2
Cleaning Frenzy
The Golds celebrated New Years Eve quietly, since the Sparrows were still in Fairy Tale Land, as the Pearl was in dry dock getting a refit, because another pirate ship had fired upon her and blown a hole in her. Jack wanted to oversee the repairs himself, and so Rhea opted to return to her tower with Jess herself, telling Rumple they would probably be another week or so. "Don't fret, old dragon. We'll be back before you know it . . . and before Cora invades Storybrooke."
Alice and Jeff came over, as did Bae, Emma, and Henry, and they all had fun playing silly games and eating appetizers and watching the New Years Eve party on TV.
New Years Day arrived and Belle had a sudden surge of energy and decided to go on a cleaning frenzy. She chased Jimmy, Freya, and Alina outside while she wielded a dust rag sprayed with Pledge and a Swiffer and attacked the downstairs like a dervish, dusting and mopping everything in sight, and vacumming up all the animal hair. When she had the downstairs all polished and shining, with the floor scrubbed so much you could have eaten off it, she called the kids and the dog back inside and told them to start taking down the decorations while she went and cleaned upstairs.
Rumple was in his study, doing some reconciliation on his accounts on his computer, when his wife breezed in with her dust rag and broom. "Belle, what are you doing?" he asked as she attacked his bookshelf with a vengeance.
"Cleaning, Rumple. This room is a wreck!" she declared.
The pawnbroker gaped at her. "Belle, you're almost thirty-seven weeks pregnant . . . shouldn't you be . . . err . . . taking it easy?"
"Rumple . . ." she dusted a section of the bookshelf, causing small particles of dust to float and dance in the air about her head. " . . . how can I relax when my house . . . is like apigsty?"
"Hey, dearie, I'm not a slob!" he objected, moving his feet so she could Swiffer under the desk.
"Well, your kids are!" Belle huffed.
He raised an eyebrow. "Did you just call Jimmy my kid?"
"Well, you sort of adopted him or whatever you want to call it," she replied, going to wipe down his computer screen.
"Careful, Belle. I'm still working there," he cautioned.
"I don't know how with all this dirt!"
"Really, dearie? There's maybe a millimeter of dust on my desk," he smirked.
She dusted around his computer and keyboard, muttering softly about the way his coffee mug left marks in the lovely wood grain and why in hell wasn't he using a coaster?
"Okay. I'll remember next time," he promised, figuring if he agreed with her, she would finish and leave the room so he could get back to work.
"Rumplestiltskin, don't you patronize me!" she snapped.
"What? What did I say?"
She glared at him. "It wasn't what you said, it was how you said it!"
"How'd I say what?"
"You had that tone in your voice," she accused. "That sarcastic one that means you're trying to humor me."
He winced. "If I did, I'm sorry." He gave her his best regretful puppydog look.
"Don't look at me like that."
"Like what? This?" He continued to gaze at her, his soulful brown eyes brimming with regret.
"Stop it!" she ordered, shaking the dust cloth on him. "I can't stay mad at you when you do that."
He gave her a small smirk too, and she growled, "Rumple, you're such a woolhead!" Then she gazed at his suit and sighed. "Now look what you made me do! Dust all over your good jacket and trousers. Where's the lint roller?"
"Bottom right desk drawer, dearie." He kept one there because Nala liked to climb in his lap and he needed it to get her fur off his clothes.
Belle retrieved it and began to use it, carefully rolling it over his jacket and down his trousers. "Darn cat hair!"
Rumple relaxed in his chair and murmured, "That feels nice, dearie. Like a massage."
She found herself smirking impishly at him. "Turn around. You probably have more on your back, since Nala sits on your chair."
He obeyed, turning around as she requested.
As she ran the roller down his back and his pants, she paused to admire the view, thinking it was too bad she couldn't take advantage of him right now.
"See something you like, dearie?" he purred in his best come-hither voice.
"Rumple, behave!" she ordered, swatting his behind playfully. "You know perfectly well what I like that I can't have."
He turned around and took her face inbetween his palms. "Is that why you're so cranky and . . . and . . . going on a cleaning frenzy?"
"I don't know!" she half-wailed. "I'm sick of being the size of a baby beluga, of having to pee every twenty minutes, of being hot and then cold, of not being able to get comfortable for more than fifteen minutes at a time, my feet hurt, my back hurts . . . heavens, I sound like some whiny bitch! Rumple, I'm so sorry . . ."
"Hey, it's okay," his thumbs stroked her cheeks, wiping away the tears now falling down them. "You're entitled to complain and to be annoyed. It must suck being pregnant."
"But that's just it . . . it was fine . . . until now . . .now I just want them to be born!" she groaned. She gently kissed him, one hand on her tummy. Then she grimaced.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Just a cramp."
"You're sure?"
"Yes, I'm fine," she answered shortly.
"Okay. You tell me if you need to go in to get checked."
"Right now I need the bathroom," she sighed. "One of them keeps kicking me down there and squishing what little room I have left." She set down the roller and waddled out of the room, one hand pressed to her lower back.
Rumple stared after her in concern. He had Dr. Jo on speed dial on his phone, but didn't want to call unless Belle said so, even though he was worried. He wished he knew more about pregnant women than the little he did from reading the book Belle had bought him and attending childbirth classes.
He went online and Googled a few things, and what he read about complications of twin births scared him to death. He prayed that everything would go smoothly and thanked God that he wouldn't be delivering these babies himself. Belle would be in good hands with Dr. Jo and he would be there as her coach.
Page~*~*~*~*~Break
Belle continued cleaning, even though the pains in her lower back were getting a bit more pronounced. Jimmy came upstairs to get his iPod and made the mistake of complaining that he couldn't find it to Belle, who immediately started lecturing him about keeping his room neat and then maybe he could find something.
"Okay! Okay! Never mind!" he cried, backing away with his hands held out. "Calm down, Mrs. Gold!" Then he turned and bolted, nearly colliding with Rumple.
"Going somewhere, Jimmy?" queried the sorcerer.
"Hell, yeah! Away from your wife. I think she's gone a little cuckoo . . . er . . . she's like rearranging my sock drawer," the pirate babbled.
"Relax, lad. She'll wind down soon enough," Rumple chuckled. "Come on, why don't we go and get a bite to eat. It's almost lunchtime."
Jimmy accompanied him downstairs, saying softly, "Mr. Gold . . . is it normal for her to be . . . like that?"
"Probably. She's very uncomfortable now, dragging all that weight around and so forth, so I'm not surprised she's crabby," he told the younger man. He opened the fridge and pulled out a container of sesame chicken and another of rice.
"Aye, I guess I would be too," Jimmy nodded, and went to grab a container with some bacon wrapped scallops and another of shrimp with broccoli out of the fridge.
"Papa, is Mama okay?" Alina asked, coming out of the pantry with a jar of peanut butter and some Welch's strawberry jam and a loaf of bread. "Because she yelled at Freya for playing with her chew bone on the rug and yesterday Freya ripped apart a pillow and she didn't say anything. What's up with that?"
"Alina, your mama's just . . . frustrated and cranky right now," her father answered. "So you just have to be patient. This will pass when the twins are born."
"Man, if this is what it's like when you have a baby, I'm not having kids," Alina declared softly, making herself a sandwich.
"Me neither," agreed Jimmy.
Gold just chuckled and said, "You never know. Someday you might change your mind." Then he went to heat up his sesame chicken in the microwave.
"Papa, how come you always drive Mama to the hospital?" Alina asked, getting a glass of coconut milk. "Wouldn't it be easier to just magic her there?"
"It would, dearie, but your mama's at the stage right now when it's not safe to use magical travel. It could hurt the babies, so I need to use my car," he explained, putting the chicken and rice on his plate. "Jimmy, could you get me some iced tea?" he called to the pirate, who was grabbing a Coke from the refrigerator.
"Sure. Mr. Gold," Jimmy snatched up a can of Coke and one of Arizona sweet tea and tossed it over to Rumple.
Rumple caught it in his hand. "Thanks. Now let's make sure we clean up in here before your mama comes down," he reminded his daughter.
"I know. I don't want her flipping out," Alina nodded. "Make sure you throw out your can, Jimmy."
He rolled his eyes at her. "Right, Miss Know-It-All. You can just chill yourself, or whatever that expression Henry says."
"You mean 'take a chill pill'," Alina corrected gently.
"Right, so you can just take one, before you turn your hair gray."
"Cute, Jimmy. Real cute," she snorted.
"Yeah, that's me. I'm so cute I have it tattooed on my—"
"Mr. Jones!" Rumple snapped. "Watch the mouth, boy."
Jimmy quickly bit off the rest of what he was going to say. "Aye, sir," he muttered hastily, then figured he'd better shut up and eat, before his mouth got him into trouble with Gold.
Page~*~*~*~Break
Belle continued to have Braxton-Hicks contractions through the next several days. Most times she ignored them, but once she alarmed Rumple one night by doubling over with one and he insisted she go to the hospital and get checked. It was January 5th.
But sadly she was only dilated one centimeter and after staying there an hour, was released to go home, as the contractions had stopped again.
"I told you it was a false alarm, Rumple!" she snapped at him as they got in the car.
"Better safe than sorry, dearie," he returned crisply as they drove home.
"If these kids are going to be born, I hope they do it soon, because there's another snow storm coming in a day or so," Belle sighed.
"Or they could wait till after the snow," Rumple said hopefully. He squeezed her hand. "Let's just go home and get some sleep, okay?"
"Easy for you to say," she snorted. An instant later she felt bad about giving him the rough edge of her tongue and said, "I didn't mean that."
"I know."
"You don't have to be so calm, Rumple. You can yell at me. Tell me I'm being a pain in the ass," she said, feeling guilty and upset.
"Will that make you feel better?"
"No, but it might make you feel better," she sighed.
"Fine. Belle, you're a pain in my ass and you're really getting on my nerves." It was only partially true.
"See? Now don't you feel better?"
"I'll feel a lot better when I get some sleep, dearie," he told her. "Now just breathe, Belle."
"Shut up, Rumple!"
"Yes, dear."
A few minutes went by. Then she called, "Rumple?"
"Yes, dear?"
"You know I still love you, right? Even when I'm acting like a queen bitch?"
"Of course I do. This will all be a memory in a week or so." He smiled at her encouragingly.
She sighed. Then she smiled back at him, because no matter how she snapped at him, she was very grateful he was there to support her during this difficult time. Together, she thought, they could handle just about anything.
Two days later, another storm hit, and snow poured from the sky in a white swath. Belle had been having pains on and off all morning, but now they were getting sharper and deeper, radiating from her back to her stomach.
No. No. No, babies. You need to stop. You can't be born in the middle of a snowstorm. Wait.
But the twins didn't listen, and her pains began to grow stronger. "Dammit!"
Freya looked up from where she was sleeping on the hearth rug and whimpered as Belle paced up and down, trying to time the contractions.
"I know. I know. Babies, go back to sleep," she ordered crossly. "Now is not a good time, d'you hear me?"
Rumple was upstairs, taking a shower, and Jimmy was sleeping in his room. Alina was over at Grace' s house, she'd slept over, and now looked like she'd be spending another night there.
Belle waddled over to the sliding glass door and watched the snow falling, and gritted her teeth at each new pain.
This couldn't be happening. Not now. It had to be another false alarm.
But she knew deep inside that it wasn't.
She made her way upstairs, and found her husband had just come out of the shower and was wrapped in a towel. "Rumple! Hurry!"
"Why? What's the matter?" he asked, his eyes wide. "Don't tell me . . ."
"They're coming, Rumple! This time it's for real."
"Aww, hell, no! You can't be serious!"
"Do I look like I'm kidding?" she hissed.
"Okay. Okay. Jesus H. Christ!" he cried, using one of his son's favorite expressions. He threw the towel on the ground and then grabbed one of his sweatshirts and pulled it on. "It's a good thing your bag's in the car. Dammit, look at all the snow. But I think I can drive in it." He looked at his wife and said, "You're sure, Belle?"
"Yes, I'm sure!"
"Okay, then let's go," he said, and went to take her arm.
"Rumple!" she gasped, half-doubled over. "Ooh! That was a strong one!"
"Okay. Okay. Just breathe, dearie. How far apart was that?"
"Don't know. I lost count. But Rumple . . ."
"Yes, Belle?"
"Put some pants on. Because while I like looking at your bare ass, I don't want you getting arrested for indecent exposure!"
"Huh?" He looked down . . . and realized he had forgotten some very important things. The he waved a hand and his jeans flowed onto him. Along with his boots. "All right, dearie. Let's get you to the hospital on time." He waved his hand again and her coat and scarf and gloves were put on and he helped her down the stairs and into the garage, where his car was.
He just hoped the roads were plowed somewhat.
A/N: So . . . will Gold make it to the hospital?
