She's not supposed to be in his tower room. He's told her multiple times that it's off limits. It's dangerous. It's not a place that caretakers should go. He doesn't realize that telling her such things makes her curious. And Belle is curious. Very curious. It's always been one of her greatest downfalls.
She's asked him several times to show him around his working area. Once she sees it, she knows the itch will be scratched and she will no longer feel the urge to sneak in when he's not around. But instead he laughs, refuses, gives her warnings with waggling fingers and a look on his face that she knows is supposed to be stern and yet comes off as utterly ridiculous.
Rumplestiltskin doesn't know how to be stern. Not with her at least. He tries. Oh does he try. Good help is hard to find. Don't set foot in my workroom. Don't you know how to clean anything? She just smiles and responds with her voice full of sweetness and light, leaves him disarmed and slightly off kilter.
She prefers him that way.
So when he goes out on a deal, leaving her alone for an afternoon here, a day there, it takes everything in her to resist. She's ended up at the door more than once before realizing what she was doing and backing away. Her mind keeps telling her that he could have set traps. Rumplestiltskin could come home to find his caretaker burned to a crisp or turned into a newt or crowing like a rooster. She really doesn't know what he might do to those who try to break into his tower room when he's out. She knows she should heed his warning, stay away, don't touch the room.
And she manages to resist for nigh on two months, forcing herself to stay in her tower room, or to visit the kitchen and create another one of her disastrous meals before calling on the castle's magic to give her something to eat.
When Rumplestiltskin comes to her and tells her that this particular deal will take him away for a few days, she knows she's in trouble. She makes it one day before she cannot stop herself and before she knows it, the door is open and she's crept inside.
At first glance it doesn't look so different from her own tower on the opposite side of the keep. Bookshelves line the walls, just as they do in hers. The books here are crammed in, however, without the care of those on her side. She scans the covers quickly and realizes that while they might be fascinating, they also might be dangerous. She doesn't want to summon demons and she certainly doesn't want to know all the uses of fairy wings. The thought of someone using such a thing makes her shudder a little.
There are potions along one wall. She doesn't know what all the symbols mean, but she stops nonetheless to study them, admire the creativity. There's one potion missing, the symbol of a heart indicating what might go in the empty space. Love. Is he trying to bottle love? He has told her, multiple times now that she thinks on it, that magic cannot make someone love someone else. So why would he want to bottle such a thing?
Sometimes he really is such a mystery to her.
She moves away from the potions, sorts through the papers scattered on the table. He's so incredibly unorganized that she doesn't understand how he gets anything done. She wants to find a method to sorting the papers, put the books away, clean the place and make it a place that is pleasant to work in. She reaches for some of the papers flung to the far side of the table, overbalancing just slightly to try to get them. When she stands, her hand brushes one of the bottles on the table. She reaches out to grab it as it falls and breathes a sigh of relief. She's only spilled a couple drops on her hand and while it stings, she's able to wipe it off. There's an angry red welt where the liquid had been, but otherwise she's fine.
She does wonder what's in the bottle, though, and picks it up to swirl it around. No sooner has she done that than she feels a shift in the air. A moment later she's picked up as if she weighs no more than a feather and slammed a little too hard into the stone wall of the tower. Her eyes close in pain as the breath leaves her body for a moment.
Her assailant has her pinned against the wall, his body tight against hers. Her eyes fly open and it takes her a moment to focus on the face that is far too close to hers.
"Belle?" Rumplestiltskin says and she feels the tension go out of him. He doesn't let her go, though, keeps her held in place against the wall.
"Hey." Her voice comes out on barely a squeak. She's never been this close to him, never felt him pressed up against her, never felt his breath fan out across her face, the tickle of his hair as he leans just a little bit closer.
"What are you doing?" His voice is pitched low, dangerous.
"I couldn't resist."
"Resist?"
"Yes. I wanted to see where you work. And so I stole in as soon as you left." Her eyes are wide. She didn't mean to tell him that. I wanted to clean, I didn't know where I was, it was a mistake. But the words slip out unbidden.
"You are a curious thing, aren't you?" The words are said on a sneer, but there's something else there behind his eyes.
"You're frightened." She doesn't even have to phrase it as a question. She knows he is. She can see it lurking in the depths of his otherworldly eyes.
Her leans just a little bit closer and yes, she can definitely see it there. "What do I have to be frightened of?"
"You could have killed me."
"I…"
"You almost did. Yes, I think you were planning on killing your intruder." She doesn't know why she's saying these things, why she's provoking him. "And you're frightened that it would have been me."
He tries to scoff, but it seems words have escaped him entirely. He lets her go and backs off suddenly, turning away from her. "I am…glad you are not hurt."
"I'm glad you're back. I missed you." The words rush out and she claps a hand over her mouth.
"Did you now?" He turns back to her as he speaks, one eyebrow raised.
She steps forward and raises a hand, touches the hair at the side of his face and it's just as soft as she always thought it might be. "I always miss you."
He looks stunned for a moment and then his eyebrows lower, the look in his eyes changes. "Just what exactly did you get into?" He grabs her hand and flips it over, looking at the back where the potion had scalded her. There are still red welts there that are easily visible. The pain has disappeared but the evidence of her transgression has not.
"I spilled a potion. It was an accident." She tries to pull her hand away from him, tries to protect it, but he won't let her. His grip is firm. He brings her hand into the light and studies it for a moment.
"Which potion?" He sounds resigned, as if he knows which one.
"I don't know. It was on your work table…"
He drops her hand and stalks to the table, picking up the same bottle with the bright red potion in it. She rushes after him and is close when he turns back toward her. She collides with him and he drops the bottle. As it falls, he grabs her about the waist and leaps, pulling her with him, away from the potion as it shatters. They are safe. The potion has spread out over the floor, but none hit either of them.
Rumplestiltskin doesn't let go of her right away and she finds that all she wants to do at that moment is wrap herself around him. He's watching her again, that strange wondering look on his face that he had when he caught her as she fell from the ladder and suddenly found her in his arms. She wants him to kiss her. She realizes this at the same moment his eyebrows fly up and he lets her go and backs off.
"What?" he whispers and Belle realizes she had said it out loud. Her innermost thoughts, something she had tried to push away from her mind for far too long now and she's said it out loud and he's staring at her like she had a third eye or like she's been possessed by a demon. Maybe she had. Maybe that's what the potion was.
"I…" But she can't get another word out. She can feel her cheeks redden and turns to rush out of the room. She's afraid she'll reveal more and keeps herself from even thinking on topics of love for fear something else deep inside her heart will spill out of her mouth.
"Belle…wait." She doesn't want to, but turns anyway. He steps closer to her and his eyes are wary but full of awe at the same time. Belle takes a deep breath, afraid to speak, afraid of what might she might say. She feels vulnerable and scared in a way she's never quite felt before. And then one of his hands comes out to lightly touch the hairs at the nape of her neck and he leans forward and presses his lips lightly to hers. Just for a moment. The kiss is soft and tentative and then he's backing away before anything else can happen.
He looks dazed and finally manages to say "Tea…soon?"
She nods and leaves the room quickly, heart racing, hands shaking. She hears Rumplestiltskin's voice behind her as he mutters to himself.
"Damned truth potion actually was ready to go."
Truth potion. She stares down at the welts on her hand. They're fading, but will her compulsion to tell him the truth fade with them? She certainly hopes so. There are some truths she's just not ready to reveal.