Fifty Dates

(2 part fic- this is part 1).

The dates appear out of order because that's how I roll

I will update Between the Lines too at some point

Spoilers 2x04.

Note: When I say 'fifty dates' I don't mean fifty official dates – I also incorporate little moments where they just hang out in general. I don't believe it will actually take anywhere near 50 dates to get Rumbelle living together again on the show lol. These dates continue AFTER Rumbelle have moved in again. T rated for sexual content. Mixture of fluff and angst.

Be honest, I told him. I want to hear it all. I want to know you. I love only you - let me know you.

Over the course of fifty dates he did.

As the wedding vows we eventually spoke foreshadowed: for better or worse.

I know him now, for better or worse.

One.

On our first date we had hamburgers at Granny's. He ordered every sort and I took bites out of each one. I like cheeseburgers the best. I also discovered that I like barbeque sauce. I licked the sauce off my fingers and he gave me a smouldering look.

I smiled back.

Lust and love we never had a problem with. Those we had in abundance. Trust and truth we lacked.

"Tell me about your son. What was he like?"

The lust faded but smouldered somewhere in the background – as it always did when I was with him – and guilt pressed forth.

"He was a good boy," he began. The minutes faded into hours and I learnt all about the boy for whom Storybrooke was born.

Afterwards, under the watchful smirk of Ruby, I leant across the table and pressed a kiss to Rumple's cheek.

We had done more, far more, when I lived with him, but this kiss seemed to make him insurmountably happy.

Later, Ruby told me that she had never seen him smile.

"Really?" I said, "He smiles all the time…"

"Maybe around you," she said.

Two through Six.

On a Monday and a Wednesday we have lunch at Granny's.

People gawk at us. I would have thought he would glare back and threaten. He doesn't. He just stares at me and asks me about my day, about my life, about my friends, about the library, about books, and about my feelings.

It was on one of these Wednesday dates I asked about the rent.

"When do you want the rent?"

He chuckled at me and brushed his fingers over my own.

"You don't pay rent, Belle."

"I was told you …"

He interlinked our fingers and stared at them. "You don't pay rent, Belle," he repeated.

"I feel I should give you something…"

He squeezed my fingers gently in his own. "You do."

Seven

He took me down to the water's edge and we walked along the sand. I had never seen the ocean before. I rambled on about pirate stories and sea adventures and he stared off blankly into the distance.

He hugged me to him with one arm and pressed a kiss to my temple. His lips lingered and his embrace tightened.

"Pirates are real, Belle."

There was a tone in his voice, a darkness that made coldness seep into my veins. He had an untold story there, I could tell.

I knew he wouldn't voice it today though because he held my hands and tugged me away from the water's edge … as if he wanted to tug us both away from his murky past.

I went willingly and even tried to make a few subtle comments about how I wouldn't like a life at sea, or pirates.

He smiled then, but it wasn't a full smile and I wondered what pirate horrors lingered in his tortured history.

Eight through sixteen

On a Monday he helps me open up the library. The first couple of times he apologised for invading my space and awkwardly lingered by the door.

He was trying to keep his distance and allow me room to grow. He wanted to be near me, as I wanted to be near him – but he stayed away unless I called him over.

Nevertheless, I could feel him and see him always. I could see him watching me from across the street as I walked with Ruby; I knew he looked out of his shop window at night when I locked up. I knew he was there –always there – but at a distance.

Distance was proof of his love. Freedom was proof of his love. Selflessness was proof of his love.

Love was never in doubt. That's one thing in the world I can truly rely on: Rumplestiltskin loves me.

Loves me too much perhaps. I never thought such a thing were possible but on a Monday, when he helps me open up, I notice his fingers trembling as he unlocks the door for me and I think that love can be too much at times.

When he leaves I think we are both relieved that we can have a break from all the feelings that war in our hearts.

Three

On our third official date I had dinner at his home. It was our home. Now it's a definitional uncertainty.

It was strange sitting in a kitchen I had briefly thought of as my own and knew would one day be mine again … but for the moment was just his.

Above us was a bedroom we had shared. I had lain in his arms and he had kissed me. I had tasted his tongue and he had caressed my skin with his fingers and lips.

We had never progressed beyond passionate kisses and brave, lingering touches to arms and necks but the need between us had been great.

I had known he wanted more, he wanted all of me, he wanted to consume me and give me his heart and body completely. But he never pushed and in his hesitation my heart swelled for him. He had such enormous capacities for gentleness and patience.

Secrets held me back then. I would lie in our shared bed and know that I couldn't give him my body when he had not given me his trust.

On our third date he told me that his wife was called Milha and that she never loved him. He told me that Bae's first word was 'Papa' and he told me that he had beaten my father half to death.

Although the meal became ash in my mouth I found myself kissing him at the end of the evening, allowing his tongue to slide along my own and for his hands to bury themselves in my hair.

I wasn't rewarding him for the truth, but I felt the barriers between us crumble and thought, for the first time, that I could fully give myself to his man.

Not that night though.

Ruby warned me that sex occurred traditionally on the third date but my love handed me my coat and made it clear that nothing would ever occur until I wanted it.

Seventeen

I stormed out of the restaurant on our seventeenth date. Tears stung at my eyes and my heart burned.

"Sweetheart," he said, rising to his feet – ever the gentleman – as I stood up fiercely. "Let me explain."

"Don't bother," I said, throwing my napkin on the table.

"I do not belong to you. I am not your property and I never was."

He held his hands up desperately trying to stall me and calm me down. "Darling, I apologise, I didn't mean it now it sounded."

I shook my head and took my coat from the helpful waiter who smirked at my lover's disastrous and aborted attempts to reason with me. We were making a scene and it mortified me.

Mr Hopper was sitting at the adjacent table and silently stammered, stuck between wanting to help and yet terrified of interrupting. That only annoyed me further.

"I'm leaving," I said, having fastened up the last button of my coat.

Rumple sighed. "Well, at least we made it to seventeen outings this time. It breaks my heart to watch you go, but you are so good at it."

He spoke with a sharp tongue and instantly regretted it. Mortification spread over his features as his words infiltrated both of our hearts.

He was blaming me for leaving –this time and the last.

"I am leaving the restaurant", I stressed the word. "Don't make it into something it's not. And," I snapped, as I wrapped my scarf around my neck, "I only leave when it's impossible to stay."

Wrath had left him and the familiar swirls of guilt and agony softened his eyes. "Belle, I am sorry, I…"

"Don't," I said, breezing past him. "Come and apologise tomorrow, if you mean it. I need to take a walk."

As I stormed towards the door I heard Archie offer my lover some advice.

"Let her go."

"It's all I ever seem to do," he said.

I imagined that my heart was bleeding in my chest. I walked back to my apartment and felt tears overflow.

Love is hard.

Nine … or Ten

On our ninth date … I think it was nine - Rumplestiltskin tickled me. I giggled so much I dissolved into happy tears on his couch. He banished those tears with the pads of his fingers and told me he wished to make me happy every day of his life.

It was on the ninth date I realised that I was happy, truly happy.

We shared an impassioned kiss against the pillows on the couch and rubbed our noses together like playful teenagers.

I wanted to tell him I loved him but the words seemed a little insufficient.

But when he whispered, "I love you, Belle," against the shell of my ear, I echoed the sentiment back.

Then he drove me home and during the car ride I told him that I was happy.

He said he was too.

We shared a long look and I believe we both silently thought 'Things will work this time'.

Since date nine, I have never doubted it.

Eighteen

Well, I was never going to go back to Ursula's SeaFood Restaurant, ever again. So on our eighteenth date, I made us dinner at my apartment adjoining the library.

Rumple was quiet and I was still smarting over the public argument from the night before.

Our starter and main meals were filled with silence and failed attempts at conversation. By the time I presented our deserts I was feeling emotional and annoyed.

"To clarify," he had said, as I passed him the cream to pour liberally over his chocolate cake, "I did not wish to imply that I owned you, that you are a possession."

I swallowed my mouthful and retorted quickly, "I shall quote back to you your exact words, 'Belle, darling, the reason I do not like that man flirting with you is because you belong to me'." I pointed to my chest, "I do not belong to you. I am with you by choice."

He nodded and put down his spoon, his appetite apparently gone, "Sweetheart, the fact you choose to be with me is a gift and I don't take it for granted - honestly. What I meant to say, and I admit I phrased it badly, is that I consider you to be my …" he paused and desperately searched for a term that wouldn't rankle me, "my…everything. Look," he said, stumbling over his apology, "I belong to you, gladly so. You own my heart and I'm not angry over it."

I snorted ungracefully. "You were," I said, remembering the fateful day at the Dark Castle when he spurned my love.

He sighed and closed his eyes. He was getting angry; I could sense his annoyance crackling in the air like magic sparks. "Dear," I cringed – that was a bad sign, one syllable off 'Dearie' – "I will pay for that mistake forever. I do not need reminding of it. I am well aware of my monstrous actions towards you."

"I didn't say it to be cruel," I said eventually when the bitter silence became too much. "I guess there is still some hurt between us."

"Love hurts," Rumple said, "that's the price of love."

I nodded and was heartened when he took a bite of his chocolate cake.

"Are you really mine?" I asked.

He glanced up at me and simply nodded.

"I'm yours," I promised, "but willingly so."

He nodded again and around a mouthful of cake mumbled something that sounded like an apology.

I took it.

Eleven

Holding his hand in mine I led him up the staircase, sharing shy smiles with him as we slowly moved towards the bedroom. As I stood in the doorway, his hand warm in mine, I saw the bed was unmade and the window was open making the air inside bitterly cold.

"Have you…" I stuttered, looking around the room, seeing my nightgown on the floor where I had dropped it on the day of my abduction, "have you not been in here since I left?"

He looked embarrassed and shook his head, his hand struggling with mine to detangle itself. He wanted to retreat but I held firm.

"Rumplestiltskin, where have you been sleeping?"

He shrugged and my heart broke.

I remembered seeing my chipped teacup on the side table next to the couch and I had my answer. "Are you sleeping on the couch?"

He ignored me and looked at the floor.

I swallowed hard; my arousal had been dampened by the torrid of sadness, guilt and empathy that washed over me. He was so damaged and tragic, my beautiful, struggling man.

"I'll go and shut the window," I said, "then we can have a lay down and get some sleep."

We didn't make love that night. That wasn't to be our first time.

It didn't matter because we both found a forgotten peace just lying in each other's arms.

It was on date eleven I realised just how badly I slept without Rumplestiltskin breathing next to me.

Four.

On our forth date we merely spent a rainy afternoon in the library. Rum was helping me use the computer, a shiny thin rectangle that he had bought me that apparently 'had everything'. It was the best 'Apple Mac' and had a shiny white Apple print on the front. He changed the picture on the screen to one of a forest and it reminded me of home.

I kissed him lightly in thanks and enjoyed the patience he showed when he helped me work it.

During the afternoon, as the rain splattered against the windows, I asked him to show me how to spin.

"Now I have the hang of this, you can show me other things… like… oh….how to spin maybe."

He laughed and brushed a lock of hair out of my face, his fingers lingering against my skin. "A spinner, hmmm? We'll see."

"Did you teach your son and wife?"

He fingers left my face quickly, as if burned. "No."

"I'm sorry." I instantly regretted making him relive the pain of his lost and beloved family. "I just wondered."

He returned his attention to the laptop, pressing quickly at keys, starting a 'database' for me (so I understood). Without taking his eyes off the screen, he said, "I wanted better for Bae. As for… Milha," he hesitated at her name, "she was never one to listen."

I liked that he was opening up and wanted to encourage it. "Was she impatient, like me?"

"She was nothing like you," he said so firmly that I felt jolted by the remark.

"What was she like?"

He frowned, still tapping away at the keys, and then said, "Nothing like you."

I didn't know what that meant but a strange atmosphere lingered around us then. I could sense darkness around us and wondered if his first marriage was as terrible as I was starting to imagine.

"Rum, what happened to your wife, your Milha?"

He scoffed, "She was never mine."

I frowned at the implication and pressed forward. "What happened to her? You said she left?"

His fingers paused briefly and then just as quickly continued to fly over the keyboard. "She died."

"I'm sorry…" I said. And truly I was for he must have cared on some level for the mother of his child. I had always imagined that he loved her but he squashed that thought with one single line:

"She got what she deserved."

"That's a horrible thing to say," I said.

"Doesn't make it less true, love."

I shook my head. I felt cold and stuffed my hands into my pockets. "How did she die?"

He was still looking at the bloody laptop.

"In the arms of her lover."

Nothing could be said in response. I just stared at him and he ignored me.

When the database was completed he squeezed my shoulder before leaving the library and venturing out into the rain.

Twenty

We danced.

My lover made the laptop play music and in the reception area of the library we danced, slow and close. Not quite a waltz and more of a sway. I wrapped my arms around his neck and breathed in the heady scent of him. Momentarily – as we clung to each other – I was transported back to our home in the Enchanted Forest and remembered how intoxicating I found him… even then.

Rumplestiltskin drew me into a kiss that made me melt against his body. We came to a standstill and exchanged deep kisses that soon became filled with primal want. As his desire became apparent he pulled back from me to gaze deeply into my eyes.

"I would pick you up and carry you to the bedroom but I don't believe that will work particularly well."

I glanced at the shuttered windows and smiled impishly up at him. "Why the bedroom?"

It was on date fifteen that my library became ours.

Twenty- eight.

On a Thursday lunchtime I sat in the backroom of his shop sipping tea. My lover had been morose the entire day and seemed incredibly burdened.

"Do you have something you wish to say?" I asked as I breathed in the scent of Earl Grey to calm my nerves.

"I murdered my wife."

He spoke so calmly and so suddenly that it took me a few seconds to comprehend his words and organise them in my mind. When the meaning settled, I gasped audibly and stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Wh… what?"

"Milha," he said, staring into his teacup, "I killed her."

"Accidentally?" When he said nothing I bit my lip and swallowed a tidal wave of sickness that rose within me. "Deliberately?"

He nodded once, a tiny movement, but enough that had been careening away from him. I left the table we were gathered around and stood by the curtain that divided his shop from his personal space and folded my arms around myself.

"What happened?"

"There's not much to say. She left and I killed her."

"Out of revenge?"

He shook his head and I didn't know whether that meant 'yes', 'no' or whether he could even recall.

"Do you regret it?"

He went to speak but I stopped him. "Answer honestly."

"I regret killing my son's mother," he said – oh so very clever with words.

"Why did you do it?"

"Does it matter?"

I closed my eyes, wanting to cry and not sure who was deserving of my tears more – the man, the wife or the son. Maybe myself. Us?

"Belle," he whispered – and his voice was so soft and so loving that it made me burst into tears – "I never loved her like I loved you."

I cried harder, my folded arms squeezing myself tighter.

Wisely, he didn't try to approach me, had sat at the table, warming both hands around the teacup.

"I lost my son, my wife betrayed me and… I killed her. I regret… so much Belle." He took a shuddering breath and I realised then, behind my veil of tears, he was crying too.

"Then I thought you had betrayed me too…but I couldn't hurt you, couldn't touch you, couldn't… I love you so much Belle. I would never hurt you … you can break me however you want but… I'll never hurt you."

I damned him with my eyes. What was he saying to me? That he loved me too much to kill me?

"I love you too much to be that …"

His voice trailed away but I cursed him all the same. "Evil," I supplied and he nodded. The sudden movement of his head causing tears to trickle down his face.

We didn't talk for a twelve days after that. It took a further nine for me to smile again.

To this day I can't express how deeply I feel over this conversation.

We don't speak of Milha – ever.

But I think of her often and wished he could have loved her as much as he loves me… enough to not succumb to the darkness.

Thirty seven

My heart beat staccato in my chest as I rested my body over his and tried to regulate my breathing. Every nerve ending in my body fizzled and buzzed. I smiled against his bare chest and pressed a kiss over his heart.

His left hand made long, sweeping motions up and down my naked back, while his right played with the lengths of my hair.

"I love this," I breathed, almost a whisper.

"I love you," he uttered back quietly, but reverently. "Will you move back?"

"Soon," I promised.

He kissed my hair and I could feel his smile.

Six

On the sixth date I was too sick to venture outside, so in my new, beautifully decorated apartment, I lay in bed and watched cartoons on the television (the television that had magically appeared the day I moved in).

I don't know how he found out I was sick but Rumplestiltskin turned up with medicine and DVD that Ruby had apparently recommended.

I coughed and spluttered all over him as he sat next to me on the bed but he didn't complain.

He made me soup and then when I was sick he held my hair back and pressed a cool, damp cloth to the back of my neck.

I apologised as I sat on the bathroom floor, smelling of vomit and looking like death. He pressed the cool cloth to my forehead and told me it was "No matter".

As I drifted to sleep he mumbled lines from a book and as I faded into slumber I felt him kiss my cheek.

Although he was gone when I woke up, my breakfast was waiting on a tray next to me and he had written on a piece of scrap paper:

'I'll be back at lunch time to make you lunch. I love you, R.'

Part 2 will be up soon. I am still in the course of writing it so if you're quick you can prompt dates or scenarios and I can try and write them in for you.

Please do review if you enjoyed it or have constructive criticism.

Thank you.