Disclaimer: Only the plot and any original characters belong to me.

This story is inspired by the prompt "Be Our Guest" for a monthly Rumbelling

And just to make sure everyone gets as much out of this story as possible, if you don't know, "Eating Crow" is an idiom in English which means being proven wrong (usually in a humiliating way) after taking a strong position about something. The title alludes to that and it has a lot to do with the story.

"What's with the long face?" Belle asked as Rumple strode into their house, hung up his coat, and then collapsed on the sofa looking distraught. "You can tell me. Whatever it is, we can work it out."

"Oh, you'll probably think it's ridiculous, so I won't trouble you with it," Rumple told her. "But thank you for offering to listen, anyway."

"It bothers me to see you so troubled," Belle told him. "Please, let me know what's making you look like that."

Rumple sighed. "When I…when I was coming home from the shop, I had the radio on and turned to the program I like that talks about all the good restaurants. You know it?"

"No, but I've heard you talk about it," Belle replied. "Now go on."

"Well, he said…he said that the owner of Ragetti's decided to retire and the place is going to close down in a couple of weeks!" Rumple cried. "Where are we going to go for our romantic dinners if the place we always go to closes down?"

"That is heartbreaking," Belle agreed. "But the man was getting along in years. I don't blame him for wanting to retire. And I'm sure we'll find another place to go and eat." She paused. "That is, if you relax and don't nitpick about everything the second we walk in the door."

"It's not my fault for having standards!" Rumple huffed. "I am not going to lower them just because no one is as fastidious as I am." He paused, a grin spreading over his face as he grabbed Belle's hand and got to his feet. "I just had a marvelous idea. What if I bought Ragetti's? Then we wouldn't lose our dining place and it…it could be the sort of sophisticated eating establishment that should always be around."

"I suppose you could do that," Belle replied. "But it's not as easy to run a restaurant as you think. It's not just putting on a suit, bossing people around, and then raking in the praise on opening night. There's a lot of long days and nights of work to be done. And killing rats and brawling with labor racketeers."

Rumple paused and raised an eyebrow. "What? How do you know we'll have to do that?"

"I'm not saying we will, but it's a possibility," Belle shrugged. "I had an aunt who ran a tea room, and the stories she could tell…" she chuckled.

Rumple shuddered but then straightened up. "Never mind," he replied. "If that happens, we'll deal with it, won't we?"

"Of course we will!" Belle replied. "I really…I really think this could be a good thing. But…do you think you'll be able to handle both the restaurant and the shop?" She came to tug on his tie. "I don't want you overworking yourself. It's not good for you."

"I know it will be a lot of work, but I don't mind," Rumple told her and gave her a hug. "It'll all work out, I promise."

"But first we should probably go and see if Mr. Ragetti is willing to sell," Belle reminded him. "It's all well and good to make plans but they won't mean anything if we don't get the restaurant to begin with."

The next time they went out for dinner, Mr. Ragetti, an older man with slicked back dark hair who always wore tuxes, met them at the door looking troubled. "I have to tell you something," he said as he ushered them to their usual table. "I…I know it will disappoint you because you're my best customers and I relish seeing you every week, but…I am old. And I have decided that I need to sell this place and enjoy my declining years." He shook his head sadly. "The thought of what will happen to the restaurant that I put so much work into for so many years…it hurts my heart, though."

"Actually, that's part of why we came tonight," Rumple replied. "Belle and I have talked it over and I think we have a solution that would benefit everyone."

"Oh?" Ragetti asked and sat down. "What is it?"

"If you're willing, I would like to purchase this place from you," Rumple told him. "Since you want to sell, would you like to sell it to someone you know has an interest in keeping it exactly as it is?"

Ragetti gasped. "Are you serious?" He wanted to know. "Do you mean what you're saying?"

"Yes," Rumple smiled. "We do. We want to help you. So will you sell me this place? Just name your price and I'll pay it!"

Mr. Ragetti wrote down an amount and handed it to Rumple. He looked it over and then they shook hands and made plans to see each other again so the deed could be signed over and the place could eventually be billed as "Under New Management."

Over the next several months, Rumple and Belle spent the time when they weren't at the shop or the library scrubbing up the restaurant and buying new furniture and hiring new staff (only the most skilled and reputable, of course).

"Okay," Belle said as she sat down during a break. "What are we gonna call this place? I assume that you don't want to keep the same name?"

"No, no," Rumple shook his head and snapped his fingers several times. "It has to be welcoming enough to bring people in, but fancy enough that the riff-raff will be intimidated and not come in. What do you think?"

"'Riff-raff'?" Belle asked, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't that a bit elitist? Shouldn't we want as many people to come as possible?"

"And they probably will," Rumple nodded. "It's not like I'm going to put a sign on the door saying that only certain people can come in. I don't think it's wrong to make up a dress code."

"No, that's fine," Belle nodded. "Having a place where you have to dress up is a good thing." She paused. "And what about calling it the Gold Room? That's fancy, right?"

"The Gold Room?" Rumple chewed it over and then said, "I like it." He got up and headed over to the phone. "That's what I'll put on the door and all the menus and things like that. Thank you, Belle."

"You're welcome," Belle replied with a smile.

Finally, it was opening night and Belle and Rumple put on their best clothes. "Look at all the people who are here!" Belle cried as she watched people come in and be seated from a discreet distance. "Did you know that we would have so many people here on opening night?"

"Well, I hoped we would," Rumple replied.

"And can I ask why you ordered so many eels?" Belle questioned. "I know you have your reasons, but I'm curious."

"Because Chef Andre's specialty is Anguilla," Rumple told her. "You know, cooked eel. I'm sure lots of people will order it."

"I hope so," Belle nodded. "There are so many of them swimming about." She shuddered. "Kind of disgusting, really."

Things went well until Rumple and Chef Andre got into an argument about how they wanted the souffles to be presented: Rumple wanted one big soufflé and Chef Andre wanted to put them all into little cups. Then Rumple made the mistake of pulling the 'I'm the boss' card, which infuriated the chef so much that he threw his hat on the floor.

"You think you know so much more about this than me?" He asked, his voice booming, and his mouth invisible under his bushy brown moustache. "Fine. You prepare all the food. Good luck."

"All right, we will!" Rumple shouted after him. "What do we need you for, anyway?"

Just then Belle came in with orders. "We need five orders of eel," she said and then looked up from her clipboard. "And can I ask why I just saw Chef Andre storm out? Did you pick a fight with him, Rumple?"

"No, I didn't," Rumple shook his head. "I simply told him that as his boss, he had to do the souffles the way I wanted him to. I don't see why that's such a difficult thing."

"And now he's quit," Belle sighed. "What do you expect us to do with all those people out there wanting to be fed? We have to do something!"

Then things got worse when the waiters appeared en masse and announced that since Chef Andre was going, so were they.

"No, please stay," Belle begged. "We'll get him back, we promise."

"Oh, don't do that, Belle," Rumple told her. "You shouldn't have to beg. If they don't want to work here, they shouldn't. They can leave if they want to."

And when they were gone, Belle's eyes narrowed and she stomped her foot. "I don't know if you realize what you've just done," she said. "Now we have no chef and no wait staff. What do you suggest we do, since you seem to have an answer for everything?"

"Go out and see if anyone who would be willing to help us out is out there," Rumple instructed. "Then bring them back here."

Belle rolled her eyes, thinking that with Rumple's temper and bad habits, finding someone willing to help him rather than just sit back and revel in his failure would be a tough sell, but eventually she came back with David and Emma.

"All right," David told him and rolled up his sleeves. "I see you've gotten yourself into some trouble, Gold. "What do you need us to do?"

"Miss Swan, you wait tables," Rumple ordered. "We'll get started on the food."

Emma left and David said, "I don't know about this. I've never really cooked before."

"Oh, seriously now!" Rumple huffed. "I'm not asking you to do anything you wouldn't do in your own home. Now for god's sake, kill five eels! And do it promptly."

"Only if you help," David countered and pushed Rumple toward the tank.

Rumple shut his eyes and reached into the eel tank, then let out a cry as he pulled a squirming eel out and almost lost his grip on it. "How the hell am I supposed to kill it?" he cried. "I suppose I could throw something electric into the tank and kill them all at once. That would work."

"Oh, it's not hard!" Belle cried, pulling the eel away from him and smacking it against the counter. "There you go," she said and handed him the limp eel. "It's dead. You think you can do the rest?"

"I suppose," Rumple replied and immediately threw the eel on the counter and washed his hands.

They worked as hard as they could on the eels, but were still behind.

"I'm gonna have to start giving people their checks soon if you guys don't get food out here," Emma grouched. "What is taking you so long? I bet I could do this blindfolded. It would be better than serving a bunch of unpleasant people."

"Fine, queen of the waitresses!" Belle cried and threw her apron at her. "You stay her and cook if you think it's so much easier."

"I will!" Emma replied, "And I'll enjoy it too!"

But as she soon found out, cooking was hard too. She put too much alcohol in some cherries Jubilee, so when she went to light it, it blew up in her face, and then as people got fed up and began to leave, the smoke alarm set off the sprinkler system, soaking the guests from head to toe.

By the time everyone was out of the kitchen, the main dining room was empty of people, and everything was wet and smoky.

"Well, that didn't go well at all," Rumple sighed and sank down into a chair. "Could anyone use a drink? I could."

"Yeah and you'll probably need another one when the reviews of this place get published tomorrow," David told him and put a hand on his arm. "Is this gonna be the end? Or will you keep it going?"

"Well, I don't know if there's a point in keeping it going after this," Rumple replied. "I probably won't get anyone to come back."

"Now, now," Belle comforted him. "I'm sure if you apologized to Chef Andre and promised not to act like such a dictator, between the two of us, I'm sure we could get him to come back."

"You think?" Rumple asked. "That seems optimistic."

"If you want to get your money's worth out of this place, that's what you have to do, though," Emma told him. "Put your pride aside, learn to delegate responsibility and trust that people will do their job right without you having to dictate every detail."

"Do you think you can do that?" David asked him.

"Of course he can," Belle replied and put a hand on his arm. "It might take a little work, but he can do it. I know he can."

"Thanks," Rumple replied. "Thank you, all of you, for trying to help me get through this mess." He paused and Belle helped him up. "Now, who wants a drink before we start to clean this place up?"

"I do," Emma nodded. "A big one."

"Me too," Rumple replied. "I mean, have you ever had to touch a living, squirming eel? It's horrible."

"Not as bad as killing one," Belle remarked. "I'll take a drink."

Emma turned to David. "Dad, you want anything?"

"Just whatever you're having is all right with me," David told her.

Once they had their drinks, David cleared his throat and held up his glass. "To an interesting start and the idea that you can always learn from your mistakes and be the better for it."

"Cheers," they all said as they clinked their glasses, drank their drinks, and then went to get mops, buckets, towels, and wastebaskets to give the place the thorough drying out that it really needed.

The End