Dear mrs. Gold

No, no, that was all wrong. She'd signed off as Belle French, so as much as he wanted to, he could not address her as mrs. Gold. He pressed down on the backspace key angrily, wiping his progress.

Dear ms. French,

He bit his lips and squeezed his eyes shut before continuing. God, he missed her.

I can see you're clever. I don't have any knowledge of the language you have asked me to translate, but I do see that it has Celtic and Nordic influences. I have included a suggested translation in this e-mail, I do hope it is to your satisfaction.

Should you ever find yourself coming across anything similar to this in the future, please do not hesitate to contact. I would gladly assist you again.

All the best,

Dr. Nicholas Rush, PhD

He sat back, running his hand over his face. This was madness. Without looking, he pushed the send button. Now he couldn't turn back.

He needed to get back to her, though, and this was the first step. He really needed her food, as well. This ramen Ursula was giving him really wasn't enough to keep him sustained. Not that he hadn't had it before, there had been plenty of rushed dinners. Day in, day out, though, that was too much. He poked the noodles with his fork. He really wasn't craving the food, but he needed to eat. With a sigh, he set his fork aside, thinking back to his dinners with Belle. She hadn't known how to boil an egg when he first set her to cook in the Dark Castle, but by the time they got separated she'd been making him three course meals. She was a miracle in the kitchen. Pancakes for breakfast, delicious salads for lunch, and her pasta... The one thing she didn't do well, though, was keep the kitchen clean. There was always flour all over the counters, sauce on the floor... Not that he didn't love it that way. He truly loved coming home to a messy house. That meant it was loved, lived in. He'd needed that.

Plus, Belle looked amazing in an apron with her hair in a messy bun.

Honestly, coming home to that sight was the best thing that had ever happened to him. She'd tell him she loved him as he walked in the door, pull him close, kiss him deeply and leave flour all over his expensive suits. And he loved her for it. They'd let dinner go cold plenty of times, taking a while to thoroughly enjoy each other.

A stir in his pants brought him back to the real world with a start. God fucking damnit, he couldn't even think about Belle without getting hard these days. He sighed, looking down on the cup of ramen that was going cold in front of him. ''Fuck you.'' He hissed at the offending noodles.

Surprisingly satisfied, he let his mind wander again. He needed to remember Belle, what they used to be, if he wanted to ever get back to her and win her over again. He needed to know what he'd done to make her laugh, how she'd always held his hand while her nose was buried in a book as he watched tv, what touches made her scream his name in pleasure. There was one spot just below her ear that made her moan when he sucked on it, and he knew that if he let his fingers ghost over her stomach she'd be pulling him close within seconds, no matter the time or place. He remembered every bump, every scar, every inch of her body because he loved it all. He had make love to it all, he thought with a smirk.

He absent-mindedly undid his belt, giving himself some much-needed space, as he remembered the last time they'd been together. It hadn't been that long, but it felt like forever ago. She was angry at him, probably for keeping a secret from her because that's how he always fucked up. One second they had been shouting, the next she had pushed him down on the couch. God, she was beautiful. There had been fire in her eyes and she'd all but attacked his lips. Soon, he was out of breath and practically begging for more. Grinning, he remembered how she'd undressed him, taking his cock in her hand. He wrapped his own around it now, trying to feel the touch of her delicate, soft hands on his dick instead of his rough, old ones. Heat pooled in his abdomen as he pumped his hand up and down along with her voice in his head. Mine, mine, mine, mine, she'd muttered determinedly between kisses. She'd bitten his lip, scraping her nails along his stomach as he moaned.

He needed to get back to Storybrooke, he thought as he neared his climax. He needed to get away from the apartment that smelled faintly of fish, from the sad wanking and, most importantly, he needed to get away from the fucking noodles. He stared at the brightly-coloured cup in front of him, anger building in time with pleasure.

And then it hit him.

He could ruin this cup. Even if it was pathetic and disgusting, he could make his mark on this cup, for lack of a better place to spill himself. He stood up awkwardly, angling his hips and the cup to make sure the noodles would catch his orgasm. He closed his eyes, pulling the picture of Belle in front of him, panting as he neared his climax.

He imagined her tongue on his tip, and it was enough to make him come undone. He groaned as he spilled himself into the cup, not aware of the opening door.

''JESUS CHRIST RUMPLESTILTSKIN!'' Ursula screeched as she entered the room.

He let out a sharp breath, waves of pleasure still washing over him. He didn't dare look at her when he finally stilled. He was sure he looked absolutely ridiculous, staring at the cup of freshly ruined noodles with his newly-limp dick hanging out of his trousers.

''God damnit, would you put that thing away?'' Ursula spat. Rumple quickly tucked himself into his trousers, dropping back into his chair. ''I'm someone's daughter too, you know? I should not be subject to this torture.''

Rumple stared at the computer screen, dejected and slightly humiliated. This couldn't happen again. Ursula sighed, dropping her bag on the table. ''I work all day and this is my reward. It's about bloody time...'' She walked around, spotting the ramen. ''I WAS GOING TO EAT THAT FOR DINNER!''

Yes, he definitely needed to get back to Belle.