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Belle woke up to the persistent beep of an alarm clock that wasn't hers. She tried to burrow into the mountain of blankets that she usually slept with to ward off the arctic chill in her apartment, but there was no mountain to burrow in—instead, an arm slid down into the crevice between her neck and shoulder, and a hand flopped over her ear.
She realized that she was warm, not because she had made a blanket fort in her sleep, but because she was in Dr. Gold's bed, and he could afford heat. Also, he was pressed up against her back like a human blanket. When the alarm didn't stop, he groaned and rolled away from her, and the beeping ceased seconds later.
How could she have forgotten that she was here? She knew that sleep was disorienting, but she had been sleeping on her guard for years, and was rarely deep enough in slumber to forget things. It wasn't that she felt unsafe in her apartment—though she did—but there were always loud noises. The more lightly she slept, the less those noises startled her, and the easier it was for her to get back to sleep.
She always slept even worse in strange places, as she suspected most people did. She hadn't expected to get any sort of rest last night, and she probably wouldn't have had she stayed in the guest room. She shifted onto her back as Gold rolled toward her, settling his arm around her waist like a giant handcuff, and she found herself drowsy again.
"Good morning," she whispered, because the logical part of her brain knew that his alarm meant that they would need to go to work soon.
"Good morning, darling." The words rumbled by her neck, and she shivered.
"Did you sleep okay?" she asked, though it was a stupid question. It was his giant bed—of course he slept okay.
"I've never slept better." He pressed a kiss to her temple, the only place his lips could reach without him having to move his head. "Did you?"
"Neither have I." She turned her head to kiss him on the chin, then changed course to pretend that she had an itch on the other side of her neck because a horrifying realization hit her.
Kissing was inevitable now that they had spent the night together. This meant that there was one truth, one clear and present danger—morning breath. She couldn't kiss him like this, but she also couldn't reject him if he wanted to kiss her. What was she supposed to do?
He lifted his head to look at her. "Something wrong?"
"Ah—bathroom," she said, forcing herself to sit up, even though she never, ever wanted to move. "I'll be right back."
She tried not to sprint to the guest room, or to notice the way he sat up and looked after her in confusion. He probably expected her to use the bathroom connected to his bedroom, like a sane person, but she needed her purse, and it had not received the same room upgrade that she had.
Once Raphael had invited her over, she'd known that she wouldn't be leaving until morning. It had been some of the most stressful four-to-five minutes of her life, running upstairs to pack under the pretense of changing her clothes. It meant that she had to change her clothes, and also only take the amount of time that it took to do that. Thus, she'd had to pack carefully—toothbrush and toothpaste, hairbrush, and a camisole to wear under the see-through sweater, because only Raphael got the view she'd provided last night.
When she finished in the bathroom and returned to the bedroom, he was gone, and his own bathroom door was closed. This was the perfect opportunity to make up for her less than ceremonious exit a few minutes ago, so she nestled herself in the blankets to wait for him.
Upon emerging, he took one look at her, and then was back in bed faster than she'd ever expect a man with a limp to move.
"I didn't leave," she said, hoping that he wouldn't be upset with her for thinking that he was worried.
"Good." He tugged at the blankets until they covered both of them, and then wound himself around her, tucking her head up under his chin.
She'd never put much thought into whether or not she fit with a man. She had the tendency to date big, hulking, Gaston-like people, and they dwarfed her whenever they cuddled—if they ever cuddled. Gold was slight, though, and she fit in his embrace like a key to a lock. She knew that she was the perfect size to him, too. Other women were all taller, wider, bigger, but he could wrap his arms around her and tuck her head under his chin, and they fit.
"What time is it?" she asked, turning to press her lips to his Adam's apple.
"7:46."
She raised her head, propping herself up on her elbow to glare at him. "Really? You get up before eight?"
He shrugged. "It's not like I have anything better to do."
She flattened her mouth into a line. "How about sleep? I was comfortable until your alarm rang."
He lifted an eyebrow. "Well, my apologies, darling. Resetting my alarm wasn't exactly forefront in my mind when I went to bed last night."
Her cheeks warmed, and she settled back down onto the bed, tucking herself against him. "I guess I forgive you. Can I make breakfast?"
"Why are you asking my permission?"
She chewed her lip, and he lifted himself to look at her. "You just want to play in my kitchen, don't you?"
"That is exactly what I want."
"Well, that can be arranged." He shifted until she was lying beneath him, his body tented over hers while he supported himself on his elbows. A lazy grin spread across his face, and Belle bit her lip. "But it'll cost you."
"Oh?"
He had effectively pinned her down, though the only parts of his body he was touching her with were the top of his right leg, and the sides of his elbows. Since she could still move her arms, she wiggled one away from her so that she could slide her hand up Gold's cheek.
"What's your price?" She leaned up and touched her lips to the corner of his mouth. He closed his eyes.
"More of that, for one." He was hoarse, and it made Belle's toes flex.
"Done." She kissed the other side of his mouth, then his lower lip, and then his top lip. When she leaned back into the pillow, his head followed her, until he opened his eyes and cleared his throat.
"The full price is doing this all day."
"How can I make breakfast if we're doing this?" she asked, pressing her fingers against the back of his head so that he would come to her, and she wouldn't have to strain her neck.
"You're a clever girl. You'll figure something out," he said, before pressing his lips to hers.
They'd ended up calling in a breakfast order to Granny's so that they could pick it up on the way to work. Belle had not been able to tear herself away from his lips, and judging by the way he felt pressed against her—and the way his hands convulsively clutched at her when they kissed, like he was fighting to keep them from roving—he felt the same.
He'd insisted that she stay in the car when they got to the diner, so she'd taken the opportunity to call Hook. It was 9:30, which meant that he would probably be sleeping off the alcohol, and Belle was just spiteful enough to be glad of it.
He picked up on the sixth ring, right before his phone went to voicemail.
"'Lo?"
"Hi!" Belle said, forcing brightness and volume. Hook groaned.
"Belle. No. Sleep."
"Oh, I'm sorry, is this a bad time?"
"Not sure. Depends on whether or not I throw up."
Belle felt a tiny twinge of guilt. He may have embarrassed her last night, but his interruption had done no lasting damage. Sure, it delayed the kissing, but it might have made their first kiss all the better because of it. It certainly hadn't made her throw up. Stupid guilt.
"Sorry. I'm on my way to work and I thought you wanted to talk?"
"I have to see Aurora. Let's go on a group date. You can bring your crocodile."
"I can't do that." It was a terrible idea on too many levels, the least of which being putting Hook and Gold at the same table for the second time.
"You must be exhausted." It sounded like Hook was waking up, his voice getting stronger. "Did he have to pop a Viagra first?"
"Oh, god." Belle went red to the tips of her toes. "We didn't have sex!"
"What? Why not? Was it because you didn't have condoms? Because I distinctly remember offering to bring you some."
"No!" She knew Hook wouldn't understand that kissing had been special and precious enough, and that sleeping cuddled up to him was perfect.
"Ugh. Tell me there was at least hands stuff."
The door to Granny's opened, and Raphael walked out, a plastic bag dangling on his arm and a coffee cup tray in his free hand. Belle turned so red, she was sure that he would notice.
"Killian, I am not having this conversation with you. And I have to go—Raphael's back."
"Okay, but we're having this conversation later. If I can't sleep with you, I at least want to know what it's like."
"Goodbye, Killian." She hung the phone up just as Raphael reached the car. In an effort to get the color to recede from her face, she bit her tongue, and was reasonably sure that she might get away with it once he saw her.
Then, he saw her, and she knew that he knew.
"What's wrong?" he asked, passing the bag to her, and then the coffee.
"Oh, nothing. Just paying Hook back for calling last night."
He climbed in, settling his cane on the seat behind him. Once he was buckled and ready to back out, he rested his hand on the gear shift and looked at her.
"What did he say about me?"
"Nothing about you, per se." She leaned over to kiss him, and he met her halfway, moving his hand from the stick to her thigh. Working was going to be difficult if they couldn't keep their lips to themselves.
After a few seconds, he pulled back to stare at her. Then, his lip curved, and she blushed all over again. "I see."
"We should get to work," she said, reaching to squeeze his hand before moving it back to the gear shift. "We'll be late."
"Mm," he said, and Belle chose to ignore the way he looked near chuckles in favor of pretending that he had no idea what her conversation with Hook had been about.
The drive to school took about two minutes, and Belle was glad that Raphael never asked for more clarification. When they got out, he insisted on carrying the breakfast bag, so she put their coffees back in the tray and carried those, because she wanted him to have a free hand.
They gravitated together as they walked, and by the time they were a parking space away from the car, they were close enough that their hands and arms brushed. Belle bit her lip to keep her face impassive, and when she glanced at Raphael's profile, his neck muscles stood out from the way he was clenching his jaw. He seemed to be content with them brushing together, but when Belle took it a step further and linked her pinky through his, he yanked his hand away and drifted sideways.
For a second, Belle fought the urge to laugh. Then, the fact that he had just recoiled from her sunk in, and she jumped sideways. She felt like her heart was collapsing into a black hole inside of her, and she tried to shove that away—there had to be a logical explanation for why he was now watching her like she was going to bite him, and why she suddenly repulsed him. She swallowed, and forced herself to look neutral.
"Belle," he said, scooting back next to her. "Belle, we can't."
"Because you're ashamed of me?" She was overreacting. She knew this, and yet she couldn't help that it scared her a little.
"No." He reclaimed his place next to her so fiercely, the thump of his cane echoed through the parking lot. "If anything, you should be ashamed of me."
Some of the clamminess receded to be replaced by a fuzzier sort of heat. "Is that why? I could never be ashamed of you, Raphael."
"I'm too selfish to care if you're ashamed of me, darling." He slid his arm around her, palm ghosting over the small of her back, and this soothed her pride a little bit.
"Then what's wrong?"
"Look at where we are." He gestured toward the school with his cane. "I am largely responsible for whether or not you get your Ph.D. I don't want anyone to think I've made a deal for your grades."
She was a little miffed that his explanation was so logical, and also that it struck such a chord within her. She leapt away from him, and he let out a humorless chuckle.
"It's all right if people think we're friends who date casually, but it can't be more than that. They can't see that we're—" He cleared his throat and looked away, and Belle was sure that she saw his ears turning red before he shook his hair out to cover them.
"But we're not!" she said, biting her lip.
He whipped his head back to stare at her, looking like a puppy who'd just watched someone eat a steak. "We're not?"
Belle glanced away, the blush showing up so much more on her pale skin than on his. "Well, not yet."
He let out a slightly hysterical chuckle, and when she looked back at him, he was looking away again.
They didn't look at each other at all on the walk inside, though Belle managed to school her expression into neutrality instead of awkward avoidance by the time they made it to the door. He held it for her, and she was careful not to let her body brush his.
"Should I stay in my cubicle this morning?" she asked, lowering her voice so that the quiet chatter in the hallway masked it.
"I don't think that's necessary."
They stood in front of the elevator in silence. Despite the fact that it was a Friday and most people didn't have class, the elevator took four minutes to get to the first floor. Belle chewed her lip, watching Gold's fingers tap the head of his cane with increasing speed as the minutes wore on, stopping only when the elevator binged its arrival.
By the time the doors closed behind them, Gold had her pressed against the wall, gripping her hip like he was afraid she'd float away. Their tongues clashed in clumsy, violent need, and Belle was so overwhelmed so quickly that she broke away with a gasping laugh.
"I thought we had to be sneaky," she whispered, as though they weren't in a sealed elevator.
"I don't see anyone looking." He ducked his head, grazing his lips along her jaw line. "Besides, the deal was all day."
"Ah, but I never got to play in the kitchen." She forced herself to keep her eyes open, even though she just wanted to lean back and close them while he touched his lips to every sensitive point on her neck.
"Tonight." He returned to her lips just as the elevator stopped on the fourth floor. "Then our deal will be fulfilled."
She slipped away from him and out the door, and he took longer than usual to make his way out as well. His office was tucked away back in a labyrinth of hallways—probably to dissuade visitors—and the walk was quieter and quieter the deeper into the building they went.
Once they reached his office and Belle had set the coffee down, she turned to him and chewed her lip. "I can't tonight. Once we leave here, I'm spending the day with Mulan."
He looked at her for a few seconds before turning away and shuffling the first thing he could grab on his desk. "Right. Of course. So, ah—when are you leaving?"
"After lunch, I guess. I need to call her. Do you want to go anywhere in particular?"
He looked at her like her question surprised him, like after spending the night in his house and kissing him in an elevator, she would somehow not want to continue to eat meals with him.
"Wherever you'd like," he murmured, setting down the papers he'd grabbed. He reached for his food with slow, careful motions, like it was something he needed to concentrate on and therefore he could not direct his attention at her. "Should I expect you tomorrow?"
In her effort to keep her snorting laughter in check, she ended up making a whinnying noise in the back of her throat. Raphael looked at her like he wasn't sure whether to be concerned or amused. How could he think that she was just going to ignore him? She almost wished that they hadn't been pseudo-dating for weeks so that he would have to ask her out. That way, she'd be able to say yes, and alleviate all of his worries.
"You should, unless you plan on kicking me out before midnight," she said, hoping he would catch her drift. When he just blinked at her, eyes narrowed in confusion, she sighed. "I'll come over tonight. After dinner?"
"Oh." He stared at her before ducking his head and going back to moving the box of food around on the desk. "Right."
Satisfied, Belle took her seat, pulling her own box toward her and lifting the lid.
"How do you know I want you there?" Raphael asked.
Belle looked up, preparing her retort, and then did a double-take of the contents in her box. It was French toast, as she'd requested, but it was not in Granny's usual style. Belle liked hers with powdered sugar and fruit, if possible. She was forever scraping butter off when they brought it, despite her constant reminders that she wanted none, and using granulated sugar packets because a waitress other than Ruby or Granny was working at the time, and didn't bring her any powdered.
This order of French toast was sprinkled with the perfect amount of powdered sugar. There were sliced strawberries garnishing it, and she imagined that it would have looked quite pretty before the car ride and theatrics in the parking lot. Either Raphael had done this, or Raphael had threatened to get this done for him. When she looked up, he was watching her like she might explode.
"I'll bring dinner," she said, and the smile he tried to hide was enough to sate her for the afternoon.
Hook had somehow coerced his way into being invited that afternoon. Most of his arguments had centered around not wanting Aurora to be a third wheel, once he figured out that wanting to have sex with her would not sway Belle's opinion. She was meeting him in front of Granny's now, before they met the other women, so that she could give him a pre-outing lecture. He only had to behave for three hours—once Belle had told Mulan that she had unbreakable dinner plans, Mulan had decided that they should leave tonight, instead of early the next morning.
He surprised her from behind, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and winning himself a yelp of surprise.
"Hey," she said. When she tried to pull away and face him, he kept his arm around her, facing her only in profile.
"Hello, love. All right, here's the plan for Aurora. I'm going to distract her so that you and Mulan can bond, and afterwards, she's going to be smitten."
Belle decided that her time would be better spent watching the street for signs of her friends than trying to convince Hook that he was crazy, so she just rolled her eyes and let him keep talking.
"Did you do this when you met me?"
He stopped mid-way through a story about a similarly prude woman that he'd had once, his profile looking surprised to have been interrupted. "Of course not. You were easy. You gave me your phone number right away."
Belle puckered like she'd swallowed a lemon, and turned to look at him. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, hand open like a shield for the other side of his face. He was acting so strangely today, but Belle was more focused on what he was saying now.
"You think I'm easy?" She chewed her lip. Maybe everyone thought she was easy. Maybe that was why all of her previous boyfriends were the worst.
"Well, you're certainly easy to get along with." He squeezed her shoulder.
"That's not a real answer." She knew she wasn't easy. She did. She wasn't.
"Look, Belle, that's not what I m—"
He turned toward her and she cut him off with a tiny shriek, hands flying to her face. The splotchy bruise around his right eye was so purple, it was almost black, and his eye was swollen half-shut. He refused to look at her, instead pointing his face toward the ground and shaking the fringe of hair over his forehead to cover it.
"What happened?" She wanted to touch it, make sure it was all right, but she was afraid of hurting him more.
"Nothing, love." He laughed, and Belle narrowed her eyes.
"You didn't have a black eye when I saw you fourteen hours ago."
He ran a hand through his hair, biting his lip like he was fighting to hold words in. "God, fine, I was in a bar fight, okay?"
"Why didn't you tell me when you called me?" She folded her arms.
"Because it happened right after we hung up."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." He still wouldn't meet her eyes, though.
She watched him for a few seconds, while his hand drifted from his nose to his hair and back again over and over. There was something he wasn't telling her.
"Who was the fight with?"
He stared at her for a second as if he wasn't quite sure she was there. "Some guy."
Belle narrowed her eyes. "Which guy?"
"What makes you think I knew him?" He folded his arms, and Belle was about to list all of his suspicious behavior as valid reasoning, but then he threw his arm out. "Aurora's here!"
"This conversation isn't over," Belle said, before turning to greet Mulan.
Three and a half hours later, Belle had bid Mulan an almost-tearful goodbye, and she and Hook sat alone at a booth in Granny's, drinking milkshakes. She decided not to mention the fact that he was staring off into space until he was so unfocused that he chased his straw around the glass three times.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"I gave Aurora my phone number."
"You gave her yours?"
"I know." He shook his head, snatching his straw and shoving it into his mouth. "I don't know what's gotten into me."
"I would like to know what got into you last night," she said, staring at his eye. "Why did you try to hide it from me? I'd expect you to brag about a bar fight."
"Dammit." He wrinkled his nose. "You know me too well. Fine. The fight was with—" He mumbled something, and Belle leaned forward.
"What was that?"
He mumbled again, sighing when she pursed her lips. "Gaston. It was with Gaston."
Her eyes widened. "He was there?"
"Victor brought him. We all went together. Ruby came, too, and so did a few of my friends. Anyway, Gaston heard me say I was off to call you, and he came outside after and we got into a fight."
"Hook!"
"What?" Hook pressed a hand to his heart. "You should be sorry for me, not mad! I didn't even throw any punches. He knocked me onto the floor in the first go. All I could do was kick his shins. And then I laid there for a bit until Victor came out and took a look at me."
Belle tried not to snicker at Hook's look of outrage, and instead reached across the table to pat him on the hand.
"I'm sorry that he punched you, but really, I am glad that you didn't start it. Would you like me to go beat him up?"
"No." Hook clucked his tongue, looking away. "I don't need some tiny little thing fighting my battles for me."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you're all tiny and delicate, and I'm supposed to be big and strong enough to protect both of us." He gestured at himself. "So next time I see your man, I'll punch him myself."
"He's not my man," Belle said, chewing her lip to keep from smiling. "And you shouldn't go around punching people."
Hook leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Speaking of men—you never told me about your crocodile."
"There's nothing to tell," she said, but she could feel the blush rising in her cheeks.
"Come on, you can tell me anything." He fluttered his eyelashes, and Belle looked down at the table, shaking her head.
"Really, there's nothing. We kissed, and then spent the night in the same bed."
"Naked?"
She shook her head. "He was even wearing a shirt the whole time."
"This is the most boring story. Did you at least do things on his desk?" He wiggled his eyebrows.
"No! We have to be subtle at work. I can't even tell Ruby or Mary Margaret, except to say that sometimes, we go on dates. But they already knew that."
"Yeah, whatever." Hook waved a hand, looking at her like he was trying to solve a riddle. "You have ugly underwear, don't you?"
Belle's jaw sagged, and she drew her eyebrows together. "What does that—" She stopped, considering the question, and then her underwear. She had been wearing the same group of plain, cotton bikinis for about five years, and she had never before cared what sort of bra she got, as long as it was hidden under her clothing and cheap.
"Oh." She chewed her lip. "Oh, shoot. I've never cared about what people think of my underwear before."
"Right. We're going shopping, then." Hook stood up, sucking down the rest of his milkshake.
"What?" Belle didn't move, eyes widening. "Can't I go with Ruby?"
"You can't tell Ruby, can you?" He grinned. "Come on, love. It's time we sexed you up."
This was how Belle found herself at the mall with Hook, sneaking through to the lingerie sections in the hopes that no one would see them. Gold always seemed to be around at the least convenient times, and she wasn't sure that she would be able to explain away Hook's presence while she looked at lacy under things.
He had tried to take her to a lingerie boutique, and then Victoria's Secret, but Belle had ruled those out based on the balance of her bank account, so they ended up at the clearance rack at Macy's.
"What size are you?" Hook asked, holding up a cherry red thong.
"I don't know, a medium?" She shrugged, pulling at a pair with roses all over it. "And I don't wear thongs. What do you think of these?"
"I could be convinced to tear them off of you with my teeth."
"Is that a good thing?" she asked, trying to keep her cheeks from reddening.
"Oh, yes."
"Great." She settled it over her shoulder, and started flipping through the rack again. "I think I have a coupon. Should we look at bras next?"
"This is the best shopping trip I have ever been on." Hook sighed, pulling out a polka dotted pair and laying them over her shoulder as well. "Are you sure you don't want a thong?"
"Positive. How about these?" They were cream, with lacy trim, and prints of more flowers.
"I'm sensing a theme here. Those are edible, too."
She shook her head, forcing herself to keep looking. It took eleven pairs for Hook to be satisfied, and then they moved on to the clearance bra rack. Belle refused to tell him her size, because it was more average than big, and she didn't want him to make fun of her—or to ruin his expectations. Instead, she allowed him to find things for her, and then she would covertly find the right size.
Then, he tried to follow her into the dressing room.
"What are you doing?" She shoved at him, voice rising. "You can't come in!"
"How am I supposed to give my opinion?" he asked, pouting like a child who'd had his ice cream taken away.
"You aren't. I can give myself an opinion. You stay here."
He huffed and he puffed, but he couldn't do anything when she closed and locked the door, so he slid to the floor outside and waited. When she emerged five minutes later, she tossed a pile of the things that had fit at him.
"Do they all meet with your approval?"
He struggled to his feet, arms wrapped around the small pile. "You didn't like the red one?" He pointed to a tiny red thing with rhinestones that she was discarding.
"It didn't fit. And it made me look like a stripper."
"That's not a bad thing, Belle."
"Whatever, we're done. Let's go."
They had to walk through the men's section to find a register, and Belle thought nothing of it until she saw a familiar head above all the racks, and then a second familiar head half a foot below it.
"Oh god," she whispered, freezing.
"What?"
"Shh! Keep your voice down." She grabbed his elbow, yanking him behind a rack of novelty boxers and sleep pants.
"What is your problem?" Hook whispered.
She peeked over and pointed at Gaston's head. Hook crouched even lower as soon as he saw him.
"I feel like all we do is hide from people."
Belle agreed with this, but she didn't want to make herself sound like a crazy person, so she said nothing. "I'm going to get a better view so that we know when he leaves. Hang on."
She shifted around, gripping an orange fleece pant leg for balance. The pants, however, were not sturdy on the rack, and Belle was not as graceful as she'd like to think she was. They came free while she was relying on them for support as she pivoted on her toe, and with a shrieking yelp, Belle fell over.
"Oh my god, you are the clumsiest per—" Hook cut himself off with a strangled gurgle as he fell over Belle in an attempt to pick her up. He groaned and rolled onto his back, blanketed in all of Belle's new lingerie.
Belle took one look at him, and pressed a hand over her mouth to keep from snickering.
"This is your fault." He lifted his head, seemed to think better of it, and laid back down.
"I'm very sorry."
"Hey, are you guys—oh."
Belle and Hook looked up into Gaston's face, which had looked worried until he saw who he was concerned about. Belle could see how this might look bad—she and Hook lying together on the floor, next to boxers, covered in underwear. Still, she didn't think that it was a good enough reason for the way Gaston's face darkened, and fists clenched.
"You must really like being on your back."
It took Belle a second of pure anger at the implications of that to realize that this was not directed at her, but at Hook. Hook tried to lunge for Gaston, snarling, but his arm was trapped beneath Belle's.
Gaston snorted, and Belle started to struggle up herself to give him a piece of her mind—doing so last night had felt good—but then Hook made a noise like an enraged lion and kicked out, sweeping Gaston's legs from out beneath him.
Four minutes later, Belle, Hook, and Gaston were all sitting in the tiny security office. After Hook and Gaston had begun rolling around on the floor, screaming like hyenas, the one security officer had called for backup. It took three of them plus Belle to drag the men apart, and then the third officer had turned against her, holding her arms behind her back and walking her along with the other men to a holding room.
In addition to his black eye, Hook was now sporting a split lip, a bloody hand, and a blossoming bruise on his cheek. Gaston was lucky that he'd caught himself on a clothes rack, or he'd have been unconscious. Instead, his nose looked a little worse for wear.
Belle, who had been instrumental in stopping the scuffle—for neither of the men was willing to hit her—was not happy to be treated like a criminal as well. The man holding onto her wrists had also collected all of her purchases, and was clutching them in his free hand.
Part of her wanted to cry at the fact that someone thought she was breaking the law, which she had never done before, but another part wanted to rage against this mall cop, fondling all of her underwear. She settled for raging in the politest way she could.
"Is this really necessary, sir?" She looked back at her captor, and he squeezed her wrists. It made her skin crawl. "This obviously wasn't my fault."
"Well, ma'am, I'm afraid that, until we figure out what part you played in starting it, we're going to have to take you in."
"You're just fucking mall cops," Hook said, almost wrenching himself away from the plump guard securing him. "It's not like you can do anything."
"I wouldn't be so disrespectful if I were you."
The guards shoved the three of them into the office, prodding them until they were all seated. The man who'd been holding Belle—whose nametag read 'GARRICK HORDOR'—went around securing their hands behind their backs with shoelaces.
"I don't think this is legal," Belle said, scowling. "And I didn't do anything. Can't you just restrain them?"
"Oh, thanks, just throw me under the bus," Hook said, glaring as Officer Hordor stroked the back of Belle's wrist. She tried to fidget away, but she was smaller than everyone else in the room, and she fit snugly around the chair.
"This is all your fault, Belle," Gaston said.
"Excuse me? How is this my fault?" She jumped in her chair to get it to face him, glaring. "You are the one who decided to pick a fight. Tell me—was punching him worth this hassle? Was it necessary? And you." She lurched the chair toward Hook. "Couldn't you have just left well enough alone? Did you think it was worth it?"
For the first time, Hook and Gaston exchanged looks that weren't filled with rage. Then, they both shrugged.
"Yeah, pretty much," Hook said, Gaston nodding along.
Belle glared, then jumped her chair around and away from both of them. "If this makes me late to see Raphael, you will both wish that this had never happened."
"Who the hell is that?" Gaston asked, but Belle just turned away more, tugging at her stupid shoelace bonds.
"Ah, ah, ah," Hordor said, coming to perch on the table next to her. "Don't make me hold onto you myself." He rested a booted foot on the bottom rung of her chair.
"This is ridiculous," she informed him, wishing his knees weren't touching hers. "I didn't do anything. I helped you break it up. Could you please just untie me and let me go buy my things?" The pile of lingerie was sitting on the edge of the table, and she pointed her nose at it.
Hordor was quiet for a second, leering at her, and Belle consider leaping backwards towards Hook. "I could be persuaded to let you go."
"Ew," Hook said, voice raised. "You're supposed to be keeping people safe, not hitting on them."
The other security guards seemed to have gone temporarily deaf, and kept their attention focused on Gaston and Hook.
"All I'm saying is that it doesn't need to be this way." He shrugged.
Belle was sure that, were Raphael there, he would have a few things to say to the mall cop. He might even say them with his cane. She wished she could call him, but with her hands tied, she wouldn't be calling anyone. Instead, she tilted her head back over the chair to look at Hook.
"Dr. Gold is going to be so angry."
It was like she'd thrown a bucket of ice over the guards. All three of them turned to look at her. Hordor was the only one who didn't look frightened, and instead, continued to leer.
"Dr. Gold. Really? Is that your best shot at freedom?"
"I'm sorry?" Belle frowned. "What are you talking about?"
But Hook seemed to understand something better than she did, because he scooted his chair closer and raised his voice. "He's very fond of her. You better hope he doesn't find out she's here."
"We should let her go," the pudgy guard said. "I need this job. I got kids."
"Don't worry, Anthony. They're bluffing." Hordor flashed Belle his teeth. "You can't name drop to get what you want in here, babe."
"This isn't jail, for fuck's sake," Hook said. "You literally have no power. The only thing you can do is call the real cops."
Hordor did not seem bothered by this. "Which we did."
Belle was bothered. "But I haven't done anything! I should be allowed a phone call. Can I have a phone call? I'll call Dr. Gold and he'll come get me."
"Oh, sure, you'll call Dr. Gold." Hordor chuckled. "How far are you going to take this lie?"
"Pretty far," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just untie one hand, and you can tie my other to the chair."
He considered this for a few seconds, then hopped off the table. "Fine. I'll call your bluff."
He touched her hands and forearms far more than necessary to untie and retie her wrists, but she was soon free to reach for her cell phone. She hated to use her association with him to get out of things, but it seemed to be the only way that she wasn't going to be arrested for doing nothing.
"So who are you actually calling?" Hordor asked once she'd dialed, and had the phone pressed to her ear. "Parents? Friend? No one?"
Gold picked up on the second ring. "Hello?"
"Hi. I hate to ask this, but can you come to Macy's?"
Hordor still did not look convinced.
"Macy's? Do you need money?"
"No, no." She shook her head. "I'm in the security office."
There was silence. Then, "I'm on my way."
She hung up and stuffed the phone back into her pocket, feeling smug. As soon as her hands were free, Hordor was back at her side, tying her wrist to the chair with a whole new lace.
"He's on his way," she said, and Hordor snorted.
"Sure he is, sweetheart."
The pudgy officer, however, was not so quick to dismiss her. He inched around the side of the room, followed by the third. "Well, it looks like you got this under control, Garrick. I'll be seeing you." They were gone before Hordor could reprimand them.
It was not a comfortably silent seven minutes that they sat there. For the most part, Hordor leered at Belle, making a comment or wiggling his eyebrows every other minute, while Hook and Gaston took turns trying to knock each other's chairs down. Belle would have happily endured this for longer, as long as it meant that the real cops hadn't arrived yet.
When the door flew open, Hordor looked up in delight. All the color drained from his face, however, when he saw that it was Dr. Gold standing there, looking calm and blank.
"Dr. Gold," Hordor said, leaping off the table.
"What is going on here?"
"I helped him break up a fight between those idiots, and he arrested me," Belle said, glaring at the guard.
Gold turned to Hordor, both hands clasped over the head of his cane. "Untie her. Now."
"What about me?" Hook asked, while Hordor scrambled around to the back of Belle's chair.
Gold ignored him. "Don't touch her more than necessary."
Once Belle was free, she rubbed her wrists and stood up. Gold limped over to her, curling his arm around her waist. She was tempted to just leave, since associating with Gold apparently gave her immunity, but she felt bad leaving when Hook was just sitting there, bleeding all over his face.
"Killian was just defending my honor," she whispered, though this was not strictly true.
Hordor looked like he would have liked to tie Gold up, too, but the guard waited while he surveyed the room, eyes landing on Hook.
"Untie him, too." Gold pointed his chin. "And leave the other one."
Once Hook was free, he picked up Belle's merchandise and handed it to her. Without thinking, Belle took it, and it was only when Gold's arm tensed around her waist that she realized what was happening, and all of her hard work at picking out lingerie with which to surprise him was all for naught.
"Well, we'll be leaving now," Gold said, voice strangely hoarse. "See to it that you never touch my girlfriend again."
Hordor and Gaston both gaped as Gold turned Belle to lead her out, Hook lurching along behind them. Belle tried to hold in her smile at being called his girlfriend—after all, he may have just been saying that to upset the men in the room.
"Did you still need to get that?" he asked, glancing toward the bundle in her arms.
"Oh." She flushed. "Well—well, yes, I do. Would you mind, um, waiting outside?"
He raised an eyebrow, but she held her ground, face going redder by the second. He hadn't seen the pile in detail, and she'd be damned if she was going to let him watch a cashier scan and fold each item. After ten full seconds, he gave in.
"All right. I went grocery shopping. Do you want to come over once you're settled?"
She smiled. "I do. I'll meet you outside?"
He nodded. "First, I'm going to have a little chat with the security."
Belle could not argue with this, so she leaned over to peck him on the cheek before rushing off to a cash register. Hook followed, having a bit of trouble walking.
"You know," he said, sidling up next to her once she reached the counter. "I think I'm going to have to start being nicer to the crocodile. Maybe not include dick drawings with my monthly checks."
Belle shook her head, unloading her arms. "I think you need to take up yoga or something. You have too much rage."
"So are you going to have gratitude sex with him tonight?"
The cashier looked like she was trying not to be interested in the question as well, and Belle found herself blushing again.
"Shut up. Stay out of my sex life."
"Can't. I know what you're underwear looks like now."
He winked at her, and Belle considered punching his other eye until that one, too, was swollen shut.