He was laughing, hollering like a lunatic high on his own joy, and proud, so proud of the dream he'd built. For the first time in his life, everything was going right for Marcus Sawyer. Thanks to Mr. Gold's hefty business loan, he'd been able to open the auto-parts store, allowing him to become his own boss and a resource to the town.
The perfect opportunity rose to buy the 1965 Mustang convertible, his dream since he'd been a boy and fallen in love with cars. Months of work later, months of long weeks setting up his store and months spent working under the hood had produced the miracle that sped about Storybrooke.
And of course, his true love and his friends were always right there by his side.
Belle laughed along with him, so proud, so happy for her friend, and high on her own triumph of the night. "Marcus, this is beautiful! God, just look at it, it's perfect."
He slowed down for a traffic signal, unwilling to risk a ticket against his dream machine. "Thank you, Belle. It is perfect, it's just the way I wanted it, right down to the last detail."
"You're obsessed!"
"If I wasn't, then this car wouldn't look half as great as it does." The crossing traffic went on, and Marcus turned to look at her, noticing her lace dress and heels, her makeup and the bright flower in her hair for the first time. He gave a long wolf whistle, looking her up and down. "God, Belle, look at you! I definitely made the right choice to have you be the first woman in the car. You look great, I might put in a dress code before I let another woman sit in that seat."
Belle laughed and crossed her legs, showing him a bit more of her thigh. "Why, thank you! A girl has to look her best." She batted her lashes at the man, flirting and giddy.
Marcus narrowed his eyes. Belle was beautiful and always had been, but it had been some time since he'd seen her so done up. Usually her makeup was softer, her clothes more professional.
"What were you doing, all dressed up with Mr. Gold?" Marcus asked after he'd sped them up and down the main road of Storybrooke a few times, honking the horn and drawing all the attention he could.
Belle couldn't blame him for wanting to let the town know that months of his hard work and thousands of dollars spent on restoring the Mustang hadn't gone to waste. This car was more than a possession to him, it was a symbol of freedom and proof of accomplishment, a reminder to everyone who saw them that he was a brilliant mechanic and the man to see about anything on wheels.
But Belle faltered at his question - both the pawn shop and the library were closed on Sundays so she couldn't use either place as part of her white lie where Mr. Gold was concerned. She cleared her throat, thinking on her feet.
"I went to Sunshire this afternoon...I had a date, just someone I met online."
Belle wasn't sorry for the lie; the truth was far more complicated.
Marcus looked away from the road, to her for a second before turning his eyes back to the traffic. "Oh, yeah? How'd it go, you like the guy?"
"Not at all." Belle said, listing out the things she couldn't stand in a man. "He chewed with his mouth open, he was rude to the waitress and on top of that the tip he left her was barely 5%. You know how hard Ruby works, so it was a complete turn-off. I turned down his offer of a ride back home. I was at the bus stop when Mr. Gold recognized me and pulled up."
A blind date gone bad was easy enough to believe, and so Marcus did.
"Well, that's good. Better you got a ride with Gold than a creeper off the Internet...but Gold, he's practically a stranger to you too, isn't he?"
Belle shrugged, "I've shared a table with him a few times at Granny's and he's been to the library several times when he needs to research an antique for his shop. I'd never spoken to him before the library opened, though. It was sweet of him to take me home, he even let me choose the radio station."
That much, at least, was the truth.
Marcus nodded. "I didn't know you were dating again."
"I know, I just got an online offer to try this dating site for a month so I thought I'd give it a shot. I thought I'd just try, see who was out there. This time it just happened to be a creeper." Belle finished.
She would prefer to be honest with Marcus about how she'd really spent her day, about how she felt toward Mr. Gold, but she'd made an agreement to keep their connection discreet and she refused break her word.
Their friendship wasn't solely her secret to tell.
Marcus shrugged and revved the engine of his car once he pulled to a stop before another traffic light. "Well, I'm sorry your date fell through. Dating was stressful enough before people started using the Internet for blind dates and hook-ups." He said, reaching to stroke her hand. "I know that's not what you're looking for, but the problem is that most guys online are. You'll meet someone, Belle, and he'll be a great guy. But until then, just remember that you always have Shane and me to fall back on."
His reminder had her laughing, but she didn't want to go on lying about a first date that never happened. "Thank you, Marcus. This car is a dream."
Immediately, his attention was drawn back to his beloved project. "Isn't she? I named her Sally, you know, just like the song. It took me awhile to get the money together to afford the bucket seats and the new muffler I needed for this model..."
Belle was hardly listening as Marcus went on about the engine, the seats, the custom shade of paint...instead she was cradling her kissed hand and reliving her day out with Mr. Gold.
After an hour of cruising around Storybrooke, Marcus dropped Belle off with a kiss on her cheek and a smack to her rear, which in turn earned him a smack on the arm. Belle waved goodbye to him and made her way up to her apartment.
Finally, behind the closed door she could take off her heels and think.
Oh, Mr. Gold, Mr. Gold...what am I going to do with you?
Belle took the orchids out from her hair and put them in a glass of water, hoping to prolong them, though she knew the delicate blooms would be done in a day or two. She carried her purse and the borrowed pair of heels into her bedroom, flopping back onto her bed, a dreamy smile on her face. Mr. Gold cared for her, it had been clear for anyone to see.
The care he took with her, the gifts, the very fact that he'd asked her to come out with him at all...the man wanted her, he had to, or else why bother with this charming courtship?
If he was courting, it was working.
Belle kissed her own knuckles, right where he'd placed his lips - a stolen kiss.
Courtship. Belle mused to herself. I'd rather he just ask to date me like any other man.
But Mr. Gold was unlike any other man in Storybrooke, and she wouldn't love him half as much if he was.
Still, the woman was impatient.
When would she feel his lips press to hers? When would his hands touch her, hold her? When would this dance of hesitation and want finally end?
I don't want to chase after him - I want him to chase me. Belle asserted to herself. I haven't wanted anything for myself in a long time, but I want something real with him.
Belle rolled off the bed and grumbled something to herself about the unfairness of her situation, but then reasoned that today had been remarkable progress. Mr. Gold had invited her out for the day, introduced her to his colleagues, taken her to lunch, given her a flower, bought her a teaset and issued an invitation to his house.
And then the kiss to her hand. Worlds more than she'd truly expected but not nearly enough...
Belle wondered about the invitation to his house, how long it would be before she actually crossed over his threshold.
It'll probably take us another year to get that far, Belle laughed to herself as she stepped out of her dress and into her glamorous sleepwear - an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts.
She washed off her makeup, removed her topaz earrings, the gold pins from her hair and her mother's necklace.
Belle stripped off her day in Sunshire and returned to her usual Storybrooke self.
Gold parked his Cadillac in the driveway and then moved around to the front of the house to retrieve his mail, left in the box from Saturday. The man paused, listening. Distantly, he could hear the Mustang roaming through Storybrooke. Gold smiled, remembering his own wild years. Marcus Sawyer was a brash young man, but he'd worked for months on that car, let him have his fun showing off.
Of course, Gold would have preferred if Mr. Sawyer hadn't chosen that moment to pull up and interrupt his time with Belle, but it couldn't be helped now.
He'd had the woman to himself for the whole day, on his arm, at his table, by his side. He'd kissed her hand and she hadn't looked unsure of the contact, she hadn't even looked surprised. She'd looked happy, even aroused if her blush was any hint.
I'll invite her to the house. We won't be interrupted here.
Gold didn't have a script or any moves in mind. Rather he thought he'd invite her over for lunch - no, dinner - and see where the evening took them.
Miss French knew. After today there was no way she couldn't.
He stripped off his suit jacket, waistcoat and tie, then emerged from his bedroom and mulled over what food he had left in his refrigerator. There were the makings for sandwiches, he could make spaghetti...but no.
It wasn't food he was hungry for.
Belle's bright eyes and her smiles, her jokes and the scent of her perfume. Her wardrobe was a wonderful combination of sexy and charming and everything she said and did was always so perfectly her.
What was he to do?
Gold had scared her off once before by coming on too strong, so if he were to drive back to her apartment right now and overwhelm her at the door with a kiss, a proper kiss, she wouldn't welcome that. He'd become a threat in her eyes, not a lover.
Gold eyed his keys, tempted. She might like it, though. Women were fickle that way.
He huffed, dismissing the idea.
They had had a lovely day out together - only the first of many, he hoped - and there was no reason to rush ahead and risk ruining their connection.
Gold took a glass of water in with him to the den and turned on the television to catch up on the news. Nothing good was happening in the outside world, though his native Scotland was to be voted on as an independent nation in the UK.
He thought on that, on what it might mean for the future...but he found it meant very little to him personally. Scotland wasn't home for him any longer, though he still loved it deeply. The memories he'd made there would always hold worlds of meaning to him, but Storybrooke was where he was and where he would remain for the rest of his days.
There was nothing else out in the world for him.
No, not true.
The man looked away from the screen as it went to commercial, and saw the picture of Regina and Henry that he kept on the mantle over his fireplace. It was a silly candid shot, taken only a year or so ago during the town's Spring Fling. They were both smiling, Henry holding a bag of popcorn and Regina holding some pink flower he'd given to her.
That was another thing to consider. If he moved forward with Belle, where would that leave Regina and Henry?
One day out with Miss French on my arm and I'm already so far ahead of myself, he thought.
But thinking on Regina and Henry reminded him of what he'd discussed with the woman earlier in the summer. Time was running out, he had to speak with her and learn where she stood.
Gold fished out his cell phone and dialed, leaving a message.
"Regina, it's me. I was in Sunshire all day and just got back into town. I'll be over tomorrow, it's time we spoke about Henry."
Regina Mills moved about her kitchen, setting out breakfast for three. She prepped plates and bowls with fruit and honeyed oatmeal, eggs and sausage. She was mayor elect over Storybrooke, her cunning matched only by one man.
She thought of her mentor and smiled to herself as she took down his cup, the red coffee mug he liked best out of the handful she kept in the cupboard. He would be up to the house soon, to discuss their arrangement, she knew.
Regina looked up, catching movement through the window. A moment later, there was the tapping of a cane against the back door. She smiled to see his blurred image through the window's frosted glass.
"Good morning, Gold." She greeted.
The man stood outside, his shoes a bit wet for having crossed the grass footpath to the back of the mayoral mansion. He was over to the residence several times a week, at all hours. For all intents and purposes, Mr. Gold was the man of the house.
"And to you, Regina." He returned.
She stepped aside to let him in, "Breakfast is ready. I'm out of tea, would you care for coffee?"
Mr. Gold nodded. "That would be lovely, thank you."
She quirked her lips at his being so formal, as if they hadn't known each other for years, as if they hadn't been up through the night just days before, working close together on a zoning amendment and then later, on something else entirely.
"Stirring performance the other night, Regina." Gold remarked as he took a seat at the table, resting the cane over his lap. He'd meant to compliment her earlier, but he'd had no time to praise her after they'd been done. "I was impressed."
"But not surprised." She finished for him, smug over her prowess.
Gold smiled as she brought over his coffee, "I taught you well, dearie, and you've always been a quick study."
"Why, thank you."
He eyed her. "Have you given any more thought to my proposal?
Regina moved to sit next to him at the small table. She had known that he would bring this up since he'd first asked her about it earlier in the summer. Weeks ago, the timing hadn't been right, but now they found themselves nearing the end of the season and the man deserved his answer.
She just wished she had a better one to give.
"I have...but I'm not ready. Not yet."
Gold furrowed his brow at that, and tried not to snarl. He didn't like this, her hesitance that would deny what would be best for them all. "We had an agreement. An agreement, Regina." He said pointedly. "You've never been one to back out of a deal with me before."
She nodded. He was right, but she was a mother. "I know, but this is different. This is Henry."
"Yes, and he's why I'm making the offer. Don't you think it's time?"
"I'm just...I'm not ready to let him go yet." She shrugged, unsure of how to explain this, the instinct to keep her boy close at all times.
At that, Gold laughed a little. "What, don't tell me that you're afraid if I take him out, I won't give him back?"
"Can you blame me? You have a history of stealing children." She teased.
Gold put a hand over his eyes, "I didn't write that script last year, I just performed it."
Regina smiled, remembering him on the library stage with Belle French, his co-star for the night. Henry still attended the plays, and he couldn't understand why Mr. Gold hadn't been brought back to perform again.
"That was such a fun night for us. I still have the pictures on my cell. Henry just loved you, all dressed up in your cape and hood, changing your voice."
Gold cracked out a mad, high-pitched giggle for her, brining out what had been rechristened his Rumplestiltskin voice. "Well, dearie, the boy has good taste, though he didn't get it from you!" Gold teased her, and then cleared his throat, returning to his normal tone. "Now, Regina, back to it. We agreed that once Henry was old enough, you'd let me have more time with him."
"I know, it's just difficult to let go."
"No one understands that better than me." He said lowly, and Regina was sorry to have stirred his memories. "But a boy needs to learn how to become a man, from a man."
Regina reached across the table to put her hand over his, gratitude in her touch. "I know that you're right. We can ask him when he comes down."
Gold and Regina went on chatting for another twenty minutes before Henry wandered into the kitchen, seeking breakfast. He was a lanky boy with mussed brown hair, wearing a t-shirt with black cotton pants, sleepy eyes widening happily to see their guest, though Mr. Gold had been a familiar face in their house for years. "Good morning, Mr. Gold."
Gold smiled at the boy. "Good morning, Henry. Sleep well?"
"Yes. I like waking up later, it'll be hard to go back to waking up early for school."
"You have some time before the school year starts up again. All the better to live it up the rest of your summer vacation, I should think."
"What do you mean?" Henry asked him as he took a seat at the table, tucking into the plate his mother served him.
Gold looked to Regina, who nodded her approval. Gold went on, "Tell me, how does a few days of fishing, hunting and camping out in the woods sound to you?"
Henry's eyes widened, "Really?"
He nodded. "Yes. Your mother and I were talking, and if you wanted, you could come up to spend a few days with me in my cabin."
The boy's face split in a wide smile. "That sounds great! We can really go hunting?"
"Yes, now that you're old enough."
"No guns." Regina cut in. "But Mr. Gold can show you how to set snares for little things like rabbits. And you'll go fishing for trout and bass. Oh, and the camping, Henry! You'll get to see all the stars when you're sleeping out there in the woods."
"You've been to the cabin, mom?" Henry asked her.
Regina looked to Gold and they shared a warm look, their minds fading back to a weekend spent at the cabin, years ago. Regina the city girl's introduction to the wilderness.
She nodded. "Yes, a long time ago. I caught my first fish in the river that runs behind Mr. Gold's cabin, I'll always remember that."
Gold laughed at the memory. "So will I. You'd thrown lines all morning, and when you finally reeled in that little fish, you didn't know what to do so you just screamed for help." He turned to the boy. "You should have seen her, Henry. I came out of the cabin to see your mother on the edge of the water, too terrified to touch this fish that couldn't have been bigger than her own hand."
Henry brightened at the story, he loved to hear about his mother's adventures with Mr. Gold before she became the mayor. "Really? I want to go fishing! I'll catch one and I won't be afraid to touch it."
Regina touched her son's hair, combing it with her fingers. She bent down and kissed the crown of his head. "My brave boy."
"Pack a bag, Henry. We'll head out around lunch time. Who knows? We might even catch our dinner."
Scarfing down his breakfast, Henry ran back upstairs to do as he'd been told.
Regina looked to Gold. "You're sure about this?"
"Yes. It'll be good for him."
The woman nodded and reached to touch his hand. "I think it'll be good for you, too."
Days after their adventure to Sunshire, Belle decided to drop in on Mr. Gold to see where they stood. He had left for business on Monday and Tuesday, but the sign on the door of his shop had promised his return by Wednesday. He hadn't mentioned plans to leave again, but this wasn't his disappearance from the winter, this was only two days.
On Thursday she left the library at noon, checking herself in the office mirror before heading down to the pawn shop. She saw him inside, and stepped in through the door but her usual greeting halted in her throat as his sudden gesture for silence.
Belle furrowed her brows in confusion and approached the counter. The crooning jazz on his sound system was turned down low, and he spoke not a word as she came closer. She followed him as he moved to draw back the curtain to the work room, revealing a sleeping toddler in a baby carrier set on the surface of his cleared work table.
Ah, the reason for his silence.
Belle and Mr. Gold moved back into the front of the shop, their voices just over a whisper.
"Should I be congratulating you?" Belle asked. She half-expected him to admit that, yes, some old flame of his had dropped off this surprise on the doorstep.
Mr. Gold shook his head, "She's not mine, Miss French."
A funny look came over Belle's face, "Oh my God, please tell me you didn't-"
"Didn't what? Finally make good on my word to take a debtor's firstborn?" Gold gave her an evil smile. "Your script was the inspitation for it, really. The client knew what my price was when he signed on the dotted line. That baby is mine now, I just wish I could be there when he explains his failure to he child's mother."
"Very funny." Belle deadpanned. "Come on, Mr. Gold, what're you doing with a baby?"
Gold shrugged, "All right, fine. She's my tailor's daughter. I'm just looking after her while he's making a court appearance."
"He's in court?"
"It's nothing serious, he's just clearing a traffic ticket. He should be back for her in another half hour." He said, checking his watch. "Good man and a single father, his regular day sitter fell through and so asked for the favor."
Belle laughed quietly. "Mr. Gold, a babysitter."
The man shrugged. "She's no trouble. She's easy, for a girl child." Off her look, he went on, "I've heard that girls can be more difficult, but I wouldn't know it myself. We...there was no daughter for us."
Belle remembered that he'd told her as much once before.
"I've heard that too, that girls are fussier."
"She's growing very quickly. Sweet child." Gold glanced back, checking on the baby. He looked back to Belle, seeing the strange, wistful expression on her face. "What?"
She blinked and smiled. "Ah, it's nothing, Mr. Gold. Just don't let anyone find out about this, if people knew you were soft for children then no one would ever be afraid of you again."
"Children are precious, even I know that, but you're right as always." He cleared his throat. "To protect my reputation, this will need to remain strictly between us."
Belle nodded. "Do you watch her very often?"
"Ah, on occasion. She's probably the only one in town who gets excited to see me."
Belle nudged him. "I can think of someone else who does, can't you?"
Gold smiled, feeling foolish, silly in the best of ways. He reached and stroked his fingertips over Belle's exposed forearm, ending the gentle caress by grasping her hand, again stroking the pad of his thumb over the backs of his fingers.
From the other side of the curtain, a whining little voice began to cry.
"Ah, duty calls. Excuse me."
Mr. Gold let go of her hand and limped past the curtain. Belle watched as he bent over the carrier, uncoupling the strap and lifting the baby out of the seat.
Her crying had stopped as soon as he lifted her, and Belle could hear him humming, his voice lower than his usual timber as his hands were careful to secure the wriggling body against his chest and shoulder.
"There we are, lass. Calm it down, now. Just a bad dream, eh?" The baby was too young to speak, but she murmured something in reply to the man, and he smiled as she settled down.
Gold held her, which it seemed was all the baby had wanted after waking in a strange place. Belle remained standing in the doorway, feeling out of place, like she was invading on some private moment. But Mr. Gold was not a father, the baby he held was not his child.
He turned to look at her. "Would you like to hold her?"
"Oh, please." Belle smiled and reached for the chubby toddler, but to her surprise, the baby gave a displeased squeal and held tighter to Mr. Gold, burying her face into his chest, hiding.
"Oh, she doesn't like me."
It stung her pride to be rejected by this baby who found more comfort in the arms of the town terror than in the arms of a woman.
"No, no, she's just grumpy when she wakes up. Sometimes she can be shy." Gold reassured her, cradling the girl to his chest and stroking her back. "It takes time for her to warm up to strangers."
Belle watched as Mr. Gold simply held the child, swaying slightly and humming again. The baby leaned back to look at him, and her little hands began groping at his face, grasping at his mouth and nose. Gold closed an eye to avoid her probing fingers.
There was a strange lurching in her chest at the sight of Mr. Gold with the toddler. It made her eyes sting with tears and her lips curl into a smile. It had to be her hormones, her maternal instincts rising at the sight of a man, this man, holding a baby with such care.
Gold hummed at the child and thankfully refrained from any baby-talk nonsense, "Easy, now. Miss French is a friend. Your father is coming, love. No worries, he wouldn't leave you here at the shop."
The man secured her in his arm and moved to the front of the shop before setting her down on the floor so that she might stretch her legs a bit now that she'd woke from her nap.
Belle watched from the doorway that connected the front and the back room of the shop, curious about this pup of a person who was just standing there on the floor in her little pink t-shirt and yellow shorts. The baby stood, one hand crammed into her mouth, drooling as her eyes wandered her surroundings, seeing more than a million things within reach to touch and taste.
Then, the baby looked up at Mr. Gold and her face lit up in a gummy smile, revealing a few teeth, and she did an odd, bouncy little dance. Clearly, she was happy to see the man and clearly, she wouldn't react this way if she wasn't familiar with him.
Gold reached down and let her hold one of his fingers in her tiny hand, and began to lead her on a walk about the shop floor. "The shop isn't baby-proof. I usually have her at the house." He told Belle.
"Usually?" She pressed.
"Ah, I might watch her a bit more than just occasionally...it's been twice a month for the past seven months, now." He confessed.
"Really? I had no idea."
"Yes, well, even monsters can have their moments."
"You're not a monster, Mr. Gold." Belle insisted. "Even the baby knows it."
Gold circled the shop floor with the toddler several times as he spoke with Belle, their usual ease with each other in place despite the toddler who held most of his attention.
"Miss French, would you like to come over to my house this weekend? I have - oof!"
The baby, who had been walking just beside Gold's right leg, chose that moment to charge forward, lunging against his cane and throwing him off-balance. He stumbled forward, grabbing the edge of the counter to keep from falling to the floor.
His cane clattered to the ground and the baby, startled by the noise, began to cry.
Belle swooped in, picking the baby up along with his cane. She handed the cane back to Mr. Gold, who righted himself, though he was clearly embarrassed by his loss of balance.
Belle didn't pay much attention to the flaming color over his cheekbones, her focus was instead centered on the wriggling toddler in her arms. The baby squealed and fussed, writhing, but went still as Belle began to hum at her just as Mr. Gold had done minutes earlier.
Gold watched fondly as the baby quieted in Belle's arms, the child seeming suddenly entranced by the new face before her.
Belle smiled and looked at Gold. "I guess she likes me after all."
And that's when the baby chose to reach forward and poke Belle in the eye. Belle yelped and turned her face away, but her secure grip on the child didn't waver. "Ow!"
"Miss French, perhaps I'll just..." Gold let the offer to take the baby hang in the air between them. He didn't want to imply that Belle had no affinity for toddlers, it was only that he clearly had more experience.
"Yes, that might be a good idea." Belle laughed in good-nature. Her left eye was red and teary, the toddler had been rough on them both. "I guess being a woman doesn't give me any automatic advantage when it comes to kids."
"Everything will come in time, Miss French." He reassured her as he took the baby.
Just then the shop door opened and a harried young man in a summer weight suit of pale grey came inside. Belle immediately took a step back, distancing herself from Mr. Gold in an attempt to make herself look like just another browsing customer.
"Gold, thank you so much, the damn court line took longer than I'd thought it would."
Ah, the baby's father had come back. Belle picked up a little curio and pretended to look it over, when really she was studying this man who trusted Mr. Gold with his child. He was handsome, and clearly trying to make the best of the daily stresses put on him as a single father.
Belle wondered what had become of the girl's mother, and if he was in the lookout for a woman to play stepmother any time soon.
The baby writhed in Mr. Gold's arms, so the man set her down and she rushed over to her father, gripping him about the knees, murmuring "Da, da, da". He bent to pick her up, nuzzling her cheek and making the baby giggle.
It was adorable to see, and Belle did not miss the longing expression on Mr. Gold's face as he watched them.
"It was no trouble." Mr. Gold said to the younger man.
Belle went on browsing through the shop as Mr. Gold went over all that had gone on with the baby, leaving out her nearly bringing him to his knees and not mentioning Belle at all.
The man, who Gold only addressed as Jefferson, made quick work of securing the girl back into her carrier and leaving, very thankful for his friend's help.
"She's a sweetie." Belle said once the pair had left, babbling happily to each other.
Gold looked down, frowning at his cane. "She is. He's lucky."
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine...just not used to being toppled by toddlers." Gold said, the false smile sliding from his face. He'd learned to live with his injury, and though Belle had accepted it as just another part of him, he was still loathe to have shown weakness before her in such a way.
The fearsome Mr. Gold, brought to his knees by a toddler.
The woman shook her head, understanding his embarrassment but not sure how to help. "Shes stronger than she looks, she just caught you off-guard, the sneaky thing." He didn't smile at that, so she jumped onto another subject.
From there, they went on to talk of the usual goings-on about town.
Mr. Gold did not try again to invite her to his house.
Belle pretended not to notice.
It was three weeks after their afternoon adventure to Sunshire, with their routine more or less reestablished. Gold had not kissed Belle's hand again - or any other part of her, much to their shared regret. They still saw each other at the library and met at his shop to talk, but there was a distinct change between them. Looks that lingered, soft touches to his bare hand and clothed shoulder, softer touches to the small of her back.
Belle had stopped seeing him during her lunch breaks, instead she'd taken to visiting just at the shop's closing. This way, there was less of a stress on their time together. Less of a chance that someone would see them together and spread a story that would stretch on to the depraved with each retelling.
Sipping tea, a blend of his own (plain China green tea on his doctor's recommendation to maintain his health, though he would have preferred one of Belle's more exotic blends), Gold looked out the window, to the construction outside of her apartment building.
Florence & The Machine was on the sound system, the volume turned low on Seven Devils so they might concentrate on the checker board.
Gold eyed the work that'd already begun on the building just days ago. "Looks like they're taking your whole building apart over there."
Belle set her cup aside and pondered the board before her. It was late, late enough for the shop to be closed, but not so late that Gold was ready to forfeit their game of checkers. He wouldn't let her leave now even if she'd wanted to.
In her early explorations of the back room, Belle had found the game gathering dust on a shelf and asked that Mr. Gold play her. In the months of their friendship, they had gone to war on the board several times and though Belle had come close, she had yet to best him.
So there they were, playing on the counter after hours. Belle hadn't realized how competitive the man was, he'd even woven a deal into the outcome of their game: if (when) he beat her, she would come over to make him a meal in his home. Gold confessed to having grown spoiled by the lunches she often brought into the shop, which was something of a compliment, really.
And if, by some miracle (his words, Belle had only rolled her eyes at his arrogance) she beat him, then she was clearly ready for a new challenge and he would teach her to play chess.
Like all his deals, this friendly wager would favor him, no matter the outcome.
"Just about, yes." Belle nodded and counted off on her fingers, "Last I heard, they're rewiring the electrical system, refitting most of the plumbing, all of the units will be getting upgraded appliances, new carpeting and repainted, there's going to be a renovation of the lobby floor and some foundation work, I think. The building needs it though, it'll be beautiful when they finish. And me, I'd rather be out of my place for a time than see them bulldoze whole block."
Gold lifted an eyebrow at her, "You're not there?"
Belle tucked a curl behind her ear, "I can't, they'll be cutting off the power and water for days at a time, and then working with heavy chemicals so it's not safe. I'm out for a few weeks at least, most of the other tenants are already over at Granny's. Ruby told me it's the first time the inn has been fully booked in years."
Gold's ears pricked up at the news, his thoughts flying immediately to his hunger for more of her company. More. Oh, yes.
"I have a few spare rooms, you can stay with me." He gave the offer so freely that she might have thought he didn't care one way or the other, as was his intent. He moved a black checker and glanced up to find her watching him.
Belle reached across the board to put her hand over his, "Thank you, that's very generous Mr. Gold, but I've already gone back to staying at my father's."
Disappointed, he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from snidely reminding her to hide her jewelry, but was thankfully interrupted by a few hard knocks at the front door. Ah, there always seemed to be someone about to break their moments together.
Belle's irritated expression perfectly echoed his own feelings as he gestured for her to go into the back room while he attended to whoever had come knocking at the front.
The woman was used to it by now.
Still, it was late, and Belle had to wonder who would be coming over now to deal with Mr. Gold rather than during his regular business hours. The rumors that surrounded Gold, all of his secret dealings, the proof was here tonight.
She could hear his accented voice and the voice of another man though she could not distinguish who it might be. For a moment, she thought that the voice was similar to those of both Dr. Whale and David Nolan.
But Belle refused to eavesdrop on the men, whatever they were discussing was not her business, and she would rather turn a blind eye - or ear, in this case - to any of Mr. Gold's private dealings that might ruin the image of him she would like to hold onto for a bit longer. Just as she would prefer for him to think of her in the best way, rather than for him to see the flaws she fought to keep hidden.
Venturing further into the back room, Belle took a picture of one of the newly restored paintings set aside for a private buyer in Philadelphia, and set it to be the background screen of her cell phone. There was plenty to look at, to be sure, but she was more interested in the man than in his latest tinkering projects.
She could still hear Mr. Gold talking with the man up front, so she sat down, leaning back slightly against the headboard of the little bed he kept in the back room and glanced through her texts. It had been a long, stressful week. She, Ruby and a few others had plans to run amok the following night - a girls' night out would be perfect but for now...
Distantly, she felt something gently trace down over the curve of her cheek. She twitched, trying to ignore it, but then felt a hand on her shoulder, giving a shake to pull her awake. "...Belle...Belle..."
Belle started awake, blinking to find Mr. Gold sitting beside her on the edge of the bed, his hip resting just next to her thigh. "Oh, Mr. Gold."
"That business up front took longer than it should have, I see you've made yourself comfortable."
Belle shifted on the little bed, sitting up straighter and reached for her cell, she'd dropped it in her lap. Checking the time, she was surprised to see that she must have been sleeping for nearly an hour!
"Oh, God, Mr. Gold, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"
He shook his head, "It's quite all right. I knew you'd get bored of me sooner or later, but I didn't think I was so boring I put you to sleep."
Belle laughed. "Oh, stop it. You know I don't think you're boring. You're the most interesting man in the world to me." She reminded him. "I've just been having a hard time sleeping."
He looked at her, concerned. "Are you all right?"
"I...yes, I'm sorry, it's just been a long week. I sat down for a second and I was out like a light." Belle laughed with a quick snap of her fingers, hoping her smile hid her embarrassment.
Falling asleep in the back of the shop, what was I thinking? Why not just stretch out to take a nap on the front counter while I'm at it?
"Quite all right. I was thinking of turning the back room into a B&B, maybe give Granny's a bit of competition." He mused, still seated beside her.
"I'll be your first customer, this bed is irresistible." Belle patted the mattress. "Who did it belong to?"
"I moved it from my house."
"This is yours?"
Gold nodded, "Several years ago I was doing some rearranging and I didn't want it in the house any longer, but all the same I couldn't part with it. Nowadays I just use it when I need to rest the leg." He shrugged and tapped the floor with his cane.
"Your old war wound?" She asked carefully.
The reason behind Gold's limp was still a mystery, but Belle had learned that he wasn't so sensitive that the topic was off-limits. He'd even let her try walking about the front of the shop with his cane a few times so she could know what it was like.
"Something like that." Gold stood and offered his hand. Belle put her hand in his and let him pull her to stand from the bed. "Come on, it's late. I'll give you a ride to your father's."
Belle shook her head, "You don't have to do that."
"It's late. I'll drive you." His voice was firm, there would be no argument here.
After closing up the shop, it was an easy drive to Moe French's tired little house on the southern stretch of Storybrooke. The town itself wasn't a place of great flashes of wealth; Storybrooke was quaint, simple, modest. Aside from Mr. Gold and the mayor, those who made up the tiny, wealthier area of the town were made up of only a handful of lawyers, doctors and retirees who mostly kept to themselves.
Still, French's house was in the poorest of the poor blocks, a shabby little three bedroom house that had seen much better days. The house itself had potential, but had suffered the neglect of its owner for over a decade, leaving it badly in need of proper maintenance and landscaping care.
Gold didn't like to think of Belle being in this neighborhood, but then again, she had grown up here, and had already made her choice to stay for the time being. She could handle herself, brave little thing that she was.
He parked just before the driveway to her father's house and turned to her. "End of the line, Miss French."
In the dark, he could not make out her features but he could hear the smile in her voice. "Kicking me out?"
"Afraid so."
Belle reached over and touched his shoulder. "Thank you, Mr. Gold, I appreciate the lift."
"My pleasure."
"Have a good night." Belle grabbed her purse and unbuckled her seat belt.
"You do the same - and, Miss French?"
"Hmm?"
"It would be better if your whereabouts tonight remained between us."
Belle faltered at the reminder. "I-I understand."
"Thank you. Good night Miss French."
Gold waited in the driver's seat, the engine idling. He would not drive off until he saw her enter the house. It was a small thing to drive her home, and if it painted him in a chivalrous light, Gold wasn't too proud to use that to his advantage.
He watched as she approached the little house, but she stopped short just before pushing through the front door. Rather than go inside, Belle turned back to approach the car once again. Gold lowered the window, "Did you forget something?"
Belle shook her head. "Can I...is your offer still on the table?"
"What offer?"
Belle glanced over her shoulder, back to the house, then back to him. "You said you have a spare room - it'd just be for tonight."
Gold nodded, beckoning her to retake her seat. "Of course, is everything all right?"
Belle slipped back into the car, "Um, yeah, yes, Mr. Gold. Everything's fine. I just forgot it's poker night, when dad has his friends over things can get pretty rowdy and I never get any sleep."
He looked at her, sitting there beside him in the dark, her face barely visible in the illumination of the street lights outside. Belle was obviously lying to him, but Gold didn't mind that. Now that he'd lowered the window, he could hear loud music and the rowdy laughing, cursing and carrying on of men and women from inside the house.
"If you're sure, Miss French."
Here, she turned to look at him. "Please?"
Mr. Gold said nothing, but he threw the Cadillac into gear, and headed toward his house.
The drive across Storybrooke was spent in silence. Avila sang out to them through the radio, a slow cover of All Shook Up, leaving them with their thoughts. Certainly, Gold had not expected Belle as his guest for the night, but he was excited to have her to himself. He didn't expect anything from her, it was only that his home was more secure than his shop as he rarely had visitors to the residence - God willing, they wouldn't be interrupted again.
Even Regina knew to keep her distance from his house unless he extended the invitation.
But he'd invited Belle, and she'd accepted his offer of hospitality because...well, because his house would be quieter than her father's on a Friday night, apparently.
Pulling the car to a stop in the drive, Gold lead Belle into the back entrance of his house, which opened into the kitchen. The man turned on the soft overhead light and set his keys on the counter, his friend trailing just a few feet behind.
He was happy to have Belle under his roof, with any luck it would reflect his visit to her apartment on the night of the storm. Mr. Gold, the man who dared to hope for a film followed by a warm cuddle on the sofa.
"A tea before bed, Miss French?"
"I - sure." Belle said in distraction as she turned in a circle, trying to look at everything all at once. "God, I can't believe I'm in your house."
Gold flashed a quick smile before retrieving his plain tea blend and a pair of cups from a cabinet beside the stove. He couldn't remember the last time one of his mugs had been joined by a sibling in use for a guest. It'd been over a year, he was sure of that.
Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Belle peering out the window to the backyard. It was too dark, though. There wouldn't be much she could see until the sun came up again in the morning.
He liked that, the thought of Belle in his garden. "And is my house everything you hoped it would be?"
"It's beautiful. I mean that, it's gorgeous. I love these Queen Anne houses, the bones alone are unmistakable." She told him as she ran her hand over the paneling of the back doors. It was one thing to pass by the house from the street, it was another to actually be inside with the man who owned it.
Gold shook his head, "I can't take much credit for that. All I've done since moving in is fill it with my collections."
"Your collections?"
Gold readied their cups and motioned for her to join him. Being in fine practice, they took the same positions as at his shop: Gold standing on one side of the counter with Belle perched on a barstool just across from him. "Oh, yes. Over the years I gained such an appetite for rare things that I had to open the shop just to keep track."
Belle took a tentative sip, letting the calm base flavor roll over her tongue. "You mean your shop is really just storage?"
Gold lifted his cup for a cheers, and Belle lightly tapped her cup to his. "Precisely."
"You just might be a hoarder."
Gold raised his brows at her, "I wouldn't go that far, everything I keep has value."
"All hoarders say that!" Belle laughed at him.
Smiling openly now, Gold dared her to let him prove the value of his collections. "Tomorrow I'll take you through the house, a little tour so you can see for yourself. Aside from the artwork and artifacts, I have a handful of first editions I know you'd appreciate."
"I wouldn't say no-" A yawn interrupted her words, the long week catching up with her again. "Oh, I'm sorry."
Gold looked concerned, and really, he was. That Belle would ask to stay with him rather than return to her father was enough reason to worry after the woman. But Belle had declared herself in need of a bed, and Gold would not keep her from it any longer, no matter that he would gladly sit and talk with her through the night.
"No need to apologize. You're tired, Miss French. Please, sit tight and I'll get your room ready."
Gold left Belle to her tea in the kitchen, making a quick stop to his own bedroom for a pair of pajamas and then went on up the stairs to the large bedroom he intended for her. He stood outside the closed door, then took a deep breath before entering that room.
He opened the door and checked that there was no dust on the desk or nightstand, and that the bedding was fresh.
Good.
His cleaning service was earning its keep, and Belle deserved no less. He left the pajamas for her on the nightstand and returned to the kitchen to fetch his surprise guest.
Belle narrowed her eyes as she paged through an old cookbook she'd pulled off a shelf. Many of the dinner recipes she'd looked over had handwritten notes in the margins, apparently enhancing dishes deemed too plain.
A dash of seasoning here, an extra tablespoon of cream there...Mr. Gold didn't strike her as being particularly creative in the kitchen, so who-?
But then she recalled that he'd been married before. These weren't his notes she was reading, they were his wife's.
Suddenly an old cookbook felt like something deeply personal, and she returned it. A moment later, Mr. Gold reappeared at the bottom of the stairs. "Miss French, if you'll follow me, please."
Belle hopped off the barstool and followed him upstairs to the second floor, down a dimly lit hallway, to the third door on the right. Her eyes were hungry for details, but there were none. The walls of the staircase and the hallway were painted a tasteful cream, lined with dark stained wood wainscoting. But there were no pictures to look at, no paintings or photographs. Strange that a man of numerous collections would keep the walls so bare.
She eyed his cane as she followed him. Perhaps he didn't spend much time upstairs, and she wondered guiltily if his leg was pained now, from going up and down the stairs to make sure she had a comfortable place to sleep.
"It's just through there." He said, standing outside the open door. Gold did not put a toe across the threshold as Belle moved into the room.
"Oh, wow! This is beautiful!" Belle gushed as she took it all in.
Dark wood floors matched the wainscoting throughout the house, the upper walls were painted a soft baby blue. A bay window was on the wall opposite to her, she could see down the street from that view.
Moving further into the room, Belle saw that a door lead into an empty walk-in closet, while another lead into what she presumed was a bathroom. A lovely desk and chair were set against the wall, but the star of this bedroom was the bed itself. A high queen on a dark wood frame, the headboard carved with leaves and swirling vines. The comforter atop the bed was white goosedown, as were the matching pillows. A faux fur throw of silver grey was folded at the foot of the bed.
"Again, I can't take any credit. I didn't decorate it, I've just kept it maintained over the years. You can wear those tonight." He offered, gesturing into the room.
Belle stepped over and found a pair of men's pajamas neatly folded atop the nightstand, a dark royal blue. She turned back to him, "For me?"
"You've only the clothes on your back."
For a flash, Belle was tempted to tell him that she preferred to sleep in the nude, but given the tension between them lately she kept her mouth shut. The woman was so drawn to him, she would welcome it if he came to her with more carnal intentions, but the longer he waited in expressing himself outright, the more Belle began to wonder if she'd built things between them too far up in her own imaginings.
Mr. Gold may be too important a man, and too dignified besides, to bother with anything more serious than bedding someone like her for a brief time.
Belle didn't believe she deserved much out of life, but she deserved more than that.
"They won't fit, but they'll do for tonight, yes?"
Gold's question pulled Belle out of her thoughts, snapping her back into the moment. She ran her fingers over the fine cotton and was not surprised at its softness - Mr. Gold took great pride in how he dressed, of course that same care would extend to his sleepwear. "You're right, these won't fit, but this color will definitely bring out my eyes."
Gold didn't understand why that would matter, but then again, Belle did like to joke with him. "Very important for sleepwear." He drawled.
"A girl has to keep her priorities. Thank you so much Mr. Gold."
Belle did something on impulse then, something she'd been wanting to do for so long but there never seemed an appropriate moment to do so. Well. The man had opened his home to her, this temple of charm and art, and he was her friend, besides.
Before he could turn down the hallway, Belle stepped in and twined her arms around his waist, drawing him close for a tight embrace. Belle pressed in to him, and she was relieved that the man returned her hug rather than just stand rigid; she felt one of his hands span across the middle of her back while the other remained at his side, gripping the cane.
After several warm moments, Mr. Gold pulled back from her, his hand sliding down to rest on the dip of her waist before he reached to hold her hand, his fingers squeezing hers gently. Their hug was a brief embrace, and Belle couldn't expect anything more than that.
Still, tonight was a landmark.
Mr. Gold stood before her, so close, his eyes roaming her face. Perhaps he wanted to say something, but whatever it was, he told her instead, "I'm in the room just below if you need anything."
He lifted her hand, kissing her again. It was not the chaste kiss to her knuckles from that night outside her apartment with half the town watching. Mr. Gold stroked over her fingers with his thumb, then pressed his lips to the back of her hand. His lips, his breath was hot over her skin, sending a shiver down her spine and a wave of gooseflesh to rise over her body entire. Still holding her hand, he turned it, then kissed the cup of her palm, and then another, softer kiss to the pulse point in her wrist.
"Good night, Miss French."
Belle could barely hear herself answering "Good night, Mr. Gold" over the blood throbbing through her. She could still feel the touch of his mouth on her hand, the gentle strength of his grasp.
This man...
Belle lingered in the doorway, watching as he moved down the corridor and out of sight. She turned to the room, closing the door behind her and taking a deep breath to steady her nerves.
Mr. Gold could excite her so quickly, with just a few kisses to her hand. Belle felt her face on fire, heat flooding through her body with arousal. She fanned her face, wondering what she should do, if anything.
I should chase him downstairs and jump into his bed, Belle thought wildly.
She shook her head, laughing at herself. Trying to dispel the heat lingering in her cheeks, she stepped into the bathroom, surprised to find double sinks, and splashed cold water on her face, trying to focus.
Mr. Gold cares for you, and he may want you, but don't let yourself assume anything. Belle reminded herself.
She rubbed a hand over her face and, yawning again, Belle changed out of her clothes, stripping down to just her panties before putting on Gold's pajamas, enveloping herself in his softness and scent. Looking herself over in the mirror, she found she was right - his pajamas were too big, but their color did make her eyes look even brighter.
Belle looked over the handful of books that lined a shelf on the desk set against the far wall, noting that all of the spines were cracked from repeated readings, the pages long since yellowed with age. She was an avid reader, but Belle's eyes were so tired; she wouldn't be starting any novels tonight.
Instead, she tapped out a quick text to let her father know she was staying overnight with a friend, careful as always to leave Mr. Gold's name out of it. Not that it mattered; she was sure that Moe was so far into his drinks and games by now that he wouldn't even bother to check his phone until later on the next day.
As for Mr. Gold, the man had opened his home to her, but he also valued his privacy and was quite formal - he would not want it known to others that he'd had her overnight in his house, no matter how innocent this had all been.
She put her cell back into her purse and killed the lights, getting under the covers. She sighed happily, reveling in her infatuation, recalling those fleeting moments when he would look at her or say something that gave her a spark of hope that they could have something real.
It was a dim spark, however. Mr. Gold was so formal that they had known each other for over a year and she could count on one hand the number of times that he'd called her Belle, and each time he had caught himself, apologized and resumed calling her Miss French.
And Belle was sure she had never even learned his first name - how odd!
Yes their situation was so odd, but Belle liked it and she liked him. He was so dignified, with his old world roots and his sharp suits and even sharper mind. Belle was sure she'd learned more in her secret visits with him than she had in all the books she'd read at the library. He was endlessly fascinating to her.
She thought back to the day he'd insisted that she try on the Grecian necklace. For a few thrilling moments, the man had seemed so intense, as if he'd been barely able to restrain himself from pouncing on her. And she wouldn't have put up a fight if he had. She would have welcomed him...but could he want her for anything meaningful?
Belle knew she was beautiful in his eyes, but she wasn't stupid. In the past, Gold had treated her with such polite distance, save for the odd dark look here and there, that she had been sure he'd no interest in making much room in his life for someone like her.
But now, after their last few visits...who could say?
Mr. Gold was a difficult man to read. He would flirt with her, but never cross the line. He would do everything just short of expressing something real, but then he would pull back, and that wall, that invisible gulf between them would open again. It was a cycle of off-balance moves, she could never be sure where the man stood.
Belle was tired of it, to be sure, but mostly she was just tired.
The bed was pulling her deeper and deeper into sleep.
Soon, Belle had slipped into the cradle of her dreams, with Mr. Gold holding her in his arms.
Downstairs, just a floor below his surprise houseguest, Gold was very slow in undressing himself once he retired to his bedroom. His movements were deliberately slow in the half-hope that Belle would come down, needing something from him. He had no desire for her to see him wearing pajamas near identical to the pair he'd leant to her; without his suits, his formal armor, he only appeared slighter and with his cane, he worried he would become wholly frail in her eyes. If however, she were to knock on the door and he answered her without his jacket, waistcoat or tie, he could at least still hide behind the exquisite tailoring of his shirt and trousers.
Ridiculous, but he was as insecure as anyone when faced with an infatuation.
Two hours after having left Belle to the guest room, which in actual fact had been the room he'd once shared with his wife, Gold had changed into his pajamas and was staring at the television with blank eyes. God knows he couldn't concentrate on the show playing when Belle was upstairs, in the room just above his head.
What was she doing up there, if she wasn't already asleep? Was she reading? There were a few books in the desk - a mix of his mysteries and Milah's biographies. Whatever she was doing, Belle wasn't in bed with him.
The man tried not to think of her in such a vulgar way, riding atop him with true abandon or on her knees, eagerly taking him between her lips, but that part of his mind would not allow such thoughts to be shut out.
He wanted her.
Not only as a lover, but with him, in his house, in his life.
His control was eroding, it had been ever since the day she'd fluttered into his shop and found a way to befriend him. He could feel bits of it slip away with every hour they spent together.
He shouldn't have kissed her hand again, at least, not in the way he'd kissed it. He'd held her hand too long, stroking her fingers, letting his eyes linger on the matte shamrock green polish of her manicure. Then, he'd kissed the back of her hand, her palm and her pulse. He let his lips linger over her skin, breathing in her scent, taking her into himself.
He shouldn't have kissed her hand, but he couldn't regret it, either. Not when he'd seen her eyes go dark, the flush that colored her cheeks. His advances, subtle as they were, excited her.
He heard a soft creak, then another and another, moving above his room. Footsteps. Belle was awake, but her movements were confined to the bedroom above his. She did not open the door. She did not come to him.
It's just as well, he decided.
She might indulge him for a bit, out of curiosity or perhaps her own infatuation - but Gold would rather they continue with their clandestine friendship than have an affair that would only end in an awkward parting of ways with no chance of reconciling.
Still it was too tempting not to think on, what she might look like under her demure dresses, how soft her skin must be. He was helpless to his imagination, his mind speculating on every inch of the woman.
That hug she's pulled him into wasn't helping anything, either. He hadn't expected that. It had been a surprise, but even more dangerous had been his own reaction: he'd not been embraced in years, and damn her, she'd drawn him in and he'd been helpless to resist, absorbed in the moment, her heat, her scent.
Absently, Gold reached down to cup himself, stroking softly to ease the edge of his arousal at the memory of her...
He was making far too much of a hug, he knew, and it was only further proof that the distance he'd put between himself and everyone else was doing him harm. Perhaps if he allowed more than just the occasional handshake, he wouldn't be obsessing for so long over a few seconds of embracing contact. But he had no interest in embracing anyone but Belle.
Gold cursed himself, wishing for a leap of courage where the woman was concerned.
The man had fallen asleep atop the covers of his bed, visions of Belle never far from his mind. Noting the time when he awoke, he hurried to ready himself for the day. He would make Belle breakfast, or just tea or coffee if she wasn't hungry, then he would drive her to the library.
Gold was quick in his shower and shave, careful to select his finest suit and pairing it with a red shirt she'd once said she liked on him. He stepped into the kitchen, wondering if he should go upstairs to rouse her. His grip on the cane tightened at the thought of going to Belle, of finding her in the bed upstairs, wearing his pajamas or better yet, nothing at all.
What would she do, if he came into the room to wake her?
Would she shy away or pull him into a kiss?
Demand that he pleasure her or give him a sound slap for even thinking such a thing?
Gold shook himself out of those thoughts, feeling a flash of shame.
No, no, better to let her wake and come downstairs in her own time.
Gold set out the kettle and two cups when he noticed the paper left on the counter in familiar handwriting.
Mr. Gold,
I cannot thank you enough for letting me stay the night. I'm sorry to have left without saying goodbye but I needed to run home to change clothes before going in to work - the library opens earlier on Saturdays, if you remember. I would like to thank you for your hospitality later today, and will visit you at the shop around 1 if you're in.
PS - I took your pajamas with me and you're not getting them back!
Belle
Gold actually laughed at that sassy post script.
Who is this girl?
Belle didn't mind walking. Storybrooke wasn't a one-horse town by any means, but the walk from Mr. Gold's house to the house of her father wasn't more than a few miles. She liked the fresh air, but she would have preferred fresh clothes rather than her wrinkled work clothes from the day before. Luckily she'd worn her flats rather than a pair of heels. Checking her watch, Belle hurried the last few blocks and made her way in through the back door.
The stench of alcohol, marijuana and stale cigarettes greeted her, deepening her irritation, but Belle didn't have time to start on the mess. The house looked like a white-trash bomb went off in it; beer cans and bottles rested on every flat surface, there were overflowing ashtrays strewn about the living room and the kitchen counters. On the pull-out sofa was one of the women her father had briefly dated over the years, Connie Stewart. Sleeping in the recliner was one of her father's poker buddies, though she couldn't recall his name.
Moe French had had people drifting in and out of his house for years, Belle had stopped trying to be polite and learn their names. They were all trash, so what did it matter?
Belle hustled to her old bedroom, scowling to find yet another man sprawled across the bed, snoring loudly. She'd wager that whoever it was would have one hell of a hangover when he woke up. But again, there was no time. Belle grabbed for her duffel bag, shoved Gold's pajamas into an interior pocket and then took it into the bathroom to make a quick change.
The clothes inside were clean, but it was her last outfit since everything else was in the wash. She worried that the poker night stench would cling to her hair and clothes, even being in the house for so brief a time. Christ, I hate it here, she thought in irritation as she hurriedly brushed her teeth and swept her hair into a high ponytail. She made a mental note to spray herself down with Febreeze and her own perfume just in case before starting her shift at the library.
She emerged from the bathroom in a pair of dark skinny jeans, a pink tunic blouse she'd cinched with a leather belt and her same flats from the day before.
Checking her watch, Belle took up her purse again and rushed out the door.
Just as her shift had started, Belle had seen Mr. Gold open his shop. They'd waved to each other from across the street, but Belle hadn't been able to get away to greet him before two that afternoon.
It had been late for lunch, and later than the time she'd mentioned in her note, but she'd promised to repay his generosity from the night before.
At 2:15pm, Belle strode out of Granny's with a sandwich to share with Mr. Gold, a holdover gift to him until she could get back to her father's neglected kitchen and bring the man a home-cooked meal.
Crossing the street, she felt an uncomfortable tightening in her belly, the worry that he saw her departure that morning as rude. If the library hadn't opened so early on Saturdays then of course Belle would have waited for Mr. Gold to come out of his room. She was in no position to risk her job by coming in late and she knew Mr. Gold wouldn't have appreciated her entering his bedroom without permission. They were close, but that would have crossed a line.
Belle neared the man's pawn shop but saw that it was closed - the sign on the door advising any customers to return at a later time.
She was disappointed to find the shop closed, but reminded herself that Mr. Gold was likely about town, making his rounds to collect from his clients. He had no need to visit his tenants in person, Belle knew, but she suspected that the man had grown bored with tinkering about in the shop mostly by himself all day for hours on end. Getting out into the air and seeing people, even if only to harass them for money owed, might be the highlight of his days.
Belle shrugged off his absence and returned to work for several more hours, losing herself in the stacks until Ruby slid in just as she was closing up.
Ruby waggled her eyebrows at her, "We're still on for the Rabbit Hole, right?"
Belle smiled, already excited. "You know it. God, I need a night out like you wouldn't believe!"
"In that case, be my doll tonight! Let me do your makeup."
"Only if you promise to do my eyes like yours, I love that smokey look you do but I can never get it right on myself." Belle said as she locked the double doors to the library, testing the lock and following her friend down the sidewalk.
Ruby grinned at the compliment. "It takes a while to get the hang of it, but of course I'll do yours. You know, sometimes it's easier to do on someone else." She glanced down the street to Belle's apartment building. "How much longer until your place is finished?"
Belle groaned. "No definite date, but it'll be at least another month. Maybe two. All my clothes are still at dad's, and that's the last place I want to go".
Ruby understood her friend's frustration; Belle worked at the library, volunteered at Game of Thorns just to keep the shop from shutting down, and when her money ran low she scrambled all over town for extra work. She had so little to show for her efforts - barely more than a tiny apartment to call her own, but now she didn't even have that!
"Well, tonight you won't have to." Ruby declared. If she could spare her friend having to spend any more time with her obnoxious father, then of course she would. "You can borrow a dress and a pair of heels, but I draw the line at bras and thongs!"
"Good thing I brought my own!" Belle laughed, nudging her as they crossed over to the room at Granny's that had belonged to Ruby for the past serval years.
Against her grandmother's wishes, Ruby had taken special efforts to mark her territory. On moving in, she'd painted her walls a soft pink and added matte black wainscoting with matching black curtains to the twin windows that looked out over the little courtyard of the inn. There were faded pictures of her parents, God rest them, and a few random black and white prints of the Eiffel Tower, Audrey Hepburn and a forest landscape.
Ruby opened her crammed closet and took out a few options for Belle to wear for the night. One was a tight, strapless red tube dress with a slit up the side, the next a shimmery green top cut so low that Belle couldn't help but fear her breasts would fall out for the whole club to see. The last was a short, sequined dress of midnight blue. It was scandalous, to be sure, short, tight and low, but Belle liked it the best of the bunch.
"I knew you'd like that one!" Ruby smiled. "It's all yours."
"I love it!"
"Great, put it on and then sit over there so I make a dishonest woman out of you."
Together, the two friends changed their clothes, arranged their hair and applied makeup, lining their eyes, painting their lips - shedding their daily faces to become women of the night.
Once Ruby had finished, Belle looked at herself in the mirror and couldn't help but to exclaim, "Whoa! Oh my God, I look great!"
Belle leaned in closer to the mirror, taking it all in. The short, sequined dress clung to the tight dip of her waist, while its low neckline showed off the cleavage presented by her own favorite lace bra. Ruby's black tights were artfully ripped, giving the wild illusion of tiger stripes running across her legs, which seemed miles long thanks to the sky-high stilettos. It was a lucky thing that she and Ruby wore the same size in shoes.
Her hair was pinned up, her makeup deep and sultry, a shimmery charcoal lining her eyes, lashes heavy with mascara, her lips a bright scarlet.
Belle looked wild and sexy, and she was starting to feel it. She grinned and winked at her reflection, flirting with herself.
All at once, Belle felt charged, ready to tear her way out of the inn, she wanted to fly away from the stacks and the stress of her apartment being ripped apart so that it could be built up again, she wanted away from her father's ruin of a life and away from Mr. Gold and everything he'd stirred inside her.
Belle just wanted away, she wanted to play pool and darts, to flirt with men, for them to buy her drinks and dance with her. She just wanted some fun, it was damn well overdue!
"I know, right? I don't just gild the lily, I drown it in glitter!" Ruby laughed as she replaced her makeup brushes in their case. She was meticulous in the care and organization of her beauty tools.
"God, you sure do." Belle agreed, looking closer at her painted lips. She turned to her friend, putting her hands on the taller woman's shoulders, eyes bright with excitement. "I'm ready to tear this town apart, Ruby."
Ruby smiled back to her, but then went still, her head cocked to the side, listening. "Do you hear that? It's Marcus, he's close."
Belle shook her head. "I don't hear anything, I-" She cut herself off, hearing the approaching rumble of his Mustang. "Never mind, I hear him now."
Ruby looked herself over one last time in the mirror. The she-wolf in red was ready to be let out of her cage.
"All right, grab your purse, lets get going."
Together, Ruby and Belle descended to the street to find Marcus behind the wheel with Shane moving out of the front seat to greet them. He kissed Belle's cheek and then Ruby's. "Ladies, you both look great."
"Thank you! You both look very handsome." Ruby said, tugging on Shane's sleeve. "You need to dance with me first, Garrison."
Shane took her hand and twirled Ruby right there on the sidewalk. "In that dress you can have anything you want."
From the driver's seat, Marcus watched them and turned to Belle. "If they dance first, that means it's you and me, B."
"Only if you can handle me, Marcus!"
Marcus scoffed at her challenge, boasting, "Hey, I can handle you, Ruby, Ashley and Jasmine all while blindfolded!"
Settling in the backseat with Shane, Ruby laughed at him. "We'll test your word on that when we get there."
"All right, hold on to your heels, ladies."
Together, the group sped off, Belle blissfully unaware of the irreparable change that loomed only hours before her.
Author's Note: I'm not exactly sure how, but this chapter got away from me in editing and doubled in length! I expect a review from every reader just for the size of this update!
The scene with Belle, Gold and Jefferson's baby was inspired by a picture I found on Google of RC holding his daughter when she was a toddler and it just expanded from there - if only OUaT canon would give us cuddly Gold scenes, rather than this atrocity of a season in terms of backward character development.
Fingers crossed for the spring half of OUaT to repair all of the damage done to Rumbelle.