A/N: Nope, still don't own Once Upon a Time. Probably just as well. If I did, Mr Gold would be living in my house and you guys wouldn't get updates nearly as often…
Thanks to all my new readers who followed and favourited.
Wondermorena: As this is an alternate universe, Neverland won't feature. As far as the crème brulée goes, I'm not saying he can read minds, but he probably was thinking about licking it off her.
All Hallows' Eve 31: Yes on the sex. As for the rest of it, I don't want to give too much away but all I can say is that we know he has a temper, but anyone he's violent to will thoroughly deserve it.
JustBFree: Ruby always has a bit of a one-track mind in my fics, that's why I love her!
Guest: Ahhh! Gold's reasons for making the deal aren't entirely down to his attraction to Belle. You'll find out soon enough! Nice comments, thank you so much!
Erik's True Angel: Regina is a bitch – but I love her! I love writing dialogue between her and Gold, some of which is coming up. Glad you're enjoying the UST – more to come!
RipperBlackstaff, Remka, Twyla Mercedes, michelle. 1, Claire and Timi: thanks so much for your supportive comments, here's your update! I was going to wait until the weekend, but you guys have been so nice I couldn't resist.
Gold took Belle home after dinner, the tall, silent man who he introduced as Mr Dover driving them once more in the Cadillac. The ride home was quiet, for which Belle was grateful as her mind was whirling, but he promised to drop off the contract next week as they pulled up outside her house. She was still fumbling with her seatbelt when he opened the door on her side, holding out his hand to her. Strangely touched by his good manners, she allowed him to pull her up so that she was within inches of him. She could smell his scent, warm spice with hints of musk and smoke, and swallowed hard, trying to clear her head. He clasped her fingers briefly, wishing her goodnight with a slight bow. Belle smiled at him a little uncertainly, and walked slowly up the path to her door, fumbling her keys into her hand, her head spinning with the events of the evening. She could hear music coming from the kitchen, and Ruby, Snow and Emma all looked up as Belle walked in and took off her coat. She poured herself a glass of wine, feeling their eyes on her back.
"Well?" said Ruby impatiently. "How did it go?"
Belle sighed, turning to them, and bit her lip as she considered how to answer. "Would you think I was very strange if I said I had a good time?"
Ruby and Emma said 'Yes' and Snow said 'No', then they all stared at one another and burst out laughing.
"Personally I'd think you were in serious need of professional help," said Ruby flatly.
"What's he like?" asked Snow curiously. Belle leant back against the sideboard, thinking.
"Like no-one I've ever met," she said slowly. "He's – it's almost like he's two different people. On the one hand he's incredibly polite and – old-fashioned – like he was born in a different time. He pulled out my chair and held out my coat and he called me Miss French and he stood up when I left the table." Emma shared an amused grin with Ruby. "And then, on the other hand, you can tell he's absolutely ruthless and won't give quarter to anyone. He's got a wicked sense of humour, too. I think he enjoys making people dance to his tune."
"As long as you're not one of them," remarked Emma, and the others nodded.
"I trust him," announced Belle. Her three friends exchanged looks of alarm, and she held up her hand. "No, hear me out. I know he's seen as a monster in this town, and that people think he's unsympathetic and cold, but I think he just likes agreements to be honoured, and when they're not, he can't make excuses for anyone. I think that if I make a deal with him, I have nothing to fear as long as I hold up my end of the bargain."
"So, what's the deal he wants to make?" asked Snow.
"He wants me to work for him," explained Belle, taking a mouthful of wine. It wasn't as good as what she'd had at the restaurant. "Translation, cataloguing, handling his old artefacts…"
"Please tell me that's not a euphemism," interrupted Emma, and Ruby snickered.
"Researching the old texts and manuscripts he has," continued Belle, more loudly, glaring at them. "I also have to meet with him twice weekly to discuss what I've found. Mondays and Thursdays."
"So, what do you get out of it?" asked Ruby, and Belle hesitated.
"He's paying for my PhD," she said, and the others gasped.
"That's a lot of handling of artefacts," remarked Emma. Belle gave her a level look.
"Regina won't like it," observed Snow, then grinned. "All the more reason to do it."
Belle returned the grin. "Yeah, I can't wait to tell her I'll be starting my research after all."
"So, you're going to do it, then?" asked Ruby, an excited gleam in her eyes. Belle shrugged.
"He's dropping a contract off next week," she said. "If I'm happy that there's nothing weird in it, I'll sign."
Her three friends looked at one another with amused grins.
"Anything else to tell us?" asked Ruby innocently, and Belle frowned.
"Yes, he ordered the bloody crème brulée! Thanks a lot for that one, Lucas, my face was the colour of your lipstick!"
Ruby smirked. "Come on, don't tell me he wasn't thinking about smearing it over your naked body before he ate it."
"Should we ever decide to eat dessert off one another, you'll be the first to know," said Belle dryly. "I regret to inform you that he was a perfect gentleman, so you'll have to find another target for your bizarre fantasies."
Ruby pouted. "Okay. What do you think Archie's into?"
The other three groaned.
Mr Gold was true to his word, and called at the university to drop off the contract for her on Monday. Belle did not see him, as he had arrived when she was in class and had simply left it on her desk with his card clipped to the top. She read over the contract carefully, then re-read it. There was nothing unpalatable in there, although some of the stipulations seemed a little peculiar. She was to attend him at the shop by prior appointment, agreeable to both parties, and meet with him on Monday and Thursday evenings. Wherever they were going for dinner, they had to arrive together and leave together, which seemed rather particular to Belle. He would pick her up and take her home. He had agreed to her request to choose one of the venues, but there were to be no fast food chains under any circumstances. Each week he would assign her some tasks, which she would work on and report back to him at their dinner meetings. Should they wish to change the night on which they met, barring sudden emergencies, this would again be possible by mutual agreement and giving at least 48 hours' notice. Should they need to travel anywhere to purchase any new pieces, she would be given at least one week's notice and he would pay all expenses. In the meantime she would be free to pursue her own research, and he wished her to keep him updated on that as well. It would also be possible for her to include some of the work that she was doing for him in her research, if he was agreeable. All in all Belle felt that the contract was more than fair, and she called him to say that she would sign. He sounded pleased, and offered to come by her house that evening to collect the paperwork.
Belle opened the door to him, wearing a butter-yellow dress with a flared skirt and matching peep-toe shoes. Her hair was pinned up at the sides, dark curls falling down her back, and she smiled at him, a beautiful smile. On the crisp autumn evening she was like the last ray of summer sun, and he thought that she had never looked more stunning, more adorable, or more completely out of his league. The thought gave him a sour feeling, and he merely nodded to her as he entered the house. She noticed his eyes flicking over everything curiously, and imagined that he missed nothing. She was suddenly thankful that she had cleared all her underwear from off the radiators where it had been drying.
"I've read over everything, and it seems fine," she said. "Would you like some tea?"
"Please." He allowed her to show him into the lounge, and she promised to return momentarily. He looked at the furnishings; mismatched but comfortable sofas, a dresser carved from dark wood (old and a little battered around the edges), a large flat-screen television, a wood-burning stove surrounded by a heavy stone fireplace, and bookshelves in the alcoves beside the chimneybreast. He ran his eyes over the books crammed on there; an annotated hardback of Shakespeare's complete works, classics, modern works of fiction, numerous historical novels, large hardback books on ancient languages and fairy tales, and a shelf of crime thrillers that he suspected belonged to the Lucas girl. A black cat, with a white bib of fur starting at its chin and spreading across its chest, eyed him coolly from where it sat atop the dresser. Gold bent to scratch its ears, and the cat purred and rubbed its head against his questing fingers. He liked cats, admired their independence and aloofness. He straightened as Belle entered the room with a tray of tea things, and she smiled.
"I see you've met Malvolio," she said, and he chuckled.
"Malvolio? Really? Do you dress him in yellow cross-gartered stockings?"
Belle giggled, putting a hand to her mouth and blushing. Gold gave her a curious look, and she shook her head.
"I'm sorry, it's just something Gary said, my boyfriend," she said, her face reddening further. Gold frowned, unsure that he wanted her boyfriend to be a topic of conversation. Belle began to pour the tea. "He asked my cat's name, and when I told him, he asked where I'd gotten the name," she explained, adding a dash of milk to Gold's cup. "I said 'you know, from Twelfth Night', and he said 'oh, was Malvolio the one that brought the gold, or the frankincense?'" She giggled harder, and Gold smiled.
"And rather than say, 'no, the Shakespeare play, you imbecile', you told him it was the one that brought the myrrh," he guessed. Belle let out another peal of laughter, and he smiled more widely. She had a beautiful laugh.
"So, to business, then," she announced, taking a seat and crossing her lovely legs. "I've read through the contract, and although there are a few stipulations that seem overly precise, there's nothing objectionable."
"Overly precise?" He took a sip of his tea, and was pleasantly surprised.
"Well, the one where we have to arrive together and leave together when we meet for dinner," she explained, and he shrugged.
"Take it out if you wish. I merely thought it would encourage a sense of camaraderie. We will be working together rather a lot."
"Fine," said Belle. "Then I'll sign it, if you have a pen."
He withdrew a black and gold fountain pen from his inside pocket with a flourish, and within two minutes the contract was agreed. Gold put it inside his jacket, a satisfied smirk on his face.
"I'll go to the university tomorrow and pay your fees," he said, and she beamed at him.
"Thank you. This is really exciting! I can't wait to get started."
"Your enthusiasm is admirable," he said dryly. "If you're free tomorrow, I'd like you to come to the shop."
She nodded. "I'm teaching until three. Will that do?"
"Let's say four o'clock," he suggested, sipping his tea. "There are a number of things I'd like to go over with you. I see no point in us meeting for dinner until next week, when you've had a chance to start work, so we'll make next Monday the first occasion." He eyed her. "You can pick, if you like."
Belle nodded, still excited, her legs bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. He couldn't help but smile at her.
"This tea is excellent, by the way," he added. "It's so hard to get a decent cup in this country unless I'm making it myself."
She grinned. "My gran was English," she explained. "She taught me that loose-leaf tea from a teapot is the only way to go."
Gold drained his cup and stood up.
"Until tomorrow, then," he announced, and she showed him to the door.
One of the perks of being the Dean, thought Regina, as she stalked the corridors of the university, shiny heels clacking rhythmically, was that she could go wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted. She waltzed into Graham's office without knocking, and he looked up from some paperwork with a warm smile. She immediately felt a rush of heat burn through her. Perhaps the afternoon's preparation for a committee meeting could be put on hold for a while.
"Regina! I'm glad you're here," he said enthusiastically. "We've had the donation from Gold. The library extension can go ahead."
Regina made the appropriate noise of approval as he looked for the paperwork to show her.
"What does he want this time?" she asked. "The library naming after him, I suppose? The man's ego is bigger than this whole damn building."
"He didn't specify," said Graham absently, searching for the relevant piece of paper. "Ah! Here it is. He merely said that he enjoyed the evening on Thursday and that he felt sure that we could go on to have a mutually-beneficial relationship."
Regina frowned. "That's cryptic, even for Gold," she said suspiciously. "Anything else?"
"Well, yes, as it happens," admitted Graham, eyeing her cautiously. He had been unsure whether to tell Regina this next bit of news, but found that he was unable to keep secrets from her. "He – has paid the fees for Belle French's doctorate."
Regina leant on the desk. "What?"
Graham waved the piece of paper somewhat lamely. "He came in and said that he wanted to pay her fees upfront. She starts next week. I've asked Professor Short to supervise her."
Regina slowly straightened up, a cold smile curving her lips. "Well, well," she said softly. "It seems I need to have a chat with Mr Gold about our little Miss French."
Regina paused outside the entrance to Gold's shop, frowning as she considered how best to confront him, then pushed open the door, the small bell above tinkling cheerfully. She curled her lip at the myriad of objects cluttering the shelves. The man was a total hoarder. She would put money on his house being even worse.
"Ms Mills, what an unexpected pleasure." The mocking drawl of his voice pulled her attention to the back of the shop, where he was standing behind the counter, arms spread, hands poised on their fingertips like spiders.
"Gold," she nodded, walking to the counter. She made her hips sway in a manner that she knew was alluring, but he didn't seem to notice. It irked her that he was completely indifferent to her charms; not that she was remotely interested in him, of course. She merely relished the thought of having some sort of power over him.
"Is there something I can help you with?" he asked quietly, and she smiled coldly.
"You can tell me what you think you're playing at, seducing my staff and paying for their studies behind my back," she said bluntly. He blinked.
"Seducing your staff?" he said, feigning confusion. "I think not. In any event, Miss French is part-time, working sixteen hours for the university, is she not? Therefore the remainder of the week is her own to do with as she pleases."
Regina pursed her lips and leant on the counter, mirroring his pose. "You don't strike me as the type to pay for it," she said dryly, then shrugged. "Having said that, you don't strike me as the type who does it at all."
Gold's eyes glittered with amusement. "Should I be flattered or disturbed that you've given it so much thought?"
Regina scowled, perfectly-manicured brows knitting together. "It's an awful lot of money to get the girl to spread her legs for you, isn't it? Are you really that desperate?"
His fingers tightened slightly in their positions on the counter, and there was a tiny tic by his eye: symptoms of anger, if she'd had the wit to see it. "I'd prefer it if you didn't speak about my employee in that fashion."
"Your employee? Are you serious?" She looked highly amused. "What could she possibly have to offer you, besides the obvious?"
"How about her charming personality and pleasant conversation?" he suggested.
Regina waved a dismissive hand. "Stop stalling. Why are you so interested in her?"
Gold smiled slightly. "Because she has the skills and the knowledge that I need."
"For what?"
The smile widened. "Not telling."
She gave him a narrow look. "Very well," she said at last, sensing that she would get nothing more from him. "All I can say is your time together had better not interfere with her duties to the university."
"But of course." He raised an eyebrow. "Was there anything else?"
"No." She turned to go, before spinning back around to face him. "Did you meet her boyfriend yet?"
Gold's smile was becoming a little glacial. "I can't say I've had the pleasure."
Regina's lips curved upwards. "No doubt you will. I think it's safe to say that, if she has a type, you're not it."
"Then it's a good thing I offered her a job, rather than the sort of torrid, loveless affair you're enjoying with your pet professor," he said mildly, and felt intense satisfaction in her glare of outrage as she stalked from the shop.
At three minutes to four, Belle hovered on the doorstep of Mr Gold's shop, looking inside furtively. When she couldn't see him, she put her hand on the door handle, pushing the door inwards and jingling the bell hanging above. She took several slow steps into the cool darkness of the shop, her eyes running over the shelves and cabinets. She had never seen so many fascinating objects in her life. Looking upwards, she noticed a beautiful glass mobile, tiny unicorns gently swinging in the air before her. She reached up slowly, taking one of them between thumb and forefinger.
"Glad to see you're on time, Miss French. It bodes well for our working together."
His voice made her jump, and she stepped away from the mobile hurriedly. Gold was standing beside the counter at the back of the shop, hands folded over the handle of his cane, wearing a dark suit and black shirt with a deep blue tie.
"Hi!" she said cheerfully, making his eyebrow twitch. "What was it you wanted?"
He studied her for a moment, then crooked a finger at her and turned around, pushing a curtain aside and walking through to the back room. Belle followed curiously, and found yet more shelves of miscellaneous items, a workbench, a desk and chair, a large spinning wheel that actually had thread spooling from it and, somewhat surprisingly, a narrow single bed.
"Do you sleep here?" she asked, and his eyes flicked across at her.
"On occasion." He crossed to the workbench and lifted up a wooden case. "Gloves, Miss French." He handed her some cotton gloves, and pulled on a pair himself, the material straining somewhat over the ring he wore. Belle drew on the gloves, suddenly excited at what he had for her. He opened up the case, and lifted out what looked like a pile of rolled papers. Examining the top one closely, Belle realised that they were vellum, and appeared to be ancient. Gold opened out the top one carefully, revealing cramped writing and a large wax seal, now faded and broken.
"Where did you get these?" she asked reverently. "They're centuries old. Shouldn't they be in some sort of museum?"
He shrugged. "Knowledge is power. The museum can have them when I'm done with them." He leant on the table and gave her a strange, intense look, his eyes gleaming in the warm light of the lamps. "Impress me."
Slightly nervous at being asked to perform on command, Belle hurriedly looked over the document, picking up the magnifying glass he had placed beside her.
"Well, it's in Latin, as you know," she started, warming to the task as she immersed herself in the document. "Dated 1348, just as the Black Death was starting to sweep through Europe." She read quickly, finding some of the words difficult to make out. "It's a contract to build a – strongroom – I think that is, sort of a vault. The monks of the abbey at Avonleigh – I guess that's somewhere in England – have asked a mason to design and build it, at a rate of eight pence per day, plus four pence for each of his men."
He smiled. "Very well, Miss French, a satisfactory start. And this is your task for this week." He gestured to the case. "This contains assorted documents of various ages from numerous locations. I want a full translation of each."
She grinned up at him. "I'd be delighted. I can't wait to get started."
"Excellent!" His tone was brisk. "Then please, make yourself comfortable. I'll be working on something myself, so I would appreciate it if you kept conversation to a minimum."
"Oh." Belle looked around, biting her lip. "You want me to work here?"
"I won't be letting those documents out of my sight," he explained. "I'm sure you can appreciate their fragility."
"Of course…"
"Very well, please get started." He slid into the chair at his desk, and began reading through a large sheaf of papers. Belle shrugged, pulled paper and pens from her bag, and settled down to read through the documents.
She had not realised how much time had passed, so engrossed was she in her work, and it was only when she heard Gold moving around and smelt the delicious aroma of tea that she felt how late it must be. He placed a tray of tea things on the workbench and began pouring tea from an ornate silver teapot into blue and white porcelain cups. She sat up, stretching, and smiled up at him. He had removed his jacket, and was in his shirtsleeves with a waistcoat over the top.
"It's nine o'clock," he informed her quietly, and Belle let out a yelp, making him start.
"Oh! Ruby will wonder where I am!" She fished out her phone, and saw two messages on it, both from Ruby. One, at five-thirty: 'fancy a quick drink?' and then another, half an hour ago: 'I won't be home tonight. Don't worry. See you tomorrow'. She frowned, and quickly texted back 'where are you?' Gold raised an eyebrow as he added milk to the cups, and Belle sighed, looking at the phone in hope of a speedy response.
"Ruby's told me she's not coming home tonight," she explained. "I've texted her to ask her where she is, and she hasn't responded yet. Ruby always keeps her phone near her, which either means she's too 'busy' or too embarrassed to tell me what she's up to. Possibly both."
He looked amused. "I see."
Belle stood up, stretching her arms above her head with a yawn. She began walking slowly around the room to get some of the life back into her legs, looking at the variety of objects on the shelves. As he stirred the tea in its little porcelain cups, Gold watched her pick up his trinkets, look them over with interest and put them down again. She moved to the shelf above his desk, and he stiffened as she noticed the picture there. Belle looked at it curiously; a young boy laughed up at her, perhaps twelve or thirteen, black hair falling over his eyes, which were a soulful deep brown sparkling with merriment. She looked up.
"Is this your son?" she asked, and he started, turning to look at her with a strange, guarded expression on his face. She could almost see the walls fly up around him, complete with heavily-locked gates and a 'Keep Out' sign, which only made her more curious. He picked up his teacup and leant back against the workbench, drawing the cup to his mouth as though he were hiding behind it.
"Yes." His tone did not invite further questions, so she chose to ignore it.
She smiled instead, pretending that she couldn't see the expression behind his hooded eyes. "He looks like you," she announced. "He's very handsome. Does he live with you?"
Gold grimaced. "No." The word was said with finality, but Belle persisted.
"What, you don't see him at all?"
"I visit him every Sunday," he said, turning away dismissively. "Your tea, Miss French." He held out a cup to her, and she walked towards him, stopping within a few inches of him. She turned so that she was standing next to him, and pulled herself up onto the workbench with the heels of her hands, legs swinging back and forth as she took the cup from him. Gold sipped his tea, carefully not looking at her.
"Do you always work this late?" she asked softly, and he shrugged.
"Sometimes."
"You know, it wouldn't kill you to have a day off now and then," she pointed out, and he shot her a slanting look.
"Is this your way of telling me I'm working you too hard?" he asked stiffly, and she shook her head with a confused smile. There was a moment's silence. Gold sipped his tea. He cursed his sudden inability to make conversation. It had been so easy on the other occasions they had met; he had felt in charge then, she had been on the back foot, but now that she was on his territory, in the one place where he should feel comfortable, he felt insecure and out of his depth. Her asking questions about his personal affairs only added to his discomfort. Not to mention his guilt.
"I'd like to meet your son someday, if he should ever come to visit," she said, and he pushed himself up, striding away from the table, from her.
"I think that's highly unlikely," he said aloofly. "Now, Miss French, as it's getting rather late, perhaps you'd allow me to run you home."
Recognising that she was being dismissed for the evening, Belle drained her cup. He drove her home in silence, which became somewhat thick and oppressive as their journey continued. Belle promised to come back the next afternoon, as soon as her classes had finished, and Gold bid her goodnight as he dropped her off, driving back to his house. Entering his study, he poured himself a glass of whisky and tried to go through some more paperwork. There was a case he had recently been instructed on that needed some input on his part, but he was finding it difficult to concentrate. Perhaps having Belle at his shop wasn't such a good idea. She was a delightful distraction, though.
The telephone disturbed his thoughts with its shrill ringing, and Gold eyed it coldly, rolling his whisky glass between long fingers as the amber liquid sloshed gently. He put down the glass and picked up the phone.
"Gold," he said abruptly. There was a moment's silence as he listened to whoever it was that had called him.
"Well, I certainly appreciate the consideration," he said smoothly. "I can assure you that as I have no interest in pursuing this object myself, I really can't help you." He took another drink as he continued to listen. A slight frown was starting, his eyebrows beginning to contract, making his eyes hawk-like.
"No," he said shortly. "I'm afraid I can't agree to that." More silence. One finger began tapping his desk in thinly-disguised irritation. "Because I said so." He picked up his glass, swirling the whisky within, the lamplight shining through it so that bronze and golden lights danced across the desk. All of a sudden he slammed down the glass, all pretence at good humour gone.
"Let me make something absolutely clear," he snapped. "You may be of some consequence in Boston, but Storybrooke is my town, Mr King. I say what goes here, and I have refused your request. I do not propose any further discussion of the matter. Should you persist in your endeavours, if I should receive the slightest indication that you are encroaching on my territory, I will make you curse the first kiss your mother stole from whatever drunken reprobate happened to be your father. Do you understand me? Am I speaking in words of sufficiently few syllables?" Whatever was said to him next made the corners of his mouth turn upwards. "Excellent. Then our business would appear to be concluded, dearie. Rest assured I wish you well in your efforts, as long as they do not affect mine." He put down the phone, tapping fingers together thoughtfully as he considered what he had just heard and how to turn it to his advantage.
A/N: Coming up: Gary isn't happy about Belle's deal with Gold, Ruby has regrets she needs to talk over, and Gold experiences dinner at Granny's.
