Three days after acquiring his maid Rumpelstiltskin realized something was wrong. He had sent her to the kitchens to make some crumpets or muffins or whatever one had with tea, but now there was smoke filling the halls.
"Dearie? Dearie!?" He called, skittering down the halls towards the kitchens. In her three days in the Dark Castle, Belle had proved quite accident prone.
"Belle!?" His voice graduated to a concerned squeak as he enter the smoke filled kitchen. With a wave of his hand he dispelled it from the room, frantically searching for his maid. She couldn't have killed herself this quickly, could she?
Rumpelstiltskin found the source of the smoke, a muffin tray in the oven, burning away to ash. There was no fire, thankfully.
"Dearie? Where are you silly girl?" he called.
Then he heard a sniffle.
Looking down he noticed his maid, hiding by the table on the floor. She sat with her face in her knees, half covered in flour. He squatted down next to her and poked her shoulder with one finger.
"Dearie?" he poked her again.
Belle lifted her floured and tear stained face, "I'm sorry! Please don't be cross, I was trying to make muffins, for your tea, like you asked, but the fire was too big! And I cooked for too long!"
"It's nothing to cry over," he trilled, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe her face, "I'm not going to kill you over some little muffins. You'll do better next time."
He awkwardly patted her on the head as her wiped her face. Belle's face lit up and, much to Rumpelstiltskin's alarm, threw her arms around his neck, hugging him. He stiffened, not knowing how to respond.
"Thank you for being to understanding!" Belle grinned, hugging him longer than the Dark One would expect a hug to last.
"Erm," he patted her back, unsure what to do.
Belle, after a moment, loosened her grip, but did not completely let go. Instead she still held onto his neck as she looked at him.
"May I have a cook book so I know how long I should bake things, Rumple?" the rational part of his mind told him he should be mad she dared call him Rumple, but the irrational part was stuttering something about her warmth, her eyes, the smell of the flour on her skin. She was so close to him, she was almost in his lap.
"I- er- ah- yes! Yes of course!" he jumped back, pushing her away.
Belle fell back to the floor, surprised. Rumpelstiltskin waved a hand and a cook book appeared on the table.
"Do what you will, but don't get flour on me!" he dusted himself off, "or you will regret it!"
With a nervous, high pitched laugh, the Dark One all but ran from the kitchen, leaving a bemused Belle in his wake.