The Spinner (TimeLord!Rumpel and Companion!Belle for gingerwhovianrobobtskeleton)
This was originally an ask fic that I wrote for gingerwhovianrobobtskeleton on tumblr, dropping it in her ask box in little instalments. Here it is all together. Enjoy! :)
The Spinner released the time-thread allowing them to travel through the streams to anywhere and anything, touching down in Belle's home. She exhaled with a woosh, smiling the largest smile he'd ever seen. Both hearts stuttered at the sight. "That was perfect," she murmured, "Thank you for the trip." The Spinner smiled, fingers fluttering, and released her. "Off you go," he trilled, "To your little human life." Belle caught his hand. "Will I ever see you again?" He stared. "Would you like to?"
Belle smiled at the ostentatious timelord, holding his mottled hand tightly, "Of course I want to see you again, Spinner," she assured, shyly, "I've never felt like this before, traveling the time streams with you…" she swallowed and released his hand, looking down sadly, "I'd never even left Storybrooke." The Spinner grinned, "So, little lamb, you'd like to travel time and space with a monster?" he trilled, hiding his pleasure with waving hands. Belle glared, unflinching eyes fixed on his, "Yes."
The Spinner—still a coward, after all these years, all the deaths—jerked his hand and eyes from her, trilling, "Excellent!" with a mad little giggle to hide the fission of happiness in his belly and stuttering of his two hearts. "Although, Dearie," he whispered dramatically, leaning close, "You might want to go to the doctor first. He might question your mental health, running off into time and space with a stranger." Belle shook her head, laughing, "A stranger, but a good man."
The Spinner froze, two hearts beating at an immeasurable rate, eyes locked on hers. She meant it. This little human truly did not believe that he, with his scaly skin and otherworldly manners, was a monster. He'd done monstrous things in front of her, she'd had to stop him, and yet she stands in front of him, impossibly close, staring unflinchingly into his cloudy eyes like she CARES. He consciously resists the urge to look at her lips. "Well, little lamb," he cooes, "That opinion'll change soon."
Belle shook her head, smiling sadly—why was she sad, she was coming with him, he'd show her the wonders of the universe and make her happy—saying "No, it won't. I know you're capable of cruelty, Spinner. I saw it. But you are also capable of kindness. I've seen so much of it since you grasped that time thread and took me into your world." She smiled shyly. "Take me with you and I'll prove it to you."
The Spinner is always on top. He always controls the situation. He always knows what to say and do. So, how can this small, brunette human librarian make him feel so out-of-control? How can she read and understand him so well after such a short time? How can she make him—a time lord who has loved and lost and lived several of her lifetimes—feel so vulnerable? He smiles, sharp around the edges. "Little lamb," he shrills, "If you're begging to enter the slaughterhouse, who am I to argue?"
Belle rolled her eyes. "The threads of time and space are a slaughterhouse now?" she teased. "Oh, do tell, I bow to your experience and expertise!" She laughed at his flabbergasted expression. There she went again, surprising him. Just when he thought he understood her, she went and teased him. No one had teased him in hundreds of years. No one teases the last of the time lords. Except for, apparently, brave, bookish, beautiful brunette humans who should be doing better things with their time.
He blinked at her—this tiny human brave enough to both challenge and tease him—owlishly, comically, trying to regain control of the situation. How can one little librarian both understand and unsettle him so much? Where did she come up with these clever lines? Her stellar vocabulary challenged and intrigued him more and more with each chat. He trilled another laugh to cover his surprise, reaching out for her hand. "Coming, dearie?" he asked, brogue slipping out in his eagerness.
Belle smiles so brightly, The Spinner felt temporarily blinded. She dropped into a teasing—somehow natural—curtsy, taking his hand eagerly with glowing eyes. Adventure suits her. It lives in the crinkles of her eyes, the curve of her lips, the twin blushes on her cheeks. He realizes suddenly, as he tugs the glimmering strand out of the air, that she BELONGS here, with him. He wound the time thread around his finger, grinning down at her as she tucks herself into his side. This is the beginning.
They traverse time and space together, her glossy curls reflecting time stands' golden glow. She grows happier, healthier, stronger, smarter, and more beautiful with each trip. The Spinner loses count of weeks, months, years. They no longer matter. He measures time via sparkles in Belle's eyes, dimples when she smiles & thoughtful furrows in her brow. He knows he's too far gone, completely in love with her, but he can't bring himself to care. She wants to see the universe; he's happy to show her.
He starts to notice the wrinkles around the corners of her eyes & lips deepening and staying after smiles and laughs. Her hair begins to dull. Her cheeks soften. Her height lessens. Belle is aging, and The Spinner doesn't know what to do about it. He could easily freeze her, meddle with the time strands inside her body to stop the clock and make her his forever, but he is afraid to ask. How can he demand eternity from her? …But when her fingers take on a tremor, he swallows his pride and asks.
They look the same age now. They've travelled together for over a decade, and human relationships frequently last shorter than that. The Spinner licks his lips, waiting for her reply. Her brown eyes are soft and open. "Oh, Spinner," Belle replies, voice rough and beautiful, "Of course I want to be with you forever. I love you, silly man." His two hearts stutter in his chest, & he gathers her close for an eager kiss, fingers working the threads inside her body. Today is the beginning of forever.
END
