Author's Note: The image above belongs to a fanmade facebook page for Baelfire. The story below is meant to be a bit of lovely fluff and also family angst, showing how Rumple's fitting into his family. Wether he wants to or not. :)
ALSO: I'm not sure if I'm personally happy with this one, so please forgive any mistakes or discrepancies or whatever. It is my first time writing from Emma's point of view and I hope I got her right...so hard to write her without saying, "What the h***!" Lol. Enjoy!
Waken Up, Fall Asleep.
Emma never could get used to wearing dresses like her mother did. Thankfully, they weren't hooped or ridiculously wide and heavy, with several thousand layers of petticoats and bloomers and whatnot. They were actually pleasant and almost practical, hanging limp yet with enough stretch room for her to vault over a fence or ride a horse if she chose to.
The colors were beautiful and she soon remembered why pink looked so good on her. Neal thought so too. Of course, Neal didn't really mind if she went around in breeches with a long sleeved shirt, looking like a stable boy or farmand. Neal was notably relaxed where pretty much all things were concerned.
Now, however, it was early morning. She'd tied an apron on and wore what Regina sniffingly called a 'peasant's skirt' as she cooked breakfast for her family. It was supposed to be Neal's turn in the kitchen, but she hadn't been able to drag his bottom out of bed and, considering that it was his birthday as well, she decided to let it pass for once.
Which didn't mean she wasn't going to take a long broom handle and slowly push him over the edge of the mattress until he fell to the floor with a heavy thump if he did't get up before noon. The family was coming over for lunch. And by the family she meant that human storm of interrelated, vastly emotional, intensely complex people who couldn't stop arguing and fighting if they were sealed in a cave without oxygen and left to die.
Certainly, Rumplestiltskin's fireballs would hit Hook before suffocation did, and maybe Regina's reformation would go out the window as the Imp made a jab about her mother. Snow would scream for everyone to stop fighting while David tried to get her to stop screaming and Emma, being the saviour, would rescue them all by drilling a hole through the rock wall with her constant head-banging. Neal would probably sleep through the whole thing.
That unpleasant, if exagerated, image seemed far too real as Emma heard a voice echoe through the castle, announcing the arrival of guests. "Rumplestiltskin and Lady Belle." The former Dark One needed no title.
Emma shook her head with a sigh. They were way too early. Just remembering to pull her apron off and toss it a little too closely to the fire, she went out to the parlor, pulling down the sleeves of her blouse.
As she came in, she heard Belle's ever-free laughter. The woman who had tamed the Dark One was trying to lower herself to a sofa, heavy with her seven-month-old child. A little girl, Rumplestiltskin told them. He was adamant that she would look just like Belle, with chestnut curls and big blue eyes. Belle, however, said it would have Rumple's hair, not as rich in color as Belle's, but far, far softer. A pink, chubby little baby for the Charmings to coo over and Neal to practice his parenting skills on whenever her family could steal it from under the Dark One's nose. A baby that, oddly enough, would be Emma's sister in law.
Yeah, Emma was fine with that.
Rumplestiltskin clutched his cane tightly with one hand, using it to half support himself as he tried to help Belle get comfortable, leaning over dangerously as she finally settled into the cushions with a creak. He pushed a large pillow behind her back for support, asking her in the meantime a million questions, "is that alright? Is that comfortable? Would you like anything? How do you feel?"
Belle took it extremely well. She told him to stop fussing. When that proved futile, she just laughed. In the same position, Emma thought, she would be biting off heads. Belle looked up and, seeing her, smiled. Rather than call her 'step-mother-in-law' or even 'mom', which would be weird, Emma settled on calling her Belle.
Back when she first knew Gold's girlfriend in Storybrooke, she had to admit she didn't admire her. She was confused by her devotion to the man and, at the same time, pitied her for it. She knew what it was like to be used and ruined by your boyfriend…even if he did come back ten years later, penitent and willing to sacrifice everything to sustain what little remained of your heart.
In fact, Emma even kept tabs on Belle at first. But, except for the occasional danger from Rumplestiltskin's enemies, it didn't seem like the little librarian suffered from the relationship at all, except the damage her own heart inflicted on her when Rumplestiltskin toyed with words and people, as she so aptly put it.
Apart from the whole Impish thing and the dark magic and the scales, it really was like Beauty and the Beast. Emma had never exactly loved that fairytale as some children did, preferring more explosive women-heroes like Mulan or Ariel or Jasmine…but to be fair, a part of her had always admired Disney-Belle.
And now a part of her would always admire the Belle who sat before her, heavily pregnant with the child of the 'Beast', being fawned over by said Beast and laughing at it, thoroughly enjoying it, loving it even.
No one knew exactly how terrible and hard their road had been together, but anyone with half an eye could guess. And Emma knew in every inch of her gut that Belle deserved this happy ending. It was Rumplestiltskin who didn't deserve her.
And yet, she thought, glancing at the man as he fondled his wife's curls, his brown eyes intense on her swollen stomach where his precious child rested…after all she'd seen of Rumplestiltskin, the discovery of how long and how hard he'd loved his son and True Love and even come to love his grandson, after she'd seen him painfully pull himself out of that dark pit of his soul and baptize it with fire and courage, blood and tears, to save the ones he loved and, through this, save himself…maybe the price wasn't as easy to pay as everyone presumed when they saw the two, the gorgeous young girl and the tired, crippled man, striding arm in arm together, laughing and smiling in the sunlight.
Belle interrupted Emma's long, long thoughts. "I'm sorry, Emma…I know we're early. It's just that…" she stroked her baby bump, "Auriel woke me up early and," she laughed, "There goes any chance of sleep. I know we're invited for lunch but Bae did say drop by any time."
At those words, Rumplestiltskin took a sudden, deep breath, like a man stirred from his own thoughts. He glanced around the room and through the doorways until his darting brown eyes finally came to rest on Emma's face. "Speaking of Bae, where is he?"
Emma rolled her eyes heavenwards without meaning to. Neal's habits had been pardonable when they were a young couple on the road, but now they were becoming a regular problem. "Still in bed."
She could have sworn she saw the corner of Rumplestiltskin's mouth curl up ever so slightly in that clever smile of his. She frowned, watching him suspiciously.
Belle continued, "and Henry? Is he an early riser?"
Emma looked away from the strange challenge in Rumplestiltskin's eyes. "Yes, thank Regina. One of the good things that came from her upbringing." One of many good things, actually, although it was sometimes hard to admit it, even to herself. She suddenly noticed the thick leather bag that Rumplestiltskin had dropped onto the pillows under Belle's left arm. "Lemme guess…another book."
There was one characteristic Henry shared with Belle, completely independent of practically everyone else. An intense love of books. Which was yet another odd thing, considering they were pretty much the least related in the family. But it was a point Henry and his grandmother could bond over, and for that, Emma was grateful. She was grateful that her son had a huge, loving, albeit insane family, when she'd had practically no one for the first twenty years of her life.
Belle pulled out a book with a dull, blue cover embossed with gold lettering. It was an inch thick at the binder and, although the pages were yellowed, they were neat and clean; either they weren't read very often or they were very well cared for. And if Emma knew anything about her step-mother-in-law, it was the latter. Belle opened the book and began leafing gracefully through the pages.
After a second, she stopped and drew her finger down an illustration that was bright with color. "It's a beautiful story, really. It's called the Happy Prince and it shows how a true prince should rule…with kindness and generosity and self-sacrifice. The prince spends his whole life never thinking of others, never even knowing! Then he's turned into a great big golden statue that stands guard over the town and he begins to see all the misery he's left behind. There's this little bird, a sparrow…"
Emma grinned in spite of herself, holding her hands out to stem the tide of words. Was it her imagination, or did Rumplestiltskin smile again? "I trust you," she laughed, her face the picture of mock concern, "I'll go out and get him."
Belle smiled, not hurt in the least by what she knew was a clumsy retreat. She suddenly reached behind and snatched Rumplestiltskin's sleeve, pushing him forward. "And you," she told her astonished husband, "go with her."
Rumplestiltskin had let his adorable wife chat away with the host, a classic technique among people who couldn't trust themselves to speak nicely, or at least, didn't want to bother when they could just stare at the bump where their baby was waiting. Now, however, he started to protest, "But Belle…"
"Is not going to be smothered by you," Belle scolded him, unsoftened by his devotion and probably guessing the reason for his silence, "now go out and see your grandson. You know, the one you left me in Storybrooke and nearly got killed for? Then you send him right to be. Shouldn't be too long."
However, Emma noticed, she let him get the last word.
"With books?" Rumplestiltskin growled snarkily, "Oh, I'm sure you won't be long. I'll just walk around the castle ten or twenty times, maybe get eaten too, before you miss me. Or maybe you'll write a book about that too."
Belle wrinkled her nose playfully, pretending to look fierce as she swung her arm back with the intention to throw her book at him.
Emma couldn't help smiling as she and Rumplestiltskin went out the door, the energy and playfullness from Belle still working its magic on the Dark One like a touch of spring.
But as they actually began walking down the garden path together, an akward silence settled. Emma dutifully tried to break it. "So, Belle looks…healthy." She winced inwardly, quickly adding, "and happy."
"Well, I do hope so," Rumplestiltskin breathed, glancing back towards the parlor windows with that strange glimmer of self-doubt. Emma had seen that look on his face before, and for some reason, it never failed to surprise her. It always appeared when he was speaking to or about his loved ones.
"Glad to hear it," she replied softly, keeping her thoughts to herself.
Their walk relapsed into silence again. Emma had a feeling Rumplestiltskin was quite comfortable with it staying that way and so would she, if she didn't feel like they really should say something to each other, to at least act like they were family. After all, the guy wasn't just her father in law. He'd known her since before she was even a baby, made a great and woundrous prophecy centered on her and even had a hand in bringing her parents together. Which was all really weird and pretty creepy but, like most things these days, Emma just accepted it and moved on.
Suddenly, to her surprise, Rumplestiltskin broke the silence himself, his soft, lilting accent deepening with the memories glowing in his brown eyes. "You know," they both slowed down automatically, "if you roll Bae onto his left side and shake his arm a little, he'll wake right up. Especially if you tell him how the morning looks and how hot the sun is and warn him about all the wonderful things you'll be doing that day."
What? Trying to figure out how their non-existant conversation had turned into this, Emma gave him an incredulous look, stepping sideways slightly and putting distance between them. "Can't I just use water?"
Rumplestiltskin was still looking steadfastly at the ground, watching where he put his lame foot. A ghost of a smile pulled at his face again. "No. I tried that once. He just kept on snoring…sort of gurgling it up his nose."
Emma huffed with what was almost laughter, shaking her head. "You're kidding. You've got to be." She stopped suddenly and the older man anchored his cane before turning to look at her with a face that was stone serious. "You don't kid," Emma realized, "Is it true?"
Rumplestiltskin merely shrugged. "The magic of Morpheus is a powerful thing. Did I never tell you how Bae was almost stolen away to the land of Nod?"
Emma didn't feel like laughing at all now. "Okay. Now's the part where you tell me that you wrote Henry's storybook and besides being a manipulative mastermind you're also a brilliant writer with a flair for more than just dramatics."
Rumplestiltskin raised his eyebrows; she couldn't tell wether he was offended or not. "Regretfully, no. Bae's a sleepy head for a reason. I can't tell you how many times I've had to whisper, 'waken up' in the early hours of the morning, when the dawn sky was flowing red, peeking through the window slats." He didn't tell her why it was red.
"Mom!"
Emma was saved from a reply by Henry's greeting. She turned and saw his legs dangling from a tree. The rest of him followed and her heart jumped as he fell clumsily to the leafy lawn below. A split second later, he leapt up, unharmed, and started racing towards them. Swallowing her initial panic, she waved distractedly at him, her mind still on what Rumplestiltskin had told her, that tiny glimpse into the morning ritual of a poor spinster and his boy, half an age ago.
It made her realize just how lucky that woman inside the house really was…how safe, happy, and loved that fat, pink little baby was going to be. She risked a sideways glance at Rumplestiltskin and saw, to her satisfaction, that the mask had been dropped. As the grandfather watched his grandson, affection shone from that expressive face.
Emma smiled knowingly. "So, turn him on his left side?"
Rumplestiltskin waved as Henry came pounding up the walkway, and Emma realized… he was smiling too."Shake hard and 'waken up'."