Author's Note: This is written with great respect, love and gratitude for the talents of Robert Carlyle, Emilie de Ravin, all those involved in Once Upon A Time. I do not own these characters, nor do I own the songs mentioned in this story.
Rated T, but may have some T+ moments in later chapters with GoldenBelle getting romantic, and possibly when talking about Gold's dark past. There is no curse in this story. It's just Belle and Gold getting to know each other and events happening from there. BTW, Jefferson will be introduced in chapter 2, this is a GoldenBelle only chapter.
Chapter 1 "Intangible Yearning"
One early autumn evening, Belle French's day takes an unexpected turn. The town librarian and animal shelter volunteer has been looking forward to a nice, quiet Friday night at home reading, until her friend Jefferson calls her and begs her to come to The Rabbit's Hole, where he works. Upon arriving at 8:15, he informs her that his babysitter had called, telling him that his daughter, Grace, has a 102 degree fever. He pleads that he desperately needs her to fill in as bartender until closing. He mutters under his breath that most of the wait staff is out sick as well. There is no one who can fill in, and he fears losing his job if he must close the bar on a Friday night.
Belle feels utterly ambivalent. Of course, she wants to help her friend, yet she hates the smell of alcohol and doesn't relish being around a crowd of drunken men all night. Chewing her bottom lip, she worries that she doesn't know how to mix most of the drinks on the menu. She would be completely out of her element, and yet she doesn't feel as though she can let her friend down in such a serious situation...not when her God Daughter is sick. The only silver lining is seeing Mr. Gold at the end of the bar.
She thinks to herself, "Most assuredly, as long as he's around, nobody will try anything too frisky with me." Uneasily, she agrees and says a silent prayer that she will figure out how to survive what promises to be a chaotic night. Taking a deep breath, she thinks, "Less than six hours until closing...how bad can it be?" She groans, realizing that she doesn't want an answer to that question.
Mr. Reimund Gold is a wealthy attorney and business man, with a well earned reputation for being unpleasant if crossed. Though his childhood had been tough, it still had its saving graces. However, what he saw at the age of nineteen forever changed him. In the more than three decades that have followed, he has emotionally closed himself off from the world, only putting on the mask of pleasantness when he needed for the occasional business opportunity. It has made for a lonely existence, seemingly never being his true self. There is an intangible yearning in his heart. The yearning is like the ghost of something, seemingly forever out of his reach. Only a handful of people know the true Reimund, a few of people he's known since he was a wee boy in Scotland, and the one person who should be with him at home, yet is unavailable to him until tomorrow.
Though he typically avoids crowds, the clamor of people in the bar is a small respite from his loneliness, despite the fact that he has no plans to speak with anyone and knows nobody who would want to talk to him. Sitting at the bar brooding over his troubles, notices the bartender, Jefferson, leave as the town's exquisite librarian takes his place behind the bar. This turn of events is a nice distraction from his overwhelming dilemma. With part of her hair pulled back in a barrette, while the remainder of her long dark chestnut mane flows in soft curls, accentuating her stunning blue eyes and doll-like facial features, her fair skin that seems to color with hints of rose when she blushes. Her current blushing reveals to his observing eyes that she is uneasy with the current situation. She wears a fitted black and red velvet jacket with a feminine ruffle at the bottom, a bright white blouse with small gray polka dots with large cuffs folded over the black sleeves of the jacket and charcoal gray skirt, making her look nothing short of absolutely adorable in Reimund Gold's eyes.
Belle makes a beeline for him, with the full intent of keeping him happy and hopefully staying as long as possible. With a broad smile and a lilt in her Australian accent, she says, "Good evening, Mr. Gold. Is there anything I can get you?"
With a pleasant, yet not overt expression, he replies, "I'd like a Pink Squirrel, if I may."
Normally, hearing a Scottish brogue rumble with rolling R's would give Belle's heart a nice flutter, but not now. A look of mild panic claims her expression, as she thinks, "Great! The first drink order, and I have no clue!" Nervously she says, "Excellent choice. I'll get right on that."
She pulls out her smart phone and begins to search for the recipe. As she does, Mr. Gold clears his throat sternly, and says, "Miss French, a moment, if you please."
She sheepishly walks back to Mr. Gold, "Yes?"
He raises his eyebrow and says in an accusatory tone, "You don't know how to make a Pink Squirrel, do you?"
Caught red handed and very red faced, yet not about to lie, she answers, "No.", and bites her lip.
Just as she is about to apologize and assure him that she will figure it out, he gives her a crooked smile, thoroughly enjoying her blush, and says, "Good" and then crinkling his nose as his honeyed-brown eyes sparkle with with mischief, "Because I didn't actually want one.", while thinking, "Well, this is fun."
She gapes at him as her brow furrows mildly, and a tone of confusion claims her voice, "But why would you order it?"
Shrugging, Mr. Gold replies with a knowing expression, "I was testing a theory."
Leaning towards him on the bar, with a voice laced with intrigue, she asks "What kind of theory?"
Speaking matter-of-factly, he declares, "That this is not your sort of establishment, yet for some strange reason, you're bar-tending. Something is amiss, my dear, Miss French."
Leaning in closer, to keep their conversation private, she confesses, "No, I don't like bars, but Jefferson's daughter has a fever. And...as long as I'm coming clean, I was hoping...I mean, I know you're incredibly busy, but if you're not too busy tonight, I was wondering if you might stick around until closing. It's just that...that..."
"You don't want to be left alone with a bar full of hormonal fraternity boys and middle aged men looking at you as the answer to their midlife crisis.", he supplies.
She is stunned at his insight, saying "Why yes, that's exactly it. So could you...would you?"
The idea of going home to his empty house holds no appeal. Tomorrow, he will have company there, the best kind, but he will soon need to have some answers to keep his life from being ripped apart. Perhaps this little distraction is just what he needs to recharge and figure out how to keep that which he cherishes most.
A crooked sly dog grin spreads across his lips, "I'll do you one better. I'll help you figure out how to make any mixed drink someone orders."
Looking at him as though the Angel Gabriel just appeared in front of her, she questions "You know how to do that? Why would you do that?"
"I bar-tended my way through university, and it's a good distraction from what's plaguing my mind at the moment."
Without thinking she excitedly grabs his hand and exclaims, "Oh thank God! You have my undying gratitude for this!"
Her beaming smile makes his mouth go dry, as he rasps out, "No matter, dearie."
The night goes surprisingly smoothly with Mr. Gold's help. In order to be certain to be helpful, he drinks mainly sparkling water, as he had finished his Scotch shortly after Belle arrived. Belle handles the various customers quite well. There is a bachelorette party that is the rowdiest of the crowd...a couple college boys dare to pinch Belle, when she delivers drinks to their table, while their waitress is busy. She handles the groping with grace and a causal mention of how interesting it is that Mr. Gold is in the bar. Upon hearing that, the hormonal Neanderthals spare a frightened glance at him...to which he gives a death glare and a wave. The previously mentioned middle aged men rarely dare more than a passing glance at Belle's shapely legs, after witnessing the unspoken interaction between Mr. Gold and the college boys.
Belle supposes that Gold himself would technically be considered middle aged, perhaps near fifty, but she doesn't think of him that way. At thirty-two years old, Belle is hardly a youngster, and for all his icy reputation around town, he had always been pleasant to her. Indeed, when she allows herself to think about it, his rich Scottish accent, warm brown eyes and silky shoulder length brown hair with touches of gray give her a special warm feeling. Additionally, he always looks incredibly dashing in his dark three piece suits and jewel toned shirts and ties.
Around ten minutes past ten o'clock, Belle's stomach growls loudly, and she reaches for the peanut bowl to satisfy her hunger. Before she is able to retrieve any peanuts, a warm hand gently, yet firmly grabs her wrist, and she hears Mr. Gold's voice say sternly, "Don't eat those!" She looks at him in confusion, and he asks rhetorically, "How much do you think inebriated men wash their hands after using the restroom?"
Her face contorts in disgust as she exclaims, "You mean?!"
Serious, yet strangely amused by her reaction, he instructs, "No peanuts...", then gesturing towards another bowl, "...nor mints for you, unless you want to be intimately acquainted with the men here."
The imagery causes Belle to lose her appetite. Just as she is about to take an order from another customer, Mr. Gold stops her. "I'd like to order a meal."
Uneasily, she replies, "I think the cook started shutting things down at ten o'clock."
With a bit of ice in his voice, he says, "Tell the cook, it's for me. I'm sure he'll see his way clear to bending his time table a wee bit."
Feeling certain that he is correct, Belle asks, "What would you like?"
"Fries, a hamburger and a fried shrimp basket…oh and when you return, I'll show you how to make a Virgin Chocolate Covered Strawberry Daiquiri." She gives him an odd look upon hearing his drink choice, and then dashes to the kitchen to deliver the food order, ultimatum.
She has to admit that she rather enjoys him instructing her on preparing the daiquiri. She gets some dark bittersweet chocolate on her fingers. She has to remind herself to wash it off after the drink is complete, for if she were at home, she'd lick the chocolate off. She smiles as he insists on extra strawberry slices and whipped cream. Before putting her hands under the faucet, she dares a quick taste of the heavenly dark chocolate syrup on her fingers. Belle notices a strangely smug expression on Mr. Gold's face as he witnesses her momentary indulgence. Washing and drying her hands, she places the completed drink in front of him. He smiles at her proudly, yet makes no attempt to drink the daiquiri. Instead, he drinks his sparkling water. Assuming that he is waiting to drink it with his meal, she goes back to the kitchen to check the cook's progress.
When she returns with his meal, he gives her a self-satisfied smile and says, "Splendid! Now eat."
"Excuse me?"
Wryly he says, "You almost ate germ ridden peanuts. Admit it, you're hungry...now eat."
Though incredibly moved by his interest in her well-being, she protests, "It's still busy here. I can't just stop.", and then with a bit of mischief, she adds, "Besides, how do you know I'm not allergic to strawberries?"
He replies, "I saw you practically salivate at the sight of the strawberries, when those women ordered their frou-frou Rosé Sangrias...and I pegged you as a woman who fancies chocolate."
Belle marvels at his observation. She then realizes that everything Mr. Gold ordered had caught her attention, as it was served earlier to customers. Pragmatically, she says, "I'm not eating all this by myself...you've been here all this time and haven't eaten either. You have to eat some too."
Though he is amused and touched by her concern, his ornery streak emerges, and with a smirk, he retorts, "Perhaps I'm allergic."
Without missing a beat, folding her arms in front of her, Belle says smugly, "Perhaps you are...where's your EpiPen?"
"Well played," he thinks and then says, "I left it in my other jacket."
"Oh really? You ordered food that could kill you...but don't have your EpiPen?"
With false irritation, he grumbles, "I never said it would kill me...perhaps I'd just blow up like a balloon."
Leaning in close, examining his face, she says coyly, "I think I'm going to need a ruler."
Incredulously, he asks, "What on Earth for?"
Her iolite eyes seem to burn through him as she says, "To measure how big your nose is growing, Pinocchio."
No one in town challenges him like this, and he finds that he is relishing the experience. Begrudgingly he admits, "Very well, I'm not allergic, but you can't force me to eat this food that I ordered for you."
Feigning submissiveness, she says, "You're right. I can't make you eat.", and then she pours some ketchup at the side of the fried ship basket and dips a shrimp in the condiment. She raises the shrimp towards his mouth and says, "You might want to eat this before the ketchup drips on your nice suit...", and then with a smug grin she purrs, "...but the choice is yours.", as she cannot believe how brazen she's being.
He notices that several people in the establishment are watching this exchange with rapt attention. It's a nice stroke to his ego to think that they are witnessing the most beautiful woman in town preparing to feed him. He obediently opens his mouth, grabbing the shrimp, while his lips momentarily make contact with her fingers, as his eyes are locked on hers. Not one to be out done, he scoops up another shrimp with some ketchup and says, "Your turn, dearie."
Belle blushes like mad as he puts the shrimp in her mouth. She is not typically someone to participate in public displays, yet she is honestly enthralled...and quite hungry.
Taking a knife in hand, Belle begins to cut the hamburger in half, saying, "Now that we're even, will you eat your half, or do I need to feed this to you as well?"
Taking his half in hand, he says, "As you wish...I'm nothing if not reasonable.", and then takes a ravenous bite. Belle rolls her eyes, as she begins to eat her half.
He smirks, "So I was right about you and your penchant for chocolate."
Raising an eyebrow, she corrects, "Dark chocolate."
With a tone dripping with sultry sarcasm, "Of course, is there any other kind?"
Tilting her head gazing into his brown eyes, which are eerily reminiscent of the desert topping at hand, she thinks, "Was he always this attractive? What! Okay, Belle, don't get in over your head." She then says insightfully, "With food as with life, bittersweet things add depth to the experience."
Her mind intrigues him, and he feels as though he might drown in the blue depths gazing upon him. Wondering how he had not to fully appreciated the captivating Belle French before this night, and trying to get his bearings, for tonight is all he can have, he quips, "And here we all thought our town librarian was pure sweetness."
Leaning towards him, she says with a mildly sardonic edge, "Show me a woman over thirty who's never experienced bitterness, and I'll show you a woman who hasn't lived."
"Touché," he concedes.
She nods, taking another bite of her hamburger.
A couple minutes later, the waitress interrupts announcing that the bachelorette party has ordered another round.
"Duty calls.", says Belle, who is still eating her hamburger.
Mr. Gold shakes his head, "No, you come around here and sit. I can take care of the drink order. I've had my fill.", as he has already eaten his half of the hamburger.
Walking around the bar to his stool, she takes his seat. The moment she sits, it occurs to her just how blisteringly sore her feet are. If she would have known she would be on her feet all night, she would have changed out of her sky high heels. Though they make her taller, she knows the height difference will not be worth the pain that she will endure tomorrow. Taking an eager bite of her hamburger, she notices a man staring at her as though she were the weak gazelle separated from the herd. She steels herself to give him the brush off.
Mr. Gold approaches a man, who seems far too attentive to Belle, and says, "If you're thinking of bothering Miss French, I advise you to reconsider." Belle notices the man shrink away, and she is more than pleased that she asked Mr. Gold to stay. Indeed, she doesn't know when she last enjoyed herself this much, and she knows that it's not the random clientele of The Rabbit's Hole, who are responsible for her high spirits.
As Mr. Gold prepares the ten drinks ordered by the already intoxicated bachelorette party, he watches Belle pop a shrimp into her mouth. He thinks back to his days bar-tending his way through university. Being a bartender was the perfect job for chatting up beautiful women, however he was far too focused on his studies to do so, even keeping his books open and ready behind the bar. Now, if it weren't for more pressing issues, he would give his all chatting up Belle French, likely making an arse out of himself in the process; and not caring one wit. However, he cannot afford the distraction of wooing a woman, even one who makes his heart race. There's too much to lose...and he can't lose, not this time.
An odd notion dances through is mind, "How would she react if I offered her a deal to help me with my problem?" He watches her sip her daiquiri, then close her eyes seeming to experience bliss after she eats a whipped cream covered strawberry slice. He decides not to taint the moment by looking to her to be some sort of solution to his problem. He knows there's only tonight to connect with the bewitching librarian turned impromptu bartender. Tomorrow, all his focus must be elsewhere.
Belle watches as he arranges the drinks on the tray. She never would have guessed that there is this whole other side to Mr. Gold, the man with whom she had only had passing moments until tonight. Seeing that the waitress is occupied with other patrons, Mr. Gold decides to take the drinks over to the bachelorette party himself. After all, it might be fun to startle a pack of overly inebriated strumpets. Perhaps he shouldn't judge them, but no one in town has ever done him the courtesy of a kind thought, thus why should he?...especially, since the shoe appears to fit. Yes, the sight of him will curtail their merriment for a while, though he knows the alcohol will win the fight. It'll be fun to unnerve them a bit.
Belle watches him take the tray over and place each drink meticulously in front of its proper owner. They all seemed to have suddenly sobered up in his presence; all except one. As Belle sips her daiquiri through a straw, she watches Mr. Gold turn to leave as the bride-to-be's hand cups his rump. The table of women erupts in squeals of laughter, Belle blows into the straw instead of sucking, and the daiquiri bubbles and splatters on the bar. Clapping a hand over her mouth, and using the other to wipe the bar, she knows she shouldn't laugh. It was not funny when she got pinched, yet she feels a growing urge to giggle.
He returns saying sternly, "I hope you savored the show, dearie. That's the last round of drinks I take over to the barracudas."
Trying to maintain her composure, she responds, "Are you sure?...you might get a good tip."
"That may well be, but they're certainly not getting mine."
Both Belle and Mr. Gold look at each other with eyes wide with shock at his vulgar innuendo. His tongue feels like it has adhered to his teeth, as he wonders what the town librarian must think of him. "What in the Hell has gotten into me, talking like that?!" Belle's face is red and her eyes are watering, as he braces himself to be lambasted. His wait ends as Belle begins to sputter and giggle wildly, causing him to let out a guffaw at his verbal slip, as well as the relief that she is not angry at him.
By 2:00AM, Belle has made a few hundred dollars in tips over the night, including Mr. Gold's tip from his enthusiastic admirer at the bachelorette party. Belle can't help but wonder if the bride-to-be will remember the spectacle she put on. If any of her friends are capable of remembering, most assuredly they will be more than happy to remind her. Belle is relieved that they took a limo, since there was not one of them that was sober enough to drive. As Belle is closing up, and Mr. Gold eyes her from the bar, noticing her getting ready to put her tips in Jefferson's box.
"Wait! You worked yourself to the bone all night, and your friend expects you to give him your tips?!", he says with disgust.
"Oh, no...Jefferson told me to keep the tips. But he's a single father...and well, I only have myself to provide for."
He is dumbfounded by her, "You're an extraordinary woman, Miss French."
"Call me Belle, please."
Steepling his hands in front of him, he says, "Okay, Belle...I suppose I should give some reciprocity. You may call me, Reimund."
She smiles warmly at being honored with his first name, "Mmm...I like that name. Now that we are on a first name basis, and we survived Friday night at The Rabbit's Hole...how about you tell me what it was that was 'plaguing' your mind tonight. Maybe I can help."
He says with a barely perceivable hint of bitterness, "Only if you're willing to marry me."
She chuckles, "That's the third marriage proposal I got tonight." Noticing something serious in his eyes, she then says hesitantly, "That...wasn't a joke, was it?"
Rubbing his forehead, he says, "It's as serious as a heart attack. I have to get married soon, or my life will be ruined. But I'm not asking you to take on my burden."
Her brow furrows, she asks, "Is it an immigration thing?"
"No, dearie...I mean Belle, I've been a full citizen for years. No, I'm trying to find a way to keep my son."
Confused as she's not sure she's ever heard that he has a son...indeed, not much is known about his ex-wife either, "I don't understand. Didn't you and your ex-wife work out some sort of custody arrangement?"
He nods in the affirmative, "Aye...but she lives to torture me. She knows that Bae is all that I truly cherish...so she's fighting for full custody, just to screw me over. She doesn't even spend time with Bae, when he's with her...he's always with a nanny or at some random friend's house. Bae is with her now...or rather whomever she left him with. I'll have him back tomorrow, but for how long is the looming question. If I get married and demonstrate that I have a stable household, that might help. As it is, she's about to marry the cur she left me for."
With a bit of righteous indignation rising within her, she blurts out, "What?! The tramp cheats on you, then has the nerve to try to take your son away!", and then suddenly, clamps her hand over her mouth.
Reimund has to keep from spitting out his drink in laughter. After the danger passes, he coughs and says, "Belle, for such a sweet little librarian, you have quite the unexpected fiery mouth."
The combination of her ire at his wife and her embarrassment from her outburst have her face seemingly to be heated by flames, "I'm so sorry! That was very inappropriate of me...I was just so mad."
Trying to ignore how the blush of her skin enhances the gem-like quality of her vibrant iolite eyes, with a tone of confusion, he asks, "Why? Why should my family drama matter to you?"
Earnestly she says, "Well, because I think you're a good man..." He raises an eyebrow in protest, and she reaffirms, "...I believe you're a good man, and I don't like someone just trying to torment you...especially when there's a child at stake."
He looks at her with blatant awe...words tumbling from his lips, "Belle, will you..."
She reaches over and puts her hand on his mouth to prevent him from finishing the question. He blushes at his own stupidity for having the audacity to think, for a fraction of a second, that this beautiful, lovely, kind woman would want to marry him.
Belle feels something like a rush of insanity or the pull of fate...she is not sure which, but before he can move away, she grabs his tie, holding him in place. The surprise is clear on his face.
Swallowing hard and blinking her eyes in a flood of some emotion that she cannot name, she says, "You don't propose in a bar...after drinking, no less, and expect that will help with creating a stable household. How about I come by your house tomorrow...possibly meet Bae, and we can discuss it more then?"
His detail oriented mind wishes to point out that he hasn't had any alcohol since he finished his Scotch shortly after her arrival, but his emotions seem to be ruling the moment as he asks, "Belle, are you saying that you actually would?"
"I'm saying 'maybe I would'...let's sleep on it tonight and see whether our fates align tomorrow.", and then moving her hand from his tie, to his hand on the bar, she warmly squeezes his trembling hand and asks, "Deal?"
Breathlessly he gazes at her and whispers, "Deal."
Author's Note: Oh my, Gold's bottom got groped!...and he almost proposed! That's a full night. So what do you think of this new fic? A while ago, when I was intending on updating one of my existing fics, some crazed plot bunnies jumped me, and I wrote half this chapter, though it didn't fit any of my other stories. I've since been mapping out a plot for this. It will be the most AU of my stories so far. Please review...guest reviews are fine. You don't need a FFnet account; I just like to read people's thoughts on my stories.