It's a clear February morning when the doorbell rings and he limps to the door, curious about who is disturbing what has been, so far, a quiet Sunday morning. He pulls the door open and stops, taking in the woman before him. She's tall, with long dark hair and piercing eyes. She's wearing a red coat and dark jeans with high-heeled boots, and her makeup is flawless.

"Ruby, I presume." He says dryly, leaning on his cane.

"And Mr. Gold, I presume." She replies, sizing him up. She's taller than he is, but he's use to that. "I came to visit Belle, to make sure she's actually sick and you're not holding her hostage."

"I'd do no such thing." A little amused to find that Ruby is indeed as feisty as Belle's stories make her out to be, he moves aside and lets her in. "How did you find my home?"

"I sent her the address you walnut." Belle shuffles into the foyer.

"And you're meant to be resting." He reminds her. Belle makes a face, grabbing Ruby's hands.

"I told you I was fine." She states and Ruby takes in the messy bun, Belle's pale skin, the fluffy robe, the flannel pants, and fuzzy socks.

"A picture of health you are." Ruby says sarcastically and Belle glares at the two of them.

"Fine. We'll be in my bedroom then. I'll be resting." Belle sticks her tongue out at him and he graciously bows his head. Belle flounces off, pulling Ruby behind her. He wishes that he could follow, to listen to them gossip and chatter, but he refrains and instead goes to his office to work and give them privacy.

"Hey." He looks up and is surprised to see Ruby in the doorway to his office, arms crossed, looking more than a little hesitant.

"Ruby." He sets his pen down. "What can I do for you?"

"I want to talk about Belle." She states and he raises an eyebrow. "Don't worry, she's asleep in her room."

"Well that's impressive." He glances at the clock. "Usually she fights taking a nap around this time."

"I'm persuasive." Ruby states and he's sure she is. "And she knows I'm right. Which is why I wanted to talk to you."

"Alright, then let's talk." He folds his hands and looks at her imploringly. Ruby is just as fiery as Belle, which he can appreciate, but she lacks Belle's warmth and sweetness.

"I don't like that you're keeping Belle here." She declares firmly and he raises an eyebrow.

"Should I throw her out on the streets then? She'd last all of 10 minutes." He says archly and Ruby scowls.

"Not what I meant. Belle is good and sweet and kind and she deserves the world. If you're some weird creepy sugar daddy that likes having a pretty young thing in your house, I will kill you."

"Well," He has to hold back a chuckle at that. Belle had said that Ruby was blunt. "It's nothing of the sort. As you know, Belle's apartment was infested with mold. I simply offered her a chance to stay here and do private therapy while she searched for a new place."

"That was months ago." Ruby folds her arms, not buying it. "Why hasn't Belle left yet?"

"My… Son was home for Christmas." He says carefully. "He and Belle became close. I saw no reason for her to leave while he stayed. And once he returned to school, Belle fell ill."

"She always gets sick like this." Ruby admits and he tilts his head in curiosity. He knows little about Belle's past, outside of what she's told him. "Belle can't just catch the sniffles. When she goes down, she goes down hard. Once, when we were in middle school, a bunch of us got the flu. Belle didn't get it, but a month later she came down with mono."

"Hence the walking pneumonia." He says wryly and Ruby nods.

"She's impressive that way. What are your intentions towards her?" She demands and he practically chokes on his sip of tea.

"Intentions?" He repeats and Ruby steps into his office, till she's leaning forward on the desk, staring down at him.

"What do you plan on doing with her?" She clarifies. "Are you going to make her pay rent in sexual favors?"

"Ms. Lucas!"

"Hey." Ruby slaps an open palm on his desk. "I am protecting her. Belle doesn't always have the sense to do it herself, and she's gotten in trouble because of it before. If you're going to force her into doing something she doesn't want to do, know that I will tear you limb from limb."

"I would never." He says vehemently, even as he desires nothing more than to lock Belle away with him and never let the world touch them again. "Belle is entirely free to come and go as she pleases. She's even free to invite friends over, which is why you're here. I will never force her into anything she does not what. I may be a beast, but I am not that kind of monster."

"Good." Ruby seems satisfied with his answer, straightening up. "Then I think we're done here."

"Ruby." He calls her back before she can leave the study. "Be honest with me, will you? When you talk about Belle, how this has happened before… Was Belle ever… Hurt?"

"Mr. Gold." Ruby's face softens into a smile, and it makes her look years younger and sweeter. "You seems like an ok guy, and the way Belle talks about you makes you seem like you're a damn knight in shining armor, but I'm not fooled. Don't hurt her, ok?"

"Never." He promises, and means it.

"Then you can ask her about that stuff. She'll tell you when she's ready." Then, with a smile so warm it nearly reaches her eyes, she gives him a little wave and disappears.

With a pause, he waits until he hears the front door slam and Ruby is out of the house. Then he gets up and pads to Belle's room, carefully pushing the door open so it doesn't squeak on its hinges. Belle is nestled in the blankets, hair a tangled mess around her, breathing a wheeze, but peaceful nonetheless. She's pretty, heartbreakingly so, and he feels a surge of protectiveness at what Ruby's implied. If anyone has hurt his Belle, he'll break them. She just has to say so.

She's almost back to healthy when Valentine's Day arrives and he hesitates about if he's going to cross a line by asking her to dinner. So he waffles between making reservations at the finest romantic restaurant in all of New York City and casually ordering pizza and pretending that February 14 is just another normal day on the calendar.

"Hey, Jefferson." Belle says, as they ride to the studio early in the morning. "What are you doing for Valentine's Day?"

"Is that an offer?" Jefferson teases her and Gold tries to keep his temper in check, hands clenched.

"Of course." Belle teases back. "Though I wouldn't want to steal you from the pretty blonde you go home to at night."

"Ah, she would be pretty bummed." Jefferson smiles back over his shoulder. "We're going to make cupcakes with pretty pink frosting. She's going to take them to school, so I'll spend my time surrounded by hearts and pink and probably some edible glitter."

"So same thing as Mr. Gold." She jokes and his eyebrows fly up, looking at her in shock.

"Begging your pardon." He gives her a stern look and Belle is grinning at him innocently.

"I think that'd be fun. And I'm making you do it with me, because I know Mary Margaret is dying for a romantic evening with David, so I'm making sure you're entertained as a favor. So I expect you home. And could you grab butter? I think we're out."

"Can't Mrs. Potts?" He complains and Belle grins, patting his cheek, humming a happy tune.

When he gets home, Belle is already in the kitchen. He sets the stick of butter on the table, heart jumping a little at the sight of her. She's got flour streaked across her forehead and she's wearing a tank top and bright red shorts, hair braided down her back. She looks utterly domestic, and for a brief moment, he allows himself to envision a little girl sitting on the counter, a baby in a highchair, and Bae laughing while cracking eggs carefully.

"Hello." She grins at him, glancing over her shoulder. "There you are. C'mon, you can make frosting."

"I have to say," He takes off his suit jacket and sets it aside, loosening his tie and rolling his sleeves up. "Cupcakes are not exactly how I planned on spending this night."

"Is there a better way of spending a night?" Belle points out and he pretends to ponder that.

"Yes, and it starts with Johnnie and ends with label." He says flatly and Belle reaches for something and turns holding a tumbler filled with brown liquid. He bites back a praise that would reveal too much, taking a sip.

"Now you're on frosting duty." She orders. He acquiesces, taking another sip and then grabs the butter.

Baking with Belle is surprisingly fun, and she keeps his tumbler filled while he tops off her wine glass. By the time the cupcakes have cooled, they're both slightly tipsy and grinning. They sit in the living room, wrappers discarded on the coffee table and Belle's legs over his lap.

"You shouldn't be drinking." He chides her and she laughs, her already red cheeks going a shade darker.

"I'm not even sick anymore. I'll just get extra sleep tonight." She promises. "Shush. Let me have wine."

"Alright." He chuckles. "Those cupcakes are delicious, by the way. Where on earth did you learn to bake like that?"

"I told you, when mom died, it was sink or swim. Sink or starve, actually. I know my way around a kitchen for that reason only." She scoots closer to him, smiling lopsidedly.

"I'm glad to benefit from your skills." He brushes away a remnant of frosting on her cheek.

"Did I ruin a big date with my cupcakes?" She asks him imploringly and he nearly snorts up his whiskey.

"You know that I would never have a date." He sneers at the very idea of it and Belle laughs. "Did you have to turn down some sad sap because you had to do a favor for a friend and mind the beast for a night?"

"No." Belle sighs and leans so her head is on his shoulder. She smells like the cupcakes and the lemon tinged essential oils she's been favoring in class lately. "I volunteered actually. It was my idea. Not the cupcakes; that was Jefferson. But I wanted to spend the night with you. I didn't know how to ask you. So I told Mary Margaret it'd be a favor but I was really excited about it. Don't tell her though. It's nice when she owes me favors. It usually means fruit baskets and I love those baskets. I hope that's ok. I know cupcakes probably weren't your first choice but thanks for doing it with me."

"Yeah." He whispers, as her eyelids droop and she snuggles closer. "This is exactly what I wanted to do tonight."

"Dearie." He looks up at Belle, pausing in cutting up his steak. She's sitting across from him with her laptop open, drinking one of her exotic green teas and occasionally spearing a salad. "Let's talk."

"What do you think about this property?" She asks, spinning the laptop to show him a bare little apartment.

"No." He says promptly. "Far too much for far too little. Look at that horrible crown molding Belle."

"Well not all of us can afford penthouse suites." She grumbles crabbily. "Loans and rent, remember?"

"Belle." He says and she looks up at him curiously.

"Yeah?"

"You could stay." The words are pulled from him rather unwillingly, and he disguises his terror by stabbing the steak and cutting it viciously. He'd been thinking on it for weeks, unable to say it out loud but wanting desperately to keep her where she is, safe and with him. He avoids looking at her, because he's not sure what she's doing.

"Really?" She looks surprised, her bite of salad forgotten halfway to her mouth. "You'd just let me live here, for free?"

"Not free." He cuts himself ever-smaller bites. "I'd still expect therapy and massages and the like. Mrs. Potts could use your help cooking and cleaning, she's not as spry as she once was and you know Jefferson, he's rather attached to— Uff!" Belle has launched herself at him. He drops his silverware and after a moment of hesitation, hugs her back slowly.

"You are…" She pulls back, his head clasped firmly between her hands. "Something beyond words. Where did you come from?"

"I told you, the great north, Scotland." He jokes weakly. "Thought the accent gave it away."

"You know what I mean." Belle rolls her eyes, letting him go and backing away, grabbing her laptop again and thoughtfully typing something in.

"What are you doing?" He asks curiously, forgetting his steak in the desire to see what's stolen Belle's attention away from him.

"Well, if I'm going to stay, I'm going to need stuff." She gives him a wicked grin. "You sure you know what you're doing?"

"No." He says honestly. "But I offered it once and it's worked well in my favor, it seems simple to continue the agreement."

"Continue the agreement." Belle smiles at that, rolling her eyes. "Is that all I am, some agreement?"

"No!" He splutters, ready to correct himself, but Belle is already getting up for more tea.

"You are probably going to regret this, Rum, but I would stay here until you kicked me out." She says sweetly. "Home is where the chipped cup is, right?" She holds it up and he knows there's something more there, but all he can do is accept the tea and smile at her.

Once it's decided that Belle will stay, he expects things to change dramatically. He's sorely disappointed. The only difference is that Belle's things leak from her room into the rest of the house- scarves tossed on chairs, books on tables, heels kicked off under tables. It fills him with a sense of happiness to see how comfortable she is with him.

The last quiet weeks of February lull them into a sense of contentment. The snow barricades them into the house and they pass it with tea and books. A couple times Belle will hover before saying goodnight, like she wants to say more but can't. It's a cruel fate, them being the picture of domestic bliss while at the time skirting each other. He keeps up with fresh flowers in her room, but other than that he's floundering for how to make his feelings known.

The therapy isn't helping. Sure, his knee feels newer than it has in years. There are days when he's nearly painless. Mary Margaret worships Belle for this, delighted that his moods are dulled. Belle works wonders, but he's also convinced that she's got a degree in how to torture a man. During their sessions, when he sits in the chair, he dreams of her tossing her hair and straddling him. He thinks about her hips above him, her lips on his neck, all of it.

It's maddening and he hates most of all that he spends his days mooning over her, thinking about what flowers to get her, how to court her in a way that she'll notice, picking up books and treats for her. It's a crush and he hasn't had one of those in ages.

In response back, Belle rewards him with all the smiles and laughter he could want. She falls into the habit of leaning against him whenever she can and he delights in it, how her tiny body fits so well with his. They invade each others space, time and time again, but neither has the courage to push it further and make it into something more.

"And that's how that ended, with the two of them storming out of my office, acting like I stole her firstborn child." He finishes his story, chuckling, and Belle listens, shaking her head in astonishment.

"But I mean, you do feel bad for her, right?" Belle questions him and he gives a little shrug.

"Why would I? All her mistakes her own, and if she insists on continuing when I've advised otherwise, I can hardly be to blame for that, can I?" He points out and Belle shakes her head.

"No, I mean for her as a human." She explains. "Her mother, she's… Awful. She sounds like the worst mother I've ever heard of. She's controlling and manipulative and demanding… She's got all the traits of someone that's been emotionally abused all her life."

"Regina?" Gold raises an eyebrow and Belle nods.

"I think that's why she acts the way she does, because of her mother. It's not an easy thing to shake, when a parent gets in your head like that." Belle declares and he watches her massage his knee, eyebrows furrowed.

"And you would know how, my dear?"

"Oh, you know." Belle says evasively then goes to get warm towels, refusing to answer. He watches her quizzically. "But I don't think you should be as hard on her. She's just…"

"Belle." He says slowly and Belle smiles brilliantly.

"Sit. Relax." She orders, disappearing out the door. He reclines, mind turning over her words. When he finally exits the massage room, she's sitting at her desk on her computer.

"I'll see you at home tonight?" She questions, smiling when he straightens his tie. He nods, pulling on his jacket.

"See you there dearie. Have a good day."

"And you." She waves as he heads out the door. He's gotten to work before he realizes he's forgotten something critical at Belle's studio- his briefcase full of contracts.

"Bloody hell." Cursing, he pulls his phone out and dials her number. After a few rings, she picks up.

"Well hi you." She sounds a little surprised and concerned. "Is everything alright? What's wrong?"

"I am fine." He smiles at the worry in her voice. "I just realized I forgot my briefcase at the studio." There's a brief pause and a scuffle.

"Oh, yes, it's right here." Belle assures him. "Do you need it?"

"Yes." He says quickly. "And I know you have class, but is there any way you could run it to me?"

"Of course, next class isn't for an hour and you're only a couple blocks away. Text me directions to you?"

"Of course." He goes limp with relief. "Thank you Belle, I appreciate it."

"See you soon." Belle hangs up and he sits back, texting her how to get to him, before calling Mary Margaret.

"Yessir?" She answers.

"Could you please inform Mr. Leroy at the front desk that Miss French will be arriving shortly with my briefcase?" He requests.

"Oh, did you forget it at your appointment?" She sounds far too cheerful. "Won't you be terribly embarrassed that if she brings you your briefcase, your yoga secret will be revealed to the whole world?" It's a mark of his good humor that he responds to Mary Margaret's teasing with some of his own.

"I am fairly certain that no one is here this early, unless they're insane." He quips and Mary Margaret hums in agreement.

"Or have bosses that are." She gets the last jab in. "I'll notify him sir and greet her when she comes up."

"Thank you." He hangs up and shakes his head with a small smile. Not 15 minutes later, Belle bounds into his office with a bright smile and his briefcase. She sets it on his desk then looks around and whistles.

"And I thought my office was pretty." She comments and he glances out at the rather stunning view of the New York skyline.

"I suppose." He says glibly and she rolls her eyes. "Thank you for bringing me this Belle."

"Sure." She inspects the curios and knickknacks he has on his shelf, smiling and touching the roughhewn figure that can only be from Bae. "I like to see where you spend all your time."

"Less, lately." He informs her and she goes pink at the implications of his point, but doesn't press it.

"Still, it's fun, I—" She states, but Mary Margaret scrambles into the room, looking alarmed.

"Sir, Regina is coming." She says breathlessly. "She's in the elevator."

"What?" He asks sharply and Mary Margaret nods. Swearing, he gives Belle an apologetic look, before unceremoniously shoving her into a coat closet and shutting the door. A second later, Regina storms in with a commanding,

"Gold!"

"Yes, dearie?" Gold sits at his desk, poised, seemingly having just opened his briefcase.

"You're ignoring my calls." She accuses then catches sight of Mary Margaret in the corner, head down, quiet. "And what the hell is she doing here?"

"She is my assistant." Gold says dryly. "Mary Margaret, please go get coffee for our guest. Preferable decaf, as she seems a little excitable."

"Yes sir." Mary Margaret disappears hastily and Regina's attention is turned back to Gold.

"My calls." She reminds him. "Why aren't you taking them?"

"When you have something of value to talk about, I'll take them." He says innocently. "But until that time, my time can be spent doing things that are far more productive. Good day."

"Oh no." Regina scowls, refusing to be dismissed. "What is your deal Gold? You're slipping."

"Slipping." He chuckles humorlessly. "Not slipping Regina, just a little more… Cautious."

"Slipping." She hisses.

"Really? Because I didn't take part in that property flipping scheme that, if I do believe, is now undergoing an investigation?" He asks icily and Regina slumps slightly.

"That's what I came to talk to you about." She says quietly. "They're going to bury me Gold, bury me. I'll lose everything. I cannot and will not go to prison. Even if I avoid time, I could lose everything, absolutely everything. I need… I need your help to get out of this."

"Out of it." He repeats. "Because you can't take responsibility for your actions Ms. Mills?"

"It wasn't my fault." She snaps. "It was Mal and her stupid investors, the idiot from Saudi Arabia, Mr. Balthazar, Khan, and that asshole from Nottingham. It wasn't me Gold; I just need your help proving that. My mother, well she seems to think that I can downplay my involvement and knowledge."

"And the rest?" He asks curiously. "You'd leave them to hang?"

"Sure." Regina waves a perfectly manicured hand. "What do I care about anyone else's happiness but mine?"

"Oh, fuck off Regina!" Belle's voice bursts from her, loud and forceful from such a tiny body. Belle emerges from her hiding spot and both Gold and Regina stare at her in astonishment. Before Regina can so much as curl her upper lip and sneer something, Belle has launched herself on a tirade. "You come in here, miserable, and you blame it on everyone but yourself! For five minutes, take some responsibility and see where that gets you. It's not Gold's fault you didn't think this through, it's not the mayor's fault for the zoning laws, it's not the President's fault that rain delays construction, it's no one's fault but your own and you could try for some accountability!"

"Excuse you." Regina hisses but Belle isn't done. Gold sits back, amused at Belle's rage.

"Of course, you wouldn't know anything about that because your mother sheltered you from blame or fault all your life, which did you no favors. But if you can't grow up and see how your actions hurt others, than maybe you can at least realize how your mother's actions hurt you." Belle states, standing with her legs wide and arms crossed. Defiant even in leggings and a tank top, and startling beautiful while doing so, he realizes.

"What about my mother?" Regina is trying to dismiss Belle with her trademark sneer, but Belle isn't having it.

"She's emotionally abusive Regina, and she has been since you were a child. No mother would force you into something like this; no mother would so willingly force you into things you don't like. She manipulates you, trust me, I would know." Belle's gaze flickers to him, just briefly, and he wishes he could ask her what this means, why she's so furious over this. "You shouldn't have to deal with that, with her. You deserve love."

"Is this what you've been doing?" Regina points to Belle and looks at him incredulously. "You've got a little pocket Buddha hidden in your office, so she can spring out and give you reassurance and self affirmation? Gold, that's pathetic, even for you."

"Careful." He growls, but Belle isn't done.

"No, you stop that Regina. Stop stomping around like a toddler in a sulk, and start taking responsibility. You're being ridiculous, and you know it. Own up to it. Cut your mother off. Stop taking her shit and being such a witch. You can be a boss ass bitch in charge without sacrificing every inch of your happiness and softness. Who knows, maybe you'll even find love. But not if you keep being a bitch!" Belle yells, throwing her hands up.

"Who the hell is she?" Regina regains some composure, gesturing to Belle incredulously.

"This is Miss French, you met at the Nutcracker." He reminds her, hesitating. Once again, Belle takes charge of the situation.

"I'm Belle, and I'm sick of your shit. I listen to him complain—" She points an accusatory finger at Gold. "About things all the damn time and I am sick of it. Listen, I know how hard it is to get out of shit with your parents, especially those that have mastered the art of guilt tripping. But you have to do it, or she is going to drive you into something you don't want to be, like she has with this whole project and why you're in trouble. Tell me, when was the last time you did something without seeking her approval first?"

"There… There was a boy, Daniel." Regina says softly and Belle nods encouragingly while Gold is stunned. Apparently Belle's gift for opening people up extends beyond him and wait staff. "We dated, in college. He was going to be a vet. I… Wanted to be with him forever. My mother, she… She threatened my scholarship if I kept talking to him. She threatened to get him expelled, that he'd never help animals. His studies, they were his life, his heart, and I couldn't let her crush them, so I ended things. We never spoke again." Regina ends her tale nearly in tears and Belle steps forward, gently taking her hands.

"Do you see, that when you give her power, she's going to take it. You have to take a step back from her. My father, he was the same way. Parents think they know best. It's up to you, to us, to set boundaries. I have a wonderful therapist, Dr. Hopper, who's helped me with things with my father." Belle reveals. "Here, here's his number. Just give him a call and see, ok?"

"You want me to see a shrink?" Regina's moment of vulnerability is gone with a snarl.

"Yes." Belle's bravery that he's always so admired apparently means she will back down to no one. "And you're going to talk, actually talk. And stop being so crabby with Mr. Gold, because I am incredibly fond of my tea set, and I'm already down a sugar bowl."

"I replaced it." He reminds her quickly and she rolls her eyes.

"Yes, after you made me dodge it first."

"It was at the opposite wall!"

"Therapy." Belle gestures to all of them. "Go. Do. Learn. I have classes to teach. I'm ordering Thai food for supper." She breezes out of the office without hesitation and Regina turns to him.

"Are you doing that?" She demands and he sighs.

"What, getting Thai food for supper? No. She knows I hate that, that's why I'll be ordering pizza."

"You are in over your head, Gold." She says quietly.

"Don't I know it." He mutters. "Regina, I will arrange a meeting time to discuss this with you. I trust you can see yourself out."

"Your coffee." Mary Margaret stumbles into the room, holding a cup. Regina glances at it then nods to Gold.

"I'll talk to you later." She says, bypassing Mary Margaret and walking out. His assistant visibly slumps, then looks at him.

"Wait, where's Regina going?"

"She's leaving." His mouth twitches up in a smile as he sits to inspect his papers. "That will be all."

"Thank god." Mary Margaret mutters, taking a sip of the coffee before making a face. "Wow, decaf is awful."

He leaves work early, stopping to get pizza on the way. He knows Belle isn't kidding about the Thai food and with its tendency to make him queasy, it's best he avoid it entirely. However, it also gives him an excuse to dismiss Mrs. Potts early and give him and Belle alone time to talk.

He's determined to figure out what she means with all the thinly veiled references to her father. She does therapy; he'd never known that. How has he not known- why has he not thought to ask? He chases thoughts in circles around his head all the way home, distracted.

"Mrs. Potts." He pokes his head into the kitchen, where his housekeeper is busy sorting groceries and bustling about. "Belle and I will be eating out tonight. Go home. Get some rest."

"Sir?" She pauses, surprised by this, but he just gives her a thin-lipped smile and heads to the library, when he knows Belle is. Indeed, she's buried in a book already, oblivious to his entry until he clears his throat.

"Hi." She looks up in surprise. "I didn't think you'd be home so early, I haven't even ordered supper."

"No worries." He assures her. "I already have my pizza. I just wanted to come home and talk to you."

"Is it about what happened with Regina?" She says apprehensively. "Because I'm sorry but it's just, all the stories you tell me, I just couldn't keep my opinions to myself!"

"I know." He chuckles, sitting in his chair beside her. "And that, Belle, is why I find you so refreshing. It doesn't have to do with Regina… In a sense. Rather, I wanted to talk to you about what you said today."

"Which is?" Belle asks hesitantly and he struggles with how to begin. Finally, he throws caution to the wind.

"Belle, you said you were in therapy. How did I never know that?" He demands and her face falls.

"I didn't want to scare you away." She mutters, rubbing her forehead. "Making you think I was crazy."

"Belle, I would never." He says eagerly, and with a spurt of bravery, he leans forward and takes her hand, kissing her knuckles.

"It's not like it's a good topic for small talk." She's avoiding his eyes, but leaves her hand in his. "Last guy I brought it up to liked to remind that therapy made me… I don't know, broken. Or weak. Or something."

"And he was an idiot who didn't deserve you." He says fiercely and the corners of her mouth quirk up into a smile. "I was just alarmed to think that there is so much about you I don't know." They're edging into dangerous territory now, and he knows, but doesn't care.

"No, you know pretty much all of it." Belle says carefully and he catches the wording but chooses to let it go. "But if we're on that subject, then we should talk about how little I know about you. Being in your office today made me realize…. We've known each other for awhile now and I hardly know what you do with the majority of your time."

"Nothing I want you involved in." The very idea of Belle in the slimy world of deals and alliances and power struggles alarms him. She is too good, her light too bright, for his world.

"I get that." She pats his hands. "I'm just saying, it's not very often that I get a glimpse into you without Bae being here to open that up. I guess I'd just appreciate some trust."

"Ah." He draws back before he's even aware he's doing so. "Well, I think I'll see that Mrs. Potts puts that pizza in before she leaves. Would you like her to order your favorite from the usual place?"

"Sure." Belle is smart enough to see that the conversation has changed course and goes with it.

AN: Ok, I know y'all are dying, but trust me, it's necessary, very, very necessary... Check back in next week for a big surprise, and in the meantime, reviews are like bread and butter, thank you!