Note: All credit for the concept of the 'man drawer' goes to that legend of comedy, Michael McIntyre.
Summary: A snapshot from Belle and Gold's life in the same house.
Sponge Cake
Gold couldn't deny it; the addition of Belle was what had made his house truly a home. The rooms seemed lighter and warmer now that there was evidence that she occupied them as well, her books and trinkets in amongst his own, her family pictures interspersed with his. Over the past weeks it had cemented their togetherness, their status as a couple. Knowing that he wasn't coming back to an empty house after a particularly trying day gave him the will to continue. Gold never drank on the job, but it was on days like this that he understood why Sid and Fox did.
He'd been in court all day, the majority of it in the same hearing, a particularly volatile custody argument. He'd been standing for the best part of the afternoon, and as a result, his leg was killing him. It was with a dry smile that he gingerly got out of the car and limped painfully up the steps towards the front door. Even if he'd wanted whiskey, he couldn't have it, Doctor's orders on increasing the strength of his prescription the previous week.
Yes, it was the thought of Belle that kept him going, but as he entered the house, there was no sign of her.
"Belle?" he called softly, looking into the rooms on the ground floor. He put the kettle on, half-expecting to find a note propped up against it telling him she was at Ruby's, but there was nothing.
"Belle?" he called again, louder this time. He leaned back against the worktop to ease his leg. There were some times in life when only the old-fashioned methods of 'strong tea and a hot bath' would work to soothe his complaining joints. He grimaced; it was definitely getting worse. He fancied he could almost feel the titanium pins in his bones like little shards of ice.
"Hello darling."
She was upstairs, and Gold took his tea and ventured back into the hall.
"Where are you?"
"I'm in the bath."
Dammit. Gold sighed and began up the stairs, knowing that if he stretched out on the sofa as he was more than a little tempted to do, he'd never get off it again.
"Gold?" Belle's voice came through the bathroom door as he passed it. "Something wrong?"
He sighed again. Yes, you're in my bath, but it wasn't his, it was theirs now, and she had every right to it if she wanted it. Yes, I'm in agony, but that sounded a bit dramatic and he didn't want to worry her. He closed his hand over the doorknob –it wasn't locked – and considered going in, but decided against it. He felt incredibly old at that moment in time, and the image of the middle-aged lecher leering at the beautiful young maiden in her bathtub was a strong and unwelcome one.
"No, no," he replied eventually. "Just a difficult day."
He moved away into the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, closing his eyes with a small groan akin to a balloon with a slow puncture. Cohabitation was all about compromise, Gold knew that; he was no stranger to it. All the same, ten years alone was a long time to have to get used to things, to routine, to being able to have a bath whenever he wanted.
He reached out and rummaged blindly in his bedside drawer for something topical to ease the dull ache that was beginning at the base of his spine as a result of carrying his weight unevenly, overcompensating for his leg. Normally he took care to try and keep his carriage as upright as possible for this very reason, but today he'd given up and was paying the price.
Never mind that the application of such medication required the removal of clothing, which in turn required verticality, something that Gold wasn't sure he could manage now that he was nicely horizontal.
"Is this what you're looking for?"
Warm fingers pressed the cold tube into his hand and Gold opened his eyes to see Belle hovering over him, wrapped in a towel. The few tendrils of hair that had escaped her loose bun were curling in the steam from the bathroom, and there were traces of bubble bath on her damp skin.
"When I said I was in the bath, I meant it more as an invitation than a statement," Belle admitted before giving a sly grin. "Come on in, the water's lovely."
"Belle," Gold began weakly, because he was fairly sure that she had never looked quite as lovely as she did then. "Belle, my leg's giving me seven shades of hell."
"All the more reason for you to get in a hot bath then." She grabbed his hands and pulled him into a sitting position. "Come on, it'll be going cold. You can bring your tea if you want."
"What I mean is," Gold continued as she practically dragged him off the bed (he'd learned he was pretty powerless when Belle was in one of these determined mindsets), "is that I'm really not in the mood for…"
Belle pressed her fingers against his lips.
"It's just a bath," she said. "No promises or expectations. Just a nice, hot bath, and I'll see if I can't work some of the knots out of your shoulders."
She slipped one arm round his waist so that he could lean on her rather than his cane, and they made their way back through to the bathroom; Belle had dotted tea-lights around in room in a way that made it seem cosy rather than seductive. Somehow they managed to get his clothes off without either of them falling over, and before Gold knew it, Belle was back in the bath, encouraging him to lie between her knees and relax.
He could only obey, and he had to admit as he leaned back against Belle's chest and felt the heat of the water permeate through to his tired bones, it was blissful relief.
Belle curled her arms round his neck and rested her chin on the top of his head.
"Bad day in court?" she asked. Gold nodded and explained the case succinctly. "Whose side are you on?"
"Legally, I'm working for the mother." Gold let out a long breath and closed his eyes. "Personally, I'm not sure either of them are fit to be parents in my opinion."
He felt Belle's sigh rather than heard it.
"Well, whatever happens, it'll be for the best. I'm sure you'll all make the right decision in the end between you."
"I hope so." Gold gave a wan smile and twisted to look at Belle. "You're lovely," he said. "Beautiful inside and out."
Belle bent to kiss him.
"Thank you, kind sir," she said. "So are you." She grinned. "Do you want to hear about my rather interesting day to take your mind off yours?"
Gold's brow furrowed, then he groaned.
"I forgot," he said. "Sorry. Go on. How was it?"
Belle, Ruby and Emma had had their first dress fittings for the wedding that afternoon, and the two bridesmaids had finally got to see Emma's gown.
"I feel like a pin cushion," Belle admitted, "but it was good. We had a good laugh."
"And are you, as I suspected, wearing lime green with yellow polka dots?"
She smacked his shoulder.
"Of course not. We're in burgundy, I already told you that."
Gold shrugged. "Emma might have changed her mind at the last minute. Perhaps looking like a tennis court is in this season." This earned him another bat round the shoulder. "Oi! I know massage involves pummelling, but I really don't think it's meant quite like that."
"Of course, darling." Belle kissed the top of his head before pressing the heels of her hands into his shoulder blades, beginning to rub away the tension there. Gold gave a satisfied sigh and let his head loll forward, closing his eyes. "So what's it like then? The main event?"
"You mean Emma's dress?"
"Aye."
Belle's hands stilled momentarily, and there was a playful note in her voice when she spoke. "I think I ought to leave you to find out for yourself," she said. "The wedding's not that far away now."
"I'm not the groom," Gold protested. "It can't do me any harm." He glanced behind him to see Belle raising an eyebrow.
"I think you're far too interested in the girly aspects of this wedding, Mr Gold," she teased. "It's lovely," she added. "Quite simple, but that suits Emma, I think. I've only ever seen her in a dress once, and that was at the ball." She paused and her fingers continued their soothing trail over his shoulders. "She wouldn't be comfortable in a lot of flounce. It wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be Emma."
Gold wondered. As the past few weeks had gone on and Emma's forthcoming wedding seemed to pervade into Belle's life more and more, so he was ever more frequently reminded of the ring secreted away in what Belle affectionately called his 'man drawer'. ("You've got a pill drawer, a sock drawer and a man drawer," she had said of his bedside cabinet on one occasion. "Medication, socks and random bits of useless junk that you keep just in case it comes in handy. Everything a man needs. Screwdrivers with heads you'll never use, dead batteries, keys for things you don't even own any more...") It was about the only place that he could virtually guarantee that she wouldn't find it by accident.
He was still looking for the right moment, and Aunt Elvira's helpfully dropping hints every so often really wasn't helping. That he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Belle was a no-brainer; he'd known that having only been with her for a few weeks, and right now he would be most content to spend the rest of his life right here in the bath with her wonderful hands on his back. But, as with every time he found himself thinking about it, now was not the right time. The first rule of proposing, Gold thought dryly – don't ask when your intended is drunk, hungover, tired, asleep or PMT – could just as easily be applied to the one doing the proposing. He'd take Belle off to Gretna Green right there and then if he thought that would be appropriate, but she deserved better than that. Her first engagement and marriage had been a rush job with no thought in it. Timing had to be perfect.
"Feeling better?" Belle asked presently, cutting through his thoughts. He nodded and relaxed back against her. The time was coming. It wasn't here yet, but Gold knew when it would come. Their nine-month anniversary was coming up, and the particular occasion would be perfect.
There was just one thing left to do, really, before he could begin to plan his moment; a necessary task, however unpleasant the prospect was. Gold was old-fashioned for the most part, and liked to think of himself as a gentleman.
As such, he was going to have to ask Moe for Belle's hand…
