Thanks to everyone taking the time to read/comment :D 3333333


While Belle had tried to do the brave thing and confront Gold, it seemed that he was taking the coward's way out. He was not in his office all Wednesday, and at lunch time, she ended up curled in the backseat of her car, snuffling into her pea coat and trying not to ruin her eyeliner. He was just as absent on Thursday, but since it was her birthday, she refused to spend lunch crying.

What she wanted to do was hunt him down, but she had already run after him so many times, she wasn't sure she had it in her right now. Besides, she was sure that he was making himself even more scarce than he had the night she'd tracked him down in the cemetery, since now he knew that she would, and could, find him. She could have interrupted his class, but then what? Was she going to leap into his arms again, and tell him that she was sorry for all of the things he'd seen out of context?

Instead, she spent Wednesday and Thursday alone, with only Jefferson and his teasing for company. Even the fact that it was her birthday could not cheer her up, and only the fact that Gaston called to say he would drive her home gave her hope, because it meant that she could get trashed and not worry about the consequences.

She left school early that day, as she'd promised Ruby she would, and met her and Mary Margaret at her doorstep. Ruby had attempted to coerce her friends into buying sluttier dresses than they would ever have bought on their own, but Belle had managed to reason with her that they needed to be at least a little modest in a jazz club. She'd ended up agreeing to a black dress with an A-line skirt just above the knee, and a plunging neckline. As Ruby's best friend, Mary Margaret had not gotten off so easily, and had been bullied into purchasing a shimmering purple tube.

Ruby also seemed immune to the cold, and insisted that they all be as well. She'd allowed Belle pantyhose, but no jacket, and forced her into black stilettos instead of boots. This was not going to be good once Belle was as drunk as she planned to be, but Gaston was strong enough to carry her, if need be, so she didn't worry.

She let Ruby do her makeup, too, not having the energy or motivation to get dolled up on her own. As such, she'd ended up with eyelids that were smoky and black at the edges, and sparkly everywhere else. She couldn't bring herself to care.

Both Mary Margaret and Ruby had tried to coax whatever was bothering her out, but she had evaded all of their questions, giving non-committal responses about being almost thirty. Ruby tried to cheer her up by telling her that she had a surprise for her, and Belle pretended to be excited.

When they arrived at the restaurant, almost everyone had arrived. They were standing in disjointed clusters around the door, eyeing each other like they thought they might be in the same party, but weren't sure enough to say anything. There was Dr. Hopper, standing with Jefferson; Gaston standing with his friend, Victor; and then Hook hovering between the two groups, alone.

To appease social norms, she should have leapt into Gaston's arms instead of Hook's, but she found it much easier to pretend that she hadn't seen her boyfriend. Hook was, after all, the only person there who understood the extent of her current sadness, and therefore the only person who could provide adequate comfort. Also, she was freezing, and Hook seemed warmer.

"Happy birthday, love," he said, voice booming out more than necessary. She could only assume that this was to annoy Gaston.

"Thanks, Hook."

His ploy must have worked, because soon Gaston was looming over both of them, giving Belle an eyeful of his chest hair through his v-neck.

"Oh, Gaston!" She hoped he was thick enough to mistake her forced brightness for real enthusiasm, as she shifted from one man's arms to the other.

"Happy birthday." He didn't kiss her, for which she was grateful, but he did mash her to his side. She wished she was at home, tucked into her new bed with a stack of books, movies, and cupcakes.

"Thanks." She peeked around him at his silent friend, and smiled her greeting. "Nice to see you, Victor."

"Oh, yeah, thanks. Happy birthday, by the way. You look nice." His eyes, however, were focused on Ruby, and Belle frowned. She had thought he was trying for Mary Margaret.

As soon as she turned to share a meaningful facial expression with Hook, Ruby started up a loud repetition of her name. Belle considered ignoring it, just to see how far the other woman would go to get her attention, but this was answered for her sooner than she could make the decision. Ruby's fingers tightened around her forearm, yanking her out of Gaston's grasp.

"What, what?" she asked, allowing herself to be tugged.

Ruby thrust a red fingernail forward, grinning. "Your surprise!"

For a fleeting second, Belle thought it might have been Dr. Gold, but who she saw when she followed the direction of her finger ended up being almost as good. Two women were walking toward them, one petite and brunette, and the other petite and dark. Belle didn't know the brunette well, and didn't much care that she was there, but the other woman did much to soothe her upset over Dr. Gold's absence.

"Mulan!" Though she knew that Mulan hated physical affection, she couldn't help rushing over to wrap her arms around her shoulders and squeeze.

"Hey, Belle," she said, voice quiet as always. She patted her on the shoulder blade with a stiff hand, until Belle released her. Mulan was a difficult person to get along with, but she and Belle had become fast friends in undergrad. They'd both stayed in D.C., sometimes the only stable thing in each other's lives. Aurora was Mulan's stepsister, and she was a kindergarten teacher. Until recently, she'd been engaged, but her betrothed had left her.

"And Aurora," Belle said, figuring she ought to hug her as well. When she stepped back so that she could actually see their faces, she collided with Hook, who had snuck up behind her. "Ouch—warn me next time, would you?"

Hook wasn't paying attention to her, however, and extended his hand to Aurora without so much as a glance in Belle's direction. "Hello, love. You look delicious."

Aurora's eyes widened, and she jerked away from Hook's outstretched hand. "I beg your pardon?" Next to her, Mulan was all but growling, teeth bared at Hook like an overprotective guard dog.

"Maybe we should go inside?" Belle suggested, looking at Ruby to make sure this was okay. Ruby nodded, beckoning. She was glad to be out of the cold, even though she had almost stopped noticing it, since her arms and legs were numb.

Once inside, she caught up with Ruby, giving her a hug from behind. Her gift had gone a long way toward making this night a good one.

"How did you know?" she asked.

Ruby shrugged, looking smug. "Let's just say I've got a knack for finding things. Like a sixth sense."

She knew that that was all she would get out of her, so she just hugged her again and thanked her.

They were led to a table for ten, and Belle's sour mood returned as soon as she saw all of the chairs full. She allowed herself to be shuffled around, and ended up seated between Gaston and Hook, which couldn't end well, but she was across from Mulan, so she could ignore them. Everyone sat about where she expected them to, except Dr. Hopper and Jefferson, who she'd assumed would sit near Mary Margaret. Instead, Hopper was next to Hook, and Jefferson was across from him.

It was noisier inside than Belle expected, which meant that it would be easier for her to ignore Gaston. There was a stage in the front, set up for a band. The live music was scheduled to begin at 8:30, and for now, the room was filled with Frank Sinatra while people tinkered around on the set. She must have been slumping in her seat, because Hook's arm soon found its way around her shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze while she flipped the menu open.

"Bluebell!"

She looked up at Jefferson's nickname for her, noting the way that Hook was considering this moniker, as though he might steal it. She didn't want to deal with anyone else calling her that.

"Yes, Jefferson?"

From under his jacket, he produced a shiny silver tiara, handing it toward her with a flourish of his wrist. "It was too cold to give you outside, but now everyone will know it's your birthday."

"Lovely!" Hook said, which was good, because there was a lump in Belle's throat that was keeping her from speaking. He accepted it with his free hand, settling it over her straightened hair as best he could.

"Thank you," she managed when he'd finished, giving Jefferson as big a smile as she could muster.

"I helped pick it out," Dr. Hopper said, smiling around Hook. "Happy birthday, Belle. It's so great to have you around."

"Me, too!" Mary Margaret chirped. "We had an English department shopping spree at Claire's."

Belle laughed, and somehow, the fact that the tiara was from Claire's made it that much more special. She had almost forgotten about Gaston when he slapped a long, thin box in front of her. It was covered in striped paper and had professional ribbon, and she was sure that he had not wrapped it himself.

"Happy birthday," he said, looking like he wanted to glower. Even though it was the first thing she'd opened for her birthday—other than the package that had arrived from her father last week—she couldn't help but feel like the gift had just put a damper on the night.

"Thanks." She was not surprised to see chocolates when she opened it—Gaston didn't know her well enough to get her anything else—and she forced a smile, repeating her thanks. "I love chocolate."

He looked pleased, though even Victor was looking at him like he wasn't quite sure what to do with him, and Belle had to bite her lip to keep her laughter in. So as not to say anything she would regret, she turned to Mulan.

"Birthday shot?"

Mulan didn't drink much, and Belle knew she would say no, but Mulan was the best sober person she knew. She had the feeling that the other woman liked being around all of her drunk friends. Where Belle liked taking care of people, Mulan liked protecting them, even if this meant shadowing their stumbles, and making sure no one scraped a knee.

"I'll buy your first round, since I didn't bring you anything," she said, giving Belle a small smile.

"Ooh, Mary Margaret and I need shots, too," Ruby said. She turned toward Victor and bit her lip. Belle didn't hear what either said, but it seemed that Victor had given in to Ruby's cajoling without much protest.

"Me, too," Hook said. He tapped his fingers against Belle's shoulder, either not noticing that Gaston kept glaring at his hand, or pretending not to notice. He kept glancing behind him, like he was expecting something to attack.

The band came on then, tapping the microphone to test it before introducing themselves as The Biloxi Boys, and starting up an instrumental.

When the waiter came by, Belle ordered a glass of water, a sex on the beach, and a shot of whatever their specialty was, pointing out each person that wanted one. When he returned, it was with four shots of bourbon. Belle hated bourbon, but she had her water to chase it and her friends cheering her on, so she downed it in synch with everyone else.

Hook smacked his lips together, and sighed. "God, I love bourbon."

Belle turned to tell him how much she did not love bourbon, but found that he was watching the space behind him with single-minded focus now. She pulled his empty glass out of his hand, and set it on the table, deciding to ignore his odd behavior and pay attention to the friends that had come so far to visit her. Gaston was engaged in a one-sided conversation with Mary Margaret, who was too polite to ignore him, which meant that Belle was off the hook, at least for now.

The waiter brought Belle a second shot, his birthday present to her, and joined in everyone's chanted encouragements until she downed it, and then took their appetizer order. When the waiter left, Hook settled back around her, still looking behind him every few seconds.

"What's going on with you?" Belle asked, lowering her voice.

"Nothing, love." He squeezed her shoulders. "You think I can get Aurora's phone number?"

Belle raised an eyebrow. "I don't know. Why don't you ask her?" She gestured to Aurora, sitting across from Hook. He shrugged, looking disinterested again, and reached for his beer. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Never better. And you? How are you holding up?"

She considered the question. The bourbon was making her a little loose-tongued, but she hadn't had enough to affect her mood. Pretending that she wasn't sad was making it easier to enjoy herself, as was Mulan's stoic presence across from her, but deep down, she knew that it was taking more energy than she'd care to admit to keep some semblance of a smile on her face.

"The liquor helps," she said, not wanting to say anything lest Gaston choose that moment to pay attention to her. It didn't matter, though, because Hook was again looking elsewhere. Belle poked him in the side, and he jumped, nearly upsetting her tiara with his flapping hand. "Seriously, what is wrong with you today? You're all twitchy."

"Nothing." He squeezed her again. "I just want to make sure your night's perfect, that's all. I know you have some less than desirable company." He tore his gaze away from the door long enough to wiggle his eyebrows toward Gaston.

"Well, then pay attention to me," she said, feeling like a child as soon as the words left her mouth. Hook snorted, twisting around so that he could stare at her, arm dropping in the process.

"There, is that better?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, thank you. You're sure you're okay?"

"I'm perfect. Are you sure?"

She glanced over at Gaston, assured herself that he was engaged in whatever he was saying to poor Mary Margaret, and then drooped. "I haven't seen him in two days, Hook. He's been avoiding me."

"Well, you were in bed with another man."

She kicked him under the table. "That was your fault!"

He grinned. "I know, I know. Either way, though, it's his loss—especially tonight. You look like all of my porn fantasies."

"Um, thank you?" she said, pursing her lips. He wiggled his eyebrows, and then started to edge away from her. She wasn't even going to begin to figure out what he was doing now, so she just sighed and reached for her drink.

"I'll be right back, okay?" he said, and then he bolted from the chair.

She blinked after him, baffled by his sudden skittishness, but chalked it up to him not handling his liquor well, and turned to Mulan. Mulan, however, was looking above Belle's head, eyes narrowed.

Before Belle could turn, she heard a voice that sent a jolt of heat down her neck.

"Sorry I'm late, dearie. I got held up."

Belle's mouth hung in a tiny 'o,' which Dr. Gold chose to ignore as he folded himself into Hook's vacated chair. A glance told her that Hook had been there the whole time, and had just moved himself and his beer to the head of the table. He winked, and Belle turned back to Dr. Gold. He had a jaunty, confident grin, but his eyes kept flitting around, like they were too nervous to settle anywhere.

She didn't know what to do with her face, until Gold reached with a finger and pushed her chin up to close the tiny gap in her lips.

"It's not polite to stare, dear."

Spell shattered, she threw her arms around him, having to make a real effort not to throw herself into his lap.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she whispered into his hair, over and over. He stroked hers, and she became aware of every eye at the table focused on them. She didn't care.

"Me, too," he whispered back. "I had no right to be angry. Now, is this your boyfriend? Because I'm going to kill him." His voice was silky and dangerous, sliding down her neck like warm caramel. She laughed.

"Behave."

She pulled away from him, trying not to let her arms linger too much around his shoulders, lest anyone get the wrong idea. Everyone who knew Gold was trying to disguise their horror—helped along by his well-placed glares—except for Dr. Hopper and Hook. Mulan was eyeing him with distrust, and did not back down no matter how much he looked her way, and Belle made a mental note to explain that it wasn't him, specifically, that Mulan was against. Aurora looked neutral, and she couldn't see Victor to assess his expression.

Belle couldn't look at Gaston, not while the tension at the table was thick enough to touch, so she shot a pleading look at Hook, trying to have a conversation with just her eyebrows and pupils. He wiggled his eyebrows in acknowledgment, and then turned and proceeded to hit on Aurora mercilessly. Everyone's discomfort dissolved—except for Mulan, and Jefferson, who was now in between Hook and his target—and Belle relaxed.

Deciding that it was best to get the introductions over with, Belle started with Mulan, who refused to shake Gold's offered hand, so Belle tried to cover this up by babbling about how she and Mulan had been friends for years. At least Gold looked more amused than offended by Mulan's distinct lack of tact.

She couldn't put off talking to Gaston forever, though, and she knew that, if she didn't guide the introduction, Gold would take it upon himself to do so, and that couldn't possibly end well. Steeling herself, she turned to Gaston.

"Gaston, this is Dr. Gold. Dr. Gold, Gaston."

Dr. Gold did not hold his hand out to shake, and it wouldn't have occurred to Gaston to do so. They stared each other down, Gaston's face scrunched in irritation, while Gold was the picture of blandness. Belle reminded herself that it would only be awkward if she let it be awkward, so she hitched a smile to her face, and prayed that Mary Margaret would save her while Ruby was busy chatting up Victor.

"I'm her boyfriend," Gaston said, and Belle tried to remember her convictions about awkwardness.

"Congratulations," Dr. Gold said, his voice making Belle shiver. Gaston's biceps tensed.

The two men were as different as night and day, and yet Belle knew without a doubt that both were preparing for a fight. If Gaston was a lion, roaring out his rage, then Gold was a snake, slithering around in the shadows while he waited for the perfect moment to strike. Then there was Belle, stuck in the middle, the gazelle that each predator wanted to eat.

"Well, does anyone know what they're ordering?" Belle asked, because it was the only safe topic she could come up with in time.

"I was thinking a steak," Mulan said, watching only Belle now, like she had given up on deciding which man to glare at.

"I'd like a scotch," Gold said, as though he were in a private conversation with Belle, rather than answering a question she'd posed to the table.

"For dinner?" she asked, reaching for her own drink.

"Depends on how much I hate everyone by the time it comes to order." He eyed her drink, lip curling up. "What is that?"

Belle couldn't help that she lowered her voice so that no one else would hear, or that she pointed her knees toward him like they were alone. "Sex on the beach. Do you want to taste?" She raised the glass to him, all but fluttering her lashes without actually fluttering them. What was she doing?

Gold was wearing his shark's grin, watching her like he was ready to pounce. "Maybe later."

Gaston elbowed her in the shoulder, and she jumped, swiveling around to face him. "Hmm?" she asked, taking a gulp of her drink. She was glad the restaurant lighting was dim, so that Gaston couldn't see that she was flushed.

"So, did you get a new bed? You know, after we broke yours?"

She couldn't tell if Gaston was asking because he was curious, or because he wanted to upset Gold. She thought it might have been the latter, but he looked natural, and she didn't think he was that skilled at acting. Next to her, Gold tensed, so she poked his foot with her toe in an attempt to convey that she would explain later. He didn't relax.

"Mmhmm. I got a twin, in the hopes that it might be too small to collapse on itself." She took another gulp of her drink, and with the bourbon starting to set in, she was feeling good and fuzzy.

"I don't really fit in a twin bed," Gaston said, and Belle could feel Gold's knuckles as he curled his hand around the head of his cane.

"Well, it's not your bed," Belle pointed out, finishing off her drink. If she was going to pick this fight with Gaston, she needed the buzz.

"You'll stay at my place tonight, then."

Belle felt a prickle of anger at the nape of her neck, and her ears burned. He couldn't just tell her where she was sleeping. She wasn't his pet, and she was about to tell him so when the waiter arrived to take their order, so all she managed was an, "I think I'd like to sleep in my new bed, actually."

Once he'd gone around the whole table, Belle tried to turn to Gold, but Gaston grabbed her upper arm.

"Yes?" she asked, sipping at her water and wishing it had alcohol in it.

"I'm bored. Why are you ignoring me?"

She tried to pry her arm out of his, but he just tightened his fingers. With a sigh, she let her arm go limp, and he loosened his hold enough for her to wriggle out of it.

"I'm not ignoring you, Gaston. I'm dividing my attention between all of my guests."

"No, you're talking to them." He flapped a hand toward Gold and Hook. "And making me sit here and talk to her." He pointed to Mary Margaret, who was watching the exchange with her mouth in a flat line.

"What do you care?" she asked, swiveling to face him, the words spilling out of her mouth before she could realize that they were doing so. "You never let anyone else say anything. You just want to talk to a wall—with breasts."

Unlike the other men at the table, Gaston did not have a way with words, and it seemed that he could not find any to respond with. Instead, his nostrils flared, and fists clenched at his side.

"What the hell are you saying?" he asked, and it was only the live music that kept other tables from hearing him.

"I'm saying that you never pay attention to me, either." She folded her arms before he could grab for them again, scooting her chair back—and feeling like the worst person ever when she bumped Dr. Gold's knee, and felt him jerk away. Before she could turn and apologize, she felt his hand on the small of her back, like he was guiding her forward.

"I pay attention to you all the time," Gaston insisted. "I paid attention to you the other day."

She assumed the look he gave her was supposed to imply that he was talking about Monday night, when he had savaged her neck with his tongue. She tried not to shudder.

"You never pay attention to me. You never ask me any questions. You don't know anything about me."

"Of course I know shit about you," he said, leaning forward.

She held her ground. "Oh, do you? Okay, let's test it. What's my last name?" He didn't answer, and Belle shut her eyes. "What color are my eyes? I'll give you a hint—it's the same as my last name."

"Brown!" He snapped his fingers. "It's brown. I knew it. I was about to say that."

"Blue," Mary Margaret said, and Belle jumped, opening her eyes.

"It's Blue," Ruby finished.

Belle had almost forgotten that anyone else was there—Bourbon gave her tunnel vision, it seemed—but she found herself smiling when she realized that everyone at the table was glaring at Gaston. The only exceptions were Victor—who had fallen mysteriously deaf—and Dr. Gold, who was looking forward while he drummed his fingers absently against the small of her back.

"Oh, yeah, I knew that," he said, gesturing at her face.

She leaned away, and Gold's hand slid until his palm was flat against her back. It was more comforting than any drink. "No, you didn't. You don't know me at all. You don't know my favorite book, my favorite author, my favorite movie, my favorite band, my favorite food. You don't know how I like my popcorn, or how I drink my coffee, or how well I handle my liquor—"

"Hey," Gaston said, leaning toward her again. "I know exactly how well you handle your liquor, and you suck at it."

She threw her hands up, almost hitting the waiter as he came to set down Dr. Gold's scotch. "You know what? I give up. It is my birthday, and I am going to enjoy myself." She reached for the scotch, knocking Gold's hand out of the way.

"Oh, yes, of course, I ordered that for you," he murmured, pursing his lips. She took a sip, and it burned going down, but it was somehow less painful than listening to her boyfriend speak.

"Come on, Belle," Gaston said, taking the drink out of her hand and all but throwing it back to Gold. "This is stupid. Let's get out of here—the music sucks anyway."

Belle could do nothing for a second but squeak in anger and frustration. When she found her words, her voice was high-pitched, and would have been a shriek, were it louder. "It's my birthday, Gaston. This is my birthday party, and I decided where it was going to be, because I like jazz, and I thought it would be fun, and you can leave if you don't think so."

Gaston looked dumbstruck, knitting his thick eyebrows together. Behind her, she felt Dr. Gold lean forward, until his lips were by her ear.

"Would you care to dance?" he asked.

She shivered against his hand, anger evaporating to be replaced by something more like the Bourbon buzz. "Yes, I would."

She stood up, shoving her chair in as though it had been the one to wrong her, while Gaston—and everyone else at the table that she had, again, forgotten about—stared at her. Gold stood up next, and his hand found her back again, pressing his fingers to indicate that she should start.

"Wait." Gaston grabbed for her again. She was almost afraid they would start tugging, focused only on their desire to beat each other, and not the fact that she was attached to her arms.

"What?"

"Belle. Come on. Would you really rather spend your night with this guy?"

Belle blinked, and then frowned. "Yes. Absolutely. No hesitation. Don't even need to think about it."

Gold's fingers flexed on her back, and she didn't turn to look at him. She knew he would be trying to intimidate Gaston with his evil stare, and if she didn't see it, then she wouldn't have to scold him for it.

"Are you serious, Belle?"

"Quite." With that, she wrenched her arm out of his, and half-skittered toward the dance floor in her haste to not give Gaston the chance to respond.

Dr. Gold's hand was tight on her waist, and she found herself giddy with delight at his possessiveness—until she realized that it was because he hadn't brought his cane, and he was using her for balance. She slipped her arm around his back to steady him more.

"Your leg—will you be all right?" she asked, trying to keep her tone casual so that he wouldn't be offended by her question.

Instead of answering, he maneuvered them around a few middle-aged couples on the dance floor, selecting a shadowy corner space near the wall. "Did you just dump your boyfriend?"

"God, I hope so." She moved her hand to his shoulder, and rested the fingers of her other hand in his.

"Oh?" He didn't exactly pull her toward him, but he pressed his palm against her back, so she stepped closer. In her heels, she was as tall as he was.

"I've been trying to for at least a week."

His fingers dug into her hip, but his face remained impassive. "Have you?" She nodded. "And the broken bed?"

"That's probably a story that you don't want to hear," she said, trying not to avert her eyes. If she acted suspicious, he would know there was something to be suspicious about.

Of course, he would know anyway, because Dr. Gold knew everything, and she shouldn't have been surprised to see the glint in his eyes. "I'm sure I do want to hear it."

"I thought we were dancing?" she asked, nudging his good knee with hers.

He inclined his head, like he was bowing to her. "My apologies, dear. Can you follow my lead?"

Belle scoffed. "Of course I can follow your lead."

Seeming to take this as some sort of challenge, he began a much more complicated step than she was prepared for, matching the music's tempo better than she had anticipated. From many hours spent on the internet, attempting to learn how to dance to jazz, Belle recognized it.

"I didn't know you could do the Charleston," she said, stumbling as she tried to keep up, and not much caring if she looked foolish. He had his arm around her, and his hand was closed around hers, and she'd have been happy standing still.

"I am a man of many secrets." He looked at her with narrowed eyes, raising one eyebrow like James Bond. She pressed her lips together.

"'Many' is an understatement." She glanced down, stumbling again, and then found Gold's fingers under her chin, tilting it up.

"Don't look at your feet. You'll trip." He took his time dragging his fingers away from her neck, and back to her hand. "And I want to be able to see your eyes."

She bit her cheek to keep her smile from looking goofy. "Well, I can't argue with that."

"I should hope not." He pulled her even closer, so that their chests were only about an inch apart. "Now, I believe you owe me a story about a broken bed."

"Fine. I suppose you deserve it, for helping me out of a bad relationship."

"Oh, it was my pleasure." His grip on her tightened.

"Wait, first, I have a question."

His steps slowed into something more manageable, but Belle couldn't be bothered to try and identify it this time. "That's not how deals work, darling. Equal trade."

She was darling now. She pressed her lips together, and inched closer to him, until their fronts were just touching. His mouth tightened—a success, then.

"Yes, but I'm the one in possession of the information you want, and since we've no magical contract or anything to hold me to the deal, I can hold it over your head as long as I choose."

She wiggled her eyebrows, and he looked a bit like a cat who'd just been given a ball of yarn. He moved his arm so that he was holding her against him, instead of just holding her in place.

"You have a point. Ask away, then."

Her question, however, was more serious than the rest of their conversation had been, so she schooled her expression to reflect this. His eyes flicked down to her no-longer-smiling mouth, and when he looked back at her, his forehead was creased.

"What is it?"

"I didn't think you would come tonight."

His face smoothed, but he was now looking somewhere to her left, while she tilted her face around to try and recapture his gaze. He was having none of it. "Well, here I am, dear."

"Why? You've been avoiding me all week."

His eyes strayed toward her again, but as soon as she met them, they were gone.

"Well." He flexed his fingers on her back and in her hand, and she remained quiet, waiting for him to gather his resolve. "I wasn't going to. I thought it might be best if we only saw each other professionally."

"And then what happened?" She forced herself to ignore the crushing guilt that had snuck its way into her chest. He had obviously changed his mind—he was here, and they were dancing.

"Jones came to my house."

If Belle had been drinking anything, it would have been sprayed everywhere. She had been expecting him to say something mysterious, or at least something about how he wanted to kill Gaston.

"What?"

"Jones. Showed up at my door this afternoon."

"And—" She couldn't even come up with a reasonable hypothetical about the interaction. "—then what?"

He looked like he would rather be doing anything than sharing this story. "He explained everything, and apologized. Although, it seems he lied in his explanation of the bed breaking." He turned to her then, eyes narrowed, mouth set in an unamused line.

Belle's heart swelled like a balloon. "He did? What did he explain?"

Gold's distrust was again replaced with discomfort. "That your bed was from Craig's List, that you needed his truck and his 'youthful strength,' and that—well, he just apologized." He swallowed.

Belle looked over the crowd to find Hook, and attempt to thank him from afar, but he had reclaimed his old seat, across from Aurora, and looked to be deeply involved in hitting on her.

"Now, it is most definitely your turn." Gold's voice jarred her out of her search, and she turned to look at him with her lips pressed in a thin line.

"You're sure you want to hear it?" she asked, hoping that sharing wouldn't make her sound like a crazy desperate woman who was throwing herself at her dance partner.

"You owe me."

She wasn't sure she liked this deal-making thing they had going, but she supposed that, if it got him to talk to her, she couldn't complain. Much. "Fine. Do you want me to start at the beginning-beginning or the most recent beginning?"

"This is getting complicated. Just start at the beginning."

This didn't answer her question, but she figured that she owed him the entire story, since it was her lack of information that had caused him to disappear without warning. Twice.

"Fine. Gaston and I met a few weeks ago, the night before I threw up in your office."

"The one you didn't like?" he asked, frowning.

"The very same." At her answer, he narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"And you ended up together, how?"

"I'm honestly not sure." She shook her head. "He called me, and Ruby made me call him back, and then somehow, he decided that we were dating. I didn't really have a say."

"I think that's considered date rape."

"I'm not sure the law would agree with you."

"Who needs the law?" He didn't look like he needed the law—Belle was almost afraid he would go and chase Gaston down right then, from the look on his face.

"Well, anyway, I didn't tell you because it was a stupid relationship. I started trying to break up with him after my dad left." She didn't add that it was after spending the evening with Gold, but she hoped he would understand that. "It didn't really work."

"Because he kept doing things that made you want to stay?" The bitterness in his voice almost made Belle flinch.

"No, because he never let me speak."

"Well," Gold said, his face moving around like he was trying to hide something, "that is his loss."

She squeezed his shoulder. "Anyway, I tried for a week. Once, I almost got it, but then a cat fell on him and he went into anaphylactic shock saving its life, so I had to take him to the hospital, and you just can't dump your boyfriend at the hospital."

Gold blinked rapidly. "No, I suppose not. And the bed?"

"Ah." She pressed her lips together. Would he be jealous that she hadn't sought his help? Would he be angry with Hook for suggesting she sleep with Gaston? "Well, okay. I had always planned on never sleeping with Gaston, because it was very casual, you know? Also, I never liked him."

"Right." He nodded along, eyes moving like he wasn't sure whether or not he should be looking suspicious.

"But when I couldn't break up with him, Killian suggested that sleeping with him would make him less interested, because then he would 'win,' or some nonsense—but I wasn't going to actually sleep with him, don't worry."

He snorted, leaning his head back. "Why would that worry me?"

"No reason." She knew it did. "So we made the plan that I would make him think he had won, by almost sleeping with him, and then at the crucial moment, Killian would call me from the hospital and tell me my presence was necessary. Instead, the bed broke."

"While you were—not having sex?"

"Well, he sort of threw me onto it in preparation, and it couldn't handle that, I guess." She shrugged. "Then, he left, so I couldn't dump him, and I didn't see him again until tonight."

Gold's dancing slowed, not in time with the music, and he looked like he was contemplating the amp on stage. She wished he would say something, but it seemed that he was going to remain quiet, so it was up to her to break the awkward tension that it seemed only she felt.

She said the first thing she could think of. "Your knee—is it okay?"

"Hmm?" He looked back at her. "Oh, no, it's screaming in agony. I am going to regret this tomorrow."

He didn't look fazed by this in the slightest, but Belle's eyes widened in horror. "We should sit down, then! I don't want you to hurt yourself."

He pulled her closer. "It's worth it."

Her whole body shivered. "No, come on. I've already kept you here long enough. Besides, our food will be there soon, and also I have to spend time with Mulan, because she drove here from D.C. to see me."

He heaved a sigh, like he was about to expend great amounts of effort to comply. "Very well, I'll share you with the table." He pulled her a fraction closer. "Just as long as you know that I'm the one taking you home."

She didn't know if he meant her home or his home, but she found that she didn't much care—her knees still turned to jelly, and as she walked him back to the table, she clung to him as much for her own balance as his.


No one seemed surprised when Belle denied everyone else's offer of a ride home in favor of Dr. Gold's. Only Ruby and Mary Margaret tried to stop her—and Mulan, for reasons that had more to do with men in general than Dr. Gold specifically—but Hook took it upon himself to distract them so that she could make a hasty retreat.

When he realized that she had nothing for warmth, Gold draped his own coat over her shoulders, tucking it around her with the lingering movements of someone who might have been preparing to drag her forward by the collar and kiss her. He didn't do that, though, and just put his hand on her back to guide her out.

It seemed that he planned on taking her to her own home, because as soon as they were in the car with the heat running, he asked her where she lived.

"Shady Pines. It's over on—"

He cut her off with a growl, lurching the car backwards with enough force to knock her head into the seat. "I know where it is."

"Are you mad at me now?" she asked, finding herself more amused than disturbed by his mood swing.

"No. I just can't believe you live there, of all places." He shook his head, his driving more smooth as he shifted forward.

"What's wrong with it?" This was a stupid question. Everything was wrong with it.

"What isn't wrong with it?" He shook his head. "Do you own a gun?"

"Of course I don't own a gun." She pursed her lips at him. "Why would I? Most people who get killed in home robberies end up getting killed with their own gun."

He muttered something, and she thought she could make out the word 'ridiculous.' "I'll get you one."

"I don't want one. Didn't you hear me?"

"Darling, that's only a problem if the assailant can find your gun. If you aren't stupid, it won't kill you."

She was too involved in feeling dizzy at being called 'darling' again to protest the fact that he may or may not have just called her 'stupid.' She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Well, at least it's close," she said, and he shrugged his agreement.

They were silent until he turned onto her road, and Belle hoped she wasn't the only one who got more and more flustered with each passing second. She would never know, though, because Gold was unflappable.

"Which building are you?" he asked, nosing the car into the development like he was afraid he might trigger an explosive if he drove too fast.

"Six."

She almost wished that his engine would stall. The restaurant was far too close to her apartment for her liking right now, and she was dreading the idea of getting out of his car and not seeing him again until—well, until tomorrow, but even twelve hours sounded too long. If the Cadillac broke down, she would have an excuse to wait with him.

Alas, they made it to a parking space, where Gold cut the engine and turned to her. Her hands fluttered in her lap, so she pressed one over the other and forced herself to be calm.

"Oh," she said, cutting him off when he opened his mouth to speak. "Your coat." She struggled out of it, unbuckling halfway through when she realized that it was the seatbelt giving her such trouble, and then handed it to him. He looked like he wasn't sure what she was doing, but accepted it anyway.

"Thank you." He straightened it out, making a sort of curtain in front of himself while he felt around the inside. She didn't know what he was doing, but it provided cover for her hands to flutter again.

"So," he began, startling her into stillness. "Was your birthday everything you'd hoped it would be?"

"No." She shook her head, and he lowered the coat, peering over it at her like she had just taken away his cake.

"Oh. I'm—"

"It was a little bit more."

He pressed his lips together, and then disappeared behind the coat again. She frowned.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for your birthday present."

"Pocket lint?" she asked, though she could feel her cheeks heating with delight. She hadn't expected any gifts from anyone, much less him.

"Naturally."

He emerged seconds later, however, with a long, thin box in a blue that she was sure anyone would recognize from a mile away. She might have stopped breathing.

"Oh, Raphael." She didn't reach for it, hardly daring to believe that it existed, so he pressed it into her hands. She liked to think that she wasn't vain, or into expensive jewelry, but even she could appreciate something from Tiffany's. Even if it wasn't as personal a gift as she'd have liked, she knew he would have had to put a lot of effort—and money—into it.

"I was going to give it to you at dinner, to try and scare off your boyfriend, but since I didn't need to, I figured I'd wait. Besides, it doesn't match your tiara."

Her fingers felt numb as she pulled at the silver ribbon. If it was meant to assert his dominance over Gaston, it would probably be something gaudy and expensive looking. She would still wear it every day.

"Oh, Raphael, you didn't have to do this," she said, sounding like a babbling idiot even to herself. "You shouldn't have. I'm just glad that you were there, really—" She cut herself off with a gasp when she lifted the lid. Dr. Gold licked his lips, watching her like he was afraid she might throw it at him.

Somehow, even though he had gotten her the last thing she'd have thought to ask for, he had managed to get her the exact thing she'd have picked out for herself. It was a golden, key-shaped pendant, with a circle of diamonds around a citrine daisy at the top, hanging on a delicate gold chain. She stared at it, almost afraid to touch it, because she was sure that it cost more money than she would be paying for rent that year.

"Well?" he asked, voice hoarse.

She looked at him, taking in his wariness, the way his eyes darted between her face and the necklace, his shaking hand. His nervousness gave her courage, and she steeled herself for what she was about to say next. It was now or never, and it was time that she started to make up for all of his misconceptions.

"Would you like to come up?" She bit her lip, and held her breath.