Gold woke to a siring pain in his knee. He shot up, stifling a yelp.

The light filtered in through the open window, and he blinked until the pain faded and his eyes began to adjust.

He realized then that he was in Belle's room. This time, he had waked first, meaning there was time to eye her greedily as she slept. She was just a few inches away from him, lying on her stomach with her hands beneath the pillow and her head turned away toward the other direction.

Her knee was bent outward. That's what must have hit his own causing him to wake, Gold realized. However, he didn't mind much at all; listening to her gentle breathing could easily become his favorite pass time.

It took all his self-control not kiss her awake, whispering again and again that she was his life.

But no, he thought, it couldn't be done that way.

To break the curse, to make her remembered who she was, their kiss must be that of true love… He had to be absolutely sure that she really, truly loved him. But for now, he was merely a band aid to a broken heart and a warm body to settle her nightmares. Well, at least it was a start.

After a while, Gold allowed himself to press his chest against her back gently. He swept her brown curls to the side so that her long, pale neck was perfectly exposed. He placed a lasting kiss on her skin and felt her wake beneath him.

"Good morning, Dearie," he whispered and kissed the spot again.

She giggled. "Morning, Mr. Gold," she said. "I would roll over and look at you, but…"

"But what?" he mumbled against her skin.

"But I just woke up and my breath is probably horrendous."

He laughed, squeezing her tightly before rolling away.

She rolled onto her back, her head cocked over to gaze at him.

"I finished that last book you loaned me," she said.

"The fantasy one?" he asked.

She reached over, finding his hand amongst the many sheets. "Yupp, and it was amazing. I particular liked the… the prince in disguise."

"Did you? Quite a charmer, I suppose."

"He reminded me of you."

"Oh?" he smiled.

"The way he was always misconstrued but still fascinating. You know, a mystery to be unsolved."

He squeezed her hand tightly.

They continued on, chatting pleasantly. Neither Belle nor Gold was quite sure which stage of a relationship they were particularly on. But the lying-in-bed-snuggling-and-talking-about-literature stage seemed a perfectly fine category for each of them.

Finally, Gold left the bed reluctantly. "I have to shower, go to work."

Belle sat up. "Can I come with you?"

"To the shop? Well, I suppose you could help with the—"

"No," she said. "I meant to the shower." Her eyes gleamed mischievously.

Gold chuckled and caught her lightly by the chin, tilting her head up. "What will I do with you, my little temptress?"

"I can think of a few things…"
He leaned forward, and Belle felt the magnetic pull toward him. She puckered her lips, eager for a kiss that never came. His mouth merely brushed across her forehead. With a "See you soon" he limped out the door.

Belle remained seated on the edge of the bed. Recalling the past day's events, contemplating her feelings for Gold… how could she be so mindless happy and so maddeningly confused all at once?

She inhaled deeply and ran her hand over the back of her neck.

…..

Rumplestilskin watched her from across the room. She was absorbed in a book, remaining placid and unaware of his existence.

So he grabbed the pillow that rested beside him on the couch. Using a bit of magic, he shrunk it down until it fit into the palm of his hand.

He tossed it—his aim impeccable. It bounced off her forehead, and she squealed aloud in surprise and agitation.

"Rumple!" she cried. "What was that for?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "You were being boring."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't aware that I was responsible for your entertainment," she said bitterly.

"You've been reading that book all week," he said.

"Well it happens to be really good."

"What's it about?"

"You don't know?" Suddenly, her smile filled with enthusiasm. "Oh, it's a famous story. It's traveled worlds, you know. Come over here and I'll tell you all about it."

Rumple found his way to the seat beside hers on the couch.

"Gone With The Wind is about a war and …"

"All those pages about war? How retched!" he said.

"You didn't let me finish," Belle huffed. "It's also about love and strength and overcoming ignorance. I've only just begun but right now the main character, Scarlett, is at a town event. She desperately wants to dance, but she's widowed, so she can't."

"That's silly. The damn fool should just dance if she wants to so badly."

"It's not that simple."

"It's dancing, how complicated can it be?"

"Oh, you're just ruining the story," she said.

"Fine. I am ever so sorry, Dearie, please go on."

"You wouldn't understand," she said, closing the book softly. "She made a mistake, choosing to change her life forever in one frantic moment. Now the world goes on in front of her, young and alive, while she is left unable to even have the simple joy of dancing."

Rumplestilskin lacked words. He watched her watching the wall and suddenly understood. A horrible guilt overcame him. A mistake…

"Do you want to dance too Belle?"

She shrugged. "I mean, I haven't danced since—"

"Then I shall get you the finest band! And all the best dancers in the realm will be in this very living room so that you can take your pick!"

Belle giggled. "Or you could just dance with me."

"Well, if you'd rather…"

Belle stood up and pulled him to his feet. With the wave of his hand, music filled the room.

He bowed. "A dance, my lovely southern belle?"

They came together, and he swirled her across the living room.

"So how'd you know about the South?" she asked above the music.

"What?"

"I never told you that Scarlett lived in the South."

He smirked. "You caught me, Dearie. I've read it three times."

She laughed, letting her head fall onto his shoulder as he swayed her around.

"A secret romantic, are we?" she teased.

"Ha!" He dipped her back. "You seem to forget that you are quite literally dancing with the devil."

Swiftly, he pulled her up again so that their faces were close.

"You are not a devil, or a monster, or a beast, Rumplestilskin. You are a man—a man of dark magic, maybe, but a good-hearted man none the less."

He was caught off guard by the frankness of her words. He let go and stumbled backward awkwardly.

"Is my dance over so soon?" she asked.

"Yes well, there are still chores to be done."

She pouted and reluctantly left the room.