DISCLAIMER: Alas I own nothing (if I did, Rumple and Belle would rule the world). Reviews will be much beloved! (Anyone curious about the dress would do well to look up Tibi, Resort 2012)

2.

Of all the things that could possibly go wrong on the crucial day before, an insect bite?

Belle sighed unhappily over the glaring, angrily red swelling on her leg. She'd never even seen a live mosquito in this world (although twenty-eight years in a padded room had meant she hadn't seen much of anything Storybrooke had to offer) and now one winged rebel had flown very far north of anywhere remotely subtropical and had decided to bite her. On her leg. On her very pale leg, a leg that was intended for display tomorrow in the dress she'd been waiting weeks for an excuse to wear.

Belle rummaged half-heartedly through the little bottles and tubes that littered the inside of the bathroom cabinet. Her lips puckered into an 'o' of curiosity at the labels before realization seeped in. Of course, his leg.

There were so many pills and potions in the tiny cabinet Belle wondered how one knew what was what and which to use. A tiny memory called from the back of her mind and she sat down on the side of the bath to indulge it.

He'd been gone for days. Those initial, startling days of carrying his tea and trying desperately not to jump at a suddenly flicked finger or knowing laugh had passed and she'd only realized how much she enjoyed the unpredictable, amusing, enjoyable company of her captor-come-employer when another deal took him out of the Dark Castle's imposing doors and he hadn't returned the same evening.

Consequently she decided to do a little exploring. She'd wanted to see the world, after all. The Dark Castle was a world unto itself, and to have it all to herself, to peek behind closed doors, stroke the lush tapestries, climb the many and winding staircases without a mop and bucket in hand was a rare luxury.

His rooms were the most surprising though, and there she'd lingered the longest. The bare stone walls of what appeared to be his own personal hive of alchemical creation were chilly and left her cold less from the lack of warmth they imparted onto the room than from the stark, minimal quality they radiated, so different from the lavish hangings, gilded walls and heavy curtains of the rooms below. The room felt lonely and lived-in all at once. The many and intricately shaped glasses and vials fascinated her, but Belle was wary enough of magic to refrain from touching them, only stooping to peer more intently at their shimmering, mysterious contents. She drank in their secrets with wide eyes, noting the murky, oil-streaked quality of one, the ghostly, ethereal smoke of another, the pristine glimmer of one in a bottle so tiny she could have obscured it from view with a thumbnail.

What could they possibly hold, these glass vials? What secrets, what exotic ingredients, what powers could be unleashed from their narrow necks?

Belle clasped her hands in her lap, a little forlorn. It saddened her beyond measure that Rumpelstiltskin, despite having brought magic into this world (for better or worse she still could not decide) had yet to weave a spell to lessen the pain and inconvenience his leg obviously caused him. She minded it not one bit, except for that he seemed to chalk it up as another facet of himself to dislike. Of course the impossibly quiet, sly dancing step and pinpoint flashing spins on a booted heel of old were more of a challenge than before, but he still moved with an odd sort of grace, cane and all, a sort of measured, knowing step she found it no effort to admire. And he was just as capable of sneaking up on someone in total silence as ever, something his customers were perpetually reminded of every time he seemed to appear from nowhere to scrutinize their interest in a particular item.

A swake, she'd impishly christened it in her mind. A swaying, stalking movement with a somewhat rakish edge to it, like a predator who knows he could easily overtake the prey around him but holds back until the last moment to strike, or in her lover's case punctuate his arrival with a soft tap of his cane. Belle's features softened into a fond smile. She did so like the suits he wore here, and even more so the way he always seemed to match his tie and handkerchief to whatever she was wearing. A crimson hue to compliment the belt she'd chosen on impulse one morning. Jet cufflinks to match the embellished collar of a chiffon blouse another evening. Belle giggled indulgently to herself. It was perhaps a good thing he didn't wear the leathers he'd favoured in their old land, or else they'd never leave the house. She'd stolen quite a few selfish looks at his lean thighs and ahem- Belle cleared her throat, checking around the open bathroom door in fear of being caught – other areas of interest when his back had been turned.

But still the insect bite.

What to do? The dress was another gift, entirely unexpected and most likely ridiculously expensive (she'd protested that it was neither her birthday nor Christmas on receiving it, beautifully boxed and proffered in both hands, his eyes suddenly downcast, shy. Uncertain). How could she not like it? A simple shape, sleeveless and the hem of the slender, but not constricting skirt fell quite above her knees. But the fabric, pale gold and shimmering, encrusted with sequined petals that sparkled a deeper gold when touched by light, and the modest neckline punctuated with a sharp black collar like one of his dress shirts inserting an unexpected element of challenge? Danger? It was wonderful. His colours.

But how could she wear it now, when this hideous lump had parked itself unceremoniously just above her ankle? It was still too warm for tights, despite the whisper of autumn in the cool breezes blowing through town, and Belle reminded herself with a certain sense of pride that the sight of her bare legs almost always proved one temptation Rumplestiltskin could not resist. In public he was the perfect gentlemen, eyes averted from her legs, gently crooking his arm for her to link hers through or placing his hand, its long fingers spread carefully at the small of her back to guide her through the doors he held open with the other. Once home, however, and once on a heady summer evening in the car, those clever fingers would dance on her exposed skin, smoothing and stroking until her toes curled and her thighs quivered in anticipation of the more delicious mischief that would inevitably come.

No, tights were not an option. Nor were boots. Belle tapped her bare feet absent-mindedly on the floor, out of ideas.

"What's the matter, love?"

She looked up to find her beloved framed in the doorway, a quizzical look contorting his features in an expression of curiosity and concern. Belle yelped, jumping to her feet and turning quickly to close the bathroom cabinet and conceal the horrible bite from view.

"Nothing, nothing! I was just, ah, looking for something. Found it!" she tried unconvincingly. He placed a hand on her arm.

"Are you unwell, dearest?"

His eyes were wide with worry, she saw. Beautiful eyes, she reflected. Deep and expressive, lakes she could happily paddle all day in. Even when they'd been different, marbled, almost too large for his face she had seen no problem in staring into them. She considered bolting for the door but the moment had passed. She sighed in defeat, sinking back down to lean on the edge of the bath.

"I've been bitten"

Rumpelstiltskin's face crumpled into something resembling amused relief. He sat down opposite her on the ornate chair she suspected was only in the bathroom to give him a place to enjoy watching her soak in the massive claw footed tub at leisure.

"Let me see"

His hands cupped together to make a cradle for her foot, his cane forgotten on the floor. She placed her bare foot into the warm, calloused grip and watched as he lifted it to his lap.

"It's awful, and there's no chance of it disappearing before tomorrow"

Rumpelstiltskin eyed the bite carefully, running a padded thumb warily over the swollen surface, eyes intent on her face to determine her reaction. Belle inhaled a shallow gasp. Of course it was sensitive, and dreadfully itchy, but more than the bite the sensation of his touch on her ankle and their positions, she half standing, half-reclining, he crouched low over her outstretched leg, eyes locked on hers conjured all sorts of entirely non-insect bite related scenarios she'd only recently acquired the vocabulary to name.

"Well, let's see what we can do about that then"

She was disappointed when he released her foot and limped sans cane to the cabinet before returning with a small bottle. Resuming his possession of her foot he unscrewed the bottle top and poured a small amount of something translucent into his palm before transferring it in neat dabs to the thumb and index finger of his right hand.

Belle's eyes fluttered when he proceeded to massage the substance into the offending bite, alternating his thumb and the pad of his index finger in circular, soothing motions. A distinct cooling sensation slowly permeated the area that had been so frustratingly itchy and hot. Curiosity got the better of her.

"More of your magic?"

Rumpelstiltskin smiled into his task and that well-loved sliver of a crescent moon sent warmth straight to Belle's heart.

"No dearest, simple aloe vera oil, possibly the best thing for nasty mosquito bites", and here he paused for dramatic effect, "and all-natural too"

Belle burst into laughter at the ascent in pitch and comical toss of the head that accompanied his last words. Through her giggles she managed to speak.

"Is that what they told you at the pharmacy?"

He smiled again, showing the flicker of gold over one tooth.

"A medical truth for the ages. In both lands"

Belle stretched out her hand for him and stroked the soft hair that fell across his face as he sat, bent over his work. He leaned into the touch almost unconsciously, and she held his cheek tenderly in her palm.

"I wanted to wear the dress you gave me. Having a huge red lump on your leg rather ruins the effect"

He blinked slowly, as though translating her words into a language he could more easily understand.

"You have other dresses. I've no objection to you wearing whatever you please", he dropped his eyes to her ankle again, working the last of the oil painstakingly into her skin as he murmured, "you shall always look beautiful"

"But I wanted to wear that dress!" Belle bit her lip, suddenly aware she sounded like a petulant child denied a treat, continuing in a lowered tone, "I wanted to surprise you"

Rumpelstiltskin stood slowly, returning her foot to the floor with infinite care before straightening.

"Then surprise me, and let me do the same. Leave the bite to me, and wear the dress tomorrow as you planned"

Belle raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"What are you planning?"

He chuckled softly, a wicked sound that made her want to kiss the smirk off his face and swat his arm at the same time.

"Not telling"

"Rum-" she called out as he turned to leave, worry tugging a cord inside her chest, "you won't use Magic, will you? Not if you don't have to. I don't want you to-"

I don't want you to leave yourself vulnerable when we still don't know how magic works here. The Queen – Regina had flown into a frenzy of activity once she'd found her powers had returned and consequently found herself drained of all magical ability for a fortnight thereafter. Wisely she'd kept a low profile in the interim and the knowledge of why had ensured that Rumpelstiltskin kept a close eye over number of times and the specific amount the magic he used at any given occasion. Things were still settling into place, it seemed. It made no sense to use it all up at once.

"I won't", he affirmed from the doorway, "you'll see"

The following evening was a rare treat, the Maine sky painted in watercolour brushstrokes of lavender and orange. Belle gazed happily at it for she knew not how long, leaning on the balcony that looked out over the approach to the house. Then she checked her leg for the hundredth time in the last hour and discovered that, despite being much reduced in size and irritation, the bite remained noticeably red. Belle returned inside and made her way downstairs to the dining room where Rumpelstiltskin was probably still waiting.

'Date night', it occurred to Belle on her way down the stairs, was a terrible expression for something so lovely. What was wrong with 'romantic evening together' or, 'dinner for two' at a pinch? She'd been unable to hide her distaste for the expression when Ruby had slyly enquired as to her plans for the evening when she'd dropped into the café to buy a packet of the fruit tea Granny had started selling recently. The other girl had grinned devilishly and leaned over the counter suggestively at her reply that she was 'busy'.

"Date night with Gold?"

Belle exhaled, a little flustered, and tucked an imaginary stray hair behind her ear.

"His name i-"

Ruby waved her off with a dishcloth.

"We all know his name, Belle, Gold just runs off the tongue better. And quicker. So, date night? Didn't figure him for a romantic, but you know what they say about the quiet ones"

Belle took her teabags wrapped up neatly in a brown paper bag and straightened her blouse.

"We're having dinner at home"

Ruby winked dramatically, the black liner around her eyes giving them a feral quality.

"Do tell"

Belle shot her new friend an airy look as she left, still smiling.

"I might not"

He was sitting at the head of the huge dining table when she came in, his back to her, and if she'd been worried about the bite drawing more attention than she would have liked it seemed all her worry had been for nothing. Turning in his seat, his eyes drank her in slowly from the black heels that had been among his first gifts to her and then up, up disgracefully slowly, taking in her exposed legs, the way the shimmering dress hung gently on her frame, the tumble of dark curls pinned into a loose bun. There was Magic still, she thought to herself, Magic in the way he looked at her, the way his eyes travelled over her body and half-convinced her that it was his fingertips lingering at the hollow of her throat, the curve of her knee, the fullness of her lower lip. Belle could feel the colour rise on her cheeks and she had to remind herself to breath first before attempting speech.

"Sorry, were you waiting long?"

His lip glistened from where he'd flicked his tongue over it sometime between scanning up from her waist to her throat. Belle pulled a chair out from under the table to sit close to him and he stopped her with an outstretched hand, pushing his chair back from the table edge.

"No", he patted the waxed surface of the table, "sit down for a while. I've something to give you"

Belle hesitated, eyeing the impeccable sheen of the table and wondering about the kind of damage her bespangled dress would deal the varnished wood. Rumplestiltskin's smile was brief and a little forlorn.

"You never worried before"

Belle gave a startled laugh, suddenly nervous. Of course, in the Dark Castle she'd hop up onto the dining table without thinking twice. She would sit there swinging her legs quite happily while he leaned back in his chair and indulged her need for conversation over the pyramid of his hands, neither of them thinking anything of it.

"Sorry"

She slipped up onto the antique wood and clasped her hands in her glittering lap.

"No need to apologize, dearest" he searched for something in his jacket pocket and held it, fingers closed tightly around it so she couldn't tell what it was, "now turn this way if you will"

"What?" Belle was first confused, then spun delicately round, his fingers steering her legs round to place her heeled feet precariously in his lap. Rumplestiltskin slipped the shoe off one foot, eyes darting to her face for permission.

"I believe I've found a solution to your insect problem"

Belle folded away a grin. He sounded very sure of himself. Then his finger trailed up the arch of her foot and she reminded herself that he normally had good reason to. She loosened the pin holding her bun in place, the updo suddenly too formal, too distant. He paused as dark waves fell heavy around her shoulders, distracted.

"And there we have it, the bite has vanished and you are possibly even more beautiful than when you came in"

Belle looked down in surprise. Around her ankle, and completely covering the offending red lump was a little, well, cuff, she supposed. A delicate band of opaque, silken black material three finger widths across sat as snugly around her ankle as a garter would further up her thigh. Scalloped in black lace and embroidered with tiny black roses it looked for all the world like an extension of her shoes, a romantic strap to secure the foot safely in the towering pumps. She was so caught up in her examination of the item she started when he removed her other shoe to slide a matching band to her unbitten leg.

"You think of everything, don't you?"

He shrugged, a little sideways motion that pretended modesty but gave away his pleasure at her approval. She tapped her bare toes on the tops of his thighs in a stuttering, teasing rhythm and watched with bated breath as his throat worked visibly.

"You like them?"

Belle tapped out a drum roll in response. "I love them"

There was no room for words, not when he held her ankles in his lap and then reached upwards, cupping every inch of her legs as he strove upwards in one smooth stroke, over the rise of her knees and holding reverently, jealously, long fingers spread over the outside of her thighs, slipped under the hem of her dress. His head came to rest on the skin the shimmering fabric had drawn back to reveal, one lean cheek pressed to the top of her thigh like a repentant sinner. Belle closed her eyes and leaned over him, running her hands over his back in soothing movements that did nothing to quell the skittering light burning a jagged fuse through every fibre in her body.

"I love you" she managed, pressing her lips into his back. An answering kiss was swiftly pressed to the inside of her left thigh, its deliverer shuddering.

"And I love you too"