A/N: Well, you're all awesome and I am very grateful. Thank you so much for all the lovely comments.
Now, what date is it…?
Oh yes! It's Belle's birthday :)
It took a while for Belle to recover from the jet lag, but she had enjoyed the trip, angsty confrontations notwithstanding. She felt as though she had grown closer to Gold, that she understood him a little more, although there was much about his life that still didn't make sense to her. Emma was still curious about his past, but Belle kept most of her discussion with him to herself, telling her friends only about what had happened to his son, and how he felt it had changed him.
Gold and Doc had come back to Maine determined to put their plan of locating the Seer into action, and to that end Doc turned up to Gold's shop on the Friday night following their return. Gold opened the door to him, the warm evening air drifting in with the scent of hot asphalt and the faint perfume of flowers.
"Is Belle out?" asked Doc, bustling through to the back room without having to be asked.
"With Ruby and the others," nodded Gold, shutting and locking the door. He followed Doc through, cane tapping on the wooden floor. "I don't think we'll be disturbed."
"Good. This is going to be delicate, and it was never our strongest skill." Doc sighed, running a hand through his mop of white hair. "No luck from your other sources?"
"Mr Smee says he may have a lead," admitted Gold. "I believe he may simply be stalling me, however."
"We could always wait," said Doc carefully, and Gold shook his head.
"I don't trust that little rat any further than I can throw him," he said, and gestured at Doc. "Well, come along, let's get on with it. I already cast the circle, we don't want to lose the energy."
He crossed to the workbench, where two bundles sat side by side. Doc heaved a sigh, giving him a look of trepidation.
"Do you remember what to do?" he asked, and Gold shot him a look.
"Do I ever forget a spell?" he asked dryly, and Doc nodded.
"As you say," he relented. "Let's get on with it."
Gold unwrapped the first of the bundles, revealing the curved iron blade of the sickle they had found in the monastery. The light gleamed dully on the surface, the markings on the blade seeming to swallow its brightness. Gold picked it up carefully, holding the iron handle between long fingers, and passed it to Doc, who took it with a distasteful twist of his mouth.
"Are you certain this still works?" he said uncertainly, and Gold's mouth thinned.
"Oh, it works alright," he said dryly. "The power in it, the ability to bind a soul - it's all still there. It makes my skin crawl."
"I know." Doc's voice was heavy. "But we may need it for this. Not all the dead are quiet."
Gold sighed. "Indeed."
The second bundle was unwrapped, to reveal a large pendant around half the size of his palm. It was made of a single piece of obsidian, its dark surface reflecting his own face back at him. It was framed by a thick circle of worked silver, tiny tongues of metal splaying out towards the stone centre like thorns. He weighed it in his hand
"You had better wield the knife," said Doc. "I may not be strong enough."
Gold eyed him. "Very well," he said grimly. "You know what to do?"
Doc hesitated, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny teardrop-shaped bottle of green glass, its silver lid elaborately tooled with swirling patterns.
"I really hope we don't need to use this," he sighed. "But better safe than sorry, I suppose."
He unscrewed the lid, and set bottle and lid inside the circle. Gold handed him the pendant, and took back the iron sickle.
"You're only giving me this because you don't want to be the one that gets cut," he grumbled.
"Clever of me, wouldn't you agree?" said Doc cheerfully, and waved an impatient hand at him. "Well, come on, get on with it!"
Gold gave him a very level look, then scored the palm of his hand with the knife. A line of dark blood bloomed on his skin, and he let a little run down the blade. Fat, red drops fell into the middle of the circle, splattering in the shape of crimson suns. Gold gripped the sickle in both hands while Doc held up the pendant, one nervous eye on the bottle between them.
"Ready?" asked Doc tensely, and Gold nodded, closing his eyes.
He could already feel the tug of the power, the lure of it, that came from the knife, the letting of blood. He opened himself to it, let it fill him, the life and joy that was light magic, the dark swirling mass that was its opposite, powerful and alluring. He felt for the nothingness, for the void beyond their world of noise and heat and flesh, for the shadow-realm where spirits roamed until born again. And where demons lurked.
Doc watched as tiny shapes appeared on the black obsidian surface, swirling shapes that grew larger, that seemed to flow towards them.
"Seer!" he said hoarsely. "Are you there?"
A high-pitched whine rose in the room, the distant sound of a thousand sighing souls waiting in the ether. Gold concentrated, feeling spirits pressing against their feeble barrier. Regular souls would not be able to cross, but the Seer would. As would any other soul like theirs. As would some of the darker entities that lurked in the shadow-realms. His heart was thumping high in his chest, adrenalin surging through him. He could feel touches against their shield, whisper-light.
"Seer!" called Doc again. "We need your guidance! The Scholar needs your help! Please!"
The feathery touches against the shield disappeared, and Gold turned to Doc.
"I don't think…" he began, and doubled over with a sharp exhalation as heavy, terrible darkness slammed against the barrier.
"Fuck!" he gasped. "Break the connection! Break the fucking connection!"
Doc dropped the obsidian amulet, his eyes sharply back in focus. The distant sighing of souls was cut off abruptly, but there was another noise there, a heavy, bass noise almost too low to make out. The close, oppressive feeling that came before a violent storm.
"It's here," said Gold quietly, having straightened up again. He was looking around, his eyes sharp, his jaw tight with strain. "It crossed over."
Doc closed up on Gold, and the two men turned in a circle, backs together. The light in the pawnshop seemed to have dimmed, the afternoon sunshine fading until only darkness remained.
"What is it?" whispered Doc, and Gold shook his head.
"I don't know," he said grimly. "It knows us, whatever it is. Doesn't really narrow it down."
"Indeed." Doc strained his eyes, concentrating on a wisp of shadow in the corner of the room. A trick of the light. "Any suggestions?"
"We need to use the sickle," said Gold, with more calmness than he felt, eyes darting this way and that. "If I let a little more…"
He slashed at his wrist, careless of the way the blade cut into his skin, blood pouring from him, but the darkness in the room seemed to coalesce, becoming almost solid, a vaguely human shape.
"The amulet!" snapped Gold, and Doc snatched it up, turning it towards the shadow.
"I see it!" he called. "Use the knife!"
Gold concentrated, pouring all his energy into the knife, drawing on the magic he had raised, and his own natural powers. He could feel the shadow, feel its need and its dark desire, and it made him shudder. He lifted the iron sickle, the markings on the blade a powerful spell, designed to control the spirits of those that had passed, used with the power of the amulet to overcome the soul's free will. Wielding it made his flesh crawl, but what they faced was no ordinary soul. What they faced wanted them dead, he could feel it. He swept the sickle out in an arc, and the power in it curled around the darkness, reeled it in, tamed it.
"The vessel!" he said through gritted teeth.
"It's ready!" said Doc hastily, and Gold guided the dark entity towards the tiny bottle. Looking up at the swirling dark mass, it didn't seem possible that it would fit within the confines of an antique green glass bottle, but the cloud of darkness seemed to shrink in on itself, to coalesce and darken and thicken until it poured itself into the bottle in an oily stream. Doc scrabbled for the silver top, screwing it on and collapsing back on the floor, panting. The room grew visibly lighter as Gold sagged on his cane and Doc caught his breath. He pushed himself up on the heels of his hands, shaking his head.
"Can we not do that again?" he asked wearily, and Gold snorted.
"You're getting old and lazy," he said bluntly, bending to pick up the bottle. "This life has made you soft. Time was you'd have eaten a dark entity like that for breakfast."
"I prefer Granny's hash browns," grumbled Doc, standing up and dusting himself off. He peered at the bottle. "What did we capture?"
Gold frowned, pursing his lips. "Not sure. I suggest we leave it where it is. The vessel will keep it trapped, and I have no desire to open that portal again."
"Agreed." Doc scratched his head. "Wherever the Seer is, she isn't in the shadow-realm." He sighed, putting his hands on his hips. "It's strange. I know Belle is the key to finding the stone, i just can't see how. I had thought that it would be when we went to Avonleigh, but all we got there…"
"Was a bunch of pain and confusion," finished Gold dryly. "I'm well aware. We need to find a different path, I suppose."
He crossed to the walnut cupboard, unlocking it and placing the green glass bottle carefully inside.
"Until we work out what to do with it," he said, and Doc nodded.
"Until then," he said tiredly, and Gold clapped him on the shoulder.
"Come on," he offered. "I think this calls for a drink. I'm buying."
"Damn right you're buying," muttered Doc, but perked up a little as he followed Gold from the shop.
Autumn came, and with it, the return of school, which meant that Belle was once again in Boston during the week, travelling over to Storybrooke with Gold at weekends. She was studying hard, and even Ruby was hitting the books with a vengeance, so there was little time for socialising. They managed to keep Friday nights free, though, alternating between Ruby's room at Granny's and Emma and Snow's apartment. Snow had started studying at the university, and was so excited she insisted on dragging Belle onto the campus and into the library, at which point Belle thought she might die happy. Well, once she got a few other experiences out of the way, of course.
The days grew shorter, and the first snows came, and Belle caught a bad cold in early December, which meant that she was in bed for a week, coughing and sneezing. She missed the girls, and she missed Gold even more. He had been sympathetic when she rang him sounding like a bullfrog, croaking down the phone to him about how she couldn't make it to work that week. He told her to get better soon, and the next day flowers had arrived, a large bunch of lilies and white roses which looked beautiful and only made her more aware of how wretched she felt. Her friends Skyped her on the Friday night, and Belle sat in bed with her laptop on her knees, sniffling, nose red from blowing it so often. Ruby pulled a face when she saw her.
"Oh, honey!" she said sympathetically, and Belle coughed into her hand, making the girls wince.
"Yeah, you can stay in Boston, Belle," said Emma decidedly. "No way I want that doozy of a cold, thanks."
"Are you any better?" asked Snow, and Belle shrugged miserably.
"I feel like I'm ninety percent mucus," she said hoarsely, and they giggled.
"We miss you!" said Ruby. "You have to get better for next week!"
"If I haven't died by then," said Belle dolefully, blowing her nose again.
"Did you ask your parents if you could spend your birthday with us?" asked Ruby excitedly, and Belle nodded.
"They said yes. They were only planning on having a dinner party, anyway, and Dad knows I'm not into that."
"Dinner?" said Emma, spreading her hands. "Party? What's not to like?"
Belle giggled, sniffling a little. "Mum uses dinner parties to try to fix me up with her friends' eligible sons. It's painful."
Emma wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, I can see why that would suck."
"We don't exactly have an exciting evening planned for your eighteenth," admitted Snow. "If you come up as usual on the Friday, we can all get together here on your birthday. I'll get a cake."
"There's always the Rabbit Hole," suggested Ruby.
"NO!" the others chorused, Belle included, and Ruby sighed.
"Just hanging out with you guys sounds perfect," Belle assured them.
"Plus, presents!" added Ruby. "And possibly some booze."
Belle grinned. "This is sounding like a great evening!"
"We're planning on getting you drunk and then siccing you on Gold," said Emma snidely, and Belle groaned, rolling her eyes.
"How are you getting the booze?" she asked, changing the subject, and Ruby tapped the side of her nose with a secretive expression.
"Ways and means, Miss French."
"My parents are buying us some," said Snow, ignoring Ruby's frown. "They say young people should be free to experiment and create their own boundaries."
"That's because they have you as a daughter," remarked Emma. "I'm guessing if they had some actual rebellious teens tearing up the place and smoking their pot they might think differently."
Snow sniffed and took a drink of her coca. "Whatever. We get wine and possibly some gin out of it, so I don't really care."
"You guys should totally have a sleepover with us, anyway," added Emma. "As long as Belle isn't still disease-ridden."
"I'll be better," said Belle thickly, blowing her nose again before sneezing loudly, and the other three winced and leaned back instinctively.
Thankfully, she was better before her birthday arrived, and she was back in school for a few days before making the usual Friday night trip to Gold's office. She had not been there for around ten days, what with her illness and then school, and she had missed him terribly. She pushed open the door to the office, her cheeks flushed from the winter air, brushing the snow from her shoulders.
"Hey!" she said, a little breathlessly, and he looked up from behind his desk and smiled broadly at her, his eyes lighting up. She felt as though she might burst from the excitement of seeing him again, but Mrs Potts bustling into the room with a tea tray pulled her attention from him.
"There you are, dear," said Mrs Potts kindly, setting the tray down and kissing Belle on the cheek. "A big day for you soon, I hear!"
"I guess," said Belle, smiling at her. She flicked her eyes to Gold, but he appeared to have turned back to whatever it was he had been writing before she came in, and she felt a sudden rush of disappointment. Mrs Potts chuckled and waddled out again, returning with a soft parcel wrapped in metallic gold paper with a large ornamental bow.
"Happy birthday for Tuesday, dear," she said fondly, and Belle hugged her excitedly, squeezing the parcel. Clothing, it appeared.
"Do you want me to open it now?" she asked, and Mrs Potts shook her head.
"No, no," she said, shooting Gold a look, and frowning as she noticed him engrossed in his writing. "Save it for your birthday. You could send me a picture, though."
"Of course!" Belle put the parcel in her suitcase, suddenly pleased that Gold wasn't watching her, as opening the case gave anyone looking an excellent view of a selection of her underwear. She zipped the case and began pouring the tea.
"I understand you're staying in Storybrooke for the rest of the week," said Gold absently, nodding his thanks as she placed a cup of tea beside him.
"Well, school's over," said Belle uncertainly. "I thought I'd spend some time with Ruby and the others before Christmas. You don't mind, do you?"
He looked up then, lamplight shining in his eyes, a tiny smile on his face.
"Of course not. If you wanted some additional hours I could use help in the shop."
"Oh, leave the poor girl to spend time with her friends!" chided Mrs Potts, as Belle opened her mouth to accept. "She works hard enough as it is, you miserable old bugger!"
"I'll be the judge of that," said Gold dryly. "And I'll thank you not to refer to your employer in such unflattering terms."
Mrs Potts leaned in towards Belle. "You should hear what I say behind his back," she said, in a loud stage whisper, and Belle giggled.
"Insubordination!" sighed Gold, sitting up and pushing his chair back. "Why don't you leave while I'm still in a good mood?"
She sniffed, and kissed Belle on the cheek again.
"I'll be off, then," she announced, and wagged a finger at Gold. "And you go easy on those roads! The snow's falling and I won't have the two of you caught in a snow drift!"
"How on earth do you think I managed before I hired you?" asked Gold sarcastically, and she snorted.
"I have no idea. Life's full of mysteries."
She bustled out, and he shook his head, trying not to smile, before turning his attention back to Belle.
"So, Miss French," he said, in the oddly formal way he sometimes adopted. "I take it you'll be working in the shop tomorrow, at least?"
"Of course!" said Belle hastily. "I'm happy to work! I honestly don't mind helping out next week, really."
He inclined his head. "Well, how about I give you Tuesday off, at least?"
She grinned happily. "Deal!"
Tuesday dawned, bright and cold, and Belle awoke with a start.
Eighteen. She was eighteen. She bounced out of bed and looked in the mirror eagerly. She didn't look any different, of course not, but she thought she ought to feel different. All she felt, however, was an unpleasant twisting in her belly, nervousness and insecurity growing and feeding on one another. Shaking her head, she started pulling her running kit out and throwing it on the bed. Time to start her adult life as she meant to go on.
A blistering run around the forest trails with Ruby, a hot shower, and a double stack of pancakes for breakfast made an excellent start to her birthday. Granny stuck a little candle in the top of the pancake stack and lit it, upon which the diner erupted in a chorus of 'Happy Birthday', making Belle blush. Granny even gave her a present, an elaborate silver comb for her hair, and Belle thanked her profusely, hugging her tight and making the old woman chuckle. Even Leroy sidled up to her and gave her a bunch of flowers with a muttered birthday greeting, receiving a peck on his whiskery cheek.
"You'll get our presents later," Ruby said, stirring her milkshake with a red-and-white striped straw, before wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. Belle rolled her eyes.
"It's not anything like last year's present, is it?" she sighed, and Ruby giggled.
"You can own more than one, you know," she said airily. "But no. I wouldn't get you a sex toy for your eighteenth."
"Really?" said Belle sarcastically. "Because getting someone a vibrator which then falls out of her bag into her employer's lap is totally beneath you?"
Ruby shrugged. "I admit to the first part. The second part was totally gravity's fault, not mine. Blame Isaac Newton."
Belle giggled, despite herself, and Ruby sucked up more shake.
"What are you wearing tonight?" she asked then, and Belle frowned.
"I'm not sure. I brought a few different dresses. Maybe you can help me choose."
Ruby grinned. "Bring on the fashion show!" she said happily.
In the end, there was really no contest. She had thought about wearing the gold silk dress her parents had bought her as one of her birthday presents. She suspected her mother's hand in that; the dress was divine, and Belle couldn't wait to wear it, despite being absolutely sure her mother intended displaying her to the unattached sons of her friends in it at some point. It was far too dressy for a night with her friends, however, and so she had left it at home. Besides, she secretly wanted to wear it the next time Gold took her out for dinner.
Luckily, Belle had opened Mrs Potts' present to her, and found a deep blue dress with a full skirt, V-neck and little cap sleeves. It went well with her pale skin and reddish-brown hair, and fitted her like a glove. At Ruby's suggestion, she wore the necklace and earrings that Snow and Emma had bought for her the year before, and a pair of silver heels.
"You'll probably freeze to death, but you'll look fabulous!" said Ruby cheerfully. Belle shot her a level look as she fastened the shoes. Ruby was sitting on her bed, already in her leather pants and tight red top, red heels bouncing up and down in her eagerness to be off. Belle stamped her feet, settling them in the heels, and smoothed the skirt of the dress.
"Well?" She twirled, and Ruby grinned, clapping her hands.
"You look great!" she said enthusiastically. "Not sure why you dressed up so much to come over to Emma and Snow's…" She gave Belle a wide, innocent stare, that was spoiled by smirking, and Belle reddened.
"No reason," she muttered, turning away, and Ruby slapped her hands against the bedcovers.
"Come on, Belle!" she whined. "You're going over to see Gold, right?"
"Hadn't thought about it," said Belle loftily, bending to examine her lipstick in the mirror, and grinning at the strangled noise from behind her. She turned on her heel, taking pity on Ruby.
"Okay, I thought I'd go and say hi," she admitted. "But only because it's my birthday and I really should. Nothing's going to happen."
"Hmm." Ruby looked unconvinced. "Do we start without you if you're not there by ten?"
Belle frowned at her, secretly amused. In truth she had no idea what she was going to say to Gold. She had been awaiting her eighteenth birthday with more eagerness than she had imagined. Ruby telling her that she would be an adult and therefore that Gold could date her if he wanted had seemed like an important milestone that had made her nervous and excited. Now that the date was upon her, however, she was filled with insecurities. What if she and the girls had been reading him entirely wrong? What if he didn't want her? She tried not to think about it, or about how she would broach the subject. She fussed with her purse, flicking out her hair and wishing she didn't feel as though there was a colony of butterflies living in her stomach, until Ruby bounced off the bed, grabbed her hands and squeezed, giving her a supportive smile.
"Breathe," she said gently. "You're not asking him to marry you. Just ask if he wants to get a drink sometime, that's all."
"A drink," echoed Belle, her voice flat. "I can't even buy him a beer, Rubes."
"Coffee, then," sighed Ruby, waving a hand as though Belle was being deliberately obstructive. "Ask him out for coffee. Throw in a doughnut, keep him sweet."
"Okay, I can do that," nodded Belle nervously. "Shall we go?"
They made their way down to the bar, and Granny wished them a good night, looking over the top of her glasses at Ruby as though she suspected her of being up to no good. The girls pushed open the door to the diner and trotted out into the cold night air, linking arms and walking towards Snow and Emma's place. Belle could see the pawn shop looming ahead of them, warm light spilling onto the street from the windows. The butterflies in her stomach morphed into bats, and she clutched at Ruby's arm nervously, making her turn.
"You'll be fine," Ruby assured her. "It's just coffee, right?"
Belle sighed, raising her chin. "Right," she said, sounding a lot more confident than she felt, and Ruby slapped her rear playfully.
"Go get him, tiger!" she said, with relish, and Belle glared at her.
"I won't be long," she said severely, and stalked off down the road, ignoring Ruby's cackle.
Belle hesitated on the threshold, the handle cool beneath her fingers, then resolutely opened the door to the pawnshop, the bell above jingling happily as she swung it shut behind her. She could see him standing at the counter, hands resting on it on splayed fingers, watching her with his usual tiny, twisted smile on his face.
"I wasn't expecting you, Belle," he said, and she took a deep breath, before walking slowly over to the counter.
"I wanted to see you," she said. "It's my birthday, you know."
His smiled widened. "I do. I have a present for you." He turned away from her, walking through to the back room, and Belle followed.
"I don't want a present," she said, as he was opening the carved walnut cupboard on the far wall.
"You'll want this one," he said assuredly. "Trust me."
"I do." She tried to imbue her statement with more meaning than it would usually carry, but he didn't turn around, instead shuffling through some papers before retrieving a thick white envelope. She swallowed, moving closer.
"I got a new dress," she said lamely, and he turned to face her, looking her over.
"Yes, you look lovely." The dismissive tone of his voice cut her, a sharp almost-pain in her gut. He held up the envelope, and she shook her head.
"Please! I said I don't want a present."
"It's your eighteenth birthday, Belle," he said, as though she were being entirely unreasonable. "You should have something memorable."
"That's what I want." She looked at him expectantly, moving a little closer, and he frowned slightly, lifting his hand with the envelope, a barrier between them.
"Here." He proffered the envelope, and she hesitated before accepting it. This really wasn't going to plan. She slid her thumb under the tab, slitting open the thick paper and pulling out a document that had been neatly folded into thirds. Opening it out, she ran her eyes over it. Her breath caught, and she read it carefully again, then again, before raising her eyes to his with a frown.
"What the hell is this?" she demanded.
"A trust fund," he said blandly. "It's for college."
"There's fifty thousand dollars here," she objected, waving the document at him accusingly.
"Is there?" he asked curiously, his eyes gleaming with suppressed mirth. "My my, however did that happen?"
Belle sighed, letting her arm fall to her side, the trust deed crackling against her leg.
"I can't accept this from you…" she began, and he held up a quelling hand.
"Actually, it was your father's idea," he interrupted, and Belle looked sceptical.
"Really?" she asked dryly. "So why are you giving it to me?"
He hesitated, and if she didn't know him better she would have thought he seemed unsure of himself.
"It was his instruction to set it up," he said, and Belle gave him a long look.
"So, you had no involvement whatsoever?"
Gold sucked his teeth, folding his hands over the top of his cane.
"I – may have suggested it in fairly strenuous terms the last time he received a tranche of licensing fees," he said.
"Uh-huh." She eyed him shrewdly. "And exactly how much of this money was yours?"
He shifted slightly from one foot to the other.
"I may have – made a contribution," he admitted.
"Hm." She nodded, satisfied. "What percentage are we talking, exactly?"
Gold showed his teeth. "Are you asking me how much I spent on your birthday present? Really not the done thing, dearie."
"Well," said Belle softly, meeting his gaze. "I need to know how much to thank you."
A muscle twitched in his cheek, but his face remained impassive.
"I don't require any thanks," he said calmly, and she put her hands on her hips.
"You know, I could always ask Dad," she pointed out, and he grinned.
"And embarrass the poor man?" he said. "You'd do that to your own father? For shame, Miss French."
Belle threw up her hands and rolled her eyes.
"You are impossible!" she complained, gesturing with the paper in her hand.
He took a step closer, and reached out, folding her hands around the document.
"It's yours, Belle," he said gently, and her breath hitched at his touch.
"It's too much," she whispered, and he shook his head.
"It's an investment in your future, in your education," he said. "It could never be too much."
She bit her lip and, on an impulse, threw her arms around his neck, pressing herself against his chest. He seemed to freeze in her embrace for a moment, then she felt his hands on her hips and his arms slid around her. She held him close, breathing in his scent. God, she had wanted to do this for so long! She could feel the slim hardness of his arms and chest, the softness of her breasts pressing against him. His scent enveloped her, spice and musk and that familiar smell that was just him. His hair was brushing her cheek, just as soft as she'd imagined it, and she longed to run her fingers through it as she kissed him thoroughly. If he would let her. Gathering her courage, she drew back slowly, her cheek brushing his, their lips a mere inch apart. She felt her breath quicken, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, feeling his hands gently rubbing her back. Emboldened, she kissed further along his cheek, towards his mouth, and settled back on her heels, giving her enough room to flick her gaze up to meet his. His eyes were dark and inscrutable, and Belle steeled herself before leaning forward and pressing her mouth to his. His eyes widened, and she had a moment to savour the softness of his lips before he put his hands on her shoulders and pulled away.
"Whoa, Belle," he said softly. "No need for that. I don't expect that level of thanks from you, sweetheart."
Belle drew back, hurt. No, not hurt. Crushed. Devastated. She watched mutely as he took the trust deed from her numb fingers and placed it back in the cupboard, locking the door and pocketing the key before turning back to her. He wouldn't quite meet her eyes, and she hated it.
"Perhaps we should have some tea," he said quietly, and stepped carefully around her. Belle felt as though something was growing within her, something made of hurt and confusion and boiling anger, and if she didn't give voice to it soon she would bloody explode. She turned as he moved past her, and stamped her foot in frustration.
"Are you blind and stupid!" she snapped, and he froze with his back to her. She swallowed, feeling a blush rising in her face, and fidgeted, wishing he'd turn around.
"Do you seriously have no idea how I feel about you?" she asked quietly, and saw his shoulders stiffen. He turned around slowly on the balls of his feet, and Belle caught her breath at the look in his eyes.
"And how's that?" he asked quietly.
She sighed, blushing fiercely. He was going to make her say it!
"Aren't you even a little attracted to me?" she demanded, throwing up her hands, and avoiding his question. "Am I so repulsive you can't bear to look at me?"
He was silent for a long moment, and all she could hear was the sound of her breathing. She felt the rise and fall of her chest, her pain at his rejection a physical thing that twisted in her belly and made her want to cry. It must have showed on her face, because something in his expression changed, became gentle. He took a step towards her, and Belle bit her lip in confused agitation. Hesitantly, he reached up and put his hands on her shoulders, drawing her nearer, and looked deeply into her eyes.
"You are the single most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life," he said gently, and Belle felt tears sting her eyes at the sincerity in his voice. "But you're only eighteen," he added, and she wanted to stamp her foot again.
"I'm an adult!" she protested. "I'm old enough to know my own mind, and you could kiss me and no one can say anything about it. Unless…" She dropped her eyes, focusing on the knot of his tie, wishing she could undo it and peel open his shirt and slide her hands over his warm skin. "Unless you don't want to," she finished in a whisper, and felt his fingers tighten on her shoulders.
"Belle, look at me," he said quietly, and she raised her head unwillingly, almost afraid to meet his eyes. When she did, she almost took a step back at the intensity of his gaze. She could see that his breathing had hardened a little, and felt a certain exultation. Perhaps he wasn't as indifferent to her as she had thought.
"Please," she whispered. "Please, I want this."
"You want me to kiss you?" he asked, his voice a little rougher than usual, his accent thicker, causing a pleasant ache in her belly.
"Call it an extra birthday present," she said, and felt herself glow as he smiled warmly.
"Very well," he said softly, and lifted his hands to cup her face, his fingers gently brushing back her curls. She felt his calloused fingertips brush her cheeks, his palms warm against her skin. He was standing very close to her, his scent surrounding her, and she could almost feel the heat from his body. He ran a gentle thumb over the fullness of her lip, pulling it down a little, exposing the moist pink inner wall, and he let out a tiny noise from deep in his throat as he did so, almost a growl. Belle's breathing quickened, her hands coming to rest on his waist, and closed her eyes as he slowly lowered his mouth to hers. His lips were warm and smooth, and she breathed in deeply as they pulled at hers, the fluttering in her belly intensifying. He drew back with a tiny smile, but his face was mere inches from hers.
"How was that?" he asked quietly, his cool breath on her face. "Was that enough?"
Belle swallowed, shaking her head. "No," she breathed. "I want more."
He smirked, dipping his head once more. His lips pressed against hers, soft and yielding, prying them apart, and she opened her mouth with a tiny gasp as the tip of his tongue touched her. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, gently probing, and she made a tiny noise of pleasure as it stroked against hers, tasting his sweetness, loving the feel of a part of him being inside her. His fingers slid over her cheeks, pushing into her hair, and Belle moaned quietly as they curled around the back of her head, his thumbs still beneath her jaw. Her hands slid up his back, pulling him closer, and he gasped into her mouth as she dragged his body flush against hers. Belle felt a surge of triumph as she felt the hardness of him against her belly. He wanted her! She let her fingers slide up over his shoulders, pressing herself against him, and his fingers tightened in her hair, curls wrapping around them, tugging at her scalp. His mouth was moving against hers, his tongue devouring her, and the feel of him and the smell of him was making her head spin, and…
He pulled back, breathing heavily, his hands still cupping her face, and lowered his mouth to her neck, kissing down her throat. Belle's eyes widened, her mouth dropping open in surprise as his lips found her pulse point. She moaned as he kissed down to her collarbone and across to the other side of her neck, then back up to her ear. His teeth nibbled at the lobe, which felt so incredible she wanted to weep.
"Oh, my Belle!" he breathed, and she clung to him, gasping as his hands dropped to her waist and pulled her closer. His lips pulled at her throat, leaving a moist trail on her skin, and he pushed at her, making her step backwards until her back hit the wall. He let out a low growl of pleasure as he pressed against her, his hands sweeping back up her sides to cup her face once more, and Belle flicked open the button of his jacket with quick fingers and slipped her hands inside, loving the feel of his hot skin through the thin silk of his shirt. He shuddered as her hands explored him, kissing back up her neck to press his mouth to hers, and Belle felt as though she would explode with the sensations he was causing her, her belly writhing with want. He released her lips, his forehead pressed to hers, breathing heavily.
"We have to stop, Belle," he whispered, and made to pull away, but she shook her head and caught his hand in hers.
"I don't want to stop," she breathed, and put his hand to her breast.
Gold moaned aloud, kissing her again, his palm squeezing the soft roundness of her, and Belle gasped at the sensation as his thumb found her nipple through the fabric of the dress, gently rubbing at it. His tongue pushed deep into her mouth, stroking against hers and making heat coil in her belly and wetness pool between her thighs. Her fingers dug into his back, into the firm muscles on either side of the groove of his spine, and she probed softly with her own tongue, loving the taste of him. She whimpered as he gently squeezed her nipple between his thumb and the knuckle of his forefinger, his other hand sliding down her body to cup her buttock. Belle lifted a leg, stroking it up his outer thigh and hooking her foot behind his knee, dragging him closer, and he gasped and pulled back, releasing her lips, his eyes wild and dark. She could smell him, and breathed in deeply, filling her head with his scent, his forehead pressed to hers and his lips mere inches from her mouth, making her want to kiss him again.
"We have to stop," he said fervently, his hair hanging in his face, mussed by her fingers, and he put firm hands on her shoulders as she reached for him again. "Stop, Belle."
She let herself fall back against the wall with a sigh, and he rested his hands against the smooth surface on either side of her, taking deep breaths. He was looking at the floor, his hair swinging, illuminated by the light of the lamps, and Belle reached up to stroke it back, brushing it out of his eyes as he raised his head to look at her. She met his gaze, loving the fire in them, the glint of gold in his irises, the way his pupils were wide with desire, his eyes dark pits boring into her soul.
"Well, well," he said quietly, his words vibrating through her and making her shiver. "That was unexpected."
Belle grinned, blushing. "I've been wanting to do that since the first day we met," she confessed, and he gave her a long, searching look.
"Likewise," he admitted, gently stroking her cheek with a finger. Belle felt a surge of happiness, her heart swelling. He wanted her. He felt the same as she did. She felt as though she was going to burst, but she simply let her hands slip down onto his shoulders with a tiny sigh.
"What now?" she asked, and he straightened up, his hands coming to rest at her waist.
"I believe you have a get-together with your friends," he observed, and she shook her head.
"I don't mean that, I mean – what now, for us?"
"Ah." He moved away, reaching for his cane, and turned back to her once he had it to steady himself once more. He looked oddly uncertain, and she felt her heart swell with love for him.
"I leave that entirely up to you," he said. "What is it that you want from me, Belle?"
She hesitated, suddenly shy. "I want – you," she said awkwardly. "I want the two of us to be – together. Like…a relationship, if…if that's what you want too."
He was watching her calmly, the silver strands in his hair gleaming in the light, and she could feel a blush rising in her cheeks. Time seemed to stretch before her as she waited for him to speak, but he smiled briefly, his eyes crinkling.
"I'd like that very much," he said quietly.
Belle pushed herself away from the wall, walking slowly towards him, until she was right in front of him. She could feel his cool breath on her face, and she reached up to place a delicate kiss on his lips before settling back on her heels.
"I think we should maybe wait until we tell my parents, though," she suggested. "Or the busybodies in Storybrooke. They'll only think the worst."
He looked pained for a moment, but his face cleared.
"As you wish," he said softly.
"I'll tell the girls, of course," she added, and he showed his teeth.
"Naturally."
He looked amused as he said it, and she smiled, looking at the floor for a moment before raising her eyes to his.
"I suppose I'll see you tomorrow," she said reluctantly. "I had only meant to ask you out for coffee, you know."
He smiled briefly. "Well, we could certainly do that too," he agreed.
"Then we'll call it a date," she said shyly, and dropped her eyes. "I should get going. I have a party to attend and my best friends to shock."
"Should you need my assistance, please don't hesitate to call," he said, strangely formal, as if he hadn't just kissed her into a frenzy, and she giggled.
"You'll probably hear the squeals all the way over here," she said dryly, and stretched up to kiss him again. He responded gently, cupping her face, his lips soft against hers, and she let out a tiny sigh of contentment as she pulled back.
"Best birthday present ever," she murmured, and he chuckled.
"Enjoy your evening, sweetheart," he said gently. "I'll see you tomorrow."
A/N: There! You can all stop threatening me now!
Next time: the girls find out. Plus probably lots more kissing action. But also plot.