Thanks to everyone who's been reading! I'm glad you all like it so much :D
They spent the weekend alternating between the bed and the kitchen, only venturing out Saturday morning for groceries and a full set of I Love Lucy DVDs. It was a rare occasion that they went any longer than the average episode time without making out. Belle wasn't sure whether or not it was too early for her to just leave a toothbrush in his bathroom, but she kept it in her travel bag just in case it was, even though Raphael did not seem inclined to let her go home any time soon.
When the alarm rang at 7:30 Monday morning, Belle couldn't protest, because Raphael had an early class to teach. He shut it off with a groan, then sat up to rub his eyes. They had become unaccustomed to getting out of bed in general over the weekend, and Belle didn't relish the idea of leaving her blanket tomb.
"Do you really need an hour and a half to get ready?" she asked, peeking up at him over the sheets.
He sat still for a few seconds, then leaned over to fiddle with his alarm. "I think I can afford to lose half an hour." He wrapped himself around her, and then the alarm was beeping again all too soon and they were both groaning themselves upright.
"All right, all right, I'll get out of bed." Belle stretched, trying to snuggle back into his side.
"That's not getting out of bed, sweetheart."
"Are you sure you want to? Is it really worth it?"
He rested his chin on top of her head, hands clasped over his stomach. "It's going to take more than you pouting up at me to convince me to sacrifice my reputation."
"Is it?" She reached for his hands, forcing her fingers between his so that he would have to hold them. "Because you're not looking at me, and if you were so sure you could resist, you would be."
She felt his head move on top of hers, but he still couldn't see her face.
"I'm going to shower, and leave you here to consider your next move," he said, disentangling himself. "Because you have lost this round."
"I'll rally the troops," she said.
When he emerged from the bathroom clad only in his boxers, toweling his hair dry, Belle was still in bed in her pajamas, but she had been joined by a tray with tea, toast, jelly, and strawberries. He shook his hair out, pausing when his eyes fell on the display.
"What kind of jelly would you like this morning?" she asked, voice prim as she lifted the butter knife.
"Blackberry. And I'll eat while I get dressed."
She had counted on this, and was prepared to combat him, but all she did for the moment was agree and start to jelly his toast for him. She knew that he took forever to pick things out from his closet before ever putting anything on, so she waited until he was about to emerge before smearing jelly on her lips, and letting a drop fall to her neck.
"Oh, shoot, it's getting everywhere," she said, which got his attention.
"Are the sheets—" He froze, watching her, and then dropped his armful of Dolce and Gabbana onto his dresser before crawling back into bed next to her. "Fine." He leaned down to lick the side of her neck. "You win this round. Give me the jelly."
She left him rushing to his classroom at 9:25, the latest he claimed to have ever been. She didn't even get the chance to kiss him goodbye, because they were riding the elevator up with some of his students. Her neck was a bit stickier than usual, though she'd tried to clean it off at the house, so after walking Raphael to his classroom so that he could avoid any awkward interactions with the girls going in the same direction, she headed for the bathroom.
Ruby and Mary Margaret ambushed her the second the door closed, like they'd been hiding around the corner, waiting for her. Belle jumped, glad that she'd left her bag on the bench outside, because it was likely that she'd have spilled everything.
"Good m—"
"We have to talk to you," Ruby said, sidling up to her left while Mary Margaret took her right.
"Oh?"
Mary Margaret nodded her agreement. Belle was almost positive that this would be about Raphael, and she prepared her explanations. As much as she wanted to tell someone that she had spent the weekend being lazy in bed with him, that someone couldn't be Ruby. She'd have to wait for Hook.
Ruby checked to make sure the bathroom was otherwise empty before glaring at her in the mirror. "What's going on with you and Dr. Gold?"
"Nothing!" She made a mental note to practice lying sometime, because she was still terrible at it. Ruby and Mary Margaret each raised an eyebrow. "We're just casually dating. It's very casual."
Mary Margaret's eyes widened, but Ruby's narrowed, and Belle knew she was never going to be able to wash her neck now.
"So you're sleeping together?"
Belle went pink. "No!" That, at least, wasn't a lie. Yet. "We just go out sometimes. He's lonely, you know? And we were already going to lunch every day. Is dinner that different?"
Ruby considered this, exchanging looks with Mary Margaret. Belle wished she knew what the consensus they came to was, but Ruby was much better at concealing her thoughts.
"That makes sense, yeah." She shrugged. "Okay."
Belle tried not to visibly relax. "Great."
"Does he want to come tomorrow?"
Belle blinked, turning to look at Ruby's actual face, instead of the one in the mirror. "What? What's tomorrow?"
"Halloween," Mary Margaret supplied, pursing her lips. "You can't leave me alone to match Hook."
"Oh, shoot." Belle chewed her lip. She didn't think Raphael would appreciate anything about Halloween, much less going out to a bar with her friends. "I don't know."
"Well, if you're just casually dating, then he can't stop you from going," Ruby pointed out.
Belle had to admit that she was a clever one.
"Well, of course I'll be there," she said, trying to hide the fact that she had been considering skipping out. "I just don't know about Dr. Gold."
"We'll invite him." The smile Ruby gave her was all fangs. Belle tried not to shrink away.
"I don't know—"
"Well, you said he was lonely, right? So it would be a nice gesture if we invited him." Ruby shrugged, and Belle did not know how to respond to this. She had been bested.
"Well, all right. He's in class right now, but he'll be done at—"
"10:45, I know."
Belle met Ruby's gaze, and then deflated with a sigh of air. "All right. I'm going to go get some grading done, then."
"Great!" Ruby squeezed her arm. "See you later, then."
She and Mary Margaret disappeared as quickly as they'd arrived, leaving Belle to sponge off her neck. Once she was clean, she retrieved her bags and all but ran down to her cubicle. She wasn't hiding from Dr. Gold, per se, but she did think it would be best if she wasn't around when he was ambushed.
When Jefferson walked by and saw her in her cubicle, he did a double-take.
"Trouble in paradise, Bluebell?"
She looked up from her book, wary of the grin Jefferson was giving her. "Paradise?"
"You're not in Dr. Gold's office." He rapped his fingers on her desk. "Something wrong again?"
Again? She had almost forgotten that it had been less than a week since she had last been in her cubicle. She felt like she'd spent months in Raphael's bed.
"Ruby wants to invite him out with us on Halloween. I don't want to be there for it." It made her sound so much more like a coward when said out loud, and Jefferson's raised eyebrow only cemented that fact. She groaned. "I should warn him, shouldn't I?"
"Just think of how funny it'll be if you don't."
If Jefferson approved of something, it usually meant that Belle didn't, so she pursed her lips and dived for her phone, decided. Jefferson whistled as he walked off to his cubicle.
Raphael wasn't finished with class yet, so the best she could do was send a text and hope that he got it before Ruby got to him.
There's a surprise waiting for you in your office.
She paused to consider that this may give him the wrong impression, but then reasoned that, if she gave him the right impression, there was nothing to stop him from avoiding his office for the rest of the afternoon, and then Ruby would interrogate her, and she was not sure how much longer she could hold up under the pressure.
An hour later, her phone buzzed.
Come to my office immediately. I have an important matter to discuss with you.
Did that mean that Ruby had asked him already, or did he actually have an important matter to discuss with her? Maybe he was just concerned that she had not been in his office. If Ruby hadn't been waiting for him, he must have thought she was rejecting his company.
"Shoot," she said, stuffing her book into her bag before rushing out of the room so quickly, all of the bag's contents almost spewed out.
She took the stairs, tripping more times than she cared to admit, and flew into Raphael's office with her chest heaving. He was standing by the door, and had to press himself to the wall to avoid being snagged by her runaway book bag.
"In a hurry?" He shut the door, then just stood and watched her get her things settled around her usual chair.
"Didn't want you to feel neglected!" She perched on the edge of his desk, clasping her hands in her lap.
"I see." He walked over to her, leaning on the arm of her abandoned chair. "That wasn't the surprise I was expecting."
"What surprise?" She just wanted to make sure that Ruby had already asked him, and that something else hadn't happened. She didn't want to give it away if he didn't already know.
"Imagine my shock when I came back to my office to find Miss Lucas and Miss Blanchard instead of you."
Belle pressed her lips together, tapping her ankles against his desk. "And did you have a nice chat?"
He looked at her without moving just long enough that she started chewing her lip. He clasped both hands over the head of his cane, and then something in his face shifted, and he was no longer really looking at her. "Do you not want me there tomorrow? Is that why you never mentioned it?"
It had not occurred to Belle the impression that having Ruby ask him might leave, and she cursed herself for not thinking of it. She was going to have to take better note of his insecurity in the future.
"Of course I want you there." She hopped off the table, reaching for his hand before she had steadied herself. His hand met hers halfway there, squeezing hard so that she could use it to stabilize. "I didn't think you would want to go."
"And you thought the best way to convince me was to have someone else invite me?" He kept his hand in hers, but made no motion to pull her closer or tighten his grip.
"No, of course not." She pulled herself over to him, and squeezed his fingers. "But I couldn't tell Ruby about us, so she thought she was being friendly. Besides, I'm awful at lying and it's getting really hard to keep Ruby out of the loop."
He opened his mouth, and then closed it. His eyebrows knitted together and for a few seconds, he was silent. "Oh." He looked at her, then pulled his hand away so that he could wrap his arm around her waist. "So you want me there?"
"Do you want to come?" She looked up at him. "I didn't think you would."
"No." He tightened his grip on her waist. "But I'll go for you."
"I don't want to make you do something you don't want to, and since it's not my birthday, I'm not going to try to guilt you into going."
"Are you dressing up?" He turned toward her, and the tilt of his mouth made her shiver.
"Of course. It's Halloween."
"Then I'll be there."
Belle's protests about staying at Raphael's house on a weeknight had all been deflected with careful reasoning, helped along by the fact that she never actually wanted to leave his house because it was perfect. The logical part of her brain, however, knew that she shouldn't spend all of her nights there at this stage in their relationship, and so she had reasoned that she would go home to her own home on Halloween. She brought all of her things back to her apartment on Tuesday morning, though Raphael put forth a valiant effort to stop her from doing so, and then left without him an hour early that afternoon.
They were all meeting at Mary Margaret's house to get ready, since it was the biggest. Though they had at least four hours before they had to leave, Ruby had a lot of beautifying to do, and Belle was surprised at how busy the afternoon turned out to be. She was somehow still rushing to put her mascara on as they were walking out the door, and barely had time to gather all of her things in a pile on Mary Margaret's floor before she was being hurried out.
In comfortable shoes, the walk to Goldmine would have been reasonable, but Belle was feeling the ache from her stilettos before they were even halfway there. Mary Margaret had offered to drive, especially since it was in the forties and she was the only one wearing anything even remotely warm, but Ruby had put her foot down, as she always did. It was Halloween, and she intended for all of them to get trashed.
Goldmine was relatively empty when they got there, but it was only eight, and Belle knew that it wouldn't be long before the bar was packed. It had a reputation for being the best bar in town, and while other bars were boasting costume contests and Halloween drink specials to get some of the holiday crowd, that wouldn't take away any of Goldmine's success.
"There's Victor," Ruby said as they breezed by the bouncer. Everyone knew Ruby, so no one questioned the state of their IDs. She pointed toward the bar, where Victor was standing with Hook and two men that Belle had never seen before.
They squeezed their way over with no shortage of men stopping to gawk. Ruby wasn't wearing a costume so much as a red sequined slip and devil horns, and it was attracting about as much attention as Belle expected it to. Belle's own costume was racier than anything she'd ever warn before as well, and she tried not to notice how many of the stares flicked to her.
"Belle! There you are, love. And Mary Margaret! I thought you'd never arrive." Hook hopped off his barstool showing off his costume in all its glory. He had a well-tailored red coat, one that Belle knew had to have cost him a fortune, and a plumed red hat. In one hand, he was holding a hook, and in the other, an amber drink.
"Oh, Hook, I love your outfit," Belle said, surprised at how much she agreed with her own words. When Hook had told her that it had become tradition, she assumed that he donned a hook and a shirt, to keep himself limber and visible to the ladies. Instead, not only was he wearing the coat and hat, he was even wearing leggings and buckle shoes.
"And you look perfect." He slung an arm around her shoulders. "Mary Margaret, you are a vision. A fucking vision. We're a shoo-in for the group costume contest."
"You think so?" Mary Margaret asked, biting her lip like she was trying to keep from smiling too much. At Hook's suggestion, she had dressed as Peter Pan, and Belle was surprised with how involved she'd gotten. Together, she and Hook were a perfect costume pair.
Belle, on the other hand, was feeling a little self-conscious about her own involvement in the group costume. "I should have bought a wig and just done Tinkerbell," she said, chewing her cheek. Since she wasn't dressed as Tinkerbell, she wasn't exactly matching, but she was dressed as a fairy. She'd gone for purple and black instead of green and white, and was pleased with the outcome, but still felt like she was going to be the losing link.
"We never found Tinkerbell wings, remember?" Hook said, tapping her on the nose. "These were perfect anyway. You look perfect. You can be that other fairy from that new thing. The dark one."
"Right. Tinkerbell's friend."
"Cheer up and have a drink. You look gorgeous. And look at that group." He pointed to a cluster of people in super hero t-shirts and jeans, with sheets draped over their backs. "They didn't even try."
"Fair point." Bracing herself on Hook's shoulder, she climbed onto the stool next to him. "Who'd you bring?"
He curled his arm around her waist before introducing her to his two friends, Will and Leroy, who didn't look at her with half as much interest as they looked at the drinks the bartender was pouring. Will was dressed as Smee, in a red had and blue striped shirt, but Leroy didn't appear to be costumed at all. Mary Margaret knew him, but when she tried to wave, he grunted her off.
"He's kind of antisocial," Mary Margaret said when Belle raised an eyebrow. "When's—"
She was interrupted by the bartender slapping two juice glasses in front of them, filled about an inch high with something milky and green.
"What's this?" Mary Margaret's forehead wrinkled.
Belle looked at Hook, who looked equally surprised to see the shots there.
"Melon ball. From those guys." The bartender jerked his head, and the three of them turned to see their mysterious benefactors.
"Who's that?" Hook asked, wrinkling his nose, but Belle and Mary Margaret were both flushed pink. A group of students was waving to them from the corner, and they raised their hands back.
"They're some of my students," Belle said, reaching around behind her for the shot.
"And some of mine," Mary Margaret added.
"Cheers."
They raised their glasses toward the group before chugging them back, and Hook cheered like he'd been the one to provide. The bartender took their glasses, and Belle could have used some water, but didn't want to order it with Hook paying such close attention. Instead, she swiveled on her stool to face the door, crossing her legs at the ankle.
"You know, you can't hang on me all night," she said, looking down at Hook's arm around her waist.
"'Course not. I can't have all the women thinking I'm taken. Don't be ridiculous."
"Well, could you move now? Raphael should be here soon."
"What?" He looked at her, eyebrows furrowed so tightly, they looked like a crippled caterpillar. "He's coming? Here? Tonight?"
"Yes, he's coming here, tonight." She glanced at Mary Margaret to see if she was listening, but her face was impassive and Belle had trouble deciding whether she was feigning disinterest or not.
"But I need you to be my wingwoman. Willie's useless." He jabbed a thumb behind him. "And what the hell is he going to do at a bar anyway?"
"I'll do my best to be a wingwoman," she promised, reaching over to squeeze his plastic hook.
"You promise?"
"I pro—"
"Oh my god, Belle." Mary Margaret's hand clamped down on Belle's forearm like a robot claw, squeezing hard enough that Belle winced.
"What? What's wrong?" She followed her friend's gaze to the door, and found Raphael. Breaking into a smile, she waved him over.
"How did you get him here?" Mary Margaret asked, face paler than Belle had ever seen it.
"You invited him, remember?" She couldn't recall Mary Margaret ever being this afraid of Dr. Gold, but maybe something had happened between the invitation and now. She wouldn't have been too surprised to learn that he had done something terrifying, like threaten her students or her family.
"No, I didn't!"
"He said you were there—with Ruby?" Belle tried to keep the confusion off her face, because she was watching Raphael thread his way toward her, and didn't want to alarm him. From where she stood, he didn't seem to have done anything costume-wise, but she would wait for that judgment until he had made his way over.
"What?" Mary Margaret turned to her, looking like she'd just seen the ghost of someone who'd wanted to kill her. "Ruby invited him?"
"Wait." Belle gave an apologetic wave to Raphael—who was now stuck behind a group of bulky football players—and turned to Mary Margaret. "Who are you talking about?"
A man in a flannel shirt cut through the football players, beckoning to Raphael to follow. Mary Margaret's eyes widened, and she leaned in to whisper, "David!"
No one had mentioned David's name in weeks, and Belle didn't connect it with the man leading Raphael until he stopped in front of Mary Margaret's frozen, horror-stricken face. Raphael sidled over to Belle as though nothing was happening, and she assumed that this meant that David's presence was his fault. She hoped it was a good thing.
"Hey, Mary Margaret," David said, hands stuffed in his pocket.
It felt like the whole bar had stopped to watch the interaction, but it was just Belle and Hook who were now leaning closer. Gold was standing a couple inches from Belle's knees, hands draped over the head of his cane, looking somewhere to the left while the corners of his mouth twitched.
Mary Margaret swallowed, and Belle tapped the side of her foot with her toes, for support. "David. What are you doing here?"
"I left Kathryn."
Mary Margaret opened her mouth, then closed it into a tiny o. Her mouth did the same thing twice more, before she turned to Belle. "What?"
"He left Kathryn," she repeated, hoping that was his wife and not another mistress on the side or something.
"Yeah—uh, Gold's helping us with the divorce papers."
Mary Margaret looked from Gold to David, and then back to Belle. Was she expected to interpret? With the look Mary Margaret was giving her, she knew she had to at least do something.
"Hi, David. I'm Belle." She stuck her hand out. "It's nice to meet you. Would you like to join us?"
David looked at her as if he was just noticing her, and then hastened to shake her hand. Then, he looked at Raphael, who was staring off to the left, eyes blank.
"Uh, sure. That is—if Mary Margaret doesn't mind."
Mary Margaret looked at him, then at Gold, who Belle was pleased to see was twitching his lips in encouragement. When she turned back to David, she was chewing the corner of her lip. "You're not wearing a costume."
"Oh." He fumbled around in his flannel pocket before coming up with a set of plastic fangs. After affixing them to his teeth, he smiled. Mary Margaret offered a small one in return, and reached for David's hand.
Satisfied that Mary Margaret was going to be okay, Belle turned to Raphael, who stepped closer to her without her even having to pull him.
"And where's your costume?"
He was standing close enough that she could have touched her forehead to his, but she was sure that, had any of the students seen Dr. Gold walk in, they would be staring, so she didn't. Instead, she allowed her hand to drift by her thigh, and his cane found its way over there as well, and then she draped hers over his while Hook moved his knee to block them from view.
"It's right here." He gestured to himself with his free hand. He was wearing a charcoal suit, with a dark grey waistcoat and emerald tie. His pocket square was peach.
"You're dressed the same as you always are."
"I'm in festive colors." He pointed between his pocket square and tie. "See? Pumpkin."
She wanted to glare, but he was giving her the tiny smile to which she was becoming accustomed, and it still made her feel like her body was made of cotton candy. She wrapped her free fingers around his lapel under the guise of straightening it. "Do you have sunglasses or something? You could be a secret service agent."
"Of course I don't have sunglasses. We're in a dark bar." He gestured around to the packed room, which was dim enough to make unhindered vision difficult. He put his hand over hers. "Let's just say I'm dressed as a lucky man, with a beautiful date."
It wasn't like she could argue with that. She tightened her fingers over his, and he took a half step closer. "Well, you have a very convincing costume, then."
"It helps that my date looks beautiful, as expected."
"Ugh." Hook slapped his empty glass on the counter next to Belle's elbow, making her jump. "You guys are disgusting."
"Shut up," Raphael said, dropping Belle's hand so that he could move closer to her other side and the bar.
"Don't fight," Belle said, glaring at Hook. "You'll just have to share me."
"Share?" Raphael scrunched his mouth, glaring sideways at Hook. "I think not."
"Me too." Hook folded his arms.
Belle shrugged. "Well, then I'll just go stand with Ruby and flirt with the men around her." She pointed to the cluster surrounding Ruby. Raphael moved so that their sides were pressed together, and if he'd been a wolf, his hackles would have been up.
"Fine, but it's my turn now."
It took Hook two drinks and half an hour to decide that it was his turn, and then Belle had to concede because she had promised to be his wingwoman, and he had found a target. In exchange for her services, he had made himself a human wall so that Belle could kiss Raphael before leaving him at the bar. She wasn't worried about Ruby and Mary Margaret anymore—Ruby looked like she was trying to make Victor jealous, and Mary Margaret was too wrapped up in David to notice much—but the students were still there, and she knew they looked every so often.
"Hook, I don't know how to be a wingwoman," Belle said, allowing him to tow her toward a petite blonde dressed as a bunny. "I can only mimic lines I've seen on TV."
"It's okay, I just need you to stand by and swoon when I deliver my line, and make it look like any girl would be lucky to have me. Can you do that, love? Can you swoon?"
"I look stupid swooning alone," she said, chewing her lip. "Can't you get Leroy to stand with me?"
"One sec." He stopped them a few feet away from the girl, and tapped a man in a toga on the shoulder. He was at least as tall as Gaston, as were his two toga-clad friends, and both Belle and Hook had to look up to see them.
"Yeah?" he asked.
"Could you stand with my friend for a minute? She hates being lonely." Hook winked, and Belle was too surprised to let out the indignant splutter building in the back of her throat. She should have dragged Mary Margaret.
"Yeah, sure." Toga Man grinned, turning to face Belle. She had to step back to see his face. "I'm Joe."
"Belle," she said, glancing over at Raphael. He was watching like a snake.
"Nice costume. Can I buy you a drink?"
"Um." She tried to listen to what Hook was saying, since they were only about a foot apart, but he was facing the other way, and it was hard to make it out. He had coordinated them so that she and the bunny were in direct eye-contact, however, so she tried to base her own reactions on the other woman's face. "No, thanks. I've got one."
It was only when he furrowed his brow that she realized she'd left her sex on the beach with Raphael, and that she now just looked like a terrible liar. She was opening her mouth to fix it when Hook kicked her ankle, and she tripped forward.
"Oh, he's so romantic," she said, trying to turn her stumble into a swoon.
Toga Joe caught her, looking confused, and Belle tried to shoot Hook a wistful look that the bunny would see, but then all of their efforts were halted by one of the other toga wearers stepping forward and shouting, "Hey!"
He barreled between Belle and Joe, and Belle stumbled backward, catching herself on some poor girl dressed as a tiger. Hook had about half a second to realize that he was a target before the man was grabbing him by the expensive collar. The bunny gasped, hands flying to her mouth.
"Who the hell do you think you are, asshole?" he yelled, looming over Hook. "That's my girlfriend."
Hook raised his hands, but was grinning like a languid cat, as if he wasn't being held by the collar by a man twice his size. "Well, maybe you should pay more attention to her."
Belle skidded over, trying not to fall. "Hey!" When only Hook looked at her, she tugged on Toga's hairy arm. "Let go of him. You can't beat someone up because your girlfriend was flirting with them. If you don't want her to flirt with respectful, charming men, then maybe you should learn to be more respectful and charming yours—"
He flung her off his arm like he was swatting a fly, and Belle tumbled back again. Hook had managed to wrest himself free, though, and he caught her before anything horrible could happen. Toga advanced on them again, though Belle suspected it was Hook he was after. Before he could take more than a step, there was a resounding crack—the crash of wood against flesh.
He let fly a string of curses, hunching sideways to reveal Raphael standing behind him, cane poised to strike. Belle's eyes widened, and she all but sagged against Hook as now Gold advanced on his foe.
While no one in the bar had stopped what they were doing before, now that Dr. Gold was in the mix, there was silence.
"Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?" Gold hissed, focused on his retreating prey. "It's not polite to hit a lady."
Belle found her voice and stepped forward, Hook's hand a comforting weight under the wings on her back. "He didn't hit me! It's okay."
Gold's eyes flashed to her, but that was the only indication he gave that he'd heard. Maybe this was why everyone was so afraid of him.
"Hey, I didn't hit her, she was—" He was interrupted by the whip-like crack of Gold's cane hitting his forearm.
"Stop!" Belle lurched forward, half walking, half sliding in her heels. "I'm okay." She latched onto Raphael's arm, regaining her balance. Gold stood still and panted, but he didn't take his eyes off the man in front of him, who was holding his wrist like he was afraid it would split in two.
"You're fucking crazy, old man."
With a snarl that was more rabid dog than human, Gold reared back. Belle didn't have time to gather her courage, and could only leap blindly for his arm and hope her weight would stop him. She knew that he wouldn't hurt her on purpose, but a small part of her feared that she'd be caught in the cane's path. Toga let out a high-pitched noise that he would likely not admit to later, arms flying up to cover his face.
"Stop. Raphael, please."
He had to throw his cane forward because of momentum, but she could tell the difference in his stance as soon as the words left her mouth. Instead of whipping it through the air, he slashed downward, tapping it twice on the ground before regaining his balance. Belle let out the breath she'd been holding, and clung tighter to his arm.
Gold didn't look at her. He had his gaze leveled at the other man, somehow managing to not look like he was looking up at him, even though he was almost a foot taller.
"Get. Out." His voice was low, but he commanded a room's presence like he commanded his classroom's, and there wasn't anyone within range who didn't hear what he said.
"You can't—"
Gold raised his cane. "I said, 'get out.'"
After one last look around, the man screwed his face up like he wanted to speak, but didn't take long to start walking. The crowd parted for him, and he beckoned his friends to follow. When he beckoned his bunny girlfriend, however, she hesitated. Belle, still clinging to Raphael's arm, looked at her.
"You should stay if you want to," she said.
The woman chewed her lip, then straightened up. Toga spared her a glare before making his way out, leaving them in the only silent bar Belle had ever been in. The only noise in the room was Michael Jackson.
With everyone staring, Belle felt her stomach sink. She knew she was going to have to explain things to a lot of people, but mostly she was sure that her night was about to be cut short.
"We should probably go," she whispered.
"Yeah." He nodded once, shifting so that her arms rested more comfortably around his. She squeezed his elbow, giving him a smile that she hoped would calm him down, and reassure him that she wasn't mad at him.
As soon as he took a step forward, the entire bar erupted into cheers. They froze.
"What—" Raphael looked at Belle, as though she could explain what was happening.
"I don't—"
"God, that guy was such a douche," someone near the front said.
"Yeah, he was in here all the time, and no one ever stands up to him. Fuck that guy."
People shouted their assent, and then there was some jostling, and a clear path to the bar appeared. The bartender set three shots down. "That guy's been a pain in my ass every week. These are on the house."
The bar erupted into cheers again. Belle didn't move, and neither did Raphael, but Hook made his way past them and to the shots, claiming his third. He looked like someone had just announced that it was his birthday.
"Well, come on then. I guess I owe you now, crocodile."
Belle and Raphael looked at each other, and then made their way over to the bar as the cheers died down, and people went back to their conversations.
"What is it?" Raphael asked, wrinkling his nose.
Hook downed his, swirling the dregs around in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing. "Whiskey. Cheap."
Raphael shook his head. "No, thank you."
"Oh, come on. Don't be such a wet blanket. Here, Belle. Show him how it's done." Hook handed her one of the glasses, and she stared at it. She missed the melon ball—that had been delicious. She could smell this whiskey before the glass was even in her hand.
"I don't really—" She looked at his face, and sighed. "Fine." She downed it, and shuddered. Raphael backed away, looking like a cornered beast.
"Come on, old man. Don't you want to keep up with your girlfriend?"
"Hook—"
His challenge was effective, though—as Belle knew it would be—and Raphael grabbed the shot.
An hour later, almost every group in the bar had bought rounds for Raphael and Hook—his students had bought two—and they were both screaming at each other with accents so whiskey-thickened, it was impossible for anyone else to understand them. Mary Margaret had torn herself away from David—or, really, Hook and Raphael had torn David away from her to be their objective third party—and she was sitting with Belle, looking lighter than she had in weeks. They had both been nursing cosmos for the better part of the hour.
"These are the men in my life," Belle said, shaking her head.
"Hey, you could have it a lot worse," Mary Margaret said, still smiling over at David. He was drinking beer, and casting helpless looks their way every few minutes. He couldn't understand them any better than anyone else could.
"I know. Hey, did David tell you who invited him?"
"Yeah. Dr. Gold did, actually. I didn't know he knew." At that, Mary Margaret raised an eyebrow at Belle, who shook her head.
"I didn't tell him, I swear. He knew already. He knows everything."
Mary Margaret chuckled. "I guess I'm not that surprised. I am surprised that he invited him, though."
Belle took a sip of her drink to hide her affectionate smile, but was unable to keep her gaze from straying to her boyfriend. "I'm not."
What she was surprised about was the fact that the stoic, prim professor was as wasted as the man dressed as a pirate trying to get laid by as many women as possible. How was he going to get home? She doubted he would let even her drive his Cadillac.
"Why don't you join in?" Mary Margaret asked, raising an eyebrow. "You look like it's killing you."
"Then he'll never get home," she said, shaking her head.
"Belle, I think he can afford a taxi."
She watched him for a few seconds, considering, and then swiveled on her barstool to face Mary Margaret. When she did, she came face to face with a group of her students—who had been lurking there for who knew how long. She jumped.
"Hi, guys." She wished she could cover up the top of her dress, but the damage was done. At least it wasn't as bad as Ruby. Mary Margaret turned around to face them, too.
"So what's up with Dr. Gold?"
"Yeah, what the hell, Belle?"
Belle took a sip of her drink, and shrugged. "I really don't know. Your guess is as good as mine." She didn't want to know—as long as she didn't hear her own name, she was content to leave them to their fighting.
"Hey, you need a refill? We bought his drinks for saving you."
"You deserve one, too."
Belle chewed her lip. "Oh, no, thank you, though. You already bought me something."
"Oh, come on, Belle. It's just one more drink." Mary Margaret winked, and Belle missed the Mary Margaret who was too sad to peer pressure her.
"Oh, all right." Tipping her head back, she chugged the rest of her drink to the tune of rowdy cheers, then handed over her glass to get another one.
Subtlety went out the window as Belle worked on her third cosmo, and Hook left his argument with Raphael to win the group costume contest with Mary Margaret and Will. She had tried to keep some shred of logic, but her mind felt like it was wrapped in a sweater, and Raphael had attached himself to her waist and was rumbling compliments about her costume into her ear. She couldn't understand half of them, but she liked the sound of his accent and the huskiness of his voice, and she just wanted to press him up against the bar and lick the remnants of whiskey off his mouth.
When his compliments turned to open-mouthed kisses below her ear, Belle had the sense to know it was time to go. He was down to her neck by the time she managed to signal to David that they needed a cab, and then she felt his teeth and she had to pry him away before anything embarrassing happened in the bar.
It was cold outside, but the vodka had warmed Belle, and she didn't need the jacket that Raphael draped over her shoulders before they walked out. It smelled like him, though, so she tugged it on backwards, sliding her arms through the wrong sleeves so that the buttons were in the back and nothing snagged her fairy wings.
"I love you wearing my clothes," he growled into her ear as she slid past him into the taxi. It took all of her self control—and a lot of lip-biting—to keep from dragging him into the car on top of her, instead of letting him get in at the pace his knee required.
The directions to his house had barely left his lips before Belle's were on them. She didn't bother with a seatbelt, because that would have hindered her crawling onto his lap. He tried to help her, but his movements were exaggerated and clumsy, and the best they managed was to get one of her legs sprawled across his thighs while her other knee dug into his hip. Their mouths fell apart whenever the cab turned, but it didn't stop them, and Raphael just held tighter to her hair.
Belle felt like she'd been rubbed against a balloon, and the static was prickling all over her body, warming her from the inside out. She couldn't get close enough to him, couldn't soothe the burning pinpricks on her arms and legs and belly and thighs. He tasted like cherries and whiskey, and he growled when Belle tried to suck the taste off his bottom lip.
The driver had to clear his throat three times before Belle realized that they'd arrived, and peeled herself off of Raphael.
"Thank you," she said, wiping around her lips with some absurd vanity about the state of her lipstick.
Raphael handed over a hundred. "Don't tell anyone about this."
The cabbie's jaw sagged watching Belle and Raphael stumble out after each other, probably surprised at the generosity of the town leech as well as the fact that there was an attractive young woman throwing herself at him.
Had she been sober, she'd have been embarrassed, but all she could think about was getting up to the house, getting the jacket and wings off, and finding somewhere with more room to continue devouring his face. It took too many fumbling attempts for Raphael to get the key into the front door, and by the time he got it open, Belle was standing on her toes, plastered against his back, lips making a trail from his pulse to his collar.
He mumbled something as he fell through the doorway, and she thought she made out the word "killing."
"What was that?" She closed and locked the door behind them, trying to take the jacket off in the same motion, and getting tangled for her efforts. Soon Raphael's drunken hands found their way over hers, and helped ease the jacket off her arms. She started the struggle with the wings while he went to hang it up, and that was a battle she wasn't going win unless she sobered up.
Raphael came over to help, slurring out some things she still didn't understand. She caught words like "terrible" and "hell" and "death," and could only assume that he was bemoaning the fact that they were still wrestling with the wings.
"Raphael, I can't understand a word you're saying."
He got one loop off her arm, and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, letting the wings dangle as he focused on trailing his mouth around her shoulder blade. "Hm?"
"Your accent. Too thick—oh, that feels—get the wings off." She held her arm out and, with his lips still skimming along the back of her neck, he started to tug them off.
Once the wings were on his coat rack, his hands returned to her back, and he ran his thumbs along the line of her shoulder blades. She swayed to the left, feeling like her legs might stop holding her up at any second, and they almost did when he traced his tongue along the juncture between her neck and collar.
"Your dress is too tiny," he growled, biting at her ear and missing more often than not. "Everyone was looking at you." She leaned back into him, and he lost balance, stumbling into the wall.
"Bed?" she suggested. Lying down sounded like a good idea. Then he could continue sucking on her earlobe from a better angle.
"Couch is closer."
He started nudging her toward the sitting room while she tried to kick off her heels.
"Bed is safer. More room," she said, just as he tripped over her shoes. He caught himself around her waist, and a snorting giggle bubbled up out of her throat. She clapped a hand over her mouth to keep more from escaping, but he had already heard one, and was now chuckling somewhere near her pulse. She shuddered.
"Are you trying to kill me?" He licked her neck again, and she considered asking him the same thing, but it was too difficult to multitask and she was already prying herself away from him to move toward the stairs.
"Maybe." She made it to the foot of the stairs, Raphael trailing a few feet behind her. He wasn't using his cane, but Belle forgot that thought as soon as she realized that they were both going to have to get up the stairs without killing themselves. She stopped, throwing her arms out. Raphael ran into her elbow and sprung back like a rock in a sling shot, grasping for the wall to regain his balance.
"What? What's wrong?"
"We should bring water and snacks so we don't need to come back down."
It was lucky that Raphael was a pack rat even when it came to grocery shopping, because it made finding portable food much easier. Belle carried a gallon of water, a bag of chocolates, and a jar of peanut butter, leaving Raphael to get the glasses, knife, and loaf of bread. They staggered up the stairs, only getting stabbed by the butter knife once apiece, which was a major accomplishment considering the amount they were both swaying. Since they hadn't been attached at the lips for a few minutes, some of the adrenaline was starting to wear off, and Belle was coming down from her buzz. Her eyelids were starting to droop.
"Oh, shoot," she said, stopping in the middle of his bedroom doorway. He crashed into her again, bouncing off of her sideways and into the wall. She scrambled to set everything down and retrieve him, getting stabbed in the fleshy part of her upper arm for her troubles.
"What's wrong?" he asked once they were walking again, Raphael clinging to Belle's arm and Belle holding the knife for safety.
"I meant to go home tonight."
He let out a bark of laughter. "Oh well."
"It was important to me!" She tried to maneuver them around the water, but stubbed her toe on it for all her efforts, and ended up half-hopping the rest of the way to the bed.
"I don't understand why you don't just stay here forever," Raphael said, allowing her to deposit him on the side of the bed she'd claimed for herself. He started working on his tie while Belle went to get the food, toe still smarting.
"It's a bit early for forever, don't you think?" She yawned, bending down to get the cursed water jug first.
"No, no, think about it, Belle. It's practical. Bloody—fuck this tie—Belle, did we break my fingers?"
"Do they hurt?" She yawned again, and when she bent to pick up the chocolates, her stomach rolled. She clamped her mouth shut, eyes watering with the effort of stifling her yawn, and pressed her hand over it.
"No, they're not—fucking hell, I finally got it. I have a bed that doesn't break, Belle. It's king sized. It's not from Craig's List and it's like sleeping on a fucking cloud. You remember you said how well you sleep here, Belle?"
She plopped down on the floor, eyes closed and hand pressed to her mouth.
"Belle?"
She swallowed a few times, then stood when she felt she could. "I sleep well here because you make me feel safe, not because your bed is like a cloud."
He watched her walk over to him, taking her hands and pulling her down onto his lap once she was in reach. "Seems like the perfect reason to stay forever."
"Raphael—"
"Shh." He put a finger over her lips, which slipped down to her chin twice before he got it to stay, and Belle's snickering almost made it slip a few more times. "I'm going to kiss you now."
"But your finger—"
"Shh." He moved his finger, but kissing at this angle proved tricky even without that obstacle, and he ended up kissing the side of her mouth until she shifted around to straddle him.
With a noise somewhere between a dog being stepped on and a snake hissing, Raphael crushed his lips against hers. Belle was more exhausted and less drunk than she had been in the cab, but that didn't change the fact that she needed to rub against him like a cat to ease the maddening tingle under her skin. He still tasted like whiskey, and Belle licked his tongue to see if that did, too.
The skirt of her dress had ridden up nearly to her waist, which gave Raphael the space to cup her thighs so that she would have better leverage. Soon, their bodies were moving too much for their lips to stay in contact, so Belle brought her mouth to his neck, kissing along his stubble.
He ran his hands up and down her thighs and she felt like she was on fire, and then her stomach lurched and she stilled.
"What's wrong?" He pressed a kiss to her neck, loosening his grip.
"Oh, nothing, just going to go vomit now. If you'll just—excuse me." She climbed off of him, kicking him more than was probably good for his knee in her haste to make it to the toilet before she threw up her insides.
She could hear the sounds of his footsteps, but only every time she took a breath before heaving. She wanted to close the door and yell at him not to come look at her, but it occurred to her that this was not the first time she'd thrown up in something of his. This time, at least, she could flush it down, instead of handing it off to a poor custodian and having to lie about food poisoning.
He leaned on the counter next to her, stroking her hair. Why wasn't he throwing up? He had had at least twice as much as she had.
"This should be you," she choked out, spitting.
"Scottish," he reminded her.
When she finished gagging, she used the counter to pull herself up, flushing everything away as soon as she had a free hand. Now that there was nothing inside of her, she felt sober and dehydrated, and she just wanted to sleep.
"I don't have a toothbrush," she said, inching toward the sink.
"I've got an extra." He moved toward the medicine cabinet while she started to rinse her mouth out. After a thorough gargling, he handed her an unopened brush.
"I don't have pajamas, either," she said, fumbling with the box.
"Well, I guess you'll have to sleep naked, then."
She pursed her lips at him in the mirror, and he grinned like a kitten in a pile of unraveled yarn. Raphael's smiles were much sweeter when he was drunk.
"Are you going to stay here and watch the whole time?" she asked, muffled by the toothbrush and a mouth full of foam.
"Oh." He blinked like the idea that he could move had never occurred to him. "Right. I'll get the buttons."
She didn't realize what that meant until he pushed himself off the counter and started fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. "Wait a second," she said when she had rinsed and spit twice and he still hadn't managed to get more than one button undone. He stopped moving like an obedient dog, waiting for Belle to finish up with her teeth and come get the buttons for him.
"Can you get my zipper?" she asked, undoing the last button.
He nodded, and she turned around, presenting him with her back. She could feel his hands quaking as he ran his fingertips along the backline of the dress. His mouth replaced his fingers as soon as he found the zipper, kissing along her sweat-sticky back while he worked his hands at the fastenings. She sighed when his mouth strayed lower, passing the line of her bra and down to the small of her back, and held on to the counter for support.
When he reached the bottom of her spine, his lips just brushed it, and then he was straightening up and pressing his forehead below her neck.
"I'm so old," he whispered.
It took Belle a few seconds to realize that, somewhere in the middle of his ministrations, something had happened—whether it was a reaction to her youth, or just him feeling feeble as the alcohol wore off, she couldn't say. Whatever the reason, she had to fix it, so she turned around and slid her hands up his cheeks. The effort it took to get him to look at her had more to do with his lack of focus than his sudden self-deprecation, she knew, but she still felt like she had won a small battle when his eyes met hers.
"You're perfect the way you are," she told him, pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth.
His head swayed, and when he spoke, he closed his eyes in concentration. "Belle, look—look at me. I'm a broken old—ancient—old monster who can't stand straight, and you—you're so young and—and beautiful and perfect."
"You're not." She kissed him again. "You, exactly as you are right now, at this exact age, are the man that I want to be with. And you can't stand straight because you're still drunk. I don't care how Scottish you are, you drank a lot."
His lip twitched like he wanted to laugh, but couldn't quite manage it.
"Sometimes, I don't think you're real."
Her breath caught, and she felt her eyes get warm. She knew she couldn't cry, though, because he would inevitably take it the wrong way, so she blinked a few times to get it under control. Then, she moved one hand from his face to cover his hand. After moving their joined hands to her shoulder, she pressed down so that he would squeeze.
"See? I'm real." She did it again. "And you can always pinch me when you forget."
He looked at her, and the corners of her eyes crinkled. He trailed his hand up her arm, across her shoulder and neck, stopping when he was cupping her cheek with his fingers in her hair.
"You're funny," he said, and she couldn't tell if he was trying to compliment her or just stating a fact.
"I like you," she told him. "I like everything about you."
He tilted her head with a little more force than he would have sober, but Belle tried to help him out by following his hand movements. "I like you, too," he said, just before he pressed his lips to hers.