The light spilled in from the torn-free curtain, reaching long into the room for the dark corners. She stood in the sunlight, face turned into the heat, letting it wash her in gold and caress each strand of hair in a lighter halo. Rumplestiltskin had stopped spinning, one thread still caught in his fingers. He watched her. The gold in the pile at his feet didn't have anything on pure sunlight.
"Working hard I see," he sneered across at her, "or are you seeking inspiration," he flourished a hand, "over which brush to use?"
Belle smiled without moving away from the sun.
"I'm just…basking a moment."
Now she turned her head, tilted on one side and opened her eyes on him. They were narrowed in amusement at his sarcasm.
"Cats bask dearie," he pointed out, "and I never much cared for cats."
She looked momentarily thoughtful and then giggled. For an instant puzzlement rested on his face before clearing.
"I don't believe I made a joke." It was said very quietly. It was supposed to come out dangerously, but never did with her. She just smiled again and moved to the table to pick up her brush.
"I was just imagining you," she called over her shoulder, "with a cat."
Intrigued now despite himself Rumple turned away from the wheel completely.
"I still fail to see the joke dearie."
Belle paused and looked at him, sitting indignantly in his waistcoat, with amusement.
"Well for one thing," she pointed at his spinning, "I was imagining your face if it got into that."
The pile of threads were given his full attention as he imagined them tangled up and around by an imaginary fluffy creature, sitting regally in the centre of the chaos. Her laughter brought him back.
"That's exactly the face!"
Rumple stood up abruptly and strode away from the wheel.
"I think that's enough basking for one day." He reached Belle's position at the table and placed one hand on the wood and pointed the other at her, inches from her nose.
"I think I need to keep my eye on you dearie, make sure you're doing your job properly. Eh?" he moved the finger back-and-forth but she merely looked beyond it, into his eyes. His chest jolted. Her face took on its amused look, eyes sparkling.
"If that is supposed to be some sort of punishment," she spoke softly, "it won't work."
"Oh, will it not?" he purred back, lowering his hand.
"No."
They reach a semi-stalemate, both falling silent, neither being the first to back down. It was Belle who whispered in the stillness.
"You assume your company is a burden and that I would want to be as far from you as possible." The earnestness on her face caught him off-guard as it always did. "That isn't true," she continued. He felt her words fill the room, wrap around them both, till there was only them, close together. No castle. No darkness.
Belle reached out a hand and placed it lightly on his arm.
"I enjoy your company." Her words were sunlight and they stole his breath.
His face was bewildered, uncertain and he slowly lowered his gaze to where her hand rested, warm through his shirt. Belle's gaze followed his and she gave a startled "oh!" before removing the hand quickly. Almost as though she hadn't realised she'd left it there.
"I'm…I…should be…" she stuttered, flustered, "getting back…" she drew back slightly, eyes searching for her brush, "to…to work."
Belle stopped as she realised Rumplestiltskin was in fact holding out the brush to her.
"Yes," he murmured, "yes I suppose you should."
He stood upright, one arm behind his back, the other holding out the brush, white shirt ruffled at the sleeves, the look on his face almost sad. She nearly asked what was wrong before she caught her tongue. He wouldn't appreciate it.
"Th-thankyou."
Belle reached out for the worn handle, her slender fingers, for the briefest of moments closing over his, like the sunlight reaching for the dark. So soft. His heart thundered and he abruptly let go, stepping back with a spin on his heel. His back safely to her, he shut his eyes and breathed out slowly, calmly, forcing the walls back into place.
"You're not going to keep me company then?"
Cracks appeared instantaneously in the walls at the light-hearted question. He glanced back over his shoulder and observed her still standing at the table, eyes sparkling, with a hand on her hip and the other on the brush.
"I'm a busy man, dearie," he singsonged. He hoped he hadn't imagined the disappointed look. "But I will be checking up on you," he added, waving a finger.
Some of her smile returned.
"Well, you know where I'll be," she replied, strains of hope decorating each word, breaking through the clouds.
"Standing in the sun no doubt," he snipped as he walked out the double doors, "doing absolutely nothing."
The lightness of her laughter followed him out the room.
