Alan was a large man, good looking in all aspects: strong jaw, a faultless smile, and masculine eyebrows. He's especially handsome, Belle always thought, when he wears that rose-red color that he was so fond of. He was a kind man; he showered her with compliments, and whenever they'd walk together, he'd usually come across one of his buddies. At moments like these, he'd turn to his friend and say, "See this hot and lovely lady right here? Yeah, well, she's mine."

They went out for several weeks, and Belle enjoyed herself. That is, for the most part.

He was kind, handsome, protective… But oh gawd, Belle thought, if he talks about his favorite sports team one more time.

But all was well. Belle would go out with him to dinner or a movie, kiss him fondly good-night, and then return to Gold's company. At least with Gold, she could make up for the hour's lack of intelligent conversation. He and her spoke of everything, the characters and themes of the books they'd shared, history, antiques, gossip, and life.

Only one subject never came up, and that subject's name was Alan.

Nonetheless, brick by brick, the walls between Belle and her employer began to slowly crumble, and mostly he felt more like a roommate than anything else.

"I'm fairly sure," said Belle as they sat together on the living room couch, "that I have guessed every R name in the English language."
"Ah, but there are plenty other languages in the world. Why not start with Romanian and work your way to Japanese?" he said.

"You're a cruel man!" she teased.

He smirked.

"One of these days, I'm going to sneak into your files and figure it out for myself," she said.

"Hah!" he said.

"What? You don't think I can? I'm plenty brave."

"Oh I know that," he said. "Too brave for your own good."

"What's that's supposed to mean?" she asked.

He leaned back on the cushion, eyeing her in his knowing way. "I'm only saying, if a preschool were burning down, you'd be one the one running in to save the day…"

"And what's wrong with that?"

"…an orphan in one arm, the class pet in the other..."

"I still can't see what's so wrong with that!" Belle said, laughing playfully.

"Nothing's wrong per say," he said. "However a sensible man like myself would simply call a fireman."

"Oh please, you would probably be making a deal with the fireman… in exchange for, like, giving him water he would have to give you the class pet and the orphan."

He laughed. "You know me well."

"Yet, I don't know your first name!"

"In time, my dear," he said.

"In how much time? Honestly, I wash your underwear everyday. Do you really think… wait, are you blushing? Blushing because I mentioned your underwear?"
"No," he said. But alas, his cheeks were flushed.

She laughed loudly at his discomfort. He couldn't keep himself from joining her. "Oh God, you really shouldn't make me laugh like this, or my make-up will run before Alan even gets here."

Gold's mood took a quick plunge downward. "I don't see why you even bother fussing with make-up every time he comes by."

Belle brought her hand to her face, suddenly conscious. "Does it look bad?"

"Of course not. It looks fine but…" he trailed off, looking past her at the wall.

"But what?"

"But you look so beautiful without it, Belle. It just seems like a silly way to invest your time."

She smiled, the kind of gentle smirk reserved only for him.

Then a knock from the door turned her attention elsewhere. "Looks like he's here," she said.

"Yupp," replied Gold.

She put her hand on his knee for a moment. "See you tomorrow," she said. And then she was gone.

Now Gold sat with only his cane beside him. He hated an empty house. He hated not being able to hear her humming to herself as she swept the floor or watch her feed bread crumbs to the birds outside the kitchen window. The privacy that had always been his refuge in this world now became a hellish reminder of one simple fact: that Belle was no longer his.

He got up, cleaned his clothes (he'd be damned if he'd let her mock his undergarments again) and then retired to the library to read. It was only then that he heard a gentle rapping on the front door.

He limped over, swung the door open.

"What brings you to my humble abode this fine evening, Your Majesty?" he asked.

Regina walked in. "Alone, I assume, Rumple."

The door shut with a soft clang. "Not anymore…"

"I want to strike a deal."

"Ah?"

"Let's be frank," she said, "despite all this Belle nonsense, I don't trust you as far as I can throw you."

"You look as though you have a rather strong arm."

"However I do," she went on, "know that you honor your agreements."

"True."

Her eyes turned to his, gleaming with madness. "Is there anything you really want, Rumplestilskin? Or should I say, anything you really want to disappear?"

"What are you insinuating?"

"I'm only saying, you can't turn him into a rose this time."

Gold swept his tongue over his lips in thought. "I don't know what you mean."

"I had to choose whether, in this world, he belonged at the bar or at the florists. I thought keeping him a man would prove more helpful. Now it seems like he is rather helpful, helpful in getting your Belle right out of her bra and panties…"

Gold's grip on the handle of his cane tightened. "Enough!" he snapped. Although the thought often invaded his mind, he had no desire to hear it spoken aloud. "What do you want?"

"It seems as though dear little Mary Margret keeps finding her way back to her prince. And that may just ruin the security of our world."

Gold paused in thought. Finally, he nodded his head and said. "I'll take care of it. Give me time."

"And I'll take care of him."

….

They went to a restaurant, Be Our Guest, and it was probably the finest dining Storybrooke had to offer. However, looking over at Alan's T-shirt and jeans, Belle couldn't help but think that he was horribly underdressed.

The toothpick that he'd gotten from the front desk remained wedge between his teeth. "Nice place, huh?"

"Oh it's just lovely," Belle replied.

"Well order anything you want," he said. "Damn. Look at this, they've even got escargot. That's snail, you now."

He went on about how once his friend had tricked him into eating snail by claiming it to be sliced apricot. However Belle wasn't listening. She stared at the golden candle stick in the center of the table, watching the tiny flames dance.

"And then Roger told me it would taste better with barbeque sauce…" he was saying.

Roger, Belle thought. Had she guessed Roger yet? She must have.

"…I drank three beers to get the taste out of my mouth…"

R-r-rudolf? Reggie? Roy? No, she'd guessed all of those before.

"… and then at the end of the night, I—"

"Ruepert!" She said. He paused, raising an eyebrow. Belle, who hadn't realized her name-guessing had slipped the confines of her mind, stumbled for words. "I-I must have misread that waiter's name. Um, Michael. Silly me."

The waiter, Michael, turned and nodded in their direction.

"So, please go on," she said sweetly.

And Alan had no problem continuing on.

Here you go guys : ) I'm super excited to write the next chapter, so expect that soon. Also, I may be uploading some original content (the quality of which will far surpass my fanfics) elsewhere so let me know in the reviews if you'd be interested in reading any of that. As always, thanks for reading! Best wishes!