Part 4
Belle could have remained standing with Rumplestiltskin like that for a very long time, just savoring his nearness and his timid yet enthusiastic touches, but a sudden noise interrupts the comfortable silence between them.
"What is that?" Belle asks, opening her eyes again to look around. The sound is familiar, but she can't quite put her finger on it.
The sheepish look on Rumplestiltskin's face tells her exactly what she just heard. Indeed, it's been a while since she heard his stomach rumble for the last time, for she persuaded him into eating properly and regularly quite a while ago. But that was before, when she was still around to talk him into actually taking his meals.
"How long ago did you eat for the last time?"
He shrugs, avoiding her gaze, and Belle sighs a little. Knowing him, he hasn't eaten since she left three days ago. He doesn't need food like an ordinary man, at least not as much of it, but she highly doubts this is good for him.
"You silly man," she mutters affectionately, wondering whether it was mere inconvenience that prevented him from eating. It wasn't just that she wasn't there to serve him any food; she wasn't there to prepare it either. But then again, there are few things he can't accomplish with a mere snap of his fingers, and she suspects that it's the lack of her presence that prevented him from developing an appetite in the first place.
But now she is back and the demands of his body have caught up with him at last. He is hungry – and, she realizes, so is she.
"Let's get us something to eat."
He smiles at those words, joy mixing with sadness, making clear to her that he has longed for this as well. It reminds her of a conversation they had a long time ago. He doesn't need a housekeeper... he needs someone to look after him, someone to care.
"How about I make you your favorite meal?" she asks, chuckling as his entire face lights up at the mere suggestion of having the baked potatoes he likes so much.
He nods enthusiastically, in that moment more an innocent young boy than anything else. That makes it only easier for her to take his hand in her own and guide him towards the kitchen.
To others, he might be the feared Dark One, the infamous Deal-maker, the most cruel and cunning of beings. But to Belle, he is Rumplestiltskin, a man who happens to look different than any other and who loves her like no one else does - who respects, savors and protects her.
She heads for the kitchen, delighted to be able to walk those familiar corridors again, and Rumplestiltskin follows closely behind her, never letting more than half a pace come between them. They reach the kitchen soon and enter it together.
He has never joined her in the kitchen before and Belle is slightly nervous to have him there, to be watched while she performs a skill she only mastered recently. Still, she is glad that he is there. She supposes that he has followed her to remain close to her - to still be able to look at her, convince himself that she has truly returned - and she finds herself enjoying his presence for the same reason.
She happily gets to work, finding the potatoes in the same basket as before, their supply doubtlessly still as endless and baffling. The pots and pans are exactly where she left them in the cupboards, as if they are awaiting her return just like the rest of the castle - and its owner.
Putting the required pans on the stove, Belle fills a smaller pan with water, smiling a little when the flow comes out of a marked stone in the wall as soon as she holds the pan in front of it. It's something else she'll never get used to, another thing which she definitely would have missed back at her father's castle.
The water clatters into the pan and the flow comes to an end on its own accord when the edge is almost reached. More magic, she knows, and although it used to perturb her, Belle has grown used to it to the extent that she isn't worried any longer when such things happen around her.
She hauls the full pan to the stove, intending to light a fire and let the water boil while she peels the potatoes, only to find the wood there burning already. Now that is something which the castle usually doesn't do, doubtlessly because there already is a never ending supply of wood and matches waiting to be used.
Belle turns around and casts a mildly disapproving glance at the man who must have lit the fire for her.
"I can do this without magic, you know," she says, to remind him how much she has learned throughout the months and that she has told him quite some times already that she wishes to cook in the regular way.
"I do. And I also know how long it takes. I'm simply saving both of us some time."
"What's the importance of time when you have an eternity?"
"I'm hungry," he says matter-of-factly, raising a challenging eyebrow.
"That's hardly my fault. You'll just have to be patient."
Belle just rolls her eyes at him, her smile broadening, aware that he is merely jesting. How she has missed their playful banter, the trust that has grown between them to make fun of one another without being actually offending or confronting. At her father's castle she can't talk like that to anyone, let alone to a man.
"Besides, if you really want to have your dinner sooner, you might as well make yourself useful and set the table."
She doesn't actually expect him to obey, but to her amusement Rumplestiltskin immediately sets himself in motion and starts going through the various cupboards and drawers. Belle giggles a bit at the sight, trying - and failing - to imagine Gaston heeding her every command, whether in the kitchen or anywhere else.
Rumplestiltskin looks up, oblivious to the cause of her sudden expression of amusement. He shrugs a little at seeing the unexplained smile on her face before continuing his task, a small smile finding its way to his own lips. It pleases her greatly to see that he finds joy in her delight.
Placing the pan above the burning fire, Belle continues to watch him from the corners of her eyes. To her surprise, he puts the plates and cutlery he found on the small table in the middle of the kitchen, which is usually only used as additional surface to prepare the more complicated meals.
As long as she has been with him, he has always taken his meals at that ridiculously large table in the nearby hall. Although she started sharing his meals after a few weeks, sitting on the long side of the table nearby him rather than on the far, opposite edge, that arrangement never truly lost its edge of impersonality and distance.
The contrast with the small table near the fire couldn't be greater. Now Belle is grateful that the fire is burning already, saving a few precious minutes, for she can't wait to have dinner with him like this. This isn't just cozy... for as far as she's concerned, it's at least as romantic as all the stories she used to read, those of the kind she didn't expect to happen in real life.
There are no chairs, but two of them appear with a flick of his fingers, along with dozens of burning candles spread throughout the kitchen. The pan in place above the fire, Belle just stands still to watch him, to admire him during his work.
Rumplestiltskin critically observes the table, not aware of her eyes on him. With another quick gesture, he conjures a tablecloth beneath the delicate china which is more beautiful than her father - and probably even the king - would ever be able to have.
Finding her looking at him after all, he gives her an apologetic shrug, as if telling her that he supposes that this isn't good enough but doesn't know how to improve the current setting.
"It's perfect," she simply says, his relief at those words visible on his face.
She fills a basket with potatoes and sits down at the unoccupied half of the table, starting to peel them with recently developed efficiency. Much as Rumplestiltskin has already surprised her in the past few hours, none of that takes her quite as aback as he does when he grabs the other chair and sits down opposite her, conjuring a knife to assist her with the potatoes.
"I just want to help," he explains, all pragmatic once more, as if it's only normal for him to share her work like this.
"Thank you," she says, not sure how else to response. It's difficult enough wrap her mind around the fact that this man of all people loves her and treats her like an equal, but to have him helping prepare a meal, to assist her performing women's work... It's unheard of, and she enjoys every second of it.
Her own potatoes momentarily forgotten, Belle watches with fascination as he initially struggles to peel the potatoes, but soon finds an ease and a speed with exceeds her own. He must have learned this and consequently done this a lot at one point of his life, which is another new insight which she carefully stores away for later examination.
She continues her own work and soon all the potatoes in the basket between them are peeled. When she begins cutting them in neat slides, he immediately follows her example. The water above the fire starts to boil just after they are done and Belle puts in several eggs before continuing with the rest of the meal, wanting to make sure to boil the eggs just he likes them.
"I'll take it from here," she tells Rumplestiltskin. Much as she appreciates his help, she fears that his continued assistance would be counterproductive. She has managed the recipe quite perfectly, thanks to his frequent requests of this particular meal, but she isn't certain how to proceed the preparations with the help of anyone else.
More than that, the notion of working at the same surface and dancing around one another to accomplish their various tasks, their bodies doubtlessly accidentally brushing every once in a while, makes her think of things that have nothing to do with cooking whatsoever. As delightful as those images are, she wouldn't want to be distracted to the point of burning his favorite meal during their first evening back together.
He nods and sits down at the table, watching her every move as she collects and prepares a variety of other ingredients. Her back is towards him, but she can all but feel his gaze on her. It's making her slightly nervous in a lovely sort of way. Just to get back at him, she makes a point of elaborately preparing the lettuce, knowing very well that he doesn't like it and always refuses to eat it.
The simple cooking tasks remind her of another reason that she's glad to be here, at the place which she considers to be her real home. She never had the chance to actually cook in her old life, having several cooks and maids at her disposal to ensure tasty meals and treats whenever she desired them.
She was forced to learn here to do all that herself. Although it took her a good few months before her results were somewhat comparable in quality to what she grew up with, she can't imagine not preparing her own food any longer. It's not just that she takes pride in her newly acquired, actually useful skill; Belle genuinely enjoys the work, finding an unexpected kind of calmness and peacefulness in the tasks.
But if she were to continue cooking at her father's castle, it wouldn't only be frowned upon, she wouldn't actually be allowed. She's the daughter of a lord after all - it's funny how she doesn't think of herself as a lady anymore – and whether she actually enjoys it or not, she isn't supposed to perform that type of work.
Belle hums while she works, feeling deliciously warm in a way which has nothing to do with the nearby fire or even the memory of the way Rumplestiltskin just kissed her. Probably for the first time in her life, she is happy being exactly where she is right now, perfectly at ease with the future that is ahead of her.
Caught up in her work and her happy thoughts, she is oblivious that Rumplestiltskin is no longer sitting at the table and approaches her from behind instead. Only when strong arms wrap themselves tightly around her waist, she becomes aware of his close presence.
She squeals in surprise, but more out of delight than anything else. She has grown used to him sneaking up on her, believing him when he says that he doesn't do it on purpose. She'll simply have to get him fully used to sharing his castle with another human being, to remind him what it's like to really live with someone. Besides, his touch has rarely been more welcome than now.
"Don't want to stay away from you," he mutters, burying his face against her neck.
She chuckles, tempted to inform him that the bacon currently requires her attention, but she can't bring herself to it, neither does she really want to.
"You'd better not distract me, though," she cheerfully says, intending to finish preparing the meal as quickly as she can.
Only when he stills behind her, Belle realizes - so very unknowing of such things - that her words are more of a challenge than an actual warning, or at least to the man who is currently all but draped around her.
While she continues her work - or at least, pretends to - he brushes her hair aside with a gentle hand, baring her neck to him. Not wasting a second, he nuzzles her immediately afterwards, having her sigh happily in response at the light and innocent yet intimate touch.
Dinner has been forgotten when his tongue joins his lips, touching and teasing her like he did before. Somehow, his ministrations feel even better when they are focused on her neck rather than her cheek or forehead. Belle can't hold back a startled noise of appreciation, very much aware of the way his hold on her tightens when his caresses meet her approval.
His arms are wrapped around her waist and his hands are on her sides, stroking her skin through the material of her dress. Rumplestiltskin's touches are firmer than before as he finds some of the self-assurance which he lacked earlier. The sensation of being cherished like this is completely knew to her, but Belle welcomes the feelings he creates deep inside of her, almost intimidating in their intensity.
Despite being aware of the intimacy which these touches imply and knowing that Rumplestiltskin is all but claiming her as his own, Belle is nothing but delighted that he has found the courage to express his feelings for her like this, to open up to her in this whole new way.
Doubtlessly noticing her eager reactions to him, Rumplestiltskin continues with only more enthusiasm, the gentle scrape of teeth against the back of her neck leaving her gasping for air.
Belle barely has the presence of mind to put back the spatula she is still holding, convinced that she'll otherwise drop it in the very near future. Dinner will have to wait.