"Ta-da!" Belle exclaimed, whipping the blindfold off.
Mr. Gold blinked in the sun, trying to get accustomed to the sudden light. Then he blinked again at the heap of metal sitting on his driveway.
"So?" Belle asked, dancing in front of him, her eyes bright with excitement and body practically buzzing. "What do you think?"
He had no clue.
Then again, with Belle, he hadn't a clue most of the time.
"What is it?" he finally asked.
"What is it?!" Belle giggled. "It's a car of course!"
No, it certainly was not. A very, very long time ago it may have been, but if so, it had given up the auto-ghost decades ago.
The interior was in shambles. It looked like a tornado of metal-tipped porcupines and blowfish had ripped through the place. The seats were beyond repair, showing more yellow-foam stuffing than chair, and the cloth surface stapled to the ceiling was drooping low at the center. The back left window had been smashed out and covered with purple duct tape, and a quick glance below showed that part of the—the thing's metal guts was dragging on the ground. There was also a pool of oil growing on his driveway like black blood from the corpse of an ogre. Perfect, Mr. Gold thought with a grimace. Just bloody perfect.
Then there was the exterior. Mr. Gold couldn't even tell what color it was supposed to be under all the rust and grime and bashes and dents. Maybe green. But the front bumper and passenger door looked white which probably meant that the thing had been in an accident in another life then repaired with the parts of other cannibalized cars. Not a good sign for the integrity or safety of the engine. There was no way he was letting Belle anywhere near this metal hunk when it turned on and blew itself up in shame.
"I've named him Roger," Belle brightly said, clearly pleased with herself.
She laid herself down on the front rusty hood and fanned out her arms in a pose that would normally have Mr. Gold's thoughts flying down one path. Today, though, they were stuck like molasses on the monstrosity in front of him.
"And I love him!" Belle finished.
As if loving one monster weren't enough.
He cleared his throat. "Belle, dear, what do you intend on doing with—with Roger?"
"Drive him, of course, silly," she said, straightening up. "I've been wanting to get a car for a while now so that I don't have to depend on you and Ruby for rides."
His Belle, ever the independent.
"And besides, I got a super good deal on Roger," she added.
"How much?" Mr. Gold dared to ask.
"He was only one-hundred dollars!"
Mr. Gold suppressed a groan. He was going to find out who had sold it to her, turn him into a snail, and lock him inside until the heat dried him out minute by slow minute.
"Can you teach me?"
His delusions of snail-torture were ripped away by Belle's chipper question. "Teach you what?" he hedged, knowing full well what she meant but dreading it all the same.
"Teach me how to drive," she said.
Oh dear. What now.
"Belle," he began, slowly, carefully, "I—"
His words disappeared as he noticed her eyes, twinkling with pride and pleasure. Her face was beaming, her hands ever so sweetly clasped in front of her, and she was rocking on the balls of her feet. He glanced at the metal mess spewing forth an ocean of oil on the concrete, then back to his glowing Belle, and sighed.
"I'd love to," he said.
[Two hours later.]
"Push the brake!" Mr. Gold shouted.
"I am!" Belle shouted back.
"Are you sure?"
"It's the one on the left! I'm not stupid!"
"Push it harder!"
"I AM!"
The metal beast hurled around the corner, tires screeching and body shuddering. Belle's fingers were clenched on the wheel, white with strain, and Mr. Gold was clinging to his seat belt. There was another turn coming up on the mountainous path they were driving on, even sharper than before, and he could see Belle's foot slamming up and down on the brake pedal.
"It's not working!" she cried.
"I can see that!" he ground out through his teeth.
"Why isn't it working?"
"BECAUSE YOU BOUGHT A $100 CAR!"
"DON'T YOU DARE DIS ROGER!"
Belle yanked the steering wheel to the right as they reached the turn, and Mr. Gold felt the bile rising in his gut as the car balanced for a split second on only two wheels.
"If you thought Roger was so sucky, why did you agree to teach me?" Belle asked, breathing heavily.
"I don't know!"
"You never do anything without knowing. SO WHY?"
"BECAUSE IT MADE YOU SO DAMN HAPPY!"
She glanced at him then, "HANG ON!" Belle veered around the next corner and, if anything, the car started to pick up even more speed.
"Why didn't you tell me you wanted a car?" Mr. Gold shot at her.
"Because I wanted to do it on my own."
"You always want to do everything on your own!"
"And that's a bad thing?"
"YES!"
Another whip-lash turn.
"You're the one who never accepts anyone's help, my help!" Belle shouted.
"Says the woman," Mr. Gold gasped, "who just bought a bloody $100 car instead of telling me!"
"WELL IT'S MY MONEY! AND MY LIFE!"
"$100!" he repeated. "AND THIS ISN'T EVEN A CAR! IT'S JUST A HUNK OF JUNK!"
Her blue eyes flashed fire. "HOW DARE YOU!"
And then the steering wheel popped off.
"Oops," Belle murmured, eyes wide as she stared at the wheel in her hands and then up to Mr. Gold's equally wide, equally stunned face. And then, as though synchronized, they both lifted their eyes to the front window and watched as the cliff got steadily closer and closer.
"I love—"
Belle didn't get a chance to finish. With a snap of his hand, Mr. Gold accessed his magic and transported the both of them to the road right as poor Roger flew off the cliff. They stood there, frozen, as Belle's two-hour-old car—the one that had made her so happy—hit ledge after rocky ledge, finally settling on the bottom with a groaning wheeze.
It was even deader than before.
"Dearie—" Mr. Gold began when the car suddenly exploded in flames.
"Yes, Rum?" Belle asked, voice dazed.
He swallowed. "How does a new car sound?"
And before he knew it, she was kissing him hard and fast, in the middle of the road, to the sound of flames and broken metal.
[btw - I DON'T OWN OUAT.]