A/N: I know I was going to have Carella talk with Belle this chapter, but then something else happened, so it'll be next chapter.
Gold had a hangover the next day, as he had expected he would, but overall he felt better. Having two good friends who now knew what it was he was going through, although they didn't exactly understand, was a relief. Ursula made them breakfast the next morning, and he wolfed down scrambled eggs and drank two cups of coffee almost before he spoke to anyone. Carella watched him with heavy-eyed amusement from behind her coffee cup, her hair tousled.
"Feel any better, darling?" she asked, and he hesitated, taking a piece of toast and spreading butter on it.
"Actually, yes," he said, and looked up at them. "Thank you for listening. It - I think it helped."
"The margaritas certainly didn't," sighed Carella, rubbing her eyes. She squinted at him. "Were we singing?"
Gold shrugged. "Don't ask me. I don't even remember the margaritas."
"You were both singing," said Ursula dryly. "It was painful. If I were a terrible person I'd have put it on YouTube."
Carella shuddered, burying her nose in her coffee. Gold poured himself a third cup, emptying the pot, and Ursula gave him a wry look and got up to make some more.
"So," she said, spooning coffee into the pot. "What are you going to do?"
Gold took a bite of toast, gesturing to himself and scattering crumbs as he swallowed.
"I'm gonna go home and get a shower," he said. "And then I'm going to work."
He grinned at them smugly, popping the last of the toast in his mouth, and Carella's eyes narrowed.
"Don't get cheeky," she said severely. "You know very well what we mean. Are you going to talk to Belle?"
He licked crumbs from his fingertips, picking up his coffee again.
"Yes," he said finally. "When I've decided what to say."
"Wow, he's actually planning ahead," said Ursula, sharing a grin with Carella. "Better late than never, I suppose."
He pulled a face at them, draining his cup.
"I'd better go," he said, standing up and brushing himself down. He circled the table, giving Ursula a quick kiss on the cheek, then Carella. She ruffled his hair affectionately.
"You stink of booze," she said. "Remember to brush your teeth."
"And drive carefully," added Ursula. "The roads are icy, it's freezing out there."
"God, you're like a couple of maiden aunts," he grumbled, and they snorted in unison.
"Oh, go to work!" said Carella, feigning boredom with a languid wave of her hand. "Let us know how it goes with your illegal true love."
"I will." He shrugged on his coat, straightening the cuffs.
"And try not to get her pregnant," said Ursula, with a grin, and he rolled his eyes at both of them.
He felt better after he had showered and shaved and put on a clean suit, and he managed to get to the school with time to spare before his first class. The corridors were almost empty, and he got to his office without meeting anyone, the tap of his cane and his uneven tread echoing around him as he walked. He usually had a cup of coffee in the teachers' lounge before starting his day, but he was already wired on caffeine, and so he turned on his computer and sat down to compose a letter.
Twenty minutes later he was on the move again, striding purposefully towards the office of Principal Mills. She answered his knock in a somewhat dismissive tone, and he grinned to himself, wondering how she would react to his news. It wasn't as though the two of them had ever gotten on well together, but he suspected she was a pragmatist at heart. She would immediately see the downside.
He opened the door, stepping into the office and closing it behind him. Winter sun shone through the gaps in the blinds, throwing sharp-edged daggers of golden light across the room. Dust motes danced in the air like sparks as she looked up from behind her desk.
"Mr Gold," she said, looking a little surprised. "What can I do for you?"
He stepped up to the desk, folding his fingers around the handle of his cane, and smiled at her, which made her brows furrow in suspicion. Reaching into his inside pocket, he drew out a crisp white envelope and extended it to her between thumb and forefinger.
"I'm bringing you this," he said calmly, and her frown deepened. She reached out with a brisk, impatient click of crimson-nailed fingers, plucking the letter from his outstretched hand. He watched as she slit it open with the curved edge of her thumbnail, the envelope ripping with a low, harsh tearing sound. She glanced at him briefly before pulling out the piece of paper inside, neatly folded into thirds, and she flicked it open, scanning it with dark eyes. Perusal over, she snapped her fingers shut, the paper crinkling a little as she looked up at him.
"Well," she said, sliding the letter back into the envelope. "I have to say that's unexpected. Not to mention disappointing."
"And there I was thinking you'd be pleased," he said mildly.
She tapped the edge of the letter against the desk. Four staccato beats, a dull thunk of a sound that grated in his ears.
"You do realise this is putting me in a very difficult position," she said, frowning up at him.
"I'm aware of that." He stood very straight and stiff, the cane poised between his feet. "I'm giving you as much notice as I can, to enable you to find a suitable replacement."
"In Storybrooke?" she said, lifting a sceptical brow. "What are the chances?"
"Well, that's really not my concern, dearie," he said dryly. "You can approach Mrs Deville-Feinberg. She may be interested in a full-time job at the school. I doubt it, but who knows? I can also give you a list of contacts, if you want to reach outside the area."
Regina sighed, sitting back in her chair and drumming her fingers on the desk.
"Okay, so what is it you want?" she asked, and he pulled a face.
"Want?" he asked softly. "I don't want anything."
"Look, Gold, I can't deny that the students' chemistry grades have improved greatly since you joined this school," she said. She appeared to be trying to smile at him, but it came out as more of a grimace.
"I have a little money available in the teaching budget," she added. "Not much, but possibly enough to tempt you to stay."
He almost laughed.
"D'you think I do this for the money?" he asked, amused. "I assure you that I don't. Now, I'm every bit as pleased as you at the progress of the students, and I will see things through to the end of the year. After that, I'm gone."
Regina pursed her lips, tossing the letter down on the desk as she looked him over.
"Well, I can't say that this is welcome news," she said. "Where are you going, Mr Gold?"
"I have several - options - that I need to consider," he said. "No firm plans as yet."
"You could always take a sabbatical," she suggested. "Take some time out, come back next fall. I'm aware you've been going through something this year…"
"I don't know what you mean," he said, frowning, and she waved a hand.
"Oh, please! I have eyes. And a nose. You were drinking pretty heavily on the run up to Christmas. I have no idea what that was about…" She arched a brow at him, as though waiting for him to speak, and he looked at her stonily, until she shrugged.
"Be that as it may," she went on. "If you wanted to take some time for personal issues, it would be easier for me to find someone to fill in for a year than get someone to take a permanent post in Storybrooke."
He hesitated, frowning, his hands opening and closing on the cane handle.
"I'll consider it," he said eventually, and she nodded.
"Good. Let me know as soon as you can."
He was thoughtful as he walked back to his office, Regina's suggestion being one he hadn't considered. Given that she had never liked him, he had expected her reaction to be one of anger, with accusations of leaving the school in the lurch and the threat of a crappy reference, but if she was amenable to him coming back in a year or so… He sighed, shaking his head. There would be little chance of that, once he and Belle went public. The scandal would be quite bad enough without him getting another teaching post when she was barely eighteen. Even if Regina didn't have any objection to his reappointment, he was damn sure some of the parents would. He scowled, some of his good mood evaporating. He loved teaching, but if push came to shove, there was really no contest. Love was sacrifice, or so he'd read in more than one saccharine-sweet and wholly unrealistic book. In his experience love was pain, and loss, the agony of broken dreams and the bitterness of regret. A tiny, positive part of him hoped for more with Belle: hoped for comfort, and closeness, and the warmth and safety of her arms. The cynical remainder, however, was well aware that he stood every chance of screwing up this relationship like he'd screwed up every other.
Upon entering his office, he was briefly pulled out of his self-loathing introspection by the sight of a bright purple sticky note on his desk. Drink tonight? It was Jefferson's open, looping scrawl, and Gold allowed himself a brief smile. Perhaps more company was what he needed right now.
It was nearing six by the time they were sitting down at one of the less sticky tables in the Rabbit Hole, Jefferson setting a glass of whisky in front of him and lifting his own rum and coke in a toast.
"Good New Year?" he asked, and Gold nodded, taking a drink and trying not to wince at the harshness of the whisky.
"Actually, it wasn't bad," he said, thinking briefly of Belle, and their night together. "How about you?"
Jefferson was practically wriggling in his seat, and Gold couldn't help smiling at his enthusiasm.
"That good?" he remarked. "Whatever did you get up to?"
"Oh, not much," said Jefferson carelessly, feigning indifference. "I just let a certain sheriff lay hands on my person, if you know what I'm saying."
"Well, I can certainly guess without the need for too many details." Gold clinked their glasses, a genuine smile on his face. "Congratulations. I'm happy for you."
"Yeah, it's going pretty well," admitted Jefferson. He sucked his drink through a straw, still bouncing on his toes beneath the table. "We've decided to make it a serious thing though."
"Ah." Gold took another drink. "So that means…"
"I've - broken up with Regina," confirmed Jefferson, with a shrug. "Not that we were ever really an item, it was just…"
"Fucking. I remember you saying." Gold swirled the whisky in his glass. "Did you tell her yet?"
"Yeah. Went and bit the bullet before I came over here." Jefferson sucked his teeth a little awkwardly. "She was okay about it, but if she's a little more prickly than usual next week, that's why."
"No doubt the Principal will get over the loss of your touch," said Gold dryly, secretly pleased that he'd had the conversation about his resignation before Jefferson had gotten to her. "So, what's next for you and the good sheriff?"
"Oh, we're taking things easy," allowed Jefferson, taking another slurp of his drink. "It's going really well, though. We're very compatible. In every way."
He grinned, and Gold rolled his eyes. Jefferson shoved his arm.
"What about you?" he asked. "If my eyes didn't deceive me, you were actually socialising at that wedding. I even saw you have entire conversations with people without insulting them."
"Well, it has been known," said Gold, a little disgruntled. "I wasn't always this reclusive and miserable, you know, it took years of practice."
Jefferson snorted in amusement.
"So," he said, stirring his drink with the straw. "You danced with the lovely Miss French. Did she corner you on the terrace and feel you up?"
"Don't be absurd," said Gold dismissively, as Jefferson chuckled. He wagged a finger, grinning widely.
"I told you to watch out for her, man," he insisted. "She was looking at you like you could save the world and kiss her into a frenzy afterwards. Girl's got it bad."
"You're being ridiculous," muttered Gold, and drained his glass. Jefferson shrugged.
"Don't blame me if you find her naked on your desk one day," he said mildly, and Gold almost choked on the whisky, his eyes watering as the fiery liquid went down the wrong way.
"Shall I get another?" he asked, his voice a little hoarse, and got up before Jefferson could answer, making his way to the bar through a crowd of boisterous youngsters. He managed to get another round of drinks, and turned back, just in time to have someone knock into him with a muttered oath, spilling coke over his hand. He glared as the young woman brushed dark hair back from her face, and his expression settled into a cautious frown as he recognised her.
"Miss Lucas," he said evenly, and Ruby eyed him somewhat warily, as though she was watching for any sudden moves.
"Mr Gold," she said flatly. "What are you doing here?"
He held up the drinks, lifting an eyebrow. "I do have a social life. Pitiful, but still in existence, as you see."
"Hmm. When you're not fucking my best friend, you mean?" She leant against the bar, hip sticking out and her hand on her waist in a challenging pose. He looked at her steadily until she dropped her gaze, and quickly checked behind her, noting the presence of Misses Blanchard and Swan talking animatedly with David Nolan and another boy.
"Where is Belle?" he asked calmly, and Ruby shrugged.
"She'll be down in an hour or so. She wanted to finish some schoolwork."
Of course. He smiled a little, and Ruby picked up her glass of coke, watching him as she drank.
"She said you guys had a fight," she added.
"Did she?" He supposed it was true, and he still felt bad about it. "Well, I hope she'll be alright. It wasn't anything serious."
"Hmm." She was still watching him with that suspicious, wary expression, and it was starting to grate on him, so he gave her a cool nod and turned back to the table he shared with Jefferson, still feeling her eyes on his back.
"I see a bunch of the kids are out," observed Jefferson, as he sat back down. He winked at Gold. "Try not to beat any of them up this time, okay?"
Gold curled his lip, still a little sore over his suspension, despite understanding that there was little else Regina could have done with him.
"What happened to that idiot, anyway?" he asked, and Jefferson sniffed, stirring his drink.
"Apparently he's coming back next week. He's not to speak to nor approach Aurora, and Regina told his parents that if he ever does anything like that again, he's never coming back. Seems kind of lenient, but…" He shrugged, and Gold grunted.
"Small town, small minds," he said dryly. "His parents have given money to the school before, I can understand her not wanting to completely alienate them."
He hesitated, looking up at Jefferson as he took a drink.
"Besides, it's really not my concern," he added. "I gave Regina notice today."
Jefferson almost spat his drink everywhere, sitting forward with wide eyes.
"What?" he demanded. "You're leaving?"
"For a year, at least," nodded Gold, running his glass between his fingertips. "I'm leaving at the end of the academic year. It - may be a sabbatical, I haven't decided. I - I just thought you should know."
Jefferson stared at him for a moment, as though waiting for him to say he was joking, then sat back in his chair with a hiss of breath, taking a large gulp of rum and coke and swilling it around his mouth.
"Well," he said finally. "You're just full of surprises. What's the story? I thought you liked the school."
"I do." Gold put down his glass, rubbing the side of his nose with an awkward finger. "I just need to take some time off, that's all. It's a personal matter."
"Hm." Jefferson took another drink, watching him over the rim of his glass. "I knew there was something going on. You sure you don't want to talk about it?"
"Not right now," said Gold dryly. "I don't need another friend telling me what an idiot I am, thank you."
"If it's any consolation, you're a sexy idiot," offered Jefferson with a grin, and Gold sighed, amused.
"If all goes well, you'll be one of the first to know," he said. "But I haven't finalised my plans as yet."
"Will you leave Storybrooke?"
"I don't know." He looked at the tabletop, at the circle of moisture there left by Jefferson's glass, and absently drew lines out from it in the shape of a sunburst with the tip of his index finger. "Perhaps. It - really depends on how things go over the next few months. I'm seeing out the school year, getting the kids through their exams. After that - I guess we'll see."
"Oh." Jefferson drank, looking him over. "I'll miss you, man."
"I haven't gone anywhere yet," said Gold wryly. "You're one of a handful of people that I actually enjoy spending time with, and almost all of the others live right here, so I'd rather not leave if I can help it."
"Good." Jefferson drained his glass. "Okay, I'll get the next."
Gold watched him go, smiling as Jefferson caught up a surprised Ruby for an impromptu spin while singing loudly to whatever dreadful song was pumping out of the speakers. A flash of colour caught his eye, and he watched as Belle entered in a dark shirt and coral pink skirt beneath her thick coat, Ruby and the others running to greet her. He sank a little lower in his seat, trying to keep out of her line of sight, but Ruby had obviously told her of his presence, because the next time he glanced up she was looking right at him, her expression unreadable. He nodded and smiled slightly, and was relieved when her lips quirked a little in response.
He didn't want to crowd Belle while she was out with her friends, so he stayed for another drink with Jefferson, and felt better for talking to him. He left around half an hour later, and had walked almost all the way home when his phone rang. His eyebrows lifted in surprise at Belle's number.
"Hello, Belle," he said, and there was silence on the other end for a moment.
"Hello," she said then. "I - um - I wanted to see if we could talk."
"Alright." He had hoped to talk to her when he was at least sober, but so be it. "Did you - want to come over?"
"No." The word was said quickly, as though she couldn't bear the idea, and he sighed to himself. Just as well, given his fuzzy head, but if not tonight…
"Can I see you tomorrow?" she asked then. "In the cemetery, at nine in the morning?"
"At the - um - yes, I suppose so." He tried to conceal his bewilderment, but she was saying a hurried goodbye almost before the words were out of his mouth, and he was left standing in the street and frowning up at the night sky.
The weather next morning was bright and sunny, some of the snow having melted in the warmer air, and he decided to walk there, nodding to the few people he met. The cemetery itself seemed empty, but as he made his way around the side of the church he saw Belle squatting on her heels, picking dead leaves from the foot of her father's headstone. She seemed to sense his approach, looking up as he neared and rising to her feet as she dusted off her hands.
"Hey," she said, ducking her head a little awkwardly, and he smiled at her in what he hoped was an encouraging manner. He gestured to the graveyard, looking around them.
"This seems a curious place to keep meeting," he said, and she shrugged, glancing over the neat rows of headstones.
"It feels like - it feels like this is where we're the most honest with each other," she said, and he nodded slowly.
"Yes," he said quietly. "For good or ill. The cabin too, perhaps."
"Yeah."
The wind blew, lifting the dark curls of her hair, and she brushed them impatiently behind her ears, chewing her lip as she looked at him with those wide blue eyes of hers. Her cheeks were a little pink with the cold, the skin smooth and pale, and he remembered how soft she was to touch, how her skin was warm and creamy and how she melted into him when he kissed her. He waited for her to speak, unsure why she had asked him to come and dreading what he may hear. She put her hand out to him then, and after a moment's hesitation he took it, allowing her to pull him with her towards the forest. They walked in amongst the trees until they were out of sight of the church and the cemetery, until they were hidden in amongst the thick tree trunks. The snow was patchy and uneven here, the dark earth and the curving mounds of roots showing through, and he stumbled a little, Belle's grip tightening as she stepped over the thin, snow-covered length of a fallen tree and into a small clearing. She turned to face him, dropping his hand and looking somewhat nervous. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, and the sun was picking out reddish highlights in her hair. She appeared to be steeling herself for something, and it was making him extremely tense.
"You were right," she said suddenly, and he pulled a face.
"Was I? That seems unlikely, but very well…"
Belle gave him a flat look of amusement.
"I mean, when we talked the other night," she said. "What you said, the things you said people would think. You were right."
"Yes."
He wondered where she was going with this, whether she was about to tell him it was all too much. Tiny needles of anxiety pricked at him, his heart picking up its pace as he watched her chew her lip. He told himself that he shouldn't be surprised. It would be the best thing for her. It would kill him, but at least she would move on. He felt the heavy thump of his pulse high in his throat as he waited for her to speak. To break his heart. It would be no more than he deserved.
Belle tried to gather her thoughts, shooting glances at him out of the corner of her eye. He was standing calmly, but there was an air about him that she had come to recognise as nervousness.
"I'm - I'm really sorry I was unreasonable," she said, wishing that the words came as easily to her when face to face with him as they had been when she practised the conversation in her head. "I expected you to have all the answers and that wasn't fair."
"It's perfectly fair to want to know where things were going," he said quietly. "I just wanted to be realistic, that's all. I'm sorry if it wasn't what you wanted to hear."
"No, you were right." She paced back and forth a little, chewing her lip again. "I was being childish. Part of me knew how things would be. Deep down, I know what people would think of us. I tell myself it doesn't matter..."
"Yes," he said again, his voice barely more than a whisper. She stopped pacing, turning to look at him, and he stared back at her with his sad eyes. It made her want to cry, and she had already cried enough for two lifetimes. She tried to get to the point.
"What I mean," she continued. "Is that I want you to be honest with me. Not to hold back with things like that. I want you to tell me what I need to hear, even if you don't think I'll like it."
"Alright." He was watching her a little warily, and she nodded.
"I know there are things you haven't told me about your past," she added. "I thought - I thought maybe it would help you, too."
Gold sighed, dropping his eyes, and she sensed him closing himself off again. She tried not to feel irritated by it, watching his mouth work as he fought to find the words he needed.
"I'm trying to be more open with you," he began. "I am, Belle, truly."
"I know," she assured him.
"But some things I - I just don't want to tell you. Not because I don't trust you, sweetheart," he said gently, and pressed a hand to his heart. "Because I don't want to go through them again. Can you understand that?"
"But…" She bit her lip. "Surely it's worse to just bottle them up? Wouldn't it be better to talk about them, get them out in the open?"
He closed his eyes, a weary, somewhat indulgent smile briefly lifting the corners of his mouth, and she suddenly felt very young and stupid.
"Well, perhaps it would," he said then, sounding as though it was the last thing he believed. "But as you well know, I'm a coward. There are some demons I'd really rather not face."
"But you're not!" she protested. "Rum, you told me what you went through!"
"I told you some of it," he said tersely.
"Even so." She tried to catch his eye, to make him look at her. "You were in a bad place and you got out. You had the strength to leave the only home you'd ever known…" She broke off as he started shaking his head firmly.
"When I told you about my past, I wasn't entirely honest with you," he said, and she frowned, making him raise a hand. "I didn't lie," he added quickly. "But when I said I got out of the situation with my dad, I…"
He hesitated, looking uncomfortable, and she waited patiently, the breeze whipping strands of hair around her face.
"I - neglected to say that the choice wasn't mine," he finished, his voice heavy.
Belle's brow crinkled in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"I wasn't the one who got out," he said, and there was a bitterness in his voice, a sad sense of loss. "I came home from school one day and he was gone. There was a note on the table saying the rent was paid to the end of the month, and eight pounds seventy five in change. That was it."
Belle was horrified. "But - he just left? Without telling you?"
"Some woman he met," he said dismissively. "There was always one or two. A neighbour told me he'd seen them loading bags into some old car. So, yeah."
There was silence for a moment, and his jaw worked a little as he stabbed at the fallen leaves with the end of his cane, a twisted little smile on his face.
"So, you see," he went on. "Not brave. Not strong. Weak. Desperate. Clinging to the past, to anything I might call family."
Belle swallowed, a lump in her throat.
"He was your dad," she said thickly, his pain a sudden, sharp reminder of her own loss. "He was all you had. He left you. You were just a kid, and he left you. He was the weak one."
Gold looked up briefly, flicking his hair out of his eyes. The sun caught on silver strands, gleaming at his temples.
"A part of me knew that," he admitted. "But it didn't stop me feeling as though I'd driven him away. First my mother, and then him. It wasn't until I had Neal that I thought, perhaps, that more fault lay with him than me. And then - then Neal's mother left, and then I lost Neal. I was angry about it for a long time. Closed myself off."
His words were short, clipped, as though he was uncomfortable speaking them, and his jaw was tight with the strain of releasing old hurts into the air to stab and claw at him once more. She wished she could help him, could reach him, take the pain from him and burn it to dust.
"None of that was your fault," she said gently, and he shook his head.
"I think - I think what I'm trying to say," he began hesitantly, and cut off, looking away from her, as though the right words could be found in the silent woods, in the frosted undergrowth, in the fissured bark of the pine trees, and with a flash of realisation, she understood.
"You think I'm going to leave, don't you?" she asked, her lip trembling a little. "You think I'm going to leave you."
He heaved a sigh, dropping his eyes. His hair fell forward over his face, shielding him from her gaze, and she followed his line of sight downwards to the shining toes of his leather shoes. Sun sparkled on the frost coating the fallen leaves at their feet, a brief glimpse of light before the shadows drew in.
"Everyone always leaves," he said quietly. "In the end."
She swallowed past the lump in her throat, wondering which of them was the most broken. Her pain was a raw, fresh wound that had not yet healed over, but his wounds were bone-deep: jagged rents in his soul that had grown ugly, knotted scar tissue, twisting what was there. He looked up at her then, pressing a hand to his chest, his eyes pleading with her.
"I don't want to be the thing that makes you leave, Belle," he whispered. "I don't want to drive you away like everyone else. I don't think I could bear to see that."
She bit her lip, tears forming in her eyes.
"Rum…" she said gently, and he shook his head, tapping his chest with the flat of his hand.
"I know it's hard," he went on. "I know I'm a fucking mess, Belle, and I can't promise to tell you everything, but I - I love you enough to try."
She stepped forward, tugging off her gloves and shoving them in the pocket of her coat before putting one hand over his, over his heart. The other reached up to touch his face, her fingers stroking over his cheek and through the strands of his hair.
"I love you," she whispered, looking into his eyes. "I know it's gonna be hard, I do know that. And I promise not to push you to talk about anything, okay?"
He didn't say anything, but he leant into her touch, his breath a shuddering sigh, showing white in the cold air. She ran her thumb over his cheek, feeling the smoothness of freshly-shaven skin.
"I'm not going anywhere, do you hear?" she said softly, and he turned his head to kiss her fingertips. She reached up to kiss him, pushing up on the toes of her boots, and his arms slid around her, pulling her close, his lips on hers. The kiss was brief and sweet, and he pulled back, nuzzling her nose.
"Belle," he whispered. "Oh, my Belle."
She sighed, rubbing her hands against his chest, wishing she could touch his skin through the layers of clothing.
"There," she said quietly. "Now stop that. We're both a mess, but we can get through this."
"Yes." He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing in, and she slid a hand up to his hair again, winding some of the strands around her fingers.
"I won't leave you," she said softly. "Not unless you want me to go, okay?"
He shook his head, his face crumpling a little, and let his cane fall, reaching hesitantly to stroke her hair back from her face.
"I don't," he whispered, and his hands cupped her cheeks, his thumbs gently stroking over her chin, her lips. "I don't want you to go, sweetheart. I don't ever want you to go."
Her palm brushed his cheek and she kissed him again. He opened his mouth, the kiss growing passionate, and she gently touched his tongue with hers, moaning in contentment as he pushed her back against the rough trunk of an old pine tree. Her fingers dug further into his hair as he pushed up against her, the length of his body a comforting pressure, his scent drifting into her nostrils with the clean, sharp smell of the tree. His hands moved over her body, feeling her curves, and she tugged open his coat and then her own, wanting the heat of him against her. He pulled his mouth from hers, trailing his lips down her throat and back up to her ear.
"Kissing in the woods," he murmured. "A little dangerous, wouldn't you say?"
"I want to do more than kiss you," she breathed, and ran her hands over his chest, feeling the tiny points of his nipples through the silk. She felt him smile against her, his tongue flicking out over the skin of her throat. His hands slid up to squeeze her breasts, and she pushed against him, wanting more.
"Touch me," she whispered, and he pulled back a little, his breathing hard, his eyes dark. His hand dropped, fumbling beneath the skirt of her dress and finding the waistband of her tights and panties, and she gasped as he pushed his fingers down inside, cupping her mound. She moaned a little, lifting her mouth to latch onto his, opening up to take his tongue inside her as his fingers parted her folds and stroked through the wetness there. He groaned into her mouth, a low, rumbling exhalation of contentment, and Belle pushed herself down onto him, letting him slide all the way inside her with two crooked fingers.
"Yeah!" she breathed. "Oh, that's good!"
Gold smiled against her lips, his tongue darting out to taste her again. His cock hardened as he swept the pad of his thumb over her clit, making her clutch at him with kneading fingertips in the shoulders of his overcoat. She whimpered a little, and he moved his thumb in slow circles, his fingers dipping in and out of her. Belle moaned, letting her head fall back against the tree with a dull thud, her cheeks flushing as he worked, as he brought her closer to the edge. She was moving against him, her hips pumping, fluid seeping out of her along his fingers and into the palm of his hand as his thumb rubbed around the hard pearl of her clit. Her breath was coming hard, her chest heaving, and he pulled his head back a little to look at her, a smile spreading across his face. She was breathtakingly beautiful, her flushed cheeks, the dark crescents of her lashes lying against her pale skin, the moist, dark pink of her parted lips. He could feel her tensing, and he knew that she was close, that she would come. He wanted to make her come, to feel her around his fingers, that clenching of flesh and the heat of her fluids on his hand, the sound she would make and the way she would taste when he licked her from his fingers, salty-sweet and delicious. She was moaning, her lips parting, her breath a hot cloud of white in the freezing air, and she suddenly cried out, bucking against his hand and gripping him tightly. He pumped his fingers in and out of her, her passage slick and hot, and he was straining in his pants, desperate to be inside her, to feel her around him.
Her movements slowed, her cries trailing off to tiny, contented moans, and she almost purred in happiness as she settled back against the tree, her fingers reaching up to stroke through his hair once more. She was smiling, looking up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, and he wanted to take her home. To take her home and make her his and shut out the world forever.
"Wow," she said dreamily, and he gently withdrew his fingers, sliding out of her.
She felt like velvet, like cream, her flesh soft and hot and delicious, and he locked eyes with her as he pulled his hand out of her panties, letting her skirt fall. She watched as he lifted them to his mouth, slowly sliding one inside, his eyes closing as he tasted her, a low rumble of pleasure escaping him. Her eyes widened as he drew out the finger, her breath panting a little, and she opened her mouth as he made to suck the other finger, her tongue wetting her lips. Gold felt himself twitch at the hunger in her eyes, and he slowly ran the tip of his middle finger, still slick with her juices, over her lower lip. Belle bent her head, taking the finger inside, her mouth hot and wet, her tongue wrapping around him, and she sucked hard, making him groan with pleasure. She moved her head back and forth, her cheeks hollowing, and he thought of how she would feel, how incredible it would be to have her mouth around his cock. He bent his head to kiss her cheek, his lips grazing the side of her mouth, breathing in the musky scent of her as she sucked his finger. His tongue flickered out, sweeping across the finger and tasting salt.
"Come back with me, Belle," he rasped. "Let me take you home. Let me take you to bed."
She pulled her head back, drawing out his finger, blinking sleepily up at him, and lunged to kiss him, her tongue pushing in between his lips and touching his, her hands grabbing his lapels, pushing the overcoat from his shoulders. He shrugged out of it, breaking the kiss as he turned to lay it on the ground behind him, a blanket for them, and her hands dropped to his belt, tugging it open, her fingers unfastening his pants and pushing down inside his underwear, her cold fingers grasping his hard cock. He groaned deeply, clutching at her, his balance awkward without the cane, and she pushed at him, making him stumble, making him fall backwards onto the coat with a whoosh of breath from his lungs and a muffled laugh. Belle tugged at his pants, pulling his underwear down to free his straining cock, her fingers wrapping around it, and he threw his head back with a groan, arching his back as she took him deep inside her mouth.
"Fuck, sweetheart!" he gasped, and let his hands sink into her hair, silky strands slipping between his fingers as she sucked at him.
His eyes flickered open, the bright blue of the sky between the veil of tree branches almost blinding, his senses heightened by arousal. He could hear the chirp of birds and the rustle of woodland creatures, could smell the sharp, herbal smell of pine and the earthy, heady scent of the leaf mulch, could feel the chill of the earth and the wet heat of Belle's sweet mouth. Her hands were sliding over his thighs, the touch of her fingertips against his exposed skin an electric sensation that shot through to his groin, and he groaned as she sucked, her tongue curling around him. He lifted his head off the ground, his chest heaving, watching her head moving up and down on him, her dark curls shining in the sunlight.
"God, I want you, my love!" he breathed. "I want you so much, Belle!"
She looked up at him, blue eyes startlingly bright, deep pink lips around the thickness of his cock, and he knew he wouldn't last. She seemed to sense it, letting him slip from her mouth and straightening up, tugging off one of her boots and pulling her tights and panties off one leg, her skin as pale as milk. She straddled him, taking him in hand, and he had a moment to worry about who else might be walking in the woods at almost ten a.m. on a Saturday morning before she lifted her hips and moved him into position. The air was cold, the chill of the patchy snow and the frozen ground spreading into his body through the coat, but when she sank down onto him she was scalding, her wet, silky heat a delicious sensation, her warmth flooding into him. He threw his head back, swearing softly under his breath, his hips rising up to meet her, and she braced herself on his belly, tossing her dark hair out of her face with a moan of pleasure.
"Oh, Belle!" he whispered, shaking his head. "I'm not gonna last, sweetheart, I'm sorry!"
"I don't care!" she breathed, meeting his eyes as she rocked her hips. "I don't care! Come, if you need to. I want you to. I want you to come inside me, love!"
Her words inflamed him, increasing the sensation from her body, the pull and tug on his cock, the feel of her hands burrowing beneath his shirt, and he lost himself in the feel of her, in the taste of her still in his mouth, in the rising tide of sweetness spreading through him as he neared his peak. Belle quickened her pace, and he couldn't bear it, couldn't hold it, and he broke with a hoarse cry, pushing up inside her as his orgasm hit. Belle cried out with him, her moan changing to laughter as she came once more, giggles bubbling up out of her, and he shook off the starbursts in his head, chasing the shadows from his eyes as he gazed up at her. She was grinning widely, her eyes closed, her mouth open as she rocked slowly against him, and he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. He swallowed hard, emotion stopping his throat, stealing his voice.
Belle let herself calm, her entire body tingling with the afterglow. She let her head drop, blinking at him with what she knew would be a wide and stupid grin. He was looking up at her with an unreadable expression, trying to catch his breath, and she felt her grin widen.
"Whoa," she said, and giggled again. He nodded, swallowing, and she put her head to the side.
"You okay?" she asked, and he nodded again, so she gently eased off him, rolling onto her back by his side and tugging up her panties, her left leg still exposed to the cold air. She could hear him, the rustle of clothing and clink of his belt buckle, the harsh sound of his zipper. His seed was already leaking out, an uncomfortable sensation in the crotch of her panties, but she didn't care. She rolled against his side, slipping an arm across his waist and laying her head on his chest, and he hugged her close, letting out a deep sigh.
"That was unexpected," he said quietly, and she grinned.
"Yeah. For me, too."
She lay there for a moment, listening to the chirp of birds, the caw of crows, and she drew patterns on his chest with the fingers of one hand, feeling the way his muscles twitched beneath his shirt at her touch.
"I love being with you," she said, and his hand covered hers, pressing it down, over his heart.
"Yes," he whispered.
There was silence for a while. Gold could feel the warmth of her hand beneath his, the familiar weight of her against him. He kissed the top of her head, rolling onto his side so that he could kiss her mouth, and her arms slid around him beneath his jacket, her lips soft and warm. The kiss was long and slow, and he ended it with a peck to her nose, nuzzling at her and making her smile.
"I made a decision," he said then, pulling back a little so that he could look her in the eyes. "I went to give Principal Mills my notice."
Belle's mouth fell open. "You resigned?"
"It seemed the most sensible thing to do," he said wryly. "It means that we can see one another, at least, as soon as I leave. I'm staying until the end of the academic year."
"So, early June?" she asked excitedly, propping herself up on one elbow. "In June we can - we can tell people? No more sneaking around?"
"Perhaps." He brushed her cheek with a forefinger. "We'll see how you feel about it nearer the time, shall we? Even if it's not technically illegal, people will still have issues with us being together."
"I guess." She nuzzled him again, then looked up. "But - your job. You love teaching!"
"Yes," he admitted. "I could always go back. Regina suggested that rather than leave permanently, I take a sabbatical. It's something to consider."
"So you'd go back when I go to college?" she asked, and then lay back with a sigh. "If I go to college," she added despondently.
"You'll go to college," he said firmly. "Wherever you want to go, you can go, alright?"
Her eyes narrowed, and she opened her mouth, but he shook his head.
"Like I told you before," he said. "I have a lot of money. If we're to be together, it's yours too."
Her lips thinned, but she said nothing more, pushing him onto his back again and resting her head on his chest. He heaved a contented sigh, stroking her back with careless fingers, and Belle nuzzled his chest.
"I wish we could stay here forever," she said dreamily.
"You'd get cold," he said, and she shook her head.
"No I wouldn't. I can just snuggle you, hot stuff."
He snorted, amused. "Well, I'd get cold, it's fucking freezing."
"We can share body heat." She trailed fingertips over his chest, and he grinned.
"Hungry, then," he suggested, enjoying her playfulness, and she shook her head.
"Nope."
"Squirrels will run over us."
Belle giggled. "That would be adorable."
A rustle in the bushes made them both look up, and he was about to mention something more about squirrels when a large Dalmatian burst out from behind a tree and ran up to them, tail wagging.
"Shit!" squeaked Belle, as he licked her face, and she hurriedly sat up, trying to dress herself and looking around for her boot.
"Pongo!"
Gold's heart plummeted as he heard the voice of Doctor Hopper. He got to his feet as quickly as he could, snatching up his coat and scratching the excitable dog behind the ears to distract him from Belle, who had managed to get herself tangled up in her tights and was hopping on one foot.
"Go on!" he whispered at the dog, pointing back towards the cemetery, and Pongo wagged his tail. Gold sighed in frustration.
"You should go!" breathed Belle. "He might follow you out!"
Gold nodded tersely, grabbing his cane, and whistled to Pongo, striding off through the undergrowth to where he knew the woods would give way to the cemetery grounds. He could hear the dog following him, and breathed a sigh of relief as he broke through the treeline. Archie Hopper was there with an umbrella tucked under his arm, his nose reddened by the cold air. He looked relieved as Gold made his appearance.
"Oh, Mr Gold, you found Pongo," he said amiably.
"I rather think he found me," said Gold, his voice dry, and Archie frowned at his dog.
"What's that boy?" he asked sharply. "Drop!"
Gold turned to look, almost swearing as the dog dropped a small heeled boot at Archie's feet. He glared at the dog, who wagged his tail as though he'd just done something clever.
"Well, boy, looks as though someone's lost a boot, huh?" said Archie, as though the bloody animal could understand him. Gold sighed.
"I'll take that," he said. "I've no doubt the church has some sort of lost property system."
Archie picked up the boot, turning it over and over in his hands as his brow furrowed.
"It's - still warm," he said uncertainly. "Whoever lost it must be around here somewhere."
"In that case I'll take it back to where Pongo found me," said Gold calmly. "Perhaps the owner is around there somewhere."
"I could help…"
"No, no!" He waved a hand, turning his back. "I'll see you on Monday, Dr Hopper. Enjoy the rest of your weekend."
"You - too…" Archie's voice trailed off a little as he made his way back in amongst the trees, and he breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he realised he wasn't being followed. Belle was waiting for him, eyes wide with anxiety as he entered the clearing, and she let her breath whoosh out in relief as he handed her the boot.
"Just let me take you home next time," he said dryly, and she giggled, clapping a hand to her mouth as she looked him over. She tugged on her boot and walked around him, still chuckling.
"You have leaves in your hair," she whispered, and reached up to pick them out, brushing more from the back of his coat as he groaned. Fucking wonderful.
A/N: Well, that was a close one!
Next time: Carella talks to Belle