Rumplestiltskin knew he was an unimpressive looking man. But since he'd raised himself from poverty centuries ago, he'd always made an attempt to give off an air of wealth and grandeur with his clothing, or at the very least, neatness. Now though, as he kept his head down and made his way towards his shop as quickly as he could, he knew he looked anything but. Belle had said it herself earlier that morning, as he straightened his tie in the mirror and generally tried to make it look like his suit hadn't spent the night on her bedroom floor. She'd emerged from the bathroom, saw what he was doing and giggled. When he raised a questioning eyebrow, she'd wrapped her arms around him from behind, surveyed the two of them in the mirror and said
"It's just, I've never seen you looking so rumpled." A surprised chuckle had escaped him at the terrible pun, but all the same he would just as soon not have anyone see him on his way into the shop this morning. He wasn't sure why it mattered so much. He hardly had a high enough opinion of anyone in Storybrooke to care what theirs was for him. Perhaps it was because he hadn't planned for this. His mornings were usually slow and deliberate, and he left his large house with one hand wrapped around his sleek cane and a certainty that at the very least no one would jeer or laugh at him anymore. But he hardly could have refused last night, when Belle had asked him to walk her home. And he had truly meant to give Belle a quick kiss at her door, then walk back to his shop where his car was and spend the night alone. Belle had asked for space, in the dusty shelves of her library, and he would give it to her if it killed him. But somehow that kiss had not been as short as either of them had expected, and suddenly they were inside her apartment and Rumplestiltskin was still intending to leave soon until Belle's dexterous fingers slipped into his belt loops and pulled him flush against her. His control dissolved then, his hands wrapping around her hips, and he walked her back until she hit the wall. He was able to ignore his injured foot screaming in protest, because he could feel her smiling into his mouth before she sucked his bottom lip between hers. He couldn't help grinding against her as his fingertips explored the bottom curve of her breasts, but the word space entered his mind again, and he took a step back, cursing as his bad foot faltered under him.
"Rumple?" She held onto his arm, supporting him for a moment, and he felt shame course through him as her flush of desire turned into a look of concern.
"I should go." He muttered, fumbling for his cane and righting himself. "You asked me for time Belle, I'm sorry." She shook her head, her wide blue eyes earnest and longing.
"I've had too much time without you. Too much waiting. Stay with me. Please." Rumplestiltskin considered himself something of a wordsmith, but he couldn't have conjured "no" that night for anything.
So it was understandable, that he was late and disheveled this morning, but he still wished fervently that he'd developed a contingency plan as he saw Emma and Henry approaching. He nodded at them preemptively, saying "Miss Swan. Henry." and making it clear that he intended to keep walking.
"Gold." Emma returned warily.
"Is that your favorite suit, Mr. Gold?" Henry asked. It hadn't been, until last night when Bell ripped it off of him as though she had a personal grudge against the black pinstriped fabric.
"You might say that." Rumplestiltskin allowed with a smirk.
"I thought so, cause you wore it yesterday too. My mom won't let me wear my batman shirt twice in a row even though it's my favorite." Emma's shrewd eyes swept over Rumplestiltskin, and he saw understanding dawn on her face with a mixture of disgust and amusement.
"Well kid, when you're as old as Mr. Gold you get to make all kinds of decisions for yourself."
"And you get to mind your own affairs." He returned cheerily. Emma leaned in close and said
"So you don't want me to tell you I can see your hickey?" He felt his face heat up and his hand unconsciously rubbed his neck. "It was a joke, Gold." He knew the feeling of enjoying someone else's discomfort too well not to recognize the look on Emma's face. "Have a nice day at work." He kept walking wordlessly, running through a list of mildly unpleasant potions he could feed to Emma Swan. He looked up to see Regina advancing towards him, and switched to a catalogue of truly horrendous curses instead. She pursed her lips by way of greeting, and said,
"Debauched any innocent maidens lately?" He refused to dignify the question with a response, so she sniffed delicately and said. "How long until you use her up and toss her out in the cold again?" The hand on his cane tightened instinctively, and the other began gathering hot, roiling magic. But he closed his eyes and pictured Belle, her back arching off the mattress as she cried his name in triumph, and felt the angry magic dissipate. "Or perhaps she has expelled you this time. Maybe an old monster in her bed wasn't so appealing in the morning." She was fishing, he realized. She must have seen them go home together the night before, and wanted to know how she could twist a potential weakness to her advantage. And what's more, he savored the thought that she was wrong. Belle had clung to him that morning, tracing patterns on his chest and idly wondering what would happen if neither of them went to work. And she wouldn't change her mind, he told himself, feeling slightly panicked. She couldn't, and expect him to keep going.
"Do you have even less command of your faculties than usual, highness?" he asked quite calmly. "I mean really, is your life so void of romance that you see it everywhere? Even in mine?" He saw the trembling fracture in her façade for just a moment before her cold sneer was back in place, and she dismissed him with
"You're right, I must have been mad to think anyone could tolerate you." He walked on, and soon his shop was within sight. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that he had already encountered everyone in town who wasn't properly terrified of him. Or so he thought, until Granny's voice rang out from the open door of the diner,
"We have an iron upstairs if you need it, Mr. Gold."
"I'll remember that when I'm calculating your rent next month." He growled, practically jogging the rest of the way into his shop. Not bothering to change the closed sign to open, he dialed the library, got Belle on the first ring and asked if it wouldn't be a very great imposition, to keep a change of clothes at her apartment in the future.