XXIV

Yuletide (Part I)

Rumpelstiltskin's jaw dropped as he finally meandered his way down from his workroom and stepped into what he'd thought was the Great Hall. Yes, there was that infernal tree he'd magicked in from the forest at Belle's insistence. He wasn't about to tell her he'd trudged through the snow to pick the damn thing out himself. Baelfire would want a tree if he were here, wouldn't he, Master? Ugh!

Why did she have to be such a sound voice of reason? And she was making it a habit of coaxing him into doing her bidding. He wondered briefly when she'd become more his treasured companion and less the hired help. Not that she was of any help to the strange mix of emotions plaguing him lately. Moreso, she was the cause. He couldn't get that vial containing their hairs out of his mind for the life of him.

It was undeniable proof of his love for her. He LOVED her. His little dearie loved him … the Dark One … the monster. He groaned. He was going to have to let her go, and the mere thought sent a stab of pain to the very center of his black heart. Love was weakness. He wasn't even sure he remembered how to love anyone but his son. Had he loved anyone else in his long lifetime? He'd thought what he'd shared with Cora had been love. That had been a disaster! The power-hungry wench, he snorted.

The Dark One's gaze drifted to the open curtains, where he could see the softly falling snow just past the beveled glass. At least he didn't have to worry about sending her on her way for several more months. He wouldn't see her traveling in the dead of winter when there was a chance she would fall ill on her way back to her father. There was still time to enjoy her company for a bit longer.

Yet, now as he looked about at the festive ribbons, holly and Yuletide baubles, he wondered if he'd survive the holiday. "Belle!" he bellowed, standing there frozen in the doorway.

His little dearie swept into the hall, a large crystal bowl filled with some type of beverage balanced in her hands. "There you are, Master. There's no need to shout, y'know," she admonished, setting the bowl at the end of the table. It was only then he noticed the other delicacies spread out on the table. There was a small pot filled with his favorite lamb stew, which had his mouth watering, no less than three trays filled with cookies and candy, another with peach tarts. He groaned, sure she was trying to kill him. A platter with cured meats and cheeses, another with vegetables. Was she throwing a bloody party?

"What's this?" he hissed irritably. The scent of pine and spices assailed his nose and his lips twitched. He didn't think he'd ever smelled so many lovely fragrances in his home before. Not that he'd tell her that. "I told you I would allow a tree. THIS IS A BIT MORE THAN A BLOODY TREE!"

Belle batted her big doe eyes at him and smiled. "It's Yuletide, Master. Don't you like the decorations?"

Rumpelstiltskin scowled. "No," he grumbled petulantly.

She made her way over to him and laid a hand gently to his crimson sleeve. "Then it makes your tolerance all the more special. Thank you for allowing me this small concession. And I promise to take it all down first thing in the morning."

It was becoming increasingly difficult to stay angry with her. He truly would be a beast if he tore it all down and snatched away her joy. Mischief danced in her eyes, and he became so lost in their cerulean depths; he took no notice of her hands smoothing gently up his chest and over his shoulders to twine in the ends of his hair. Until she emitted a soft giggle. "What're you doing?" he drawled lazily, still enraptured by her innocent touch.

Belle pointed up towards the large cluster of mistletoe she'd hung above the doorway. "You owe me a kiss, Master. It's tradition."

Rumpelstiltskin paled. A kiss? He felt his chest tighten with barely suppressed panic. How could he, especially if Belle's little experiment with their hairs proved true? One kiss from her lips, and he was done for. No magic, no Baelfire, no happy ending. How the hell was he to get out of this one? The demon was conspicuously silent, allowing him to suffer in silence. "D-Don't be silly, dearie. Monsters don't go around kissing fair maidens. They wait for their opportunity to spirit them away."

The disappointment in her eyes nearly ended him. "You're not a monster, Rumpelstiltskin," she whispered softly.

Why did she have to look so sad?

Go on, Spinner. Kiss the girl. You know what to expect, so you should be well equipped to hold on to your curse, the Dark One chortled. See if she's as delicious as she looks.

I can't! It will put all sorts of fanciful notions in that beautiful head of hers.

The demon groaned. Would you fucking grow a pair! Kiss her! I'm quite tired of watching you pine after the girl. Be a man for once in your pathetic life. Take what you want!

"Rumpel?" she queried, her fingers ghosting over the smooth curve of his jaw. "Are you alright? You don't have to kiss me. I understand."

If she had any idea of just how much he wanted her, it would give her nightmares. He couldn't find his voice, his chest was tight with dread, and he felt as if the air in his lungs had turned to ice. Yet, he couldn't deny her. Just a simple kiss … what could it really hurt to see the joy return to her eyes. His warm palms rose to cradle her face, and he watched mesmerized as her breath caught and her little pink tongue darted out to wet her lips. Her lids slid lower in anticipation, her pulse quickening beneath his thumbs as they settled beneath her jaw to tilt her head up to receive him. Slowly, the distance between them closed, everything he'd been longing for within a mere breath away …

The pounding at the front doors had him jerking his head around to cast his best death glare at the barrier.

A/n: Aren't I just awful?!