He was in a world-famous band. He put on shows that most people and their bloody mother would kill to see. He was famous. He was successful, god damnit.
He was so far beyond the point of caring what other people thought of him and Fable that any negativity was immediately drowned out by the screaming adoration of a million people willing to argue on his behalf. He'd heard his fair share of negativity; it wasn't as if he was deaf to it, but nothing anyone had ever said had ever bothered him. He was Fable's lead fucking singer.
So then why, why was he waking up for the third bloody time, haunted by dreams of a young, brown-haired little goddess who looked at him and saw straight through the shield of fame that he wore; who spoke to him like he was a normal person rather than some pompous old fool?
The dreams had run together and he couldn't keep them straight; he'd chased her and chased her all night, but she remained just out of reach; always beautiful and smiling and kind, with a sharp-edged tongue that set him on fire and flayed flesh from bone the moment she spoke. And she always spoke.
He'd never wanted anything more in his life than he wanted the blue-eyed wonder in that dream.
"Gold!"
Emma's shout had him jerking awake, evaporating his latest dream with his fingers a millimeter away from his target.
He knew he'd never have actually caught her. He knew it was just a dream, and a stupid one at that. It didn't stop him from being furious.
"What!?" He snarled, sitting up in a tangle of bedsheets that nearly had him collapsing onto the floor. It took him a moment to realize Emma wasn't actually in the room. Of course she wasn't. He kicked the suffocating fabric from his legs and stalked over, throwing the door to his suite open and regarding the blonde with a wild-eyed glare.
Emma took a step back, smirking at him with a cup of coffee in her hand. "Woah. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."
"You have no idea." He growled, scrubbing at his face as reality slowly seeped into his consciousness.
The goddess. The girl. From the night before. Oh, lord. He'd been dreaming about some young little thing just because she'd surprised him with her honest words and kind, unexpecting demeanor.
He was going crazy, to let some pretty blue eyes get under his skin like that.
He reached to take the cup of coffee from Emma's hand, but she pulled it away at the last second, smiling at him.
"My coffee. I came to talk. That girl, from last night?"
He groaned. Emma had torn him apart for interrupting the show for the few seconds it took to put the security guard in his place, and he was not in the mood for a fucking rehashing. "Drop it, Emma. I'm not in the bloody mood to talk about this again. She was getting crushed. I'm not going to say sorry."
The blonde brushed past him into the room, her tone suspiciously bright. "Wasn't going to ask you to. Of all the things we could find to talk about in relation to that girl, I think it's funny that thats where your mind went. I was going to ask what happened after you walked her to the door. You disappeared for the rest of the night."
"I took a cab back to here-" He turned, eyeing his surrogate sister with distaste as he realized where the topic was leading to. "Emma. Don't start."
She widened her eyes innocently. "Start what? Just making conversation. So, did you send her home in a cab, or is she hiding in the bathroom?"
He made a grumbling noise in his throat. "Neither. Walking her to the door is all I did."
Emma sounded truly surprised. "Wait, what? With the way you threatened Killian, I thought maybe-"
"You saw her. She wasn't interested. Besides, what do I care? She was just some bloody girl." He grumbled, sitting heavily on the edge of his bed. "Some bloody girl who didn't even want to be there last night." He put his face in his hands.
"Some girl that got under your skin, you mean." Emma teased. "Don't think I didn't see your face. You didn't know what to do with yourself with the girl turned you down."
He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He'd been turned down before. That wasn't new. But after spending half the concert unable to stop staring at the poor lass back by the bar, he couldn't help but admit he'd been interested when Regina told him she was waiting for him. What a bloody mess.
"Yeah well, nothing happened, and I won't ever even see her again, so don't fucking start with me, yeah?"
"Would you like to see her again?" Emma responded, and when his head snapped up she was holding a black phone with a lilac colored plastic case in her hand, a grin on her face. "She left her phone at the venue. I just confiscated it off of Killian and Jefferson. They were sending some...unseemly texts and phone calls with it. Want it?"
He was on his feet and reaching to take it from her hands before he realized what he was doing, and he drew back and curled his hands into fists to stop himself. She was just some woman, god damnit. Just because he'd had a bloody dream about her didn't make her anything special. It wasn't often someone impressed him, and she'd managed to.
It took all of his pride to hide behind the mask of Rumplestiltskin. "Why would I want to return it to her? She didn't even know who I was. Who you were. Besides, she's probably long gone by now. I'm not a goddamn courier service."
Emma grabbed his wrist, and he was already opening his fist to take the phone from her when she pressed it into his palm. She smirked at him. "Don't try to pull that with me. You're an awful liar, Gold."
His fingers hadn't even closed around the thing before the little phone was vibrating in his hand, and he did a double take on the picture flashing across the screen, the name Ruby flashing across the top.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," He growled.
"What is it?" Emma asked, leaning over him to look at the picture. A tall, over-skinny brunette was making a face at the camera, her arm wrapped around the blue-eyed young woman, Belle, both clad in graduation gowns. He jabbed at the skinny woman in the little image with a finger.
"Her. That's the girl that nearly got me killed before the show yesterday. The one that stole my hat."
"Oh my God." Emma snickered. "Are you sure?"
He gave her a bland look. "It's not something I'd forget."
"Well, answer it." Emma gestured towards the phone. "If she's calling, that must mean they're looking for it. Lucky you."
He stiffened, looking nervously at the little device in his hand. "She knew who I was by my bloody hair yesterday, Em. If I answer it, she'll know it's me. They'll have half of New York after me by the time I get the bloody phone back to Belle."
"So you know the girl's name then," Emma teased. "That's a first."
The phone was out of his hand and up to Emma's ear before he could protest, and she jabbed him hard in the ribs when he tried to take it back from her. "Hello?" He could hear someone speaking on the other end of the line, and he kicked himself for the hope that overwhelmed him when Emma smiled and turned away from him. "Oh! Hi, Belle. This is-well. You don't know me, but I think we have your phone."
Emma turned away and strode across the room, and he watched as she paced beside the window, speaking to Belle quietly for several minutes before finally hanging up. She turned to Gold with a smirk.
"Well?" He demanded.
"Thought you didn't care." She watched him struggle for an argument for a moment before laughing. "Do you want the good news or bad news first?"
He debated for a second, finally giving up on any pretenses. "Good."
"Good news is your girl is overjoyed that you're going to return her phone." He snatched the device out of the air when Emma tossed it to him. "And she also has no idea who it is returning it, so as long as her friend can keep quiet the whole 'half of New York' angle is covered."
"And the bad?"
"The bad is that you've only got two hours to wipe that ridiculous grin off your face and get cleaned up before you meet her at the Empire State Building."
He quickly swallowed the expression he hadn't been aware of.
"Why there?"
Emma sniggered. "It was the only thing the girl could see from her hotel room that she could recognize. I'm going to guess she's not from around here."
Of course she wasn't. She was from Australia, no that he'd have ever admitted that to Emma. It was one thing to know the girls name. It was another entirely to know anything else about her. He couldn't keep the warmth from his tone. "Thanks, Em."
She patted his shoulder roughly on the on her way to the door, but her smile was genuine. "You're just lucky I know you better than you do."
He could see Emma lounging in the one of the expensive armchairs the lobby offered when he stepped out of the elevator an hour and a half later, and he was unsurprised when she stood at his approach.
He'd showered and, after weighing the practicalities of remaining incognito with clothing that would hide his identity versus not dying of heat stroke while wearing them, given up the ghost and changed into a pair of snug black jeans and old converse and a loose black t-shirt, and he could see her weighing his clothing choice when she strode over, ever the practical, self-appointed guardian of his safety.
"Wearing that?" She asked, putting her hands on her hips and quirking an eyebrow at him. "Not even going to try to be inconspicuous?"
He pulled a pair of dark aviators from his pocket and showed them to her before pulling them over his eyes. He smirked. "Didn't work for me last night, yeah? These'll just have to do." He didn't even bother to ask about her clothing; even in her typical attire of skinny jeans and a tank top, Emma was very rarely recognized. One of the joys of being an all-American girl, he supposed.
He only rolled his eyes when she matched his step as he strode out of the extravagant marble lobby. "Shoulda bloody guessed you'd tag along."
They walked out into the blistering heat together, and Emma waved off the valet as he hurried over, hailing a cab instead.
"It's me or security, and I know how much youlove being followed around by them." When his lip curled in distaste, she laughed. "You've already got two strikes against you in this town. Unless you want me to make good on my promise to finish the job if you get recognized and give you another one of these," She poked him in the purpling bruise on his arm, making him wince. "You'll let me tag along. It's me or them, and I guarantee you they won't just let you hang out with this girl."
He snorted, piling into the cab beside her. "You make a convincing argument, you know that?"
"I know." She put on a pair of fancy sunglasses, giving him a smirk before glancing at their cabby in the rearview. "Empire State Building, please."
He was surprised when Emma nudged him with her shoulder as the cab pulled away, nodding towards the Starbucks sign hanging in the window of the staggeringly large pointed building.
"I'm going to go get a coffee. Try not to get mauled again, alright?"
He quirked an eyebrow, unable to tear his gaze away from the swarming crowds of people that surrounded them. He couldn't see Belle, but it was a big place, and he didn't want to be surprised again when her overeager brunette friend noticed him. "Not going to babysit me, Em?"
There was no response. "Em?" When he glanced over to where she'd been only moments before, Emma was gone. He smiled. For all of her ridiculous insistence on being inconspicuous and requiring the goddamn buddy system everywhere they went, she knew when to draw the line between being an overbearingly cautious little sister and being a friend. As always.
When a cursory patrol of the area revealed no sight of brunette hair and blue eyes, he swiped an arm over his forehead and pulled the girl's phone out of his back pocket, debating on calling the Ruby phone to alert them of his arrival, but then rejected the idea. Other than answering the single call from her friend, he hadn't touched the thing, and somehow even with all the bastard things he'd ever done, it still felt wrong to use the young woman's phone without her permission.
He touched the screen, smirking at the sight of her wallpaper, an image of her and her friends in graduation caps and gowns. It looked recent. A college graduate, then? It would make sense, the girl had simply oozed intellect.
Other than Belle and the tall brunette who he suspected was this Ruby girl, he didn't recognize the others. Did they live here? Was it just the two of them visiting New York, or did she have a boyfriend? She'd turned him down flat the night before, the second she'd realized what he was doing. There had been no interest—none—in her eyes. Did she have a fiancé? He hadn't seen a ring on her finger, but he also hadn't looked.
It suddenly took all of his willpower to not check her texts for some gushing, telltale sign of a significant other, and he was mortified at his own train of thought. He shoved the electronic deep into his pant pocket. What did he care if she had a boyfriend? What did he care about anything relating to this woman—this young woman? She had no interest in him and he had no interest in her, and even if he did he was half-certain she was out of his age-range. At thirty one, he was still in his prime, but that didn't make it okay to go chasing after some twenty year old little—
He shook himself roughly, forcing himself out of that train of thought. Here he was, daydreaming about her again. He was just returning her phone. He was just returning her bloody phone.
The phone vibrated against his thigh, and he nearly tore the denim in his haste to rip it from his pocket.
He had the thing halfway up to his ear before the sight of a head of gentle brunette curls climbing from a cab across the sidewalk had him hesitating, and he was shocked at the way his stomach clenched in response to a pair of blue eyes scanning the crowd. It wasn't until they passed right over him without a single sign of recognition that he remembered she was looking for a woman, and he greedily drank in the sight of all the pale skin she displayed in her tank top and shorts before looking for a companion.
She had a friend with her, who was leaning down to pay their cab driver. He couldn't see her face, but the height was all wrong, and a glance around them revealed no others. Whoever this other girl she'd brought was, it wasn't the one who had his hat.
It also wasn't a boyfriend.
Just to confirm, he rejected the call and watched as Belle pulled the phone away from her ear, making a face at it before turning to speak to the girl beside her. After a few exchanged words, she tried dialing again.
Triumphant, he leaned against the glass building casually, making sure he was within eyesight.. She didn't care about who he was, but she had a friend with her, and he was nothing if not a bloody arrogant bastard. If there was even a chance that this was one of her friends from the concert, he had a duty to himself to restore his broken pride by being recognized at least once.
He brought the phone up to his ear, watching the two of them in amusement. "Yah?"
Belle stiffened, looking confused by his very male voice, and she looked around the crowd that passed between them. Again, her eyes swept over him without a single sign of recognition. "Hi, we're here. Are you?"
"Mhmm. By the front doors. West 34th street."
He watched a smile bloom on her face. "So are we! What do you look like?" Her eyes scanned the crowd around her, drawing closer to him with every step she took towards the front doors of the staggeringly large building. She was making it all entirely too easy.
"Black shirt." She was suddenly eyeing an older, salt-and-pepper bearded man as he walked by her in a black suit, and he rolled his eyes. She was twenty feet away now, and it was with perverse pleasure that he recognized the design on her friends t-shirt, a stylized, tribal Fable logo. Oh, this would be fun.
"Could you be more specific?" She asked, glancing at a youth much younger than him in a black tank top, who rolled between them on a skateboard. "As it turns out, there are a lot of black shirts here."
"Black jeans." He let the distance between them shrink, and she passed by not ten feet from him, looking in the wrong direction. He straightened up and sauntered over, stopping an arm's length behind them.
"I'm sorry," Belle said into the phone at her ear, at the same time her friend nudged her.
"Ask him what color his hair is."
He disconnected the call, crossing his arms and smirking as he leaned between the two of them to whisper. "It's brown, love."
They both turned, and her friend didn't disappoint. After a second of incomprehension, her hand flew up to her mouth in total shock, and she stumbled back a step.
"Oh my fucking God."
He couldn't help the grin that crossed his face or the preening way he straightened up at her friends exclamation, and Belle was staring at him in complete surprise when he looked over to her.
"You." She said quietly, and a puzzled little expression crossed her face. "You're that guy from the show last night. Rumplestiltskin."
He honestly couldn't recall the last time he'd been referred to as 'that guy', and he couldn't help but tease her for it. "And you're the girl. Belle."
"What are you doing here?" Belle asked, and he found himself filled with dismay at her words. Was she not pleased to see him? He quickly offered the phone to her.
"You left it at the venue," He explained, and then remembering Emma's comment at the hotel added nervously, "Wasn't the one who found it, though. You should…probably check your phone records, yeah?"
"Oh," Belle exclaimed, and he watched as she peeled the case back to reveal her ID. What a clever little thing. "Thank you. Honestly, I don't know what I would have done…"
He suddenly regretted giving her the phone back, now that she was standing in front of him without a single reason to stay. He didn't want her to go.
Her friend provided a temporary solution. She was looking between them like they'd suddenly used magic, and he realized that for all of his arrogant desire to be recognized he hadn't paid the girl a single ounce of attention since Belle had spoken his name.
"B-Belle? How do you…?"
Belle's cheeks turned the most charming shade of pink he'd ever seen, and he realized that, for whatever reason, she hadn't told her friends where she'd been the night before. He wondered why that bothered him. "Oh. Sorry. Uh, Aurora, this is Rumplestiltskin. Rumplestiltskin, Aurora. We met after the show yesterday evening." She flapped a hand between the two of them helplessly, looking embarrassed. "Aurora and I went to school together."
He quirked an eyebrow at Belle but turned to Aurora, grateful to be back in his element. He didn't know how to act around Belle; she was a mystery and it had been far too long since he'd been around anyone who thought it necessary to introduce him, but he rocked back on his heels and inclined his head at her friend.
"I like your shirt."
Aurora immediately turned red, and he had to swallow a laugh.
"Thank you." The quiet brunette gushed. "Your show was so good last night."
He snorted in amusement. He probably could have asked anyone in the venue the night before and they'd have told him the same thing, but his dreams hadn't been haunted by appreciative fans. The only person whose praise and admiration he found himself desiring in that moment was the Australian currently looking through her phone records with wide eyes rather than staring at him. He didn't like it.
He inclined his head at Belle with a smirk. "I think that this one would beg to differ, yeah? Not much of a rock girl, I hear."
He immediately felt guilty for saying it. The shyness he'd picked up from Aurora was suddenly gone and replaced with a scolding, bossy posture he knew all too well. It was the same one Emma used when she wanted to make him feel terrible for something he'd done.
"It's okay," He found himself amending quickly. He hadn't realized he was throwing Belle under the goddamn bus, and he held up his hands. "Was just a joke."
By the time Belle tore her eyes away from her phone, her friend was looking at her like she'd just desecrated a piece of fine art, and Belle flinched.
"I never said—"
"She had fun." Aurora told him, cutting Belle off. "She just wanted to go to Broadway instead."
"Broadway?" The disbelief was evident in the way the word fell helplessly from his lips, and he cursed himself. He didn't know what to do about a girl who preferred Broadway to his shows.
"I enjoyed the show." Belle mumbled, avoiding eye contact with both of them. She seemed embarrassed. "But some sightseeing would have been nice. We're only in town until tomorrow morning, and we spent all day yesterday in line for your show, that's all." She rubbed the toe of her sneaker on the concrete. "Speaking of that, we should probably—"
She had no reason to want to spend time with him. She was a girl who preferred Broadway to Fable, finding her friends to having a drink and sharing an evening with him. Stripped of his fame, he was no more than an arrogant bastard who'd gone down far too many wrong paths, and he had literally nothing to offer her company-wise. He didn't know how to carry on a conversation with such an intelligent young thing—good lord, what would they talk about? Nevertheless, he found himself blurting out the words before he could think better of them.
"Let me show you the sights."
Blue and brown eyes shot up his face in disbelief, and he cleared his throat, trying to force some of that languid arrogance into his tone as he shoved his hands in his pockets. He was Fable's lead fucking singer. He was famous. This was no time to start falling over himself over some little thing just because she'd given him the opportunity to spend time with her.
"I mean, I can show you around the city. If you'd like." He waved a hand to gesture to the enormous building next to them and, on a larger scale, Manhattan itself. "I've got nothing going on today."
Belle was staring at him the same way she had last night when he'd assumed she was some groupie looking for a casual evening; puzzled and completely at a loss for what to say. Aurora, on the other hand, was staring at him as if he'd just bloody proposed.
A quick glance at her friend, and Gold was certain Belle was going to turn him down, but when her friend only nodded in encouragement Belle turned back to him, some of the bewilderment leaving her eyes, replaced by a warm smile. "Uhm, sure. Why not?"
He suddenly realized he'd involuntarily invited both of them, and he swallowed a growl. He wanted to spend time with Belle, not her and her friend. Not that he cared about the young lass in any sort of way that would require them to be alone, it was just…
As if she'd read his mind, Aurora spared him the work of finding a way to get her to leave the two of them alone when she patted Belle on the shoulder a moment later. She was already backing quickly away, making a frantic but appallingly poor attempt at being subtle when she pantomimed for Belle to text her. "Well, I should get back to the hotel room. Ruby and Mary Margaret are going to worry if neither of us shows back up. I'll see you later, Belle!"
They watched as Aurora hurried away without a single glance back, and Belle turned to look at him when her friend disappeared from sight. She looked about as ready to crawl into a hole and hide as he felt, and it eased his anxiety a little bit.
"Well lass," He smiled indulgently at her, jerking his chin in the direction of the enormous building they stood beside. "It seems a shame to make you come all the way out here and not go inside. Shall we?"
They'd barely stepped inside the doors when he felt eyes on him, and he paused in the expansive lobby to glance around, finally catching Emma's eye from where she was lounging in one of the couches. The younger woman raised her coffee cup to him in salute, making no move to stand, and the pleased smirk on her face made him roll his eyes.
"Swan came with you?" Belle asked at his elbow. When he glanced at her, she was looking between the two of them curiously.
"She makes a habit of being my shadow, but she won't bother us." He responded easily, and the strangest expression crossed Belle's face. He nodded towards the ticket line. "Shall we?"
Even without the younger woman directly following him, knowing she was waiting made him suddenly feel like an awkward teen on a chaperoned date. Not that it was a date. Or that he'd ever been an awkward teen who'd ever gone on anything chaperoned. Still, feeling Emma's eyes on his back while they waited in line made him work hard not to squirm. She'd be teasing him relentlessly for this when it was over; spending time with some random girl that had him so easily in her thrall.
They were stuffed together in the crowded elevator when Belle finally turned to him and asked the question that explained the perplexed expression she'd been wearing since they walked into the lobby.
"So, uhm..How long have you and Swan been together?"
"How long have we-Oh, no." He barked a laugh. "Emma is my sister."
"Oh!" Belle responded, and that charming blush was back on her cheeks. "I'm sorry! You two don't even look alike, so I just assumed-"
He couldn't help himself, he sniggered. "Everyone does, lass. No harm done. She's not blood, but she's the closest I have to family, yeah?"
"So her real name is Emma, then?" Belle asked, and he cursed himself for speaking so candidly. She was a sharp little thing, it seemed. He needed to be more careful about his words. When he nodded hesitantly, she raised an eyebrow at him. "May I ask why she goes by the other name?"
He glanced pointedly at the full elevator around them before responding, and he couldn't help the smile that grew on his lips at her boldness. "This is a conversation for another time, lass."
It wasn't until they stepped out of the elevator and into the open air of the 86th floor and the sudden, dizzying view of Manhattan immediately made him ill that he remembered that, while afraid of very few things, he was bloody terrified of heights.
"Can you believe we're a quarter mile above the city?" She asked excitedly.
He didn't realize he'd stopped following Belle until she turned and gave him a quizzical look from the buildings edge, where she stood with the rest of the crowd.
"Aren't you coming?" She shouted.
He'd never admit it, but just watching her lean over the edge as far as the lengthy safety precautions would let her made his stomach turn, and he had to resist the urge to shake his head and step back closer to the elevator.
No wonder she was so consistently unimpressed with him, he realized. From the moment they'd met, he'd done nothing but make a bloody fool of himself. The top of the goddamn Empire State Building? What had he been thinking?
He fell back to his foolproof method of dealing with things that unnerved him, and the languid, graceful arrogance and apathy he channeled thankfully didn't fail him when he crossed his arms and looked away from her in response. "You go ahead."
He hadn't been expecting her warm hand to wrap around his wrist a moment later, and the unexpected touch was an electrical jolt to his senses that had him snapping his gaze up to her in surprise.
"Come on," She coaxed, and it was clear that his attempts at hiding his own fear had been in vain when she smiled kindly at him and tugged on his arm. "You didn't pay good money to stand in the middle of the building, did you?"
He wasn't sure what he'd paid for at this point, but it certainly hadn't been to act like a damned fool in front of Belle.
Don't be a coward. He argued with himself. If a wee girl can do it, so can you.
His legs were trembling as he forced himself to match Belle step for step, and when they reached the edge he glanced at her with a practiced look of nonchalance to prove that, whatever she thought of him, he wasn't afraid. That he was tough and above any sort of ridicule.
Her eyes widened at whatever expression he actually wore, and just as he was preparing himself for a ridiculous giggle or a roll of her eyes, her warm hand descended over the white-knuckled death grip his callused hands had on the safety bar. She smiled reassuringly at him, leaning forward to speak to him over the wind.
"Don't worry," She promised. "You're not going to fall."
He eyed the enormous steel fence that circled the building to keep him from just that, knowing she was right but failing to care. His voice was bitter. "No, but if the wind catches me it could bloody rip me off the building."
Belle just smiled at him. "Would you like to look over the edge?"
He absolutely did not, but Belle's warm hand covering his reminded him that this was not the time for being a coward, and he reluctantly steeled himself and glanced over the precariously steep edge.
His sunglasses promptly fell from his nose, and the two of them watched in disbelief as they fell several stories before landing on a terrace below. He'd just begun to grind his teeth and curse the supposed merits of facing ones fears when Belle surprised him yet again.
"Oh no!" Belle cried, sounding far more upset than she had a right to be. Her expression was apologetic when she looked up at him a moment later. "Those were nice sunglasses!"
He'd been angry to lose them, but her overwhelming compassion completely disarmed him, and he found himself shrugging. "They're just glasses, yeah? I can get new ones."
She leaned over the edge again, making his stomach swim. "I can see them on one of the lower balconies. Do you want to go get them? They might still be okay."
It had taken every last ounce of his self-control to not grab her around the waist and haul her away from the precarious drop the second she'd bent over, and his fingers twitched nervously when she made no move to straighten up.
His voice was more of a whimper than the rough, commanding tone he'd been going for. "If you'll stop bloody doing that, I'll do anything you want. You're scaring the years off of me, lass!"
She sat up, leaning in and frowning at him. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. What?"
The part of him that still had pride left sighed in relief. "Nothing. Let's just go find my glasses."
It took some guesswork, but after visiting a few floors they finally stepped out onto the right terrace together, and Belle made another upset sound when he knelt down and picked up his shattered aviators from the concrete.
Eager to lighten her mood, and in need of a distraction from his dire need for one of the smokes he hadn't brought with him, he held up the broken frames to her in amusement.
"At least they didn't fall all the way down, yeah? Imagine some bloke down there getting these through his skull."
Her response was immediate, as was the charming way her lip curved up in a wry smile. "That's not scientifically possible."
"But if you drop a penny-"
She just shook her head. "That's a myth."
He eyed her suspiciously. "How do you know?"
"I'm a bit of a bookworm." The way she uttered the words made it sound like she was confessing to a crippling disease, and he could only quirk an eyebrow at her before tugging the broken glasses back over his face.
"Okay, Bookworm. How do I look?"
Belle shook her head with a laugh. "Sorry, I don't think you can pull it off."
He took them off, tossing them into one of the decorative bushes that lined the area with a sigh. "Damn. So much for being bloody incognito."
Belle suddenly looked concerned. "Oh! I forgot-I suppose you needed those, didn't you?"
The fact that she'd forgotten who he was should have probably wounded his ego, but he found himself shrugging instead. "They were doing a bit of a shit job anyway. My eyes aren't what's gonna get me recognized on the street."
Belle laughed, waving a hand towards her temples. "It's this, to be honest. It's a little telling to see gray on such a young guy."
He was appalled by himself when he felt his face heat in pleasure at her words, and he smoothed the tufts behind his ears. "Oh, I'm probably much older than you, love."
"Hmm." She put a hand on her chin thoughtfully. "Thirty..."
He sighed. "Thirty one."
She perked up at that, and he would have given anything to know why she seemed so pleased. "See? You aren't that much older than me."
He quirked an eyebrow at her. He wasn't going to ask. He wasn't bloody going to ask. It didn't matter how old she was-
"Yeah? And you're what? Nineteen, twenty?"
Belle rolled her eyes. "Don't even try to be charming. I just graduated college. I'm twenty five."
He hated himself for the rush of hope her words produced in him. Twenty five. Twenty five was nowhere near jailbait age. At twenty five, she was a woman. She was a college graduate, for fucks sake.
She was also younger than Emma.
Flinching at that thought, he pointed a thumb back towards the building, eager to get out and away from the embarrassing nightmare it had become. "Fair enough, love. Shall we move on, or would you rather spend the whole day up here?"
They were in the elevator, packed together with other tourists when Belle spoke again, and when he glanced over at her she was looking up at him curiously. "Can I ask you something?"
He blinked at her. "Yes?"
"Why did you invite me out here? Not that I don't appreciate it, it's just-You must have plenty of other things you'd rather be doing."
He snorted. "Well, you did ruin my full schedule of watching reruns of Cops and Pawn Stars."
She was suddenly staring up at him in disbelief, her eyes wide. "You've been to New York enough times that you don't even leave your hotel room?"
He shoved his hands in his pockets, his tone dismissive. "The cities run together after a while, lass."
He knew it wasn't the only question she wanted to ask, and he watched the floor numbers shrink as the elevator descended. The doors had just opened to the lobby when she continued. "Can I ask you something else?"
He almost smirked. "Shoot."
He'd been expecting her to ask about why he'd chosen her to spend the day with, or to ask if this was, in fact, a date. Or maybe to ask if he was expecting anything to come from their day, or why the fuck he was bending backwards in an attempt to please a girl he barely knew.
Her question, when it finally came, completely disarmed him. "How many countries have you been to?"
His laugh came before he had even registered her question, and he gave her a rare, genuine smile as they stepped out of the elevator together.
"Which ones haven't I been to?"
Belle had been following his lead all afternoon; letting him make good on his promise to show her a fun time in New York, and he hoped he hadn't disappointed.
She'd politely declined any tall attractions when he suggested them; a kindness he was grateful for, and by late afternoon he'd managed to take her to see the Statue of Liberty from across the harbor, had purchased hot dogs for lunch in Times Square, and had even led her through a corner of Central Park; all the things that he thought a young woman would want to see from the big apple.
She'd cooed with polite interest at each one, citing off interesting tidbits and facts about each location that he took at face value, amused that she seemed to know more about them than he did.
It was nearly four when, wiping sweat from their brows, he led her into the Museum of Natural History to cool off in the air conditioning for a few minutes and all of his presumptions about the polite, soft-spoken woman he'd spent the afternoon with were thrown out the window.
"Oh my God!" Belle exclaimed loudly, making him nearly jump out of his skin, and he turned to her in alarm to see a hungry, excited look in her eyes that he hadn't seen before. "I never thought-I've dreamed about this place!"
He forced his eyebrows to stop trying to touch his hairline and swallowed. He knew how to handle that kind of enthusiasm when it was directed at himand hismusic, but he'd never seen it directed towards a place of learning before, and he was at a loss. He despised museums, but Belle seemed ecstatic to just be inside the doors of the place, and her smile was doing strange things to his heartbeat. He realized now that she'd only had a passing interest in the sights they'd seen already, but she seemed legitimately excited about this one, so he pointed a thumb towards the exhibits with a warm smile.
"Well, dream no more, lass. Shall we take a look?"
Her face fell when they approached the ticket counter and she saw the prices for admission, and he nearly threw his wallet through the little window in his haste to get her smile to return.
"Please!" Belle exclaimed, fishing in her purse for her billfold. "That isn't necessary. Let me pay you back."
He waved her off in good humor, laughing. "Please, Belle. A twenty dollar ticket is hardly going to hurt my bottom line, yeah?"
She made a face but didn't complain when he handed her a ticket, and he had to resist the urge to wrap an arm around her shoulders as they stepped through the gates together. He'd learned over the course of the day that Belle was a very tactile person, and he was certain she wouldn't mind the friendly gesture, but he was nervous about allowing himself the luxury.
Truth be told, he'd become rather fascinated by the young woman, and over the course of the day his courteous friendliness had evolved into something more, and he'd found himself in need of guarding more than his tongue around her. It wouldn't do to end the evening hoping in vain for something the girl wasn't interested in.
She was silent as they stepped into the atrium of the first exhibit, and when he glanced over at her she was staring around with wide, reverent eyes, chewing on her bottom lip. He'd seen that look often enough in other people to realize she was trying to reel in her excitement, and that simply would not do.
He nudged her gently in the ribs with his elbow, smiling warmly when she looked distractedly over at him to show that he was game for whatever she thought too embarrassing to show in front of him. "Well? Where to first, lass?"
He'd guessed right, and the short walk had been the last bit of quiet between them. Two hours later, she was still talking; gushing over the exhibits, and he wondered more than once why she was reading the informational cards in front of each mummy and pile of bones and stuffed beastie at all when she seemed to know everything about them already.
He learned quickly that if he stood back from the exhibits and asked enough polite questions, by the time she'd finished with one room she was bursting with excitement over the next and she'd grab him by the wrist, forgetting for a minute that they were strangers who had nothing in common and drag him along with her to the next old thing to look at. He'd then wait, listening to her beautiful little accent wash over him, teaching him about all manners of things while he plotted his plan of attack for the next room.
He'd never liked museums, but he could suddenly see the appeal.
"What did you bloody go to college for, everything?" He teased as she led him through the entryway to an exhibit of dinosaurs. He inwardly squirmed with pleasure when she dragged him right up to the first enormous display of bones and was so eager to see it that she didn't let go of him.
He was a fucking prepubescent schoolboy all over again; enjoying the innocent touch of a girl entirely too much, but he'd lost the ability to care.
"English Literature," She replied distractedly, her fingers curled loosely around his wrist. The urge to shimmy his hand into her palm and twine his fingers with hers was overwhelming, and he distracted himself by watching the concentration on her face as she read the little display for the beast.
"Could have fooled me." He said, the corner of his lip curling upwards in a half smile. "You seem to be a master of all knowledge." It wasn't until she glanced up at him in surprise that he realized just how thick with admiration his words had been, and he quickly looked up at the gigantic bones with feigned interest, trying to distract her. "Uh, which is this one?"
"A T-Rex," Belle said, sounding confused. "Weren't you just reading the little placard with me?"
Shit. Caught, he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand and gave her a rueful smile, lying through his teeth. "Dinosaurs aren't really my thing, lass."
He was fascinated when, rather than letting go of him and being put-out, she held his hand firmly in her own before tugging him along. She hadn't skipped a single display in the entire time they'd been there, but she led him patiently past the entire wing dedicated to dinosaurs.
"Belle, wait." He cried once he realized what she was doing, and he dug in in his heels. "I didn't mean to offend you. Please, let's look at the dinosaurs."
She just shook her head, leading him into the next exhibit of prehistoric animals. "I don't want to bore you."
He tugged her to a stop, speaking sincerely when she looked up at him. "You don't. I'm not."
"I know I can get carried away in museums," She mumbled dejectedly, sounding as if she were confessing a terrible secret, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly.
"I'm having fun." She gave him a serious, disbelieving look, and he smiled at her. "Promise."
She just laughed, shaking her head, and he stared at her in confusion.
"What?" He asked. "What did I say?"
"Nothing," She said, playing with the hem of her tank top before giving him a fragile little smile. "It's just, most people-You really don't care?"
He shook his head. "Not a bit."
They were interrupted by the sound of Belle's phone beeping in her purse, and she dug the little device out, her face falling when she saw the screen.
"Something wrong?" He asked, concerned.
"It's my friends," She said, giving him an apologetic look as her shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry. I need to get back to the hotel."
"No problem. I'll walk you out?" He offered, following her through the nearly empty museum to the front doors.
"I had a really great time today," Belle murmured, giving him a dazzling little smile. "Thank you."
"Well, it was no bloody Broadway, but I do hope I made up for you being dragged to my show, yeah?" He teased, amused when she immediately blushed.
"I wasn't—" She huffed, laughing. "Yes. More than. Please tell me that's not why you did this."
"Nah," He responded, chuckling as he opened the door to the outside for her. "Even if it was, I had too good a time to bloody complain about it now."
His phone vibrated, and when he pulled it from back pocket he very nearly laughed. He hadn't realized the time, but he had a ridiculous number of missed calls from Regina. There would be hell to pay when he got back to the hotel, but he didn't care. He'd been serious in his comment; he'd had more fun with Belle than he had in a long, long time.
"Something wrong?" She asked.
He snorted. "It seems that I should probably head home, too."
"Past your bedtime?" She teased as they stepped out into the night air together, and he laughed.
"You have no idea, lass. My manager can be…oppressive." He walked her to one of the yellow cabs idling at the curb, leaning against the doorframe when she sat down in the backseat. "I am, however, free tomorrow. Maybe we could…"
Her crestfallen expression had him coming up short, and he felt pain twist in his belly as her shoulders slumped again.
"I'm sorry," She said, giving him a sad smile. "I wish I could, but we're leaving in the morning."
"You're leaving?" He replied, hating the panic that bubbled up inside of him. She wasn't allowed to leave. They'd just met. Shit. When in the hell had he become so attached to a woman he'd just met?
"We're on a road trip," She explained, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against the concrete. "We're spending the summer travelling the States." She gave him a confused look. "Aren't you leaving too?"
"Not for another day," He grumbled, perking up as a thought crossed his mind. "Wait, where are you going?"
Belle just stared at him in incomprehension. "Uhm, I don't know. Somewhere to the west, I think? We don't really have a set plan yet."
It was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He needed to let her go; he needed to let this beautiful, intelligent young woman close the damned cab door and drive out of his life before he did something even more foolish than spending the entire day with her.
Instead, the cab crawled forward an inch and he leaned down into the cab so fast that he nearly knocked his head on the roof, alarming Belle in the process. "Wait!"
She was staring at him with wide eyes. "Yes?"
The cab driver twisted around in his seat, glaring at him through the glass.
"I'm not getting paid for you two to chatter on. In or out, buddy."
Belle had slid over to make room for him before he'd even had the chance to glare back at the driver. "Here, get in."
He climbed in beside her and shut the door.
"Where to?" The man growled.
"Just a second." He barked back, and Belle was looking at him in wry amusement when he finally returned his attention to her.
"You were saying?"
"I just had a thought." He responded, pulling his phone from his back pocket and texting Emma quickly before he spoke again. The woman had left them behind after the Empire State Building, and he was suddenly eternally grateful that she'd left them to their own devices. "Do you mind dropping me off at my hotel before you head home?"
Emma was standing at the curb looking amused when they pulled up to the Waldorf-Astoria twenty minutes later, and he grabbed the envelope she passed through the window to him before turning back to Belle.
"This is a complicated thought," Belle mused, and he felt his face heat.
"I—Uh," He cleared his throat, trying desperately for some shred of the nonchalant arrogance he'd always been able to conjure so easily before. "Okay, I know you said you aren't really a rock girl, but it's also not really fair that your only impression of us nearly got you killed, so…"
Her eyes widened when she opened the envelope he handed to her. "Are these—"
"It's our next show," He explained. "It's not for a few days, but it's in Chicago, and there's enough there for you and your friends if you wanted to come." He smiled wryly at her. "I mean, you should at least have a Fable experience that involves at least one of us not getting mauled before you make up your mind about us, yeah?"
She laughed. "Well, I'd have to see what the others wanted to do—"
"You don't need to answer." He closed her fingers over the envelope before he opened the cab door and climbed out, leaning down to look at her. "Keep them, and if I see you I see you, yeah?"
She just stared at him for a long moment, a little smile on her face before she eased out of the car and stood, planting a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth that had him frozen on the spot.
"I don't know what to think of you, Rumplestiltskin." She finally admitted. "You keep surprising me."
"Trust me, lass." He replied with a laugh, using every last shred of his self-control to not turn his head and kiss her properly. "The feeling is mutual."
Hey guys! Thank you so much for your awesome reviews. I'm super excited that you guys are enjoying Rockstar!Rumple just as much as I'm enjoying writing it. :D
I've been asked a couple times what the musical inspiration for Fable is, which is an excellent question. Right now, it's a mix between Gossip, Metric, and Strata, among others. I have a playlist that I use for inspiration that I'll post to my tumblr if I get enough interest in it. :)
