Sparkle
A Rumbelle fanfic
A/N: I'm writing this as a present for an old friend and also because after I saw episode 5 in season two with the necklace I was rather disappointed there wasn't more to it than just a dream. So this is my wish fulfilled.
"Close your eyes, dearie, I have a surprise for you," Mr. Gold told Belle, his wife of just a few months.
"A surprise? For what, Rumple?" she queried, puzzled. "What's the occasion?"
"The occasion is us," he replied. "No peeking now!"
Belle obediently shut her eyes, wondering what on earth he was up to. She had discovered after just a few weeks of being married that her husband loved surprising her, sometimes with things, or other times with activities, some of which they did alone, as a couple, or sometimes with their ten-year-old daughter, Alina.
She felt Rumple's hands on her neck, gently touching and fastening something around it.
"Okay, you can open them," he said, smiling.
Belle did, and immediately gasped as she looked into the beveled glass mirror in their bedroom. Around her neck was a gorgeous diamond necklace, sparkling like ten thousand stars fallen from the heavens. She didn't even want to know what this had cost him, it was the most amazing piece she'd ever seen, even counting when she had been a princess of Avonlea back in Fairy Tale Land. Its setting was white gold, and no mere straight line of center cut diamonds, but an ornate piece with a double strand of oval shaped diamonds and a beautiful shaped triple tiered teardrop in the center.
"Oh! It's a beautiful necklace!" she exclaimed. "Rum, you shouldn't have!"
"Of course I should," he answered. "I know things have been . . . difficult for you lately, Belle, and I just wanted . . . to make you smile again. Besides, I never really gave you an engagement gift or a wedding gift so . . ."
"Rumple, you don't have to give me anything!" she protested, putting her hand on the necklace. "This is . . . it's the most beautiful necklace I've ever seen, even back in our old world. Where did you get it?"
"It came from an antique jeweler in New York. I believe this was, at one time, part of the crown jewels of the Russian czarina Alexandra. Some of them were smuggled out of Moscow before it fell to the Red Army way back when. And he ended up with this piece. When I saw it, he emailed me a picture, I knew I had to have it. It's as lovely as you, my sweet, gorgeous, Belle."
She just stared at the fortune around her neck, then whispered, "It sparkles like crazy."
"I know. Do you like it?" now he sounded uncertain, as if he feared her rejection of his gift.
"Rumple, I love it," she reassured him, turning around and kissing him. "Because you gave it to me."
He kissed her back, glad he had made her happy. Her happiness was one of the most important things in the world to him. "I thought that we could also celebrate by going out somewhere to eat here tonight and maybe seeing some of the nightlife, though don't get your hopes up, there's not much of it in Storybrooke."
"I'll enjoy it just because you're with me," she said. "But . . . what about Alina? And how can I go out with out my . . . umm . . . wig?"
"Alice and Jeff have agreed to take Alina and Henry to see a movie, I forget what it's called, something about half-angel hunters and demons, and forget the wig, dearie, we're going to dye your hair."
"Rumple! What do you mean?"
"What I said. Don't worry. Alina told me it was easy. A three-year-old could do it," he reassured her. "See? Here's the color, something called Auburn Rose Sunset. It'll make your hair a bit lighter and where we're going, no one should recognize you, since it's a rather pricy restaurant." He held out a box of Clairol hair dye.
"Rumple, are you sure?"
"What, don't you trust your husband, dearie?"
"Of course I do . . . it's just . . . you're a sorcerer, not a hair dresser."
"I tried it on Alina first, and it came out okay. She has practically the same shade of hair as you do, so it should be fine, sweetheart," he said, then he gently unfastened the necklace. "Here's one of my old T-shirts, and here's one of those capes they use at the barber's. Now we just have to wash your hair."
"Okay, Rum. I trust you with my heart, I guess I can with my hair. Just don't make me bald!"
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
An hour and a half later, Belle was sitting at her vanity, as Rumple gently combed her now reddish locks and blowdried them. Finally after ten minutes, he lowered his brush and whipped off her cape, saying, "Voila, dearie! Look, it's a new you!"
Belle looked and smiled. "Oh! I almost . . . don't recognize myself. This . . . it makes me look . . . somehow softer . . ."
"Like a Boticelli Venus," he crooned, coming up behind her and kissing her neck, his brown eyes alight with desire.
"In your T-shirt?" she teased, half-turning around so her lips met his.
"I think you look very sexy in my shirt," he smirked, once he could talk again.
"Maybe we should just stay home," she suggested.
"Not after all my hard work! Besides, don't you want to get all dressed up and go out wearing my gift?" he asked, sounding like a little boy told Christmas was going to be late that year.
She gazed into his eyes, which sparkled with love for her, and smiled. "All right. Let's go. Wherever we're going. What should I wear?"
"Something that'll match my suit. Want me to pick it out?"
She giggled. "Why not? God, you must have gotten plenty of practice on Alina, my brilliant spinner."
"I did . . . sort of. Actually, I liked clothes shopping more than she did when she was little," Rumple admitted. "The fabrics and styles here are so amazing and well, sometimes I got a little carried away."
Belle could just imagine how carried away the former spinner and weaver had gotten, given the choices that were available in this land. "Go ahead, Rumple. Have a ball."
Smiling, he threw open her closet door.
Ten minutes later, Belle found herself wearing a classy dress of midnight blue silk dusted with mini silver sparkles and matching heels. Her hair was partially caught up in a barrette that was shaped like a rose and glittered madly with sapphires and diamonds. The dress had a delicate bodice shaped like a heart and long elegant sleeves.
Belle twirled about in front of the mirror. "I feel like a goddess!"
"You are. Mine," he said, giving her a slight bow.
He was dressed in a smart Armani silk suit of pearl gray and his shirt was midnight blue silk. His tie was silver and blue striped, and set off the shirt to perfection. He wore a diamond tie pin in it, and his shoes were Gucci black leather. In one hand he held his gold handled cane.
"Come, sweetheart. Time to have some fun."
Belle smiled, feeling almost like a schoolgirl on her first date, and took his hand in hers.
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
Gold took her to The Enchanted Rose, an upscale restaurant in Storybrooke, in fact it was the only upscale restaurant in town. A fact he knew perfectly well, and arranged a private corner table for them, with a beautiful dozen red roses waiting on the table for them when they arrived, and two glasses of Moscato d'Asti also.
Gold pulled out her chair and held it for her, and then seated himself across from her. He picked up his glass of sweet white wine and clinked it to hers. "Here's to us, dearie. Married three months and we haven't killed each other yet."
Laughing, Belle clinked her glass, and said, "I'd sooner kiss you than kill you, love. Here's to tonight, and many more just like it." Then she drank, feeling the Moscato flow down her throat like honeyed fire, icy sweet with a slight bite at the end. Rather like Rumple when he made love to her, she thought wickedly.
"My thoughts exactly," he purred. He took the menu and perused it leisurely. "Want to share an appetizer?"
Belle frowned. "What's that?" Living in an asylum for twenty-eight years had hardly prepared her for dining out in style.
"It's the course you eat before dinner," he answered. "We could get the shrimp scampi on toast points, or the mussels d'oro with white wine and garlic with pita bread for dipping, I hear the sauce on this one is fabulous."
"You mean, you don't know?" she asked, surprised.
"I've never had much reason to eat here, dearie. Until you returned to me, Alina and I usually ate home, there's not much call to go to a restaurant like this with a ten-year-old. Hamburgers, fries, and sundaes at Grannys are more her style."
"Let's get both, and we can share with each other," Belle said.
"All right."
So that was what they did, with Belle having the shrimp scampi and Gold the mussels, and they were both divine. Then came a lovely salad with Greek dressing and Kalamata olives and some crispy rolls with olive oil and spices to dip them in.
"I'm almost too full to have dinner," Belle said.
"Aww, come on. You have to have something. How about the veal saltimboucca with fettucini and some steamed broccoli?" Gold suggested.
"Hmm. Or how about this one? Bourbon glazed salmon on a cedar plank with almond rice pilaf and braised asparagus tips?"
"Sounds divine. Choose whatever you like."
In the end, Belle went with the salmon and Rumple with the veal, and they spent half the dinner feeding each other bits from their plates, drinking more Moscato, and enjoying themselves thoroughly. The food was excellent, though Belle said nothing could compare to Alice's.
"The chefs here are gourmet trained," Gold stated. "Alice is a magician."
"And we're so lucky to have her with us," Belle said sincerely. "I'm so happy she's found Jeff and once the curse breaks, she'll have Grace with her as well."
"And they'll all be one big happy family. And so will we," her husband said. "As soon as I win the custody hearing for Emma and Bae with Henry."
"I know you can do it, Rumple," Belle told him, her eyes shining.
"I certainly hope so, dearie. I'd hate to disappoint everyone by letting Regina win."
"You won't. I have faith in you."
"Thank goodness for that," he said, then asked, "Want dessert?"
"After eating all that? You'll have to cut me out of my dress!"
"Hmm . . . could be very interesting, dearie," he said with a wicked smirk.
"Rumple!" she mock-scolded. "We're in public!"
"I doubt anyone overheard and if they did . . . oh, well . . . let them dream."
When the check came, he paid it with his Platinum Master Card, and then he escorted his wife out, walking proudly beside her, and smiling slightly at the murmurs that accompanied them as they caught sight of Belle in her midnight blue silk with the necklace sparkling about her slender throat.
My beautiful Belle. I'm going to make this a night to remember.
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
They stopped at all the usual places in Storybrooke that people normally hung out, like the Rabbit Hole and Dark Hearts nightclub, but both of them found the atmosphere not convivial to their taste. "You want to get out of here, Belle?" Gold asked her over the thumping bass called music these days.
She nodded, hardly able to hear herself think over the volume coming from the stereo.
"Okay, sweetheart. Let's get in the car and go someplace more private," he said, and led her outside.
"Where are you taking me, Rumple?"
"You'll see. Someplace you've never been yet," he said mysteriously.
"There are a lot of places I've never been," she said.
"Just wait and see."
"You and your surprises," she tilted her head and smiled at him.
"I like surprises. Especially ones that make you smile," he returned.
He drove steadily through the night and Belle almost fell asleep in the Cadillac, it was so comfy, with its heated seats and the radio softly playing In Her Eyes by Josh Groban.
But then they arrived at the small cabin in the woods.
Gold helped her out of the car, and for a moment, they both stood staring up at the sky, which was a brilliant deep cobalt blue glowing with stars, like midnight set afire.
"So beautiful," Belle whispered. "It's as if it was made just for us."
"It's as beautiful as my wife," Gold whispered, his breath caressing her throat, sending tingles down her spine. "And I am, without a doubt, the luckiest man on earth tonight."
"And so am I," she said, and then took his hand, allowing her to lead her inside the cabin he often used for vacations with their daughter.
Inside she found it was a charming blend of rustic and modern, and he led her to a seat on the sofa while he started a fire in the old fireplace and turned up the CD player, which had several romantic songs in it, like Dean Martin's Return to Me, Elvis's Love Me Tender, Celine Dione's The Power of Love, Kelly Clarkson's Beautiful Disaster and Back to December, Surrender to Me by Richard Marx, Send Her My Love and Open Arms by Journey,and Somewhere Only We Know by Keane.
As the music played, Gold coaxed the fire to a crackling leaping new life, then said, "Be right back, love. I need to get something from the kitchen."
Belle gave him a rather sleepy smile, thinking how pleasant it was to just lie here on the brown suede couch and stare into the fire. She toed off her heels and curled her feet under her and allowed herself to be swept away by the music.
Soon Rumple returned with a bottle of chilled Moscato and two glasses, as well as a plate of chocolate covered strawberries.
"Rumple, did you plan this all along?" Belle asked upon seeing the wine and strawberries.
"Um . . . sort of. It was a contingency plan," he admitted. He set the tray with the fruit and wine on a table. "Just in case we . . . uh . . . struck out at the other places."
"I'm glad you did," she said, pulling him down to sit beside her.
"Me too," he said huskily, then reached for a strawberry and fed it to her.
"Mmm!" she said, as the delectable taste burst upon her tongue. "My turn!"
She plucked a strawberry from the plate and fed it to him.
He nibbled her fingers, making her giggle.
"You taste sweet as sugar," he purred, his eyes twinkling.
"You wretched beast!"
"Do you love me then, dearie?"
"Forever and always," she replied, and captured his mouth with hers.
The kiss lasted but a minute or so, but it felt like an eternity, one long blissful moment of eternal harmony.
When they drew apart at last, Belle said, "You know, I'm kind of thirsty."
"Well, there's the wine," Rumple said, gesturing.
"I've had more wine tonight than I usually do," she admitted.
"So have some more. Who cares?"
She poured herself a glass, and then him as well.
They drank, eyeing each other over the rims of their glasses.
Half-an-hour later, they were giddy and giggling and the bottle was gone and a second was halfway there.
"Oh God! I think I'm drunk, Rumple!"
"You know . . . I think I am too," he remarked, giving her a silly smile. He rose, a bit unsteadily. "Shall we dance?"
"Uh . . . if you're sure you can?" she said, somewhat uncertainly.
"Sure I can. This is the only way you'll ever get me to, when we're alone like this," he said, and she took his hand.
The next thing she knew, she was in his arms and he was twirling her gently to the music.
She clung to him, gazing into his beloved face, and said, "This . . . is a magical night, Rumple."
"Every night's magical with you, sweetheart."
"I love you, sorcerer mine."
"I love you more, my brave beauty."
"No, I do."
"No, me."
They fell on the couch, laughing.
"We sound like a pair of five-year-olds," Belle snickered.
"So what?" Rumple said, and playfully tickled her bare foot.
She yelped and returned the favor, tickling his ribs.
Soon the tickling turned to something much more heated and passionate, and soon they were almost undressed on the couch, with pieces of his clothing strewn all over the floor and her dress hanging off the arm.
He began to kiss her slowly, leaving a trail of fire from her collarbone down to her chest, until she gasped in ecstasy and pulled him to her by his tie, which was almost all he had on by then.
"Rumple," she whispered his name as if it could conjure him, her voice soft with desire.
"Belle," he returned, his eyes nearly amber with passion.
"Love me."
"I already do," he grinned.
"You know what I mean!" she wound herself about him.
"Your wish is my command, dearie," he said, then he kissed her again, his fingers dancing across her shoulders, as he proceeded to show her just how much he cherished her and always would. Now. Forever. Always.
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
Much later, they lay entwined in each other's arms, her head resting on his shoulder, his face buried in her hair, while the fire slowly burned down to embers and lit the room with a faint coppery glow. It glanced off the empty bottles of Moscato, the silver tray, the empty glasses, and Belle's necklace, which sparkled from within, glowing and burning like a celestial Aurora Borealis, a silent testimony to true love redeemed.
In his sleep, Rumplestiltskin Gold caressed the necklace and then hugged Belle close. It had been, indeed, a night to remember.