Belle French, a tiny and no-nonsense woman, is the co-owner of Storybrooke's one and only computer store, Capricorn All IT. She's known for her wolverine-like ferocity when it comes to defending her decisions, especially from the likes of Mr. Gold, her business partner and Storybrooke's resident Lucifer.
Their notorious bickering feeds the town with ample gossips, particularly among its senior citizens. Those cane-wielding gossipmongers would go "Have you heard the commotion coming from the computer store? Gold broke a few printing machines!", "I saw that French girl hurled a small black thing at Gold's head. He had to get stitches!" and so on and so forth. Never mind that Gold accidentally pepper-sprayed himself and hit his head at a table's corner or the fact that it is impossible to inflict fatal wounds with a computer mouse. None of that matters; what matters most is that they have a juicy gossip at their weekly bingo night.
One does wonder how Belle and Gold ended up as co-owners, but it is of no importance in this short tale, what's important is how their regular bickering leads to the town believing Belle is a living and breathing vampire. The tale to this gossip starts like any mundane day. The sun greets the world and spreads its joy in the form of rays of light, kissing every surface visible to the human eye. Being a morning person, Belle hums a tune to start the day and prepares herself mentally. Any sensible person needs to do so when dealing with the prickly cactus that is Mr. Gold—the man's black mood alone takes up half of the store's area.
The petite woman is taking inventory when the town's Lucifer shows up at 9 a.m., sharp as always. She greets him with a beaming smile before handing him a cup of black coffee and a homemade sandwich. He acknowledges her with a stiff nod and a gruff 'thank you' before heading to the store's tiny pantry to have his breakfast. Mr. Gold then takes his station behind a counter, going over their books and checking their emails while Belle makes herself comfortable in her little corner. The clacking and clicking sound of keyboard and mouse fill the little store as Belle troubleshoots a client's computer—the brainless chicken has managed to wipe clean his hard drives—occasionally sipping her hot chocolate.
Capricorn All IT's business proves to be uneventful thus far, with the occasional potential customers browsing through their store and making enquiries. Contrary to what many believe, Belle and Gold are civilised people who can tolerate each other. The only time they rip the other's head off is when they disagree over business plans. On most days, they sparred with words. To an outsider it might look like an intense argument that'll break into a brawl, but to the couple it is a match of wits. They enjoy these little exchanges and see it as a necessity when one lives in a small town such as Storybrooke. That's how the pair preserves their sanity in a town where conversations hardly steer away from mundane topics such as children, marriage, and shallow politics.
"You need to take a break, French," Gold's voice cuts through Belle's concentration. She frowns at the man behind the counter, eyes locked on his monitor. "I'm not going to repeat myself. You'll be a walking disaster if you continue to type aggressively throughout lunch," he continues. "There's no need to deepen that frown; you're already a wrinkly thirty-year-old as it is."
"Oh, shut it, Gold."
"I don't want a repeat of last month. Need I remind you that you're a defective human being when you don't rest?" A balled up paper nearly hits Gold's head. His remark does not fall far from the truth, though: Belle is a walking disaster when she overtaxed herself and he's usually the victim of said catastrophe. He has the bruises to prove it.
"I need to complete this restoration. I promised Gaston to have it fixed by lunch."
"What did that overgrown chicken do this time?" Gold walks to Belle's corner, vainly controlling his twitching lips when she hits her head on the desk. "Didn't you fix his LCD last month?" He stops next to her.
"Gaston managed to accidentally wipe his hard drives. Don't ask me how." Belle violently clicks on her mouse. "Stupid man-boy and his stupid computer," she mumbles and then groans when an error message appears. "I don't understand why this piece of trash is proving difficult to restore." Gold jumps a little when Belle slams her keyboard on the table. "Stupid little shit… just like your owner!"
In the years that Gold has known Belle he can count with one hand the number of times she lost her temper. He has plenty of experiences with her sharp tongue, just not with her wrath. So he's a little out of depth when it comes to dealing with the little hurricane that is Belle French. Logic dictates him to leave the situation lest a mouse finds its way to his head, again. He's about to do that but the unexpected feel of Belle's hand in his halts his movement.
Belle gently squeezes his hand and pulls at him. His body stiffens when she stands too close in her skyscraper heels. He doesn't understand why she likes wearing those man-made torture, a midget will always be a midget. Just like at this moment—she's still a head shorter and still too close. Why is he feeling stuffy all of a sudden? They're near enough that he can smell her hair and count the light freckles spattered across her nose. Why his heart races at these discoveries he knows not, and he's unable to stop the series of questions his mind conjures. Will the freckles come off if he were to run a thumb over them? Are her eyes always this blue? Does she taste as good as she smells? So. Many. Questions.
Wait. Her lips are moving. He thinks she's apologising... something about a paper ball? And why is she looking at him funny? There she goes again, rapidly moving her lips. He wants her to stop talking. A touch of his finger on them does exactly that.
The touch burns through him. With mere inches separating them, he can see a tinge of green in her eyes. Puffs of breath escape her partially parted lips, warming the air between them. In the darkness of his room, he secretly dreams of kissing those luscious lips. Swallowing the lump in his throat he searches her eyes for permission. They darken in reply and he believes he has found heaven in them.
When their lips touch he lets out a whimper.
"I'm a walking disaster," she whispers between kisses.
When she bites his lower lip he growls.
"Then be my disaster," he moans and gives her tongue entrance.
When she caresses his teeth he faints.
Gaston, who walks into the scene of a fainting Gold, alerts everyone of the incident. As expected, the half-deaf senior citizens misconstrued the tale and that's how the rumour that Belle French is a vampire spreads amongst Storybrooke's residents. It is a preposterous story yet some of the town's population believes it. Gold on the other hand suffers a week of Belle's teasing. Who passes out from a mere kiss? Then again, it was the most pleasurable kiss he has had and every one after that just gets better. Thank the heavens he doesn't pass out from any more kisses… except the other night, but that's private. As embarrassing as it was, he's glad everything turns out all right at the end. There's no 'seasons change, tears fall' angst nonsense in the growth of their relationship. If Belle is not the determined little hurricane that she is, he's certain their journey will be a story full of manpain and torment.