Wish You Were Here

by Equipoise

When the irresistible Miss French needed an extra chaperone for the class trip to France, Mr. Gold just couldn't say no. He's been smitten with her for years, but knows she would never see him as more than a friend. When there's only one bed left at the bed and breakfast, Gold is in for a long, hard night... (Rumbelle Christmas in July Fic) Prompt: Bed sharing and awkward morning

As the tour guide droned on in monotonous French about the history of the 12th stained glass window they had seen that day, Seamus Gold's eyes kept flicking to Miss French. She leaned against a pillar, her azure eyes alight with rapt attention. Her auburn hair tumbled in loose curls over on shoulder, aglow in the soft light of the cathedral. Now, there was a striking beauty far more worthy of study than some colorful glass. Gold's gaze traced a familiar path down her pale, elegant neck to the silky blouse that clung to her in a manner just this side of appropriate, past the pleated skirt to her shapely legs. She had forgone her usual heels, as they were on a walking tour. In flats she was not much taller than the students who stood between them.

Right. The students. That was why they were actually here, not so he could ogle Belle French in hazy tones of blue, red, and gold. But so a group of precocious little preteens could supplement their educations. He sighed inwardly. Originally, Jefferson Milner was supposed to accompany Miss French on the trip, but at the last minute his daughter, Grace, had gotten flu.

As Gold's only son had long since grown up and left home, he had no such excuse at the ready when Belle came to him, all soft pleading eyes and dulcet tones. He'd have likely agreed to much more than 3 weeks in France, had she thought to ask. But the trip was all she wanted from him. And it was more than she had ever asked in the past.

Everyone at West Hills Private School knew that Seamus Gold was not a man to be trifled with. He ran his classroom with diligence and precision. If you applied yourself and worked very hard, he would treat with you fairly. Wasting Gold's time, however, was a nearly criminal offense, tantamount to academic suicide. Teachers and students alike respected him to the utmost but gave him a wide berth, nonetheless.

Three years ago, Miss Belle French took on the recently vacated position of French teacher. Oh, there had been no end to jokes about that, of course – a French teacher actually named French. Not that he was laughing. But Gold remembered how she handled it all with such grace and humor. She had shown up on the first day of classes wearing a dress that had French flags all over it. As he had passed her classroom, he heard her saying:

"Alright, here's the deal. This is the last time you will hear me speak English until the end of term. If you would like to joke about my name, you may do so to your heart's delight. However, if you don't do it in French, it will result in an 'F' for the day. Too many of those and it's straight to the guillotine! And by guillotine, I mean Principal Mills' office, of course. Now, who wants cake? Ah ah… en Français, s'il vous plait!"

Somehow she had discovered that he also spoke some French and would take the opportunity to engage him in casual conversation when they happened upon one another in the halls or teachers' lounge. He had tried to simply ignore her, but she was so persistently pleasant that he felt tricked into answering her every now and again. She had beamed at him as though he had said something distinctly clever the first time he deigned to mumble back a "Comme ci, comme ça" to her spirited morning "Ça va, Monsieur Gold?"

That smile had sent a spark straight to parts of him that he had been ignoring for years.

After that, he hadn't been able to stop himself from indulging her. It didn't help that her every outfit – with the possible exception of the flag dress – seemed to be designed to draw his eye to her exceptional figure. Belted dresses with flirty hemlines just barely regulation length. Fitted blouses over flared skirts. And those high heels… How on earth she managed to stay on her feet all day was a mystery to him. But they did showcase her legs in ways that he really couldn't allow himself to think about at work.

Since his ex-wife, Milah, had run off with that man half his age, Gold rarely found himself desiring the company of the fairer sex. He had turned his focus to work and to raising his son, Neal, who was now enrolled in an Ivy League school. Women were beyond his scope. Not that he didn't have fantasies. But the real thing was… tricky. And he was too old to be chasing daydreams.

Still, he had reasoned, there was no harm in enjoying the company of a beautiful woman, even if she made his blood run uncomfortably hot. Even if he'd have fallen to her high heeled feet with one crook of her littlest finger. When he found himself wondering if she might allow him to massage away the aches those heels must inevitably cause, he realized he was already too far gone. He denied it for nearly a year, but the truth always finds its way out. Gold was hopelessly, unrequitedly smitten with the petite brunette.

And so now he found himself in bloody France with a group of 10 students he could barely tolerate for the usual 8 hours per day. All because Belle French had needed a bloody favor and the great terrifying Beast of West Hills couldn't say no to her smile.

Eventually the cathedral tour wound to an end, just as his leg was really starting to give warning that it needed rest. They took the children back to the bus. It was a short ride to the next town, where they would check in at a bed and breakfast for the night. Miss French slid into the seat beside his.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Gold!"

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle French."

She lowered her voice so the students wouldn't be able to hear. "Ok so, was it me, or have the last three tour guides been taking oration lessons from Ben Stein?"

He looked at her blankly.

She shook her head and smiled. "When we get back, I'm buying you a television, Gold. How will you keep up with the kids if you don't get any modern references?"

"I don't. I expect them to keep up with me. I teach History, not Pop Culture." He murmured back.

"Hmm," She leaned back in her seat, head still turned toward him. "Today's Pop culture is tomorrow's History."

"Then I'll let tomorrow's History teachers worry about who Ben Steinman is."

She covered her mouth with one hand to stifle a giggle. "Ben Stein. He's a comedian who speaks all in monotone."

"Ah. Well in that case, I do agree with your assessment. Perhaps we ought to speak with Principal Mills about including a few activities besides these cathedral tours. It's most unnerving for me not to be the most boring person in the room."

She swatted his nearest shoulder lightly with the back of her hand. "You are far from boring, Mr. Gold. I'd never have asked you along if you were."

"And here I thought you were just desperate." He teased, biting back a grin.

She shifted in her seat to face him. "No! It wasn't that… You were actually my first choice when Regina said I could reinstate the France trip. But she said you'd never agree to go, so I asked Jefferson. I'm obviously not happy that Gracie got sick, but… well, I was rather glad for the opportunity to ask you, after all." Her eyes locked on his, wide and searching. "I hope you didn't think..."

"Oh, I rarely think. Far too dangerous." He quipped in a low voice, feeling his heart begin to race. It was quickly becoming all too much. Her proximity, the light waft of perfume that smelled like roses. And those eyes… God, those eyes could be the death of him. She could ask him to jump off the moving bus and he'd at least consider it – bum leg and all.

She chuckled softly, her gaze still fixed on him in that way that was making butterfly wings beat a staccato in his belly. "I'm glad you agreed to come, after all."

He swallowed hard. Get it together, man! Of course you were a better choice than Jefferson. The capricious Art teacher would have let the kids run amuck. And his French was questionable at best. When Gold had gathered his scattered thoughts enough to reply, he nodded. "Aye. Me too."

For just a split second, he could have sworn he saw Miss French leaning in toward him when the bus lurched and they were pitched awkwardly forward in their seats. One of the girls near the front cried out that she had dropped her purse and, with an apologetic look, Miss French got up to help her.

Gold squeezed his eyes shut, readjusting his coat to cover his lap, and tried to focus on the lesson plan for the next day.

They arrived at the Bed and Breakfast outside of Avignon shortly before sunset. Miss French checked them in. The students would be 2 to a room, with pairs assigned through the buddy system at the beginning of the trip. She handed out keys to one of each pair, with quick instructions. Then, Miss French turned back to the desk with a puzzled look. She began questioning them in rapid fire French and Gold was only able to catch every few words.

After he had made sure that each student had his or her respective luggage and room assignment, he limped over to the front desk. As the students mounted the stairs, Miss French looked up at him, biting her lower lip.

"What's wrong?"

"Erm… well, I may have booked this one incorrectly." She offered a sheepish grin.

He quirked an eyebrow.

Rather than answer, she held aloft the one remaining key.

He blinked at her stupidly for a moment before he realized what this meant. One key.

One key for one room. He would be sharing a room with Miss French. Oh, God help him.

He took a deep breath to silence the roaring of blood that had rushed to his ears. "Well, it's no matter. I can simply book another room with my card and Regina can compensate me."

Miss French shook her head, blushing prettily. "They're full up. There's some sort of event going on in town this weekend. We only got the rooms we did because I called so far in advance." She shrugged, "I don't mind if you don't… I mean, we're only here for tonight, anyway."

He nodded dumbly and hefted his suitcase. "Lead the way, then?" His voice came out rough and sounding very far away in his still-ringing ears.

Miss French's cheeks tinged a shade darker as she nodded back and turned to climb the stairs. Once she reached their assigned door, she fitted the key and it swung open with a slight creak. Inside, there was a floor lamp, a window covered by a lacey curtain and an old fashioned oaken chest sitting at the foot of an antique bedframe.

As Miss French turned on the light, Gold looked around the room, frantically.

One bed.

One room with One. Bloody. Bed.

He stood in the doorway, suddenly willing the floor to open up and swallow him whole. This was a fantasy turned nightmare. It was bad enough to think Miss French would see him in his nightclothes, but he could have reconciled himself to a shared space for one night. But to share a bed with his heart's darkest desire? To have her within easy arm's reach and not even be allowed to think of touching her? Surely, even his most unkind deeds did not warrant such Karmic punishment!

He suddenly realized Miss French was speaking to him.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I was asking what side you like to be on. I don't really have a preference." She fiddled with the collar of her blouse, not meeting his eyes. "It's um… been a while since I shared a bed with anyone."

He gawped at her for a moment before forcing himself to recover his calm. "Miss French… I… this is … I will simply ask them for a cot…"

"Where would you put it?" She gestured to the considerable lack of floor space. Her lips pressed to a thin line as she caught his gaze at last. "Don't be ridiculous, Gold. I mean… I am really sorry to have put you in this position." She flinched at the unintended innuendo. "Look, I'm really sorry is all, ok? I'm sure this isn't your ideal way to spend the night but I don't kick or snore or dribble that I know of. So, I hope we can still be friends in the morning?"

Making a silent resolution to simply not fall asleep, Gold cleared his throat. "Of course, Miss French. I shall endeavor to also not snore or dribble or kick. Would you like to place a pillow between us?"

At last, she cracked a smile, the tension between them easing. "Gold, I've known you almost four years. I believe my virtue – such as it is – to be impeccably safe around you. Not really enough pillows for that, anyway." She dropped her rucksack unceremoniously on the right side of the bed. "It's getting late so we should probably get the kids to supper."

He nodded, depositing his suitcase on the side opposite her bag.

I'm going to share a bed with Miss French. He thought.

They rounded up the children and took them down the road to the nearest restaurant within the budget. Between them, they managed to quell two squabbles and one very near food fight. One pair of buddies got reassigned and two students narrowly escaped punishment work.

All the while, like a mantra at the back of his mind, Gold was thinking:

I'm going to share a bed with Miss French, tonight. One bed, with Miss French in it. And me. In a bed, with Miss French. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about being in bed with Miss French. Tonight. Which is where I'll be.

For Fuck's sake, stop thinking about not thinking about it!

At length, they had put the students up for the night and done room checks. He showered quickly and changed into pajamas in the hallway bathroom. His hands shook as he brushed his teeth and he gripped his cane harder to keep himself steady.

When he returned to the room, he knocked lightly. "Are you decent?"

"Only because it's part of my job to be." Miss French joked as she opened the door. She had changed into a pair of pajama pants with what looked like cartoon wallabies on them and a scoop necked tank top. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun atop her head and her makeup had been wiped clean.

She was exceptionally beautiful and he was in Hell.

He offered a wan smile to recognize her joke before tearing his eyes reluctantly from her and limping to his side of the bed. He sat heavily, facing away from her.

"Light's off ok?" She asked.

"Aye. Yeah, that's… that's fine," he replied.

She turned off the floor lamp and he heard her pad on bare feet to the bed. He felt the bed dip behind him and the covers shift as she slid under them.

You can do this, man. It's one night. Just one, infinitely long sleepless night of not thinking about the deliciously desirable woman beside you.

"You gonna sleep sitting up?" She teased.

He grit his teeth and turned, lifting his bad leg gingerly and settling under the cotton sheets. They were not quite touching but he could feel the heat radiating from her body.

"Gold?" Her voice was barely a whisper, but it felt as though it echoed in the shadowy stillness of the small room.

"Yeah?"

He nearly jumped as he felt her hand move beneath the sheets. It came to rest on his upper arm and gave a squeeze.

"I really am glad you're here." She shifted closer and the springs squeaked slightly beneath them.

"Good night… Seamus." She murmured, her breath tickling his ear. He held very, very still and felt her lips brush lightly against his cheek. A pleasant shiver ran down his spine and his cock twitched to life within its cotton confines. He fought the urge to crush her to him for a proper good night kiss.

When he didn't move or respond, she turned away, onto her side.

"Good night… Belle," he rasped at last.

Oh, it was going to be such a long night….

The very first rays of the rising sun spilled into their room, the curtain proving a flimsy barrier to their luminance. Gold's eyes clamped shut, stubbornly fighting the call of consciousness. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the delicate scent of roses. The alarm hadn't yet sounded, so it wasn't time to take Neal to school. He snuggled closer to Milah, her hair splayed on the pillow beneath his chin, her rump pressing back against him. It was rare indeed for her to show such affection, so he determined to linger just a moment longer, his arm wrapped around her middle, just under the curve of her breasts. She gave a breathy little sigh, wiggling closer, and he became aware that he was fully erect against her bottom.

She didn't seem to mind, so he ground his hips experimentally against her. Rather than pull away, she rolled her hips back toward him. With a growl of approval, he slid his hand up to her breast. A nipple perked instantly into his palm. She felt fucking amazing… when was the last time they had…

Wait.

Roses.

Milah had always smelled of that musky eau de toilette she got at the mall.

There was only one woman he knew who smelled of roses….

He shoved himself so violently away from Miss French that he nearly rolled off the edge of the bed.

"Wha? What? Seamus?" She queried, blearily, rolling over to face him.

The covers twisted around his legs and he shoved blindly at them, cursing.

"Jesus, Gold, calm down!" Miss French sat up in the bed, pulling her knees to her chest. "I'm sorry, ok? I didn't… I thought that…" She shook her head. "I'm sorry," she repeated softly.

"You… you're sorry?" He blinked at her, suddenly more awake than he could ever remember being. He pulled himself to a sitting position, as well, trying his best to cover his erection. "What… why… Belle…" He shook his head. "Miss French, I should be the one to offer my apologies. I… thought that you were… It's no excuse. I've… acted appallingly and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

Miss French's brow creased. "So… you didn't know it was me, did you?"

He shook his head, cheeks aflame, finding it impossible to meet her eyes. "No. I.. .I was dreaming about my ex-wife, it seems and I thought… I would never take such liberties with you, Be- Miss French."

She pulled her knees in tighter beside him. "Yeah. Yeah, I figured that." Her voice was low and almost toneless.

Oh God, she would never forgive him. He would be forever disgraced in her eyes. It wasn't as though he stood a chance of being her lover before but this… this could mean an end to even their friendship. The last flicker of joy in his otherwise dull life, snuffed out by his own clumsy fumbling hands. He cursed himself darkly as they sat in silence.

"I didn't mean to… to take advantage." She spoke up at last, her voice sounding strained.

He looked over at her, incredulously, and she met his gaze, at last. There were tears just threatening to fall. "What?"

Her lips trembled as a single tear broke loose and made a track down one cheek. "Please tell me I haven't ruined everything?"

"Christ, no!" Tentatively, he reached for her. She tucked herself under his arm, her head resting against his chest. He could feel her crying into his pajama top. "Why… why would you think such a thing, sweetheart?"

Any other time he might have censored the endearment. But Belle was sobbing and shaking in his arms and all he knew was that he needed to make it better. Belle should never have reason to cry, especially not if he had the means to stop it.

Between sobs and gulps of air, she choked out, "because I t-took advantage! I didn't mean to. I thought… I thought you w-wanted… I didn't know you were thinking about… I'm so sorry. I like being your f-friend. I just thought…. I'm so stupid, sometimes…."

Realization dawned like a kick to the gut. "Miss French… You are never stupid. I like being your friend, too, but…." He hesitated and she continued to curl into him, though her sobs were lessening. "Belle," he said gently, "look at me."

She shook her head. "You're already being too nice to me. I don't think I can stand it if you want to give me the 'just friends' speech, right now. Can we just… pretend this never happened?"

"Please look at me?" he cajoled.

She pulled back, swiping at her face. Even red-eyed and blotchy, she was lovely. He stared at her, unsure where to begin. Unsure if he was even reading this correctly. Once the words were out, there would be no taking them back. He would be allowing himself to be weak, offering her the key to his armor. Never mind that her name had been emblazoned on it for over two years, now.

"I was dreaming about my ex-wife. But that doesn't mean… that is to say, I haven't had… feelings for her for a very, very long time. It was just a dream. A memory of another life. Believe me when I say that I would be a far happier man waking up with you in my arms than with her, any day." He searched her eyes for understanding.

She studied him, her expression unreadable.

He continued, "I had no intention of… putting my hands on you, in that way. It was unseemly and most ungentlemanly of me. And that is, at least in part, because I had no expectation that such an… advance would be… welcome." He swallowed, glancing down at the blanket between them to gather his thoughts before looking at her once more.

She was biting her bottom lip again, the corner of her mouth beginning to quirk upward. "What if I told you that it was welcome? Very welcome, in fact?"

His mouth went dry and his stomach flipped. "Why?" the word had fallen out before he could stop himself. "Belle, I'm hardly the catch of the town. I'm cranky, crippled, and nearly twice your age.

Belle shook her head and chuckled, her hand finding his atop the blanket and entwining their fingers. "Have you met you, at all? God, I've been hoping you might fancy me for ages… but you never really seemed interested 'in that way' so I figured I'd just have a handsome, sophisticated, intelligent, highly-educated friend with a great sense of humor… whose voice makes me wet." Her eyes locked on his, one eyebrow lifting. "Especially when he speaks French."

"Fucking hell," he breathed. His flagging erection roared back to life in an instant. "Do you really mean all that?" He felt his eyes stretch wide. Could this perfect Goddess really see such things in him?

Belle moved in closer. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it…" She pressed her lips to his.

He was afraid to react for a moment, afraid it was all a dream – albeit much better than the first. When she parted her lips slightly to nibble at his bottom lip, he was undone and all sense of restraint was lost. He crushed her to him, both of them sliding down the pillows to lie on their sides on the mattress. She traced the seam of his lips with her tongue and he admitted her instantly. He eased her onto her back and she raised her legs to cradle him between them. He supported himself on one forearm, leaving the other free to explore her curves.

Finding her breast once more, he toyed with the taut nipple until she moaned against his mouth. Her hips undulated beneath him, pressing his hardness to her heated core. He slid his free hand down the length of her body, his thumb grazing the top of her pajama bottoms. He stopped there, plucking at the elastic.

"Yes…" She broke the kiss to hiss in his ear, guiding his hand with hers to slide beneath the fabric. She was slippery to the touch and he groaned into her neck, his cock throbbing insistently. They shifted enough to divest her of her pajama bottoms and knickers. Gold settled to one side, his bad leg angled out of the way.

He ducked his head to kiss along her neck and collarbones as his hand returned to the apex of her now-splayed legs. Gathering some moisture he stroked her hard little nub with two fingers. He rubbed it in circles, occasionally dipping down to tease her dripping entrance.

She bucked into his hand, whimpering. "Please, Seamus… I want you…"

He stilled. "I don't have… I wasnae exactly planning on…"

She blinked heavy lidded eyes. "I'm on the Pill and I've been tested. Have you?"

He nodded, stunned into speechlessness. After Milah left, he had run out to get tested immediately. He hadn't been with anyone else since then but he wasn't about to admit that part, just now.

Belle grasped at his pajama bottoms and pulled them down, her eyes never leaving his. When they reached his knees, she used her feet to kick them off the rest of the way. With her top leg thrown over both of his, Belle reached between them and stroked his aching cock. He juddered against her and rolled her back onto her back with an inarticulate curse. She aligned him with her entrance and he sank slowly home. Every desperate fantasy he had played out behind closed eyes in the dark of his bedroom seemed to fade in comparison to this moment.

Belle moaned and rolled her hips into his as he buried his face in her neck, nipping at the soft skin there.

"Is this what you wanted, love?" He murmured, thrusting sharply into her.

"Yes!" she cried out, wrapping both legs tightly around him. "Oh God, yes… "

He thrust into her deeply, setting a steady rhythm until her nails were digging into his back and she was begging him for more. He indulged them both, quickening his pace and snaking one hand between them to tease her clit. He felt her walls start to flutter around him, the muscles clenching. Her orgasm triggered his and he followed her quickly over that edge, his mind exploding into white hot bliss.

Gold rolled to the side, sweating and panting, and sunk into the mattress. Beside him, Belle stretched like a cat and hummed her approval. He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

"So…" she turned her face up toward him, "definitely still friends, then?"

He gave a bark of laughter. "Oh, aye. You're about the best friend I think I've ever had."

She gave a lopsided grin. "Am I terribly forward if I say I'd like to be more?"

He licked his lips. "I… I'd like that too, Belle."

They both started when Belle's alarm began blaring. She hurried to turn it off. "I guess that means this conversation is tabled for later, huh?" She pulled on a robe and sauntered off to the bathroom.

Gold smiled, already knowing that he would say yes to practically any proposition that passed her lips. He rose from the bed to pull on his clothes. He had finished straightening his tie when Belle returned, her skin dewy and pink from the shower. His mouth watered as she dropped the robe and he adjusted himself in his trousers. It occurred to him that this might, perhaps, complicate things for the rest of the trip but he couldn't bring himself to mind in the slightest.

"I was just thinking…" Gold pondered aloud, "Perhaps, I ought to send a 'thank you' note to Jefferson…"

"Hmm, just as long as it's not a 'wish you were here' postcard…" Belle giggled.

He crossed the room and cupped one hand to her cheek, kissing her briefly. "Oh, no. I'm very, very glad I'm the one here with you."

She turned slightly to kiss his palm. "Me too."

All fics linked to AO3 (opens in a new window)

RUMBELLE

Sins of the Flesh (Multi-chapter WIP - almost finished)
Rated Explicit

Catholic schoolgirl Lacey likes to play the temptress. Father Gold is a man of the cloth, but he's still only a man... Their cat and mouse game takes an unexpected turn when their real selves start peeking through.

Goldenlace/Rumbelle. The lines are blurred.

Indulgence (One-shot. Complete)
Rated Explicit

Just a smutty little ficlet from Lacey's POV, set in my Sins of the Flesh Verse, around Chapter 8 or so.

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Unrated

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Rated Mature

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Rated General

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Rated Explicit

Mr. Gold tries to balance lust and trust with less finesse than he'd like to admit. Luckily, Belle can give as good as she gets.

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Rated Mature

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Rated Explicit

Rumbelle PWP with a little fluff thrown in for good measure. Storybrooke AU - no FTL, no curse.

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Hamish Macbeth x Belle
Rated Explicit

Belle was a troubled youth, neglected by her father and tossed about by Social Services. Now, she's making a new home in Lochdubh with the local Police Constable as her guardian. Police Constable Hamish has lost so much, his best friend, then his wife and child. He was not prepared for 17 year old Belle to turn his provincial life upside down.

Sexual tension and smuttiness ensue as Belle and Hamish navigate the messy path between attraction and genuine affection. No FTL back story. Underage! Kink (but over the age of consent)

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Lachlan x Lacey
Rated Mature

Lachlan is back in California to build a better life and finally be in his daughter's life. He's 6 months sober and really getting his life on track. He cannot afford to heed distractions or temptations. Especially not in the form of his alluring party-girl neighbor, Lacey...