A/N: Hey everybody! Here's a little one-shot I typed up. I hope you like it! The next chapter of my other OUAT story, "In the Mirror" will be up soon- hopefully by this weekend! Thank you for reading and please review!
"Oh," Belle's disappointed sigh reached the Dark One's ears like a soft chiming in the breeze. It was barely discernible with the pitter-patter of steady rainfall outside and the buzz of words from his book inside his head, but caught just the same.
"What is it, love?" he asked, looking over his shoulder and behind the couch to where the librarian stood at the window. It should be noted at what an accomplishment it was after 300 years that a person could still make his heart skip a beat when his eyes fell on them. In the golden-yellow light that spilled forth from the tableside lamp, her loose brown curls shone and spilled over onto her blue lace dress.
"When did it start raining?" she answered with a question, wandering over to the back of the couch and leaned over his shoulder, draping her arms over his chest.
"Just a few seconds ago," Rumple replied, smiling as he felt a chaste kiss on the side of his head. He closed his book with one hand and reached up to stroke her cheek with the other. "Why?"
"It was such a pretty autumn day- I thought it'd be a nice night to go out for a bit. Take a walk or something," Belle mumbled into his shirt collar, nuzzling against him. The rich, floral scent of her rose perfume gained control over him, sending his lips to her warm cheeks which soon became flushed with a pinkish tinge.
"Well there's still plenty we could do inside," he whispered as he trailed kisses up to her ear. When he sucked on the skin between her jaw and neck, she let out a little whimper that felt both victorious yet hungry for more. He silently thanked the gods for the unexpected spell of rain.
"Yes, I suppose there is," her breath became hitched, her full, pink lips curving into a smile as she saw the title of the book. "I didn't know you read Dickinson." The hand that had been resting on his arm took hold of the paperback and began flipping through the dog-eared pages.
The old spinner gave a chuckle at how easily her attention became diverted to literature. He patted the space on the couch next to him where she happily joined him, making herself comfortable by curling up next to him while he lay back on the cushions.
"She's a poet of few words," he admitted as Belle continued to flip through the worn pages. He laid a hand on her hair and began petting her as she snuggled in closer. "She knows how to make the best of the words she chooses."
"Yes…" Belle murmured, deep in thought as she took in the layered lexicon of poems past. She reached a dog-eared page and turned her face to smile at him. "You liked this one?"
"It caught my eye," he returned her smile with one of his own.
"May I read it? To you?" Belle asked eagerly. Far from it be to deny his little Belle anything, Rumplestiltskin kissed the top of her head and settled deeper into the cushions, saying:
"I would like that."
"There is no frigate like a book
To take us lands away,
Nor any coursers like a page
Of prancing poetry.
This traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of toil;
How frugal is the chariot
That bears the human soul!"
The woman positively glowed as she read the words. Rumplestiltskin made a quick mental note to order more books on Dickinson for both the public library and Belle's own collection.
"I like that one," Belle said after a moment of silence had passed between them. It took each a minute to realize the pounding of rain on the roof had stopped. The last rays of the sun arrived just in time to fill the room with one last golden burst before succumbing to the darker purples, reds, and oranges of the night. "Hmm…Sounds like it stopped raining," she turned her head and smiled at Rumple.
"Still want to go on that walk?" he asked tentatively. He had grown quite comfortable on the couch and didn't feel like moving any time soon.
"There's always tomorrow," she said before keenly biting her bottom lip. "And besides- I believe we had made plans to stay in before we were interrupted by Ms. Dickinson." She giggled as Rumplestiltskin gave her a look of incredulity, his soft, deep laughter joining hers.
"Oh- Dickinson interrupted us, did she?" He leaned down and captured her lips with his. Though his eyes remained closed, he could feel Belle place the book on the coffee table.
"It won't happen again- at least, not for the rest of the night," Belle turned over to face him, careful of his bad leg.
"That's just fine with me, love."
Oh yes. Bless the gods for rain and good literature.