A/N: I've had a lot of messages asking whether I'd abandoned this fic. The answer is absolutely not! I've been working on finishing up some of my other stories like A Twist in Time and Where is My Mind. Now I'm trying to finish this one off so I can dedicate myself to Purgatory and my new story No Two Hearts. So, here is a little interlude to tide you over until the next chapter. It's just a bit of fluff. Hopefully a real update shouldn't be far off.

This came from a tumblr prompt: Rowan walks in on something she shouldn't because Rumple and Belle aren't used to having to lock the door.

Gods she'd missed this.

It had only been a few days, or thirty years depending on your perspective, since they'd been intimate but it felt like a lifetime. Between the confusion of the changed timeline, trying to catch up with everything they'd missed and finding themselves the parents of a rather precocious four-year-old, they hadn't had much time for romance.

But now Rumple was above her, kissing her, making her sigh with pleasure as he sucked on her bottom lip. He pulled her nightgown over her head and chucked it to the side of the bed before kissing his way down her body, taking his time to nip and suck at every sensitive place he knew would make her squirm with delight.

He settled himself between her thighs, breath ghosting over her most private places. He dragged his tongue against her core, licking and sucking until she was trembling beneath his ministrations. She gripped his hair, hips bucking against him and calling his name out to the room as her orgasm shook her down to her toes.

She was still coming down from her exquisite high as Rumple climbed back up her body. He slid into her easily, filling her so sweetly. She was dripping wet, ready for him in every possible way. He thrust once and she was sure she'd come undone in a matter of seconds. He let out the most delicious groan, burying his head against her collarbone and thrusting again. She wrapped her legs around his waist, gripping on to him for dear life. He felt so amazing. Nothing in the world could possibly compare to this, being one with her Rumple, her True Love, her husband.

"Mommy?" came a sleepy voice from the doorway.

Rumple froze above her, his eyes going wide in the dim light of the bedroom.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before shoving Rumple off her. He slid to her side with an agonized groan, gathering the bedclothes about his waist.

She'd never had to plan for this before. Never had to lock the door or worry about little eyes seeing something they shouldn't.

Shit.

She pulled herself into a sitting position, gripping the sheets to her naked chest.

"What's wrong sweetie?" she asked, trying to get her breathing under control, trying to ignore the throbbing heat still pulsing between her thighs. The little girl was standing just inside the doorway clutching her stuffed turtle, dark curls askew and looking so small and innocent in her footy pajamas.

"I heard yelling," Rowan said, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "What are you doing? Are you mad at Papa?"

Belle glanced over at Rumple, praying that his silver tongue would come up with some lie to feed their daughter. But her husband was lying back against the pillows with his eyes screwed shut looking as though he wished he were anywhere but here. She couldn't help but notice the bedclothes were still tented over his erection. He rather looked as if he were in pain.

"No, sweetheart. Papa and I were just…playing a game," she said haltingly and Rumple's eyes flew open at her lie. "Why don't you go lie back down and I'll come and tuck you in?"

Rowan nodded, shuffling back out into the hallway and leaving the door wide open behind her.

Belle fell back against the bed with a sigh.

"Playing?" Rumple asked with a smirk.

"Well what do you tell a four-year-old?" Belle countered. "You've been a father before. Why couldn't you come up with something?"

Rumple just gave a weary sigh.

"By the time Baelfire was old enough to question such things, Milah could barely stand the sight of me. It wasn't ever really an issue."

Belle felt chastened immediately. She never should have brought up Bae and certainly not Milah.

"Oh, Rumple," she sighed, rolling onto her side to kiss him sweetly. "I'm sorry."

Rumple just shrugged her off. "I think you promised to tuck someone in."

Belle nodded, reaching for her discarded nightgown and pulling it over her head. She was a mother first and foremost now.

"When you get back, maybe we can finish playing our game," Rumple said with a wink. "But this time maybe be a little less vocal."

Belle smacked him against the chest as she stood from the bed.

"I give you permission to magically sound proof our room," she shot back. "Because I don't want to scar our daughter, but I plan on being very vocal."

Sauntering out to the hallway she left a wide-eyed Rumplestiltskin sitting naked on their bed.

Soundproofing. That might work. And she must remember to lock the doors.

Grownups were weird.

This was not the first time Rowan had had such a thought. The grownups she knew were always doing weird things.

Mommy's friend Ruby would lay out in the sun on warm days for no other reason than to darken her skin. Rowan thought it was silly to just lie around when you could use the warm weather for an excuse to play outside. What fun was sitting quietly? Mommy wore high heels that made running impossible. If she ever wanted her to chase her, Mommy would have to kick off her shoes first. That seemed like a lot of effort rather than just wearing more sensible shoes. Papa would spend hours in his office staring at boring papers that had no pictures. When she asked him what his story was about, Papa told her it wasn't a story but a contract. Why would someone read something that wasn't a story? Rowan had read the back of her cereal box once, but it wasn't very interesting.

But what she'd seen last night was even weirder than usual. She didn't know quite what was going on, but she was pretty sure her parents weren't really playing a game.

For one thing, it was nighttime and all the lights had been turned off. How could you see to play? Secondly, Papa wasn't wearing a shirt. Whenever he played games with her he was in his typical three piece suit. Papa never just went around without a shirt on. And finally, Mommy was making an awful lot of noise that didn't sound particularly fun. Maybe that was because Papa was pinning her down. She assumed if they really were playing a game, Mommy was losing.

She was pondering these thoughts as she sat at the breakfast table the next morning. She watched her parents carefully, noting that Papa was smiling slightly as he entered the kitchen. He walked up behind Mommy and kissed her neck while she was making Rowan's eggs. Mommy blushed and giggled, and Rowan turned away not wanting to see.

"You guys are gross," she grumbled, feeling out of sorts. If there was one thing Rowan didn't like it was not understanding something. And she felt as though she had no idea what was happening between her parents.

"If we weren't gross, you wouldn't be here," Papa mumbled, pouring himself some coffee and coming to sit next to her at the table.

"Rumple!" Mommy exclaimed, shooting him a look.

Rowan wasn't sure what gross kissing had to do with her existence, but she let it slide. She had more important questions to ask.

"What were you playing last night?" she asked, and Papa choked a bit on his coffee.

"What?" Papa sputtered.

"Last night Mommy said you were playing a game," she clarified. Papa was being rather dense this morning.

"That's right! We were," Mommy said, walking over to the table and scooping eggs on to Rowan's plate.

"It didn't sound very fun," Rowan observed. "It sounded like you were hurting Mommy."

Papa's face turned very red as he stared into his coffee cup.

"Oh, Papa wasn't hurting me sweetheart," Mommy said. "We were just playing a grown up game."

"What's a grown up game?" Rowan asked, her interest piqued.

Papa still hadn't looked up from his cup and Mommy looked lost.

"Rumple," she said, turning to Papa. "Can't you explain? Didn't you have this conversation with Bae?"

Papa finally looked up, shaking his head.

"We had sheep," he said, as if that explained everything. Rowan was feeling more lost than ever.

"What are you talking about?" Rowan asked, getting frustrated.

Mommy and Papa looked at each other for a long moment before Mommy let out a sigh and started to explain.

"When two grown ups love each other very much, like your Papa and I do…"

"Wrestling," Papa cut in.

"What?" Rowan asked.

Mommy rolled her eyes, but Papa continued.

"We were playing a grown up game that's a lot like wrestling. But only grownups do it, and only with people they love."

"That's silly," Rowan said with a humph.

"Yes it is," Papa agreed. "You should never do it."

Rowan had more questions, but they were interrupted by the doorbell.

"I'll get it!" Papa exclaimed, jumping to his feet and rushing to the front door. A moment later he returned with Uncle David and Aunt Mary-Margaret, cradling a baby Neal, with him. They exchanged pleasantries with Mommy before sitting down at the table with steaming cups of tea.

Her parents were weird, but the Nolans were nice. Maybe they would be able to answer her questions better.

"Hey, Mary-Margaret," Rowan said, interrupting David telling Papa something about an ice storm outside town.

"Yeah, Rowan?" Mary-Margaret returned sweetly. She was Henry's grandma, but she didn't seem old enough to be a grandma. Rowan only had one grandparent and Moe was pretty old.

"Do you ever wrestle with Uncle David?"

Aunt Mary-Margaret looked confused for a moment. Uncle David and Papa had stopped their conversation and turned to look at her. Mommy was shaking her head, but Rowan needed answers.

"No, of course not, sweetie," Mary-Margaret replied.

"Anyone need more tea?" Mommy said loudly, but no one was listening to her.

Rowan was stumped. Uncle David and Aunt Mary-Margaret were grownups who loved each other. Why wouldn't they play the same game her parents did? She decided to clarify.

"Mommy and Papa were wrestling last night," she explained. "Mommy was yelling really loud."

"Oh God," Mommy said, dropping her head into her hands. Aunt Mary-Margaret's eyes widened and her face turned beet red. Uncle David started laughing as if she'd just said something funny and slapped Papa on the back.

"Oh, that kind of wrestling," Mary-Margaret replied, her voice curiously high pitched. "Well that's just something grownups do."

Aunt Mary-Margaret glanced over at Mommy who still had her face in her hands, and she started laughing too.

"I'm sorry," Mary-Margaret gasped out. "I shouldn't laugh. I'm sorry."

Rowan glanced back and forth between the Nolans, both laughing uncontrollably, to her father who was sitting back in his chair looking smug and to Mommy who looked absolutely miserable.

"I mean, the same thing happened with Emma," Mary-Margaret continued. "But she was twenty-eight."

"That's somehow worse," Mommy said with a giggle.

Then all the grownups were laughing and Rowan felt completely left out of the joke. She stared down at the eggs on her plate, moving them around with her fork.

Grownups were so weird.