle. All the forces of darkness are rejoicing on this terrible, happy day.”

“Do you want any of the blanket, Rumple? It’s chilly, even by the fire.”

Her husband sprang to his feet, still too animated to stay in one place. “I’ll get you more tea!” He scooped up her cup and took it over to the magic cupboard.

“Make some for yourself,” Belle ordered casually. “Then come and sit and tell me what’s going on.”

Though her back was to Rumple, she could hear him humming. His footfalls were light, almost dancing. That was how he moved when he was purposeful, happy. In the seven months since their wedding, Belle had come to recognize it as the sound of him willingly obeying her.

It had taken a little time, but she had gotten used to having power over him. Rumpelstiltskin could be like quicksilver, going in a thousand different directions at once. But when she gave an order, all of him collected together. He became focused, almost fixated on doing her will, on pleasing her. It was a heady thing. More and more, Belle understood how amazed he had always been at her obedience, when she had worn his golden cuffs.

She had learned to be careful with her phrasing, when to make something an order, or a request, or a simple observation. One night, after they had made love in their big bed, she had told him to stay as she had fallen asleep, and he had been unable to move until she woke up. He had laughed it off in the morning, saying that care was always the first price of magic. Mortified, Belle had resolved that she would consider her words from then on. Rumple was not going to pay the price for her slips.

“Here you are, sweetheart.” He came back to her with a cup and saucer in each hand.

The tea set was new too. It was a creamier ivory color than the white porcelain had been, and the shape of the cups was taller and sleeker. Rumple had offered to recreate the set that she had used to serve him with, but Belle had demurred. Now, the only remaining piece of that first tea set was the chipped cup. It held a place of honor on top of the magical cupboard and still functioned as a silent request for a game. Hardly a week passed without one of them offering it to the other.

Rumple had made her tea the way she liked it--black, with one spoonful of sugar. She took a sip before she set it on the table and adjusted the blanket that covered her lap.

“Delicious, my love,” she pronounced as he sat down. She put her feet in his lap and covered his legs with her blanket.

“Really?” he asked, his eyes wide, his smile hopeful.

Seven months of marriage and he still looked at her like she was too good to be true. Seeing him like this always touched Belle’s heart.

She put her hand on his knee. “Yes, my Rumple. You did very well.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. Then he shook his head. “But you wanted to know about my news.”

“I do, yes.” Now that she was settled, Belle picked up her tea. “What’s happened that’s so terrible?”

“You remember that girl who called for me about the cure for a broken heart?”

Belle hadn’t known about that meeting when it had happened, but Rumple had told her about it. During those terrible weeks when she was locked in the library, he had made a deal with a love-lorn princess.

“Snow White, of course. You gave her the same memory potion you threatened me with.” She poked playfully at his chest with her toes. It was all so long ago. She had forgiven him, and now she could tease him.

“It was not a threat.” Knowing her intentions, he took her bait with feigned aggravation. “It was a sincere gift! I truly thought you would have been better without me.”

“And you were truly wrong, my love. I knew that potion was a bad idea from the beginning. Losing the memories of a person you love will make you a different person--a worse person. And that’s why the princess and her dwarf friend came here and begged you to undo it.”

Smiling, Rumpelstiltskin took Belle’s hand and kissed it. “And that’s the last time I don’t listen to you, my Belle.”

“Good. Now, did something terrible happen to Snow White?”

“Oh, many terrible things. I’m sure her step-mother made sure of it.”

Belle knew perfectly well that Snow White’s step-mother was Regina. She could have told Rumple that he didn’t need to avoid saying her name. But there was also something sweet about the way he spared Belle from having to think about that woman. Though she had forgiven him for everything, there were still some things they couldn’t tease each other about.

“You told me that she was under a sleeping curse for a while, but her Prince Charming was able to break it.”

“Yes,” Rumpelstiltskin said softly. He held his teacup between his hands. “True Love’s Kiss can break any unwanted curse.”

Belle had often wondered about True Love’s Kiss. She kissed her husband a hundred times a day, surely at least one of those kisses would be born of true love. But she had never seen a magical reaction resulting from their love. When she had come into Rumple’s service, she had never thought that being the Dark One was itself a curse, though he had since told her more of the secret nature of his power. Perhaps that was why the curse on him had never broken from her love, because she couldn’t think of his darkness as unwanted. She knew it as a part of him, something both of them delighted in.

Besides, when she had the Dark One on his knees or bound to her bed or happily doing domestic chores, she couldn’t be so sure that a curse hadn’t been broken. He was honest with her now, and he loved her--that was all she had ever wanted to change about the man who was now her husband.

“So she woke up.” Belle continued the conversation. “What happened next?”

“Happily ever after, of course. The royal couple united their power and led a righteous crusade to purge evil from their lands. And they won! They got married this morning, certain that no darkness could ever befall them.”

“And yet we still have terrible news.”

“Yes,” Rumple sighed. “Yes, because even more than being good, Snow White and Prince Charming are nice. And nice people are not always smart. They should have known better than to leave their most powerful enemy alive.”

Belle tilted her head. “But you’re not their enemy, Rumple. You’ve been helping them every step of the way.”

He kissed her hand. “Don’t say it so loudly, my sweet. Someone might get the wrong idea about me. Besides I’ve never let them come close enough to even think of trying to kill me--not yet, anyway. No, Snow White’s real enemy is her oldest enemy, the one who has hated her since she was a child.”

“Regina.” Belle swallowed the name like a bitter draught. “What kind of person has that much hate for a child?”

“The kind of person who cannot admit who she really blames for all her misery.” Rumpelstiltskin sighed again. He let go of Belle’s hands and his claws balled into fists. “The kind of person who was taught again and again that power is the ability to cause pain.”

She felt the fury rising up in him, the guilt and self-hatred that could drown her husband if it was given free reign. He blamed himself for Regina, Belle knew. He blamed himself for what the queen had done to her, as well as every evil thing she had ever done or ever would do. After all, he had told Belle, he had been the one to teach Regina magic. He had been the one to encourage her bloodlust and set her on a trail of destruction that would eventually consume their entire world. Regina was a monster and he had made her that way--what did that make him?

“My love,” Belle reached out and took her husband by the wrist. “Take a breath,” she ordered. “Nice and deep for me.”

He obeyed her. His pulse raced under her fingers.

It did no good for Rumple to ruminate on the evils of the past. She hated seeing him in this kind of anguish. It was better to stop these storms before they could become full-blown tempests. And her husband always did what she said was good for him.

“Another.” She kept her tone even. He took another deep breath. She didn’t have to order him for the rest of them, didn’t have to order him to keep breathing until the worst of his demons had passed.

It was odd to think of Rumpelstiltskin being at the mercy of his own emotions. She was still used to thinking of him as being in control--and yes, that was the face that he presented to the world. But in private, with her, in the safety of their home, he was able to show her all the pain that he had carried inside him for centuries. Belle knew well what it was to feel weak against forces that overwhelmed her. Belle knew what it was to succumb to attacks of fear or sorrow. And she knew what a great help it could be to be told exactly what to do, moment by moment, breath by breath.

“Are you ready to keep talking, Rumple?”

He took another shaking breath, then nodded. “Yes, Belle.”

“What did Regina do?”

“The wedding was this morning,” he began. “Snow White and her Prince Charming said their vows and pledged their love until death did them part.”

“A fine and noble thing to do, don’t you think?” She squeezed his hand, trying to remind him of their wedding, their vows.

The smile he gave her was weak and hollow. If pleasant memories couldn’t help him, then he was truly shaken.

“As soon as they kissed,” he went on, “the Evil Queen burst through the doors. After a bit of posturing, she declared her intention to take away everything from everyone in this world.”

Belle’s breath caught in her throat. “Do you mean this is it? She’s finally going to cast your curse?” This was what Rumple had been working toward for so long. Regina was going to send them to the Land Without Magic. Rumple was going to see his son!

He rocked his head, nodding. “She’s going to try. She’s going to fail, at first, and she’s going to become desperate enough to ask me for help. And she made her announcement in front of the people who would most want to keep her from succeeding.” He rubbed his thumb over Belle’s wedding ring. “Very soon, a good many people are going to want to know how to force me to give them answers.”

Belle’s excitement that Rumple’s plan was finally coming to fruition quickly succumbed to the dread of everything she knew this plan would entail. They had formed this part of things together, hammering out details of moves and counter-moves that would get them both to where they needed to be as safely and smoothly as possible.

But the realization still made Belle’s heart sink like a lead weight. She pulled Rumple’s hand up to her chest. She suddenly needed to feel the warmth of him, the solid realness of the man she loved, who would love her no matter what separated them.

“How long, do you think, before the curse is cast?”

Rumple scooted closer to Belle on the couch. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders so that they lay on each other, both of them bearing the other’s weight, shouldering a shared burden.

“The queen doesn’t know it yet, but this curse cannot be cast before the one destined to break it has been born.”

“The savior,” Belle whispered. Absently, she stroked her Rumple’s hair.

“Yes,” he assured her. “Snow White and the Prince’s child, the product of true love, a person with light magic infused into every part of their being. They will be the one to fight the queen’s darkness--and destroy it.”

“But only after twenty-eight years.”

Rumple nodded and kissed her on the temple. “Twenty-eight years and nine months from now. That’s when the final battle will begin.”

“So you think the curse will be cast exactly nine months from now?”

“The royal couple only married this morning.” There was a trace of impishness in Rumpelstiltskin's voice. “If their child comes sooner than nine months, I will be quite scandalized!”

Belle snorted at his joke and her heart lightened. Seven months of marriage and it still amazed her how much better she felt when he was around her. There were still problems in the world and trials that they faced, but now they faced them together. When she was near Rumpelstiltskin, every sorrow she’d ever known could be dealt with, or talked about, or pleasantly ignored for a few hours.

But this.... This curse was the greatest calamity that had ever befallen them. Regina’s curse was the worst thing that had ever happened to anyone. It would be, quite literally, the end of the world.

“How long?” she whispered. Without her being aware of it their positions had shifted and now she was clinging to her husband. “How long do we have before the plan is set in motion?”

He held her close. Sometimes Rumple could take as much comfort from holding her as from being held himself.

“A few months,” he said grimly. “Perhaps we’ll be able to celebrate a year of marriage together, but I can’t promise it. The cinder-girl will be pregnant soon. When I come after her baby, that will give our heroes an excuse to finally put an end to my evil. I’ll let them capture me, let good and evil both think they’ve won--when in reality it’s us who are getting everything we want.”

“Except each other.” Lying on his chest, Belle stared into the fire as tears welled up in her eyes. “We’ll be separated for months. You’ll be locked in a cage, Rumple!”

“A cell, my sweet, not a cage.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “That’s not such a miserable fate, is it? To sleep in a dungeon for a few turns of the moon?”

He was trying to assure her, and she tried to let him. “If you fall in love with any of your captors, I will be very put out.”

She felt the chuckle in his chest, and he kissed her on the temple. “Never, sweetheart.” He took her hands and held them in his own. The firelight glinted against their wedding rings. “And once the curse is cast, even living in a strange new world, our rings will still connect us to each other.”

Belle sat up to look her husband in the eye. “Do you think we’ll be together then?”

With their rings still touching, Rumpelstiltskin cradled Belle’s face in his other hand. His eyes were full of sorrow as he looked at her. “Together, yes,” he said, “and absolutely miserable.”

#Golden Cuffs #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle fanfic #ouat #end of an era

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killingkueen · 5 years ago

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Eat Your Words

Hello @mrs-stiltskin! Are you surprised? I bet you’re surprised. Please contain your surprise. I haven’t had this much fun writing something in a long time. Thank you for that ❤️ I hope you enjoy this nonsense! Merry Christmas! 🌟

Beta’d by the absolute HERO @paradigmparadoxical.

Prompt: Care to wager on that?

Summary: Ruby is so done watching Belle and Gold ineffectually flirt every morning. With a little help from Gold’s son, a Christmas miracle happens (in the form of sex but Neal never signed off on that).

Rated E, babe

OOO

Belle cursed as she peeled off the stockings she had just pulled on. It was the pair with the hole in the thigh, the small but infuriatingly too-big-to-be-within-her-skill-range-to-fix hole at the bottom turning into a run that stretched to her knee. Belle dug through her drawer, looking for a new pair.

She thought she had thrown the ruined ones out when she first lost the battle against the bookshelf, why were they—no, her drawer was empty, she hadn’t put her laundry away yet—she hadn’t shaved in weeks, she couldn’t go out with bare legs—and even if she could, it was December in Maine—she was from Australia for gods sake—

Belle forced herself to take a deep breath. Still clutching the tights, she made a decision.

She would wear pants.

There.

Problem solved.

It meant unzipping and exchanging her pretty green dress for a purple striped top, but at least she knew exactly where her slacks were. And she could still wear her red heels.

So what if she stayed up late to finish what proved to be an unsatisfying book? So what if she slept through her alarm? So what if the shipment of new books that was due Monday still hadn’t arrived today, four days later? Belle was wearing her best pair of high-heeled shoes with a shirt that didn’t bunch up when she reached for a high shelf and everything was fine.

Still, Belle quickened her pace to the diner. Her phone, traitor that it was, showed the time as nearly half past eight, which was much too late for Belle’s liking. But when she pushed open the door to meet with the smell of bacon grease and cinnamon, she saw a vacant counter. No one was loitering by the register, either. Which didn’t tell her anything she wanted to know.

“I was about to send out a search party,” Ruby teased as she slid past, arms full of dirty plates.

“I haven’t missed him, have I?” Belle hung her jacket up on one of the hooks by the door, her purse safely behind it.

“Good morning to you as well!” Ruby’s voice was bright with sarcasm. “Why, it is a lovely day.”

Belle claimed a stool, shooting her friend a smile. “The usual, please, when you have a moment.”

“Yeah, yeah. The paper is by the register,” Ruby said as she disappeared into the kitchen.

The Storybrooke Times was everything one could expect from a local paper; national stories interspersed with smaller, locally written reports on events and things going on in the community. The best thing about it was in the final pages, often next to the movie listings for the single theatre in town.

The crossword.

Belle hadn’t looked twice at a crossword until moving to Storybrooke. She hardly looked twice at a newspaper, for that matter, but one sunny morning had found her at the counter without a book. After nicking a pen, Belle decided she had plenty of time to kill and how hard could a crossword really be.

Twenty minutes in and Belle came to the conclusion that whoever the Storybrooke Times outsourced their puzzles from were a bunch of sadists. But Belle liked winning far more than giving up, and the sense of accomplishment she got as she filled in each square was satisfying enough for her to try again the next day. And the next.

That’s how it was the morning Mr. Gold walked in. Belle was at the counter, eyes wandering as she thought about a clue and suddenly there was the beast of Storybrooke himself. He ordered coffee and stood waiting for it, fingers tapping the counter.

Having had no dealings with him, hardly any contact at all, she wasn’t sure what to make of his reputation. But to get to be in a position to own most of a town, surely he knew a thing or two?

“A melancholy instrument,” she said before she could lose her nerve.

He turned to look at her, eyebrow raised. His eyes were bottomless.

“Four letters,” Belle said.

And very brown. And almost impatient, but she watched them flick down to her newspaper, saw her question moving about his head. “Oboe,” he said, accent slight around the single word.

She thanked him with a smile, and bid him a good day as he left, coffee cup in hand. Belle assumed that was the end of it, but he was there again the next day. And the next. He’d make small talk while he waited, and help her with a word or three.

Gold never stayed for breakfast, which was why the timing was so important.

Belle quickly scribbled her first answer in the boxes, trying not to be obvious about how closely she was watching the door. Bone that’s part of a cage, three letters. Easy. Rib.

When a mug was set down, she looked up. “You didn’t answer me.”

“No, Belle,” Ruby said with forced patience. “Gold hasn’t come in yet, god.”

“Sorry, but he hasn’t shown in the last few days. I just want to be sure I didn’t miss him.”

“He used to not come in at all, you know.”

Belle wrote in the next answer. Nag to death, six letters. Badger. “But what if he’s stopped coming? What if he doesn’t have time anymore for… crosswords.”

Her friend raised an eyebrow, unfooled. “Then you go to his shop, sit him down in his back room, and make him do the crossword with you there.” She sniffed. “Several times, even.”

“I get the feeling we’re talking about two entirely different things.” Belle put her head down, ignoring her blush. Certainly, she was pretending not to picture in exact detail what Ruby was suggesting.

“Are we?” Ruby smiled with all her teeth. “As if that’s not what you’re thinking the moment he opens his mouth.”

Belle was just about to reply—and it was going to be very clever, probably—but the door opened, and a familiar figure in a long black coat with a cane entered through it.

“Mr. Gold!” Belle said, louder than she meant to. “Good morning!” She ignored the look Ruby sent her.

“Miss French,” Gold greeted. “Hey.” His smile was small, but genuine, so unlike the cool politeness he more often than not greeted people with.

She sat up straighter on her stool, feeling warm to her toes.

“Missed you these last few days, Gold,” Ruby said with a look at Belle. “Coffee to go?”

“Ah—no, thank you, Miss Lucas,” he said, turning to gesture to an unfamiliar man. Belle hadn’t noticed him come in.

Ruby’s eyebrows shot up. “Hey, man. Long time no see.”

Belle shot Ruby a questioning look.

“This is Neal,” Gold said to Belle. He stepped slightly to the side, as if showcasing a work of art. “My son.”

His hair was the same dark brown as his father's, but shorter. He had a similar build, but was a little taller. His face was much more open than Gold’s was, and seemed ready to smile without much provocation.

“Hello, Neal,” Belle said politely. “Nice to meet you.”

“Miss French is the librarian now,” Gold said. “Took over for Mrs. Potts when she retired.”

Ruby reached for some menus, holding them out to Neal. “How’s school? Finals kick your butt?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t gotten the score for a few of my papers yet, but I probably did alright.”

“I have no doubt you aced it all, nerd.” She gestured to the bank of booths. “Sit anywhere. I’ll bring some coffee, yeah?”

“Thanks, Ruby.”

Instead of following his son to a table, Gold hesitated, twisting his cane against the tile. “Miss French,” he finally said. “Have a lovely day.”

“You too,” she said weakly, trying to keep the disappointment from showing on her face.

She watched as he slid into the booth across from Neal, his back to her. She didn’t mean to stare (the silver in his hair was striking in the light from the hanging fixtures, and his shoulders were a defined line, even in his suit and, and, and) but then Neal glanced her way. Their eyes met, and Belle stared long enough to see his eyebrows raise in question. Embarrassed, Belle turned away.

Ruby was looking at her, too, something close to amusement on her face.

“You never told me Gold had a son,” Belle hissed.

“What are you mad at me for? He’s the one that didn’t tell you.” She moved to grab the pot of coffee and two mugs. “Does it matter?”

“Of course not,” Belle sighed, resigned. It was more the absolute proof that she didn’t know anything about Gold, and likely didn’t register at all beyond being the girl at the counter with her morning crossword. She looked down at her next clue. As a result, four letters. Ergo.

“He went off to college a few years ago and hasn’t been back since.”

“I see.” Belle took a sip of her tea.

Ruby raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing as she took up her tray.

“Wait, wait.” Belle said. She looked down at the newspaper. No point sulking, just because Gold wasn’t available; she had a crossword to finish. “Heavenly body, six letters. Would you—but only ask if he seems—available? I don’t want to bother him.”

“Oh my god, Belle,” Ruby said, “you have it bad.”

“There’s an R at the end, I think,” she said with as much dignity as possible.

Belle was tempted to keep an eye on Ruby, but she didn’t want to risk more eye contact with Neal. He seemed nice, but giving him the wrong impression would be...unfortunate.

Belle tried to concentrate on her puzzle, tapping her pen softly on the counter, occasionally taking a sip of her tea. It was agonizing to wait for Ruby.

Belle was just about to risk turning around when Ruby sauntered back. Ignoring Belle completely, she went straight for the computer to punch in the order. After looking back and forth from the screen to her pad far more than was necessary, she finally—finally—looked at Belle.

“You have smoke coming out of your ears.”

“Ruby—”

“Meteor.”

She sniffed. Scribbled in the answer. It fit, of course.

Gold never gave her a wrong answer; sometimes he’d smile when he knew a particularly tough clue, his gold tooth peeking out from under the curve of his lip. Once, when she’d misspelled patient, he had leaned into her space to look over her shoulder. She caught the smell of his cologne, spicy and expensive and him.

A glance couldn’t hurt, surely. She peeked over her shoulder, at his table, and—she made eye contact with Neal, who was staring right at her.

Mortified, she whipped her head back around. Her face was as red as her heels.

“You wanted extra bacon, extra crispy, right Neal?” Ruby yelled across the diner. Her lips pursed.

Belle heard a cough. “Uh, yeah Ruby. Thanks.”

The cooked called out an order and Belle stared unseeing at her paper.

“Here.” The plate Ruby put in front of her was stacked high with pancakes, sliced bananas and blueberries on top. “Not your usual, but—” She shrugged before taking up the coffee pot to make a round of refills.

Belle sighed, feeling drained of all the energy she had burst in with. So what if she had lost the motivation to finish her crossword, or that the man she was hopelessly in love with didn’t have time to say more than a friendly hello? She had a plate of pancakes and a friend that knew when she needed them. Today was going to be fine.

OOO

Ruby, in the middle of stacking clean cups from the back, turned to the door when she heard it open. It wasn’t quite lunchtime yet, and the morning rush had long cleared out.

“Neal,” she greeted. “Didn’t you eat enough at breakfast?”

He sat on the stool in front of her. He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the counter. “This morning was weird,” he said without preamble.

Ruby thought of Belle on her stool, staring unseeing at the newspaper. In all her years at the diner, she had never seen someone eat pancakes so sadly.

“You don’t know the half of it,” she muttered.

“Tell me then.”

Ruby put her hand on her hip, considering. Neal was a good kid, always had been, and anything she said about Belle wouldn’t be met with mockery. But Belle valued her privacy, and seemed a little unsure of Neal this morning. Or mostly surprised. Definitely embarrassed.

“Did you know,” Neal said when the silenced stretched, “that my father has recently started doing crosswords?”

She shrugged. “He’s Belle’s go-to when she gets stuck.”

“No, Ruby,” he leaned forward further, lowering his voice like he was sharing trade secrets. “He sits at the kitchen table, newspaper spread in front of him, and looks up the answers on his phone. He hardly even tries.”

Ruby blinked. “You mean—”

“And then he studies the answers. Like he’s memorizing them. Which I thought was weird, but just brushed it off as, I don’t know, brushing up on vocabulary before the dementia kicks in, but then we came in this morning—”

“I knew it!” she said, slamming both her open palms on the counter. Neal jumped. “I knew she asked for answers that she already knew!”

It was his turn to stare at her blankly.

“Belle is the smartest person I know. As if she doesn’t know ‘boast of some shampoos.’”

“Boast of—what?” Now Neal was thoroughly confused.

“‘Low PH’ was the answer, by the way, which was a really stupid clue anyway, and Belle already had the L and the P, but of course Gold knew it.” Ruby scoffed. “He cheats, she plays dumb. God, I hate them both.”

“No, you don’t,” Neal said cheerfully. “It is a weird mating ritual, though.”

“Rituals end, Neal,” she said flatly.

“How long have they been—“

“Months, Neal.”

He swallowed a laugh at her dramatics. “Is it really so bad?”

She crossed her arms, leaning back. “Not really. Gold behaves himself when Belle’s around, and it’s cute, how wound up she gets.”

There was a pause as Ruby welcomed a new table. Neal waited until after she had put their order in the computer.

“Papa won’t make the first move.”

She snorted. “Belle would rather clear out the library basement than confront Gold about her feelings.” If this morning was any indication, Belle would likely rather bury herself alive than have that conversation.

“What if we,” Neal gestured between them. “I don’t know, give them a little push.”

“Why are you suddenly so invested?”

“Come on, it’s Christmas.”

Ruby gave him a look, completely unconvinced.

“Look, my heart got kicked in the dick, alright? My cheating girlfriend broke up with me and kicked me out of the apartment. When I crawl back here with my tail between my legs, instead of undivided attention, Papa’s preoccupied and growling at me for embarrassing the librarian this morning.” Neal swiveled a little on his stool. His shoulders were hunched forward, arms on the counter again. “Besides, this is the first time he’s shown any interest in a relationship since my mom dipped, and... I don’t know. There must be something special about Belle.”

“You’re damn right there is.” Ruby plucked a brownie out of the display case. She placed it on a napkin by his elbow. “That really blows about your ex. You’re better off without her.”

“Papa and I are going apartment hunting before the new semester starts.”

The cook called out an order, and she left him with his brownie.

When she returned, a glass of water was the next thing she placed in front of him. “So what’s your plan?” she asked.

“I was thinking of playing the sad dumpee and convince dad I need a small party surrounded by friends.”

“Mainly me and Belle.” She didn’t bother hiding her lack of awe.

“Only you and Belle. Don’t give me that look, it makes sense if you think about it. Since August moved to New York, you’re the closest thing I have to an old high school friend.”

“I was three years above you.”

“And Papa knows that you wouldn't want to come to the house alone,” Neal continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “So, obviously, you’d bring someone you know, and bonus points if you’re not dragging her along behind you.”

Ruby had to admit it wasn’t faulty reasoning, even if it wasn’t exactly sound. “And what will we do at this party?”

“Drink.” He said the word as if Ruby asked what day it was.

“Oh, Neal. Belle will never go for it, and frankly, neither will Gold.” She put her head in her hands. Belle was far more interested in books and quiet evenings in than drinking parties, and Ruby had a feeling Gold was much the same. These two would need a good incentive, something to actually do with their time, and Ruby hoped that she had it in herself to make the sacrifice.

“Because I love you, and I love Belle, and I am quickly learning to tolerate Gold, I will do this one thing for them.”

“What do you mean?”

Ruby stood up straight. She flicked her ponytail over her shoulder. She wore the look someone might if she were pretending to lead an army but knew she was facing a guillotine. “We're going to play Scrabble.”

OOO

Belle needed to expand her wardrobe. Not that it really mattered. Probably. In any case, everything she owned was appropriate for the library. Still, it was hard not to wish she had bought that slinky emerald dress she had been looking at a few months ago. The blue lace number with the red belt would have to do. Perfectly respectable. She didn’t have to impress anyone.

Well. Maybe she didn’t have to, but she certainly wanted to. Gold was mysterious, wicked smart, and she desperately wanted to engage him in a conversation that lasted longer and was much deeper than scant hints and word counts. There was something about him that drew her in, with his perfectly tailored suits and charming smile. And his hair that didn’t quite curl and the ends. If she had something that would catch his eye, she would certainly be wearing it.

Then again, she didn’t have to wait for him to make a move. The outfit wasn’t perfect, but she could pull out the red lipstick. If he demonstrated even the slightest bit of interest she could make a move herself. Nothing was stopping her.

Belle heard Ruby whistle when she walked down the stairs from her apartment. She nodded in approval at the bottle of red wine Belle had brought. It would pair nicely with the the box of leftover sweets from the diner that was currently tucked under her arm.

“You look hot. Gonna get Gold’s attention tonight, eh?”

“I figured it would be appropriate to dress up for a party,” Belle said, feigning innocence.

“It’s gonna be fun,” Ruby said with her wide, wolf smile. “I’ll make sure if it.”

OOO

It had been snowing since the afternoon, and the fresh snow crunched underneath their boots as they walked through downtown. Belle hadn’t minded when Ruby suggested they walk to Gold’s; it wasn’t a long walk and she enjoyed seeing the flurries of white illuminated in the streetlights.

“Have you been to his house before?” Belle asked, voice barely muffled by the thick scarf she wore.

“Nah,” Ruby said. “Everyone knows where Gold lives, but I don’t know anyone who’s been inside. Doesn’t keep that much company.”

They continued walking in a comfortable silence, until Ruby nudged her and said, “Gold’s is the pink one.”

The salmon pink Victorian, to be exact. The lawn was buried but Belle could imagine how neatly trimmed it was kept when not under several inches of snow. She wondered what flowers he grew when it wasn’t winter.

The house was intimidating. The place was huge, palatial even, if she were the sort of person who was swayed to hyperbole. Ruby nudged her out of her reverie.

“Let's go in. My feet are freezing.”

“We could also go home. We have a very nice bottle of wine we could split.” Belle waved said bottle.

“If you want to walk all the way back we’re at least going to thaw out first.”

Belle didn’t really have anything to say to that; she hadn’t been able to feel her face for the last block or so. She adjusted her coat. It was silly to be nervous anyway. And she didn’t run from anything, certainly not antiques dealers and their nice houses.

Ruby went ahead, bouncing up the stairs and ringing the bell. The door opened almost immediately. Gold stood there, nodding a hello before stepping out of the way so she could enter. He wasn’t wearing a suit jacket, only his shirt sleeve and a waistcoat. She had never seen him so dressed down before, or knew that he apparently wore sleeve garters; the golden bands caught the light when he moved, just so. Like halos, but for his elbows. The thought made her giggle.

“Are you going to come in, dear?” he called to Belle, who was still hovering at the bottom of his porch. “You’re letting the warm air out.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Belle shuffled in. “Your home is beautiful,” she said lamely. Beautiful was accurate, if understated. The furniture was old in style, but well kept. Paired with the numerous art pieces and various decorations, it could be called cluttered if everything weren’t arranged just so. It was an appealing sort of orderly chaos.

“Thank you.” He smiled as if she had given him the highest of compliments. “May I take your coat?”

Belle automatically brought her arms up to unzip, only to be stymied by the wine bottle.

“Oh, uh, I brought you some wine.”

Gold took it, inspecting the label. His eyes narrowed, and her heart rate sped up. Why didn’t she consider the possibility of him being a wine guy? Of course he was a wine guy. Connoisseur was likely on his birth certificate.

“Not a bad choice, given the options we have here,” he said eventually. “You have a good eye.”

Belle blew out a breath. That was the first battle won. She relieved herself of her winter coat, hanging it on the rack he pointed out.

When she turned around, he was staring at her.

“What?”

He started, and Belle noticed his grip on the neck of the bottle tightening. He coughed. “Oh, it’s nothing.” He twisted his hand back and forth. “You, uh, look lovely.”

Belle brushed her hands down her dress, pleased (second victory won, thank you very much), and that’s when she noticed. Gold’s shirt was a deep navy blue, his tie a rich burgundy with a pattern she could just make out as paisley.

“We match,” she said, delighted.

His smile was a small thing. “So we do.”

Ruby poked her head out of what was presumably the kitchen, holding a plate of snacks. “Let’s get this over with, yeah?”

“Eager to lose?” Neal asked, slipping past her with wine glasses. He lead the way into the dining room.

“Like you’re one to talk,” she said, following.

Gold sighed, resigned to what his night was going to be. “Is Miss Lucas not a fan of board games?”

“Board games are fine, it’s just she’s refused to play this particular one with me ever since our first girl’s night.”

“Is Scrabble not her speed?” He held out his arm, elbow bent, like a gentleman caller about to walk his beau on a tour around the garden.

They were only headed to the next room, but Belle was charmed despite herself. Her hand nestled perfectly into the crook; she could feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt.

“No, it’s just out of the three games we played, she never came close to beating me.” She bit her lip, feeling just a trace of smugness. “She actually forfeited the third game after I used all seven of my tiles. Twice.”

“A worthy opponent.” He nodded, as if he expected nothing less. “Neal and I would play on a scaled point system when he was a lad. But now if we play it’s only because he’s humoring me.”

They had reached the dining room, where Ruby was laying out plates of cheese and crackers, and another bottle of wine. Neal had just popped the lid off the game.

“I heard that,” he said, shooting his father a look.

Gold led her to the table. “You make good practice.” He pulled out a chair for Belle, seamlessly depositing her in it. It was unnecessary, and almost out of place, but Belle still felt a flutter in her stomach. She noticed Ruby watching her, eyebrow raised, smirk firmly in place.

“The disrespect,” Neal said to Ruby, shaking his head.

“Smug,” she agreed. “Glass of wine, Belle? Gold?”

“You serve people all day, Ruby,” Belle said. She was about to stand, but Gold waved her off.

“She’s right. Make Neal do it.” He walked around the table, carefully pulling out the chair across from Belle and sitting down. He winked at her, and she smiled, biting her lip.

“Don't have to tell me twice.”

“The disrespect,” Neal repeated, but he was laughing.

Ruby took the set next to Gold. She pulled the snacks—cheese and crackers, and a separate plate of fruit—closer to her. The box of sweets was there, too, and it looked like Neal had made a dent when he and Ruby were alone in the kitchen.

Belle took out the board and tiles. Soon, everyone had their seats, their starting letters, and a glass of wine.

Everyone but Neal.

“Do you not like red?” Belle asked. “I wish I had known, I’d have brought a white, or a nice rosé.”

“I’m not a big fan of wine,” Neal said with a shrug, smile as affable as ever.

“We split a bottle for dinner last night,” Gold said, eyes flickering back and forth from Belle to his son. “You should have said something.”

“Oh,” he said, “It’s just that it’s snowing, you know?”

“Why does that matter? You’re not planning on going anywhere.” Gold narrowed his eyes.

Ruby cleared her throat. “Here’s the thing,” she said loudly as she arranged her tiles. “I can’t keep up with you smarties. No sense denying it.”

“Sounds like you’re giving up,” Neal said, happy to change the subject.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It means I get to use my phone to look up words.”

Belle pursed her lips. “You can use a dictionary to check if a word is real, or check the spelling. No word finding sites.”

“Word finding sites?” Gold asked.

“There are websites that let you type in the letters you have, and then they’ll pop up all the different words you can make with them,” she said, her disapproval evident.

“Which is also called cheating, and I would never,” Ruby said innocently. “But if I’m going to keep pace, I need some sort of handicap.”

“You’re not unintelligent, Miss Lucas,” Gold said quietly.

Ruby frowned, looking for the insult. Unable to find one, she said, “I didn’t say I was. Just, you know, give me some letters and suddenly I forget every word I know, but give me a sudoku puzzle and I can finish it in ten minutes.”

“Is that good?” Neal asked.

“I don’t know. But I can do it.”

“A dictionary is fine, if you think you need it.” Gold said, with all the confidence of a man who had probably memorized every word combo there was.

“Cool. I’ll settle any disputes, too, and side with Belle only most of the time.”

“How generous.” Gold took a sip of his wine. “You can go first,“ he offered. “First word is an automatic double score.”

Ruby hummed, narrowing her eyes at her letters. “Beat this,” she said, cheerfully sarcastic. In the middle of the board, she placed the word TREAT. “Double score, yeah? Ten points.”

Neal, the designated score keeper, gave her a look.

“What? That’s five letters.”

“They’re all one point, though. You can’t waste a double score square on one point letters.”

Ruby scoffed. “I only have one point letters. Give me a break.”

“All right, all right,” Neal said, writing her total under her name. “Papa, you’re next.”

“No need to worry, Miss Lucas, I also only have one point letters.” He moved a tile over on his tray once, twice. With careful precision, he layed all seven tiles vertically, spelling LATEENER.

Ruby groaned. “Neal and I are a team.”

“Oh, this is only...forty-four points,” Neal said around a laugh. “Easy to catch up to.”

“Oh, sure, easy,” Ruby said. “It’s easy to go up against two walking word processors.”

“Says the girl with the smartphone.”

While they were busy, Belle played her word: ARMORIAL. “That's sixty-six points by my count,” she said, reaching for the bag containing the extra tiles.

Ruby gave the board a pointed look. “Do you want to team up or not?” she asked.

Neal looked at his letters. He laid out RAKE, for fifteen points. “Yeah, alright,” Neal said.

“There, see? We have a chance now.”

OOO

They did not have a chance.

“'Adobo' is not a real word, Gold.”

“You’re the one with the dictionary, dearie.”

“Its a type of food,” said Belle helpfully. “Filipino, I believe. A chicken dish. Or Pork.” She scrunched her nose at Gold. “And you took my spot.”

He smiled at her, gold tooth gleaming. “My sincere apologies.”

“Yet you side with him,” Ruby sighed.

“It's called integrity,” Neal muttered, frowning at his letters.

“And whose side are you on?” Ruby laughed. She popped a cracker into her mouth.

“Probably for the best,” Belle said to Gold, playing VIVID for thirty-two points.

“That puts her in the lead,” Neal said.

Gold moved a tile or two on his rack. “By how much?” he asked.

“Eleven points,” he said.

“How far behind are you and Ruby?” Belle asked, trying very hard not to sound like a poor winner.

“By enough,” Ruby said before Neal could answer. “Even putting our scores together, we’re not a match for you.”

Belle had a feeling they weren’t trying that hard. With the exception of Ruby’s first turn, most of the words they played were only three or four letters. It would have been boring, even frustrating, if not for Gold. He had caught up to her quickly, and they’d been neck and neck since.

While she waited for Neal to make his next move, she watched Gold’s long fingers shift the tiles around while he plotted. His gaze went back and forth from the board to his tray, brow furrowed in perfect concentration. The waiting was usually her least favorite part of the game, but she also didn't usually have such a nice view.

His eyes met hers over the board, brown and bottomless. Instead of flittering away, she held his gaze. She could fall right into him, sink all the way down. She wouldn’t resurface for days.

The sound of tiles settling drew her attention away.

“AND,” Neal read. “Four points.”

Belle bit back her sigh. With that disappointing word, it was the start of a new round. Before Ruby could make her move, Belle said, “I bet I can keep the lead.” Gold’s eyes met hers again. Feeling bold, brave, she said, “I can win, too. By a lot more than eleven points.”

“You think so, hm?” He looked intrigued. “Care to wager on that?”

“That depends on what I get when I win.”

Gold opened his mouth, answer on the tip of his tongue, but seemed to think better of it. “Depends on what you want,” he said instead, tongue licking his bottom lip.

Belle’s eyes followed the movement. What was it like to kiss him?

From there, It was easy to imagine Gold between her legs. It’s where her thoughts often ended up. His hands—rough or smooth?—sliding from her thighs to her hips, sliding under her for leverage as his mouth worked over her mound. She was sure it’d be good, sure it’d be—thorough. His tongue reaching all the secret parts of her. She shifted, rubbing her legs together beneath her skirt, her tights sliding against the wood of the chair. How would he react, if she asked him for that?

He leaned forward, as if drawn in by her, his eyes not leaving her face, as if he could read her train of thought on her face. That would have made her blush before, but she wasn’t blushing now.

Ruby’s phone dinged, making them both jump. Red rapidly spread over Belle’s face and down her neck. Embarrassment crowded in like an acquaintance that refused to be avoided. Gold coughed, turning away to spare her.

“Excuse me,” she mumbled, standing up. “I need the restroom.”

“Third door on the left,” Neal said to her retreating back as she slipped from the room.

Gold said nothing, instead stared at his tiles.

“Dorothy’s stuck,” Ruby said.

Gold blinked, adrift. He glanced at her phone. “Miss Gale.”

“Her car hit a snowbank and she’s—" Ruby shrugged “—stuck.”

“That’s bad,” Neal said, nodding. “She can’t be left out in this weather. You should go get her.” His voice was stilted, which was odd enough, but he was nodding like a bobble head.

“Hold on,” Gold said.

“Yes, I should,” Ruby agreed. “But I walked here, since Granny has the car. It’s her cribbage night, you know.” She was talking fast enough that Gold almost didn’t catch what she was saying.

“I insist on driving you, then. We will take my truck. It has four-wheel drive, so it won’t get caught in a snowbank.”

Ruby swallowed what was left of her wine, following as Neal stood up.

“It’s decided then.”

“What about Miss French?” Gold asked. “Our game—“

“Oh, you two can duke it out for a winner, right?”

“I’ll call you, Papa,” Neal yelled from the foyer.

And just like that, Gold was alone at the table.

OOO

Belle felt marginally steadier when she left the bathroom.

She was a little less so when she returned to the dining room to see Gold alone.

“Are they in the kitchen?” Belle asked, taking her seat. Ruby had polished off the fruit and cheese, and it was as good a time as any for a break.

“Um. No.”

Belle waited for an explanation, but Gold didn’t seem inclined to give her one.

“Is everything okay?”

“Something came up,” he finally said. “Miss Gale? She’s having some difficulty with the weather. Apparently.”

“Dorothy? What do you mean, what happened?”

“She messaged Ruby, and her car is stuck in the snow.”

“In the whole three inches that have fallen today?” Belle asked, frowning. But that wasn’t the only thing fishy. “Besides, Dorothy is in Kansas, visiting her aunt.” She had a deep and sudden urge to pound her head against the table. “Do you feel like we’ve been set up?” she asked.

“Yes,” Gold said after a moment. “It does feel that way.” He looked from the game board, half-finished, to his wine glass, half-drunk. His shoulders sagged, and he looked like a balloon someone had let go of; deflated and limp. “Would you allow me to drive you home, Miss French?” he asked, not meeting her eyes.

She didn’t want to go home, was her immediate thought. This was the most fun she’d had in a long time. It wasn’t just the game, or that Gold could keep up with her. She felt that pull again, that sensation that bubbled in her chest whenever Gold was near.

Hoping this was the right answer, she said, “You’re not getting out of this that easily. We have a game to finish.”

She watched the relieved smile bloom on his face, like a flower when placed in the sunlight.

“You’ll find I’m not that easy to beat.”

“I’m counting on it.” She took a sip from her wine glass. “It’s your turn, Mr. Gold.”

“Rumple,” he said.

“How many points?” She reached over into Neal’s spot for the scorecard. At least he was good at keeping score, if not subtly.

“No, that’s—“ he swallowed. “That’s my name. A nickname. That is—you don’t have to—“

“Rumple,” she said, rolling it around her mouth. She nodded. It suited him, in a strange way.

He smiled, looking at her expectantly, almost hopefully.

Her lip twitched. “It’s your turn, Rumple,” she said, knowing that wasn’t what he wanted.

“Yes, of course, Miss French,” he emphasized, drawing out the consonants. “Whatever you say, Miss French.”

She laughed. “Yes, of course you can call me Belle.”

“Thank you, Belle.”

“Your turn, Rumple,” she said again.

His bashful smile was a beautiful thing, as was his pride as he laid out his word: QUICK.

“Fifty-four points,” Belle counted, writing it down. “Impressive.”

He bowed his head, rolling his hand in a gesture that made Belle think of a bowing knight. She found it suited him much better than the town’s branding of ‘beast.’

Belle looked at her tray.

“You never told me what you wanted,” he said after a few moments of Belle deliberating her next move.

Sexual favors, Belle did not say. Just like that, all her thoughts from before came rushing back. “Uh, I’ll decide when I win.”

‘You seem awfully confident. What do I get if I’m the winner?”

“Anything you want,” Belle said without thinking.

“Anything?” His eyes trailed from her face down her neck, down down down. She was sure it would have gone lower still had the table not been in the way. “I’ll remind you that you said that.”

Belle shivered. As if she’d need it. Anything he wanted was his.

She cleared her throat, trying to focus. The A from Neal’s last move was open, she could use that. She moved an R to the front of her tray, next to an O. Belle felt her breath catch when she saw it.

Did she dare?

It would be mortifying—instant death, even—if the move wasn’t received well. It’d be hard to pass it off as a joke, and it was doubtful that he’d take it as one.

But.

If this succeeded, the reward was unimaginable.

“I think the winner should get this,” she said, very proud that her voice was smooth, confident.

Rumple seemed curious. “Is that so?”

“Yes, definitely.” Being brave had her gotten this far. She placed the tiles, careful to not disturb the ones already on the board.

ORAL. Five points.

Belle watched as Gold read the word, then read it again. The seconds passed.

“Oh,” he croaked.

That wasn’t quite the reaction she had hoped for. She bit her lip.

“Have I made you uncomfortable?” she asked, her voice low. She hadn’t wanted to push him too far, too soon.

“No, no not at all. I just don’t…” He swallowed. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want.”

Belle furrowed her brow. “Since I’m the one offering, and since you are now,” she looked down at the scorecard, doing some quick subtraction. “Thirty-eight points ahead of me—“

“I haven’t won yet,“ he was quick to remind her. “Still plenty of time for you to catch up.”

At least he wasn’t upset, she tried to tell herself. At least he wasn’t asking her to leave. “I did say you could ask for anything,” she said, voice quiet.

“I was going to ask for dinner, and maybe a kiss on the cheek when I took you home.”

“A kiss on the cheek?” she repeated. Her insides bubbled. Oh, this charming man. “That’s all you want from me?”

“No,” he admitted, voice strangled. “But it’s all I’d dare ask for.”

“Well lucky for you, you don’t have to ask.”

She watched his throat bob. “Yes,” he said faintly. “Lucky me.”

“Do you agree to the terms?” Belle hoped she sounded coy, but wasn’t sure she nailed it. “Because if you’d rather wait until after a few dates, we can. I don’t want to pressure you.”

Belle saw something relax on his face. She wasn’t sure if it was the way out she offered, or that she had promised more than one date, but it was still good to see.

“Winner receives oral sex,” Rumple said, sounding much more himself then he did a moment ago.

Belle smiled, excitement making her giddy. “Deal.”

“My turn, hm?” Rumple looked at his tray. Moments passed, long and unsteady. He moved his letters around. His eyes flickered to her, then back down. He stared at the tiles so intently, Belle was impressed they didn’t start smoking.

“You’re overthinking this.” Belle could see the gears turning in his head, wondering what the right move was. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to lose or win. “Okay, this bet? It’s off the table.”

He couldn’t quite hide his disappointment. “I see. I understand—“ Rumple cut himself off when she pushed her chair back and ducked under the table. “—Belle?”

“Grab Ruby’s tray.”

“Uh—“

Even in the shadows, as was the only thing below Rumple’s grand dining room table, Belle could see her face reflected in his shoes. She smiled at herself, then loosely grabbed hold of Gold’s good ankle. She pressed her thumb against the joint.

“Scoot forward a little,” she ordered. “Do you have the extra letters?”

“Ye-Yes.” Above her head, Belle heard the faintest sound of something sliding across the wood.

Belle ran her hands up his calves, then down his shins. Up his shins, down his calves. His legs were warm, the fabric of his trousers sleek. He opened his legs wider, and oh, didn’t she fit nicely between them. Speaking of between them, there was an obvious tent, already. She bit her lip, pleased.

“You have quite the way with words, Rumple,” she said, hands on his knees. “Let’s see how good you are when you’re distracted.”

He groaned like he was in pain, the sound going straight to the spot between her own legs. With a solid pressure, she ran her hands up his thighs, to his belt. She carefully worked him out of it.

“You have fourteen letters to play with,” Belle said conversationally. “More than enough.” Instead of unzipping him, she cupped his cock in her hand, the heat scorching. Her other hand went to the base, then lower, looking for—yes, there they were. She gave his balls a squeeze as best she could through his clothes, delighting in the jolt of his hips as he pressed himself closer.

“Belle, please.”

“Tell me what new letters you have.”

Another groan. Then, “She had the Z, plus two Os. An A, an R.”

She unzipped him in reward. “What words could you make with that?”

“I have, ah, ZOO. ZIT. ZOA. I don’t see a space on the board though,” he panted.

She reached inside, drawing his cock out of his pants. Rumple moaned in relief at being freed. “Don’t worry about the board. What other words?” She circled her finger around the head, smearing his precome.

“TEA, TEE, TIE, TOE,” he fired off in quick succession.

She clucked her tongue. “Those are all three letters,” she said. “I expected more from you, Mr. Gold.”

“I’m a little distracted, Miss French.”

“Oh, you want me to stop.”

“No!” His voice was three octaves higher than usual. “Fuck, Belle, please, don’t stop.”

She kissed his tip. He whined, but didn’t buck. She pressed more kisses around his head, down his length. She could feel the strain in his hips, the restraint he had. She wondered briefly what it would feel like if that restraint snapped; maybe his hands would bury in her hair, and he’d pull her close, hold himself in her mouth, in her throat. Maybe he’d even thrust, pressing himself deeper, deep enough that all she could taste would be him.

She licked her lips. Later. For now, she said, “Your words, Rumple.”

“TZAR,” he said, “Please, fuck, OORIE, HAZEL.”

“Very good.” Another kiss to his tip. She gave another, but open mouthed, and then his spongy head was on her tongue, her lips around him, his taste spreading, pungent and perfect. She sucked.

His fist hit the table, the tiles rattling.

“Rumple,” she admonished.

“Sorry.”

She hummed, running her hand up and down his shaft. She rubbed his hip with the other, trailing up to his pelvis, then down. He had too many clothes on, and for a moment she resented her game, but there would be time to explore him properly later.

After a few passes, his hips bucked. She made a noise of inquiry.

“Belle, please,” he said.

“What’s the longest word you can make?”

She kissed his length again before opening her mouth, swallowing as much of him as she comfortably could. His cock was so hot, so sweet on her tongue.

She almost missed it when he said, “REALIZE, no, TOTALIZER. It’s TOTALIZER.”

She worked him, mouth and hands together, back and forth and sucking and squeezing, and Rumple was moaning, then his hands were looking for her, he couldn’t see her, but he was saying, please, Belle, he was there, she didn’t have to, please—

He came into her mouth. He groaned her name, hand finding her hair. Then he was using his good foot to push his chair back. The legs scraped against the hardwood. He cupped Belle’s elbow, lifting her up up up, hand in her hair tilting her head, and then he was kissing her.

Gold gasped—she hadn’t swallowed. She hadn’t swallowed and his tongue was in her mouth, and he was pulling her closer, hungry for the come he had given her, for the taste of them together—

Belle drew back, white spots appearing in her vision. Gold followed, his lips chasing hers, his need for air paling in his need for her.

She giggled, evading him. She didn't go far though, nuzzling his neck. Belle took a deep breath, feeling warm. Gold’s arms were around her, and she never wanted to leave his lap.

“So that was good then,” she said when her heart rate settled.

“More than—fuck. You’re perfect, you know that? The embodiment of light itself. Just your smile is a gift, let alone—Belle,” he whined, kissing her again.

"You’re pretty perfect, too.” She wrapped her arms around him, keeping him close.

Peeking behind her, she said, “It appears you’ve wrecked our board.”

“Screw the board,” he growled, unrepentant.

Belle laughed, biting her lip. “I’d rather you screw me.”

With a heated look, he swept his arm across the table, tiles scattering. Belle squealed when he lifted her by the hips so her arse was on the edge of the table. “It’s your turn, my dear,” he said, leaving sucking kisses down her neck.

She moaned, legs falling open. She was happy to call this a draw.

OOO

Neal had kept his word, and called his father. Tried to, at least. It was around eleven when Neal figured the game had ended, or his father had struck out in scoring a date. There was an equal chance of both things happening.

When his call rolled over to voicemail, he took it as a sign that Papa was piqued at having been set up. Always careful about when he was too upset, Neal could count on a partially amputated hand the number of times his father had raised his voice at him.

Better to leave this confrontation for the morning.

He had slept at the inn, Ruby coming to the same conclusion he had when Belle hadn’t picked up either. “We tried,” she said, toasting him with a beer bottle as they sat in the empty diner that night. “Nothing else to do now but try again.”

He wasn’t so sure about that one.

Regardless, Neal entered the house, fresh pastries and a travel case of two coffees in hand, courtesy of Ruby. He was about to shrug out of his coat when he saw it; a bright blue pea coat, already hanging. Right where it was last time he saw it. Last night.

He looked at the coffees, as if the plastic lids held the answer of what one was supposed to do when potentially running across…his father’s girlfriend? Is that what this made her?

Neal quickly decided it was above his pay grade and not his business. Just because Belle might still be here didn’t mean anything happened; it was snowing and they had both been drinking, it made sense that Papa would insist she stay the night.

He shook his head at himself. He wished he had the foresight to get more provisions from Ruby. Neal walked into the dining room, plans of braving his father’s high tech coffee pot that neither of them knew how to use already forming in his head, when—

”What the fuck,” he said before he could stop himself.

The Scrabble board was against the wall, as if someone had thrown it, and letters lay scattered all over the floor, as if swept off to make room on the table for something else.

And he knew exactly what that something else was, if the piled clothing was anything to go by.

But the table was where he ate. He had done homework there. For years.

“Neal?” Called a groggy voice from the den. From the couch. That Neal used. They didn’t even make it to his bedroom, he thought in horror.

“Papa.” He set the pastries and coffee on the table. It was too early in the morning, and it would be better for everyone if he was somewhere else. Immediately. “Coffee’s here. I’m going back to the inn.”

“What’s’at?”

That was definitely not his papa’s voice.

He heard the wet smacking of lips, a pleased hum.

“Why, good morning,”

“What’s say we make it a great one?”

And that was all the insight Neal ever needed into his father’s sex life. Without another word, he turned right around and walked out of the dining room. Just as he was about the close the door, he saw the morning paper, thrown up to the porch. He hadn’t noticed it; the opaque, green plastic bag blending in with the painted wood.

Neal remembered the crossword, why he and Ruby had done all this to begin with. He’d tell her a second try wasn’t needed after all. She’d get a kick out of it, and hopefully share some good disinfecting tips with him.

He hung the newspaper by its bag next to Belle’s blue coat.

The weirdos could do what they wanted with it.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle secret santa #mrs-stiltskin #belles gonnna be eating something #😏😏😏

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