A huge THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed so far! I've never received this many before! It truly means a lot to me. Here is the ending that does not require raising the rating!
Disclaimer: I wouldn't be living in this dive if I owned Once Upon a Time. May credit be given where credit is due.
~Chapter II~
Belle covered her reddening face with her hands, wishing more than anything to vanish, to put a thousand kingdoms between herself and the impossible imp giggling before her. She abandoned her attempt to leave the room, turning away with a miserable moan. Her vision still spun slightly, and the sprinting of her embarrassed heart was not helping. She heard Rumplestiltskin's light footfalls behind her.
Had Rumplestiltskin's blood not been saturated with at least half a bottle of wine, he would have been too shocked, too utterly baffled to continue this cruel endeavor; he would have dismissed the poor lass's dream as a mere consequence of alcohol consumption, and left her with perhaps only one or two quips.
But such was not the case, and the pretty blush on her cheeks, the nervous way she bit her lower lip only spurred him on. Eagerly tapping his fingers together, he followed her farther into the room.
"I'm surprised at you, my dear," he circled her, his tone mimicking that of a scolding parent. Belle lowered her hands enough to glower at him.
"A woman of your upbringing, fantasizing about the wicked..." He stopped in front of her, standing a little closer than necessary. Belle gulped, redoubling her efforts not to stare at the gray-gold skin exposed by his open collar.
"How...unbecoming." His gaze raked over her, eyes flashing with something that told her he thought her anything but unbecoming.
Still, she had her honor to defend. Ignoring the fluttering warmth she felt in her belly, Belle launched herself into her retort.
"It's not as though I can control my dreams! They say you dream about the last thing you thought about. I dozed off; given you were the last thing I saw, it's only understandable that I should—!"
The grin that had been growing on the imp's face throughout her rant split open to let forth another delighted peal of giggles. Hearing her admit it, her lilting accent failing to conceal the slight tremor in her voice, only enhanced the thrill. Her excuses were like music to his impish ears. He turned from her, lazily sauntering over to the table.
Belle knew she was rambling now, and probably revealing much more than was necessary, but she refused to allow that devil of a man to continue toying with her.
"I was drunk! Besides, we live together, and you're the only other person I've seen in weeks, it's perfectly—what are you doing?"
The cork slid out of the wine bottle with a light pop.
"Celebrating."
He poured a generous amount of the beverage into his silver goblet. Belle's brow crinkled in confusion.
"Celebrating what?"
"Why, this latest boost to my ego, of course!" He tilted the bottle toward her in offering, re-corking it when she shook her head. She gaped at him for a moment, momentarily frustrated and confused beyond speech.
"As if your ego needs any more inflating," she eventually scoffed.
He merely chuckled, replacing the bottle on the table. He turned fully towards her, bending his torso in a flamboyant bow.
"To your subconscious," he raised the goblet in her direction before taking a sip, smirking as she rolled her eyes. He withdrew the glass, smacking his lips appreciatively.
"Oh, just drop it, will you? It's not like you've never dreamed of me," Belle huffed, marching towards the exit.
That threw him. The hand lifting the goblet for another sip paused; for a moment he simply gaped like a fish out of water.
"I—that—that is entirely different!" He gestured wildly, some of the wine sloshing onto the rug.
Belle whipped around to face him, shooting a quick glare at the dark stain on the floor, "It is not!"
"It is too!" He threw back, voice raised indignantly.
"How?" She folded her arms across her chest.
"Because!"
"Because what? Because you're a man? I'll have you know—"
"Because you're perfect!"
They froze, stunned by his outburst. She watched the stringy muscles of his neck tighten as he swallowed hard.
"And I'm..." He did not finish the statement, turning away to stare at the wall, the cabinet full of trinkets, the rug, anything but the woman who could read more than books.
"I'm not perfect," she said softly, ignoring his disbelieving grunt. "Far from it, actually. That chipped cup you insist on using is clear evidence of that." She chuckled lightly, trying to pull him away from the sorrow and self-loathing that was closing in.
Rumplestiltskin did not appear to hear her. He shoulders curled inward and he threw a longing glance at his spinning wheel, flexing his fingers. Belle stepped closer, a sense of urgency propelling her into action. She did not want him to hide, to forget. Inhaling deeply, she opened her mouth, slightly disappointed that the words which followed were barely louder than a whisper.
"The hands I dreamt about weren't perfect, Rumplestiltskin. They still took my breath away."
She watched his back a moment longer, silently willing him to turn around, to confront rather than flee. When he did not, she retreated, a small sigh escaping her lips.
"Belle?"
She turned around, hope flickering beneath her ribcage.
Rumplestiltskin opened and closed his mouth several times, bordering but never crossing the threshold of speech. Belle watched as various emotions usurped his discolored face: confusion, gratitude, longing. His fathomless gaze fixated on her own, questioning, pleading, adoring. His hand twitched in her direction.
Affection, stronger than any she had ever felt, swelled in her chest. Never before had he seemed so open, so honest, so human.
And then it was gone, replaced by a puckish grin and amber eyes that sparked with madness and mischief.
"Pleasant dreams."
Belle did not scowl, did not scoff or roll her eyes. She simply looked at him, wishing she could see more of the man she had just glimpsed.
With a tiny, disappointed shake of her head, Belle reached for the doorknob, something inside her wilting as she watched Rumplestiltskin's reflection in the brass surface sit once more before his spinning wheel.
A/N: Oh my, that turned out slightly more angsty than I expected. I do hope it has not frightened you away! I think I might continue with this for another chapter.
By the way, I've written the aforementioned "not-so-innocent" ending, but I need to think a little more before posting it (I hope that is all right).
Please review!