She's always been fascinated by his clothes. Rumplestiltskin layers himself with leather, brocade, high-necked shirts with plunging necklines. There's ruffles and occasionally lace, broaches that pin together his more flamboyant shirts, coats made of dragonskin. She finds that her plain and serviceable blue dress pales in comparison to the flamboyance of his clothing.
She plays guessing games, wondering what he'll come up with next. She finds, over time, that the outfits reflect his mood. If he comes down dressed in the blue vest and the shirt with no ruffles, she knows he's in a somber mode. Lately he's been wearing more reds and golds and he hasn't fallen into a dark mood in some weeks. She's found his company pleasant, if a bit distracting. Chores have gone unfinished as they dance about the table as they dance about their feelings.
And so when Rumplestiltskin disappears on one of his deals, sometimes for a few days at a time, Belle finds herself drawn to his suite of rooms.
She's been told to launder his clothing and so finds nothing wrong, not really at least, with sneaking into his rooms when he's out to examine them. She pulls them out, lays them on the bed, dances around with shirts and pants. It's not long before she considers trying them on, wondering how she'd look in those tight leather pants, those silk shirts. They reveal much of his gold-tinted skin, skin Belle has been loath to admit, even to herself, that she would like to feel the texture of.
She begins with the leather pants, holding them up and wondering how they'd fit her. He is narrow-hipped, whereas Belle has wide hips, birthing hips her governess once told her. But she pulls them on anyway, surprised to find that they alter as they wrap around her. They fit like a second skin and she's sure there's magic there. She always did wonder how he managed to get into such form-fitting clothes.
The shirts and vests alter as well, framing her hips and allowing a bit of cleavage to show. The flamboyance suits her, she thinks, though she can only see herself in the reflection of the windows. The mirrors remain covered. He has been adamant on that. She doesn't understand the harm, but he shut down on that when she asked. You do not understand what mirrors truly are, Belle. Some things are better off left alone. And so she has, though curiosity has almost gotten the better of her more than once.
It's some time later during another one of Rumplestiltskin's longer trips away, that Belle digs deeper into his wardrobe. She's tried on so many outfits, pranced about the castle in them. She's sat at his spinning wheel, pretended to be the Dark One, though she never can quite get the gestures right. She's done much and so her curiosity is heightened. Tucked far back in the wardrobe, she finds them. They're leather, like his pants, but tiny. She holds them up to the light and wonders just how much of her they'd cover. The pertinent parts, of course, but little else. They'd leave her legs bare just beneath her bottom and cut across the front a little too close to places that should stay hidden.
She can't imagine why he has such a thing.
But she cannot resist. Giggling, she pulls off her dress and grabs the small leather shorts. Like the rest of his clothing they alter shape just slightly to fit her, tucking in close to her body, tight but not overly so. She glances down, twists to the side to see how she looks from behind in them.
She cannot see much.
And then she notices the mirror. Large, sitting in one corner of the room, covered as all are in his castle. His words come back to her, but still she steps closer to it. What harm would it be, really? He is not here. He cannot accidentally see himself reflected in its surface.
With one quick movement, Belle grabs the edge of the covering and pulls it off. She flinches back briefly, waiting for something awful to happen and when it doesn't, she breathes a sigh of relief. It's just a mirror after all.
Studying herself, she finds the shorts do her justice. She does believe they lift her behind a little bit. It seems more…prominent…somehow. But she likes the way she looks in the tiny shorts and half done up shirt.
She turns away, satisfied. She should replace the cover quickly, before Rumplestiltskin finds out she removed it.
"And what do we have here, dearie?"
She freezes, glances around the room. "Rumple…"
"Belle?"
She looks back at the mirror and then jumps back with a squeak. His face is illuminated there, strangely out of focus and faded, but there nonetheless.
"What did I say about mirrors?" He sounds annoyed and she takes that as a good sign. He's not angry at least.
"I didn't…"
"What are you wearing?" His voice has moved from annoyance to something else entirely. For a moment Belle had forgotten where she was, what she was wearing, who they belonged to.
"I…um…shorts?" She bites her lower slip and can't quite meet his eyes. "I found them in your wardrobe."
She watches as one of his eyebrows slowly rises. "I see."
"They're yours," she points out and is that a blush she sees creeping up his oddly-colored cheeks? She's never seen him blush before. She didn't even know he could. "Do you wear them?"
His eyes slide away from hers. "It gets hot in the castle sometimes."
Belle could not suppress a small giggle. "Does it now?"
"It does. Why are you wearing them?" He's turned the tables. She knows it. He knows it. He can no doubt see that she's wearing his shirt as well, but he doesn't mention that, for which she is thankful.
Belle worries her lower lip with her teeth and wonders if he can see the blush she feels creeping up her cheeks. "I like your clothes."
Both his eyebrows rise at that comment and Belle quickly rushes to where she left the cover lying on the bed. "You know what they say about mirrors," she says in a tumble of words. "I'd best cover this."
She moves closer and watches the apparition in the mirror take a step back, hands raised slightly as if she's simply too close, despite the mirror separating them.
"Belle?" he says just as she begins to raise the cover up toward the mirror.
"Yes Rumplestiltskin?"
"I'll be back tomorrow and I expect you to be wearing those." Belle drops the cover over the mirror and cuts off the giggle he gives. Now she knows why the mirrors stay covered. She won't uncover another one. Too dangerous.
He did warn her, after all.
She returns to her room later that evening and finds the wardrobe door open, several pairs of the leather shorts hanging in place of her usual dresses. She just rolls her eyes. If he wants an eyeful, he'll get one. She's not sure he really understands exactly what he's done. But she supposes he'll find out soon enough.