Happily for Now
Bit of AU Rumbelle. For the purposes of our story, only a kiss on the mouth breaks the curse (because it wouldn't be any fun otherwise).Standard disclaimer. I don't own the characters, I just love 'em to bits.
Bitch! He swung with all his strength, was rewarded by the sound of breaking glass. Why did she have to ruin it all? He should smash her; the porcelain skin, the too-blue eyes, the sweet, kissable mouth. The walking stick clattered to the floor and he leaned against the wreck of his china cabinet fighting for breath. No. Not her; the Queen.
Bitch! He picked up a cup from the table, flung it at the wall, pictured it shattering in Regina's face; pictured the shards cutting into her white skin, her red mouth, that damn smug expression she always wore. He kept picking up cups and saucers, flinging them, until his thumb caught a chip on the edge of a cup. Belle's cup.
He gripped it tightly, his thumb pressed against the sharp, broken edge, and sat back heavily on the table. He had lost her forever. If only he hadn't grabbed her, shaken her; if only he hadn't yelled. He was a monster. She couldn't love him. And yet even as he was screaming that at her, he knew that it was false. Other than plunging the enchanted dagger in his heart, True Love's kiss was the only thing that could break his curse. And it had been breaking; he had felt it, the dizzying rush of the power draining away from him.
She might as well have plunged the dagger in. Even if she had loved him, she was lost to him now. The way he yelled at her, the way he treated her, gods, the mess he made. He felt the edge of the cup cut his thumb, stared at the blood welling up, brooding. She was lost to him for good now. Unless- with hardly a thought he sent a brief pulse of power to his thumb, staunching the blood, knitting the skin- unless, he told her the truth.
He absentmindedly rubbed forefinger and thumb together, and the last trace of blood clinging to his thumb disappeared. He rubbed his thumb, gently now, over the chipped edge, and the few drops of red marring the white china vanished. He didn't actually need anyone to clean for him. He could do it all by magic. It took energy of course. Cleaning the whole castle with magic would leave him drained for days. But if he only cleaned the rooms he used the most, the energy loss was manageable. He didn't need a maid. He needed company; her company. And he had lost that forever, unless…
The thought of marching down there, facing her, terrified him. He was a coward. And yet, he had walked through fire for his son. He set the cup down carefully, squared his shoulders. He could do this. He had too.
...
"…He was gone. I lost him. Because I was too much of a coward to give up my power, I lost my boy. And now I need my power to find him again. And I have broken another promise, too, because I swore I would love nothing until I found him again, and I do love you, Belle. But it's not enough. I know you think you love the man I was, or the man you think I could be, but I'm not that man. I can't be. Not now. Not even for you. Go now if you want. I won't stop you, but I needed you to know. I will miss you."
She stared at him, eyes huge, tender lower lip caught between her teeth. He dropped his eyes. He couldn't look at her. After a while he heard her voice. "So…we can't kiss. But we can do…other things, right?"
He stared at her, dumbfounded. She blushed slightly. "I'm not completely innocent. I heard the maids talking in father's castle. And Gaston… tried a few things. I told him I had to wait until we were married, but the truth is, he made my skin crawl."
His mind was trying to process what he was hearing. "And I don't?"
She smiled slightly, blushed deeper. "No. You don't. That day I was pulling the curtains down and you caught me, I could feel your chest rise and fall, and your breath on my face, and the warmth of your body, and I wanted to do things with you that I never wanted to do with Gaston."
She wanted him! He couldn't believe it, but she did. Thoughts and feelings he had been desperately blocking since she fell into his arms, bringing blinding light back into his world, tingled into new life in his brain, and at the ends of his nerves. He continued to stare until she began to squirm. The blush on her cheeks spread from throat to hairline, deepened to crimson.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…, maybe I should just…"
Joy, sudden and unexpected, burst out of his throat in a peal of giggles. He snapped his fingers and suddenly the stone bench they sat on, and the cold floor of the dungeon, was covered in cushions of the thickest, softest down. He grinned impishly at her. The flush didn't leave her cheeks, but he watched the sparkle come into her eyes, the corners of her perfect lips turn up in a smile.
Ignoring the forbidden temptation of her lovely mouth, he leaned forward, placed his lips instead against the white column of her neck. Her chest heaved as she drew her breath in suddenly, and let it out again in a sigh as his lips slid lower.
...
He lay on his back on the dungeon floor, Belle in his arms. He couldn't keep her. He knew that. Regina would make sure of it. When she cast his curse and thrust them all into a strange new world, she would rip his Beauty away from him, somehow. But that was still a few years away. The pieces were still slowly moving into place. He could protect Belle until then, and when it was over he would find her again, somehow, the way he would find Bae.
It would drive Regina crazy to see him happy. That had the prospect of being very amusing. She hated the happiness of others with a passion. The sad thing was that she could find happiness again herself if she would just put some effort into looking for it, instead of being so hell-bent on making everyone else miserable. Of course he wouldn't point this out to her. He needed her angry and unhappy to make his plan work.
It had to work. He could see hazy glimpses of the future from names, or the memories stored in objects. He knew it would work, but he could still feel his mind starting to spiral down old paths. He could sit for hours tracing the circles within circles of his plots, reviewing details, testing for weaknesses and what ifs, but before he could even get started this time he was distracted by an unfamiliar sensation.
Belle was idly tracing circles around his belly button with her fingertip. "You could lose some weight. I'm cutting back on your tea-cakes."
He lifted his head, raised an eyebrow at her. "Really, dearie?"
She playfully pinched one of his love-handles (he knew he had them, but he didn't think they were that noticeable, were they?), raised her own head and smiled at him impudently. "Really." His bold, beautiful Belle. She planted a kiss on his chest and snuggled down into a more comfortable position against his side.
He conjured a blanket to cover them both, and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He felt tensions 200 years in the making begin to gradually unknot themselves. It would not be forever, but for now, he could get used to living like this.