#they are NOT self aware about this though whenever they do something nice for agnes or anyone else their narration is just like

[cream-and-tea]

[ID in alt]

pallas + giftgiving ❤️

[smartgirlsaremean]

My Heart’s in the Highlands - Chapter 7

Fandom: OUAT, Hamish Macbeth

Pairing: Bellish

Rating: T

Summary: With Rumplestiltskin gone, Belle can’t face going back to the Enchanted Forest without him. She leaves Storybrooke forever, travels the world, and ends up in a small village in Scotland, where she meets a constable with a very familiar face.

AO3

Chapter 7: The Skirl of the Pipes - Belle attends the Lochdubh Day ceilidh and learns something that throws her for a bit of a loop.

“Lochdubh Day?” Belle twirled her pen in one hand and tilted her head to one side.

“Aye, a local tradition. It’s more of an excuse tae drink ourselves silly than anythin’.”

“But there’ll be a ceilidh,” TV John interjected from his seat at one of the tables. Esme was still working with him on his reading, and she’d encouraged him to visit the library and practice whenever he could.

“Oh!” Belle’s eyes lit up. “That sounds amazing! I haven’t been dancing in ages.” Hamish swallowed a groan. He wasn’t wild about dancing and any hopes he’d had that she’d want to stand on the sidelines and drink a few pints with him went up in smoke. “But it’s not the kind of dancing I’m used to, is it?” she continued. “Reels and group dances, right?” She added a book to her stack and kept musing aloud. “But I’m a fast learner and I should be okay.” She picked the stack up - it towered to her chin - and headed for the shelves. Mildly alarmed, Hamish followed her. “I just hope someone will actually dance with me - I’m new after all and - oh God, what do I wear?”

She turned her head to look at him as she put her stack of books on a nearby table and Hamish realized that she was actually waiting for a response. “Ah...I dunno. Whatever you want, I guess.”

“What do the other women wear?”

If he’d ever noticed what the ladies wore at the ceilidh it was purely by accident. The attention he paid to Belle’s wardrobe was the most he’d paid any woman’s clothing in years - neither Alex nor Isobel had been particularly fashion-conscious, even after Isobel’s self-imposed makeover a few months after Alex moved in with him. He’d always cared more for a woman’s face and voice than what she wore.

Belle, though, had a knack for clothes, and it was impossible not to notice. The first few weeks she’d looked like any other tourist, but as her plans to stay came to fruition, out had come dresses and skirts and blouses and jumpers, all perfectly coordinated with one another and enhancing her beauty and sweetness in ways Hamish hadn’t known were possible. She was a bit like a cheerful bluebird flitting amongst the sparrows, and if she was actually worried about having enough dance partners at the ceilidh she needed a new mirror.

“Forget it,” Belle huffed in the face of his silence, pushing a few more books into place. “I’ll ask Agnes and Esme.”

Hamish breathed a sigh of relief. “Aye, do that.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “With your reputation, I expected a little more help, to be honest.”

“My...reputation?” Hamish almost choked.

“According to the gossips you’re something of a ladies’ man.”

He felt his ears turning red. “Not, uh - I mean I’m no' a priest, but I - “ His stammering voice trailed off under the influence of Belle’s gaze, which seemed a little wistful.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I should know better than anyone that reputations can be exaggerated.”

Hamish shook his head. “No, it’s...it’s fine. It’s just - I was engaged once - an’ there was a girl after tha’ - but - well, nothin’ seems tae last very long.”

Her eyes were large and warm and full of sympathy that he knew he didn’t deserve, and he was torn between confessing all and turning his vaunted charm on her so that she’d forget the whole humiliating conversation. In the end, John rescued him by standing and announcing his intention to return to the station, and Hamish was able to hurry away without embarrassing himself further.

Belle fidgeted in front of her closet and scrutinized the dresses she’d purchased over the last few weeks. Agnes and Esme had stressed the importance of comfort at the ceilidh, but she was still a bit hung up on wanting to look nice. She hadn’t properly dressed up since moving to Lochdubh, and she was itching to - as Ruby would have said - glam it up a bit. It had been months since she felt beautiful, and she wanted that again.

And there was no use pretending that she didn’t know why she felt that way.

Sighing, Belle collapsed backwards on her bed and threw an arm over her eyes. He was quite possibly the most laidback police officer she’d ever met - which was saying something when she recalled what passed for law enforcement in Storybrooke - but that was actually the greatest part of his charm. He was lackadaisical not because he didn’t care, but because he cared so much about this town and all the people in it that he considered protecting them to be his most important duty, even above enforcing the law. Once she’d discovered that, it was no wonder she’d developed a soft spot for him. Tender-hearted men with stoic exteriors appeared to be her type.

He would stop by the library most days. Sometimes he would make off with two books: a Western and another of her choosing. If he wasn’t dropping off or picking up, he would talk to her about the books, ask her opinion, tease her a little, joke and flirt a bit. She spent a good portion of that time getting lost in his eyes, drifting away on the ebbs and flows of his voice, and imagining his dextrous hands on her skin, but at the end of every encounter he would grin, wish her a good day, and stride away. He never seemed the least discomposed, and it wasn’t fair. Tonight she wanted to get a little of her own back.

She wanted to leave him stunned.

She wanted to knock him for six.

She wanted to make him want her the way she’d started wanting him, the way she hadn’t wanted anyone since Rumplestiltskin.

She just wasn’t sure it was possible. Surely if he was interested at all he would have said something by now, wouldn’t he? All the men she’d encountered on her travels had done so (not that she’d ever taken any of them up on their offers). Maybe she wasn’t his type.

Well, she determined that after tonight she would know one way or the other.

Hamish was doing pretty well, he thought, right up until Belle took off her coat, which was actually fairly pathetic as the ceilidh hadn’t even properly begun yet. He’d known the night would be a trial when he met her walking down the street to the hall; her richly colored hair was pulled back into a French braid, leaving her neck and ears bare, and she’d performed some sort of magic with her makeup that made her eyes larger and bluer than ever. He knew he wanted her, but he hadn’t realized how much trouble he was in until her wool coat slipped off her shoulders and revealed that they were left bare by the off-shoulder neckline of her dress. The deep forest green set her alabaster skin off to perfection and made her eyes glow. The flowing skirt brushed a couple of inches above her knees, and she’d foregone tights, leaving her legs bare down to her sensible black shoes.

Bloody hell, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Belatedly he realized he’d been ogling her rather openly, and he hastily raised his eyes to hers, glimpsing in their depths a strange triumphant glow. She tilted her head to one side and bit her lip, and he caught his breath.

“Belle!” Doc Brown appeared apparently out of nowhere. He grabbed Belle’s hand and brought it to his lips. “My lady, you outshine the stars.”

Belle rolled her eyes and grinned, leaning up to press a kiss to the doctor’s cheek. “Hello, Duncan.”

“Dinnae break me heart, lass. Tell me you’ll partner me for the first dance.”

For a heartbeat her eyes met Hamish’s and held, but when he said nothing she swept Doc an exaggerated curtsy. “I’d be delighted, good sir.”

“Excellent.” Doc tucked her hand in his elbow and appeared to notice his friend for the first time. “Evenin’, Hamish,” he said cheerfully.

“Doc.”

“Best get yourself a partner before all th’ good ones are taken.” Doc waggled his eyebrows and swept Belle away, leaving Hamish to stew.

“Dance with me, Hamish?” Esme appeared at his side and smiled kindly at him, her expression a touch too knowing. A reel had started up and he suppressed a smirk as she took his arm and steered him gently to one end of the set.

“Didnae think you’d be one for a pity dance, Esme,” he teased. “I’m not gonna have tae fight off a jealous Rory, am I?”

“No one takes the Doc seriously,” Esme said. “He’s too much of a flirt.”

“I know that.”

“You looked a little jealous. Just thought I’d remind you.”

Once upon a time Hamish would have hotly denied the accusation. Him, jealous? Of course not! He was just concerned, or angry, or suspicious. But he knew himself better now; time and experience had taught him well the importance of being self-aware. Among other things, he’d come to accept that he was a jealous man by nature. He wasn’t unreasonable; he didn’t expect to have a woman’s undivided attention at all times, but he didn’t like to share.

“Stop being so stubborn and ask the lass for a dance,” Esme chided him as the reel ended.

Hamish gave her a little salute and looked around for Belle, but she’d already been swept up by Lachie Jr. and was giggling her way through another dance. Grinding his teeth, Hamish leaned against one of the walls and wished he’d stayed home. What was the point of going to a dance if the girl you fancied spent the night in other men’s arms?

The band took a break after an hour of playing, and Belle, flushed and glowing, appeared at his side with a cup of beer in each hand.

“Enjoying yourself?” she asked, handing him a cup. He took a sip and considered his answer.

“It’s not really my idea of a good time, dancing,” he confessed.

“You danced with Esme.”

“She made me.”

Belle laughed. “She can be fairly irresistible when she wants to be, can’t she?”

“Aye.” He couldn’t stop himself from admiring her again. She was even lovelier now, her hair slightly disheveled and her cheeks pink. “I guess you’ve already heard how beautiful you look a dozen times, eh?”

“A dozen and one,” she said, “but it’s still nice to hear.” Her eyes searched his face. “You really won’t dance with me?”

She sounded disappointed. His heart jumped. “I’d rather take a walk if you don’t mind. Get some fresh air?”

“Sure. It does get a little hot in here, doesn’t it?” She set her cup down on one of the tables and walked beside him to the open door; she sighed deeply when the cool breeze off the harbor swept over them.

“Enjoyin’ the ceilidh?” he asked as they paced towards the harbor.

“Yeah, it’s wonderful! Everyone’s so warm and welcoming; it’s been a long time since I had so much fun.”

“Glad tae hear it.”

“And you?”

He shrugged.

“If you don’t dance, why do you come? Surely there’s something else you’d rather be doing.”

“I buy a few pints, chat with friends. Spend a couple of hours being someone other than the constable.”

“Have you always wanted to be in the force?”

“Aye, since I was a lad.”

“And you’ve always lived here?”

“No, I grew up in Glasgow, my parents moved us there when I was very young. I never much liked the city, though; I came back out here soon as I could.”

Belle hummed and ran her hand along the low stone wall.

“You really plan to stay here, don’ you?” Hamish asked. “I didnae believe it at first.”

“Why is that?”

“Lass like you, brilliant and determined and...well, you could go anywhere. Do anythin’. Why settle for little auld Lochdubh?”

“I’ve been most of anywhere and done most of anything already, remember?” Belle smiled. “I always knew I’d have to settle somewhere, and I felt drawn to this place, especially when I saw the library.”

Hamish chuckled. “Aye, that library. It’s your wee bairn, eh?”

“I just knew it would be home. Call it fate or destiny or kismet - it called to me, y’know? Like I was always meant to come here.” She paused and took in his faint smile. “That’s a bit fanciful for you, isn’t it?”

“Not really. You ought to mention it to TV John, this destiny stuff. He’s got the sight, after all.”

Belle, who had looked out over the water at the moon, whipped her head around so quickly she almost fell back. Alarmed, Hamish reached out and grabbed her arm, steadying her. “The sight?” Her voice squeaked and her eyes were enormous.

“Aye.”

“You...you believe in that sort of thing?”

“What sort of thing?”

“The sight, the supernatural, fate...magic.”

“I dunno.” Her gaze was strangely intense, and it was beginning to unnerve him. “I dinnae disbelieve any of it, and John’s visions tend to come true.”

“Exactly as he sees them? Or is there room for interpretation and error?”

“Well, they’re a bit abstract. A noise here, a dream there, sometimes just a feeling. He could explain it better.” She had begun to shiver, and he shrugged out of his jacket, wrapping it around her bare shoulders. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine.” She hunched her shoulders, and he’d never been a large man but she was dwarfed by his jacket, and he felt a surge of protectiveness towards her.

“Nah, you’re cold. We should get you back to the hall.”

“I’d rather just go home, if that’s okay.” She started to shrug out of his jacket, but he reached out and pulled the lapels closed.

“I’ll walk you.”

Belle smiled again, though the expression was a little shaky. “I’m sure I’ll be okay. I understand the local constabulary has things well in hand; the streets are perfectly safe.”

Even though he knew she was teasing, he preened a little at her praise. “Ah, you never know. Could be dangerous ruffians about.”

She rolled her eyes and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Well, if you insist.”

Hamish wished suddenly that it was daylight, and that the townspeople were out and about so they could see him walking down the main street with the loveliest incomer any of them had ever seen on his arm, wearing his jacket, leading him to her house. He’d walked her home more than once, during the library case, but he hadn’t had a chance to do so since, and besides, that was business. She was walking with him now because she wanted to, and that was the headiest feeling imaginable. After seeing her safely inside, he headed home with a smile on his face.

Belle sat heavily on her bed, scarcely noticing that she was still wearing Hamish’s jacket. TV John had the sight? And people in the town knew and accepted that fact?

This was a land without magic. How could such a thing as the second sight be possible?

There was apparently more to Lochdubh than met the eye, and she should have known that when she’d felt that deep, unavoidable, compelling urge to stay and put down roots. Touched as her own life had been by magic, any vestiges of magic would call to her and pull at her. But why here? Why not in any of the other places where magic was whispered about? What made Lochdubh her final destination, so to speak?

She needed answers, and she knew of only one man who could possibly provide them.