A/N: Hey hey everyone! Thanks for the follows, reviews, favorites, and everything! I really appreciate it - feedback is always fantastic for any writer, I know you guys know that, so thank you so much! I figured out how HDN is going to end so now it's just getting it all written down! Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy!
Belle woke up earlier than she anticipated the next morning. There was a lazy, contented smile on her lips as she slipped from the warm bed and grabbed the nearest article of clothing on the floor: the white button down Gold had been wearing the previous night. She tugged it on, laughing quietly to herself.
Though Mr. Gold was a slight man with a lean but strong build, he was still bigger than she, and the sleeves were far too long. She looked over at the bed as she rolled the sleeves so her slender hands might show from the ends. The shirt was long enough that it draped over her thighs and buttoning the middle buttons, she stood on the side of the bed, looking at Gold, laying there in the bed.
The lines of his face were softer, and his breathing regular and deep. While he slept on his stomach, one of his arms disappeared under the pillow and the other was curled up next to his body and under his chin, as though he might need it at a moment's notice. The bed sheets were pulled about halfway up his back, and Belle could see his muscles twitching in his sleep. She covered her mouth, stifling a giggle in her mouth before slinking out of the bedroom.
She'd let him sleep; enjoy a morning without interruption. If any day of the week was worth a little bit of a lie-in, Friday was it anyhow. It was a wonder she could be quiet enough to slink out, so she endeavored to continue her soft steps and light touches as she made her way toward the kitchen.
Looking at the ground, she smiled to herself, stepping over and around the trail of clothes that very obviously told the story of how the rest of the night progressed. She blushed as she sidestepped her pale pink bra, leaning down to grab her undergarments, stepping into them and pulling them up with a flush on her cheeks. The shirt might have been long, but it wasn't that long… His tie lay on the ground, and his trousers were right near the bed. Belle flushed as she kicked her stockings to the side and then looked at her dress by the door.
They were a veritable Hansel and Gretel of depravity, apparently. She didn't know what her father might say. She hadn't been totally innocent since high school – everyone was doing it, and there were drive-ins and she had a boyfriend who loved her, even gave her his varsity jacket – fumbling and awkward – nothing special. It was all stupid really, but then they broke up and she was brokenhearted, and then there was George, and he wasn't exactly a Casanova, and certainly didn't win any prizes for caring about her or what she wanted, particularly when they were intimate, but it was what she expected. Without a mother to talk to her, and relying on her friends and magazines and movies, whatever she could find, it wasn't exactly a far stretch.
Mr. Gold wasn't like her high school boyfriend though, and he wasn't like George either. He was considerate, and slow. He worshipped her. Belle had never been worshipped before, not even close. Maybe she was still positively glowing with the memory of his lips finding every inch of her, hands skimming expertly over her soft flesh, and breathy words that tingled her ears – how a man could make words a seductive tool of his own was a wonder. Perhaps it wasn't so far fetched that the man was a lawyer.
When she made her way out of the bedroom, the polaroids she had shoved at him were strewn all over the floor. Belle crouched and gathered them up, looking at them one more time. He had called them tarty, and she supposed he was right… but she supposed it was something she wanted to know if he said for real… or just in the heat of the argument. Either way, the pictures had to be moved so no one would slip on them and she placed them on the side table on the way to the kitchen.
Breakfast was going to be a simple affair, particularly as Belle's muscles were dull and achy, but she had enough energy to scramble some eggs, make toast, and fry bacon. That wasn't too much, and she grabbed frying pans from the cabinet, placing them on the gas range. She turned the flames on and crossed the kitchen to the refrigerator, taking out the necessary items out and placing them on the counter, near the stovetop. Frowning, she looked around to grab a spatula and a butter knife, slicing off a pat of butter for each pan, depositing them was met with a satisfying sizzle.
Belle began to move with certainty, now that she was in a place that she understood and could actually function. Besides, she thought one of the defining points of what she said last night was she was going to do what she wanted to do, regardless of what he deemed she did and didn't have to do. Belle wasn't aware she had that impulse, but she did, and even the simple act of scrambling eggs was at least her choice to do it.
As she maneuvered in front of the stove, Belle realized how odd it was, to be making breakfast for someone other than her father, and in the state she was in, with tousled hair and she was sure her eyeliner and mascara (what was left of it) was smudged – her lipstick had been lost very shortly into the evening. One such smear decorated the collar of the white shirt she was currently wearing. Hopefully he'd have it dry-cleaned, she mused.
Pulling several strands of bacon out of the pan with a fork, Belle moved to grab another couple strands when she felt an arm around her waist. As she giggled and he used his chin to nudge the hair away from her shoulder, resting there. "You're surprisingly quiet in the morning," he murmured against her cheek, nipping at her ear with enough bite to make her notice, but not hard enough to make her hands falter.
Belle tried not to let on just how much she enjoyed it – though she was sure he could tell by the flush on in her skin that she did. The rough, morning chuckle that slipped from his lips was enough to make Belle abandon ideas of breakfast, but she'd be wasting food, and she couldn't do that. No, she just had to turn her head a bit and catch him in a quick kiss. "Good morning," she greeted, "I didn't even hear you come in."
"I endeavored to be as quiet as possible," hot breath tickling her skin. Belle giggled again, shaking her head, trying to squirm away, but he held onto her tighter and placed another open mouthed kiss under her ear. "My shirt looks fantastic on you, by the way," his fingers played with the last set of buttons she had done, trying to coax it undone.
"Thank you," she shimmied a bit against him, hearing the rustle of fabric – he must have been wearing an undershirt and shorts. Good to know, she figured, considering she didn't necessarily anticipate getting an eyeful first thing in the morning. He had different plans apparently, which let Belle to swat his hand and readjust the button closed with a tut of her tongue, signaling disapproval. "No, no," she tried to keep her smile to herself, "Breakfast," she chided, earning a snort in return. "You have work," she added, "need your strength to deal with those brutes all day."
Gold laughed lightly, "Which set of brutes dear? Colleagues or clients?" he finally moved away from her back, a good thing too – she was distracted by him, and when he moved into her view, she realized he was wearing full flannel pants. She realized in the dim lighting of the previous evening she hadn't actually seen his bad leg. It must have been a point of contention for him: no matter, his bare arms were more than enough, lean but strong.
Making sure she generously looked him over, making her 'elevator eyes' as obvious as possible – earning quite the smug grin from her companion. "Well, now that you mention it, both. You'll need extra strength." She nodded decisively, pouring the eggs into the sizzling hot pan. It would be very short work of cooking them. Pushing them around with the spatula, Belle was feeling fairly satisfied, adding a dash of salt and pepper, just for taste.
Gold seemed completely enamored with the process, and Belle looked over at him, her grin still painted on her lips. He looked contemplative for a moment and nodded, "It is Friday, isn't it dearie?" Belle's smile folded into a perplexed pout, eyebrows pulled in with confusion as she nodded. "I can't remember the last three day weekend I took…" he trailed off, rubbing the slightly stubbly chin.
Realization dawned on her and Belle shook her head, "Oh no you don't," she smirked as she lifted the pan from the stove, pushing the eggs onto the plate with the bacon and toast. "You don't get to just skip out on work just because you're a big shot and you want to spend your day doing God knows what," she handed him his plate and then worked on her own.
"Or who," he quipped with a sly wink, that smug look still on his face as Belle flushed an even deeper shade of pink. She made a statement by grabbing the forks and breezing straight past him toward the table.
She glanced over her shoulder at him, watching as he limped after her, now unafraid to make noise with his cane. "No, you are going to work today," Belle mused, pulling out her chair and sitting down and putting his fork down on the table. "I don't think your office would be very happy with you if you didn't."
He sat down with a wry smile. "While Gold, Powers, and Mills would be devastated to see me not come in today, I'm fairly sure one partner would not be terribly missed." Belle's fork halted, and she eyed him. Partner? She hadn't even realized. And those names – well, she wasn't familiar with Powers… but Mills. Belle suddenly felt her stomach do a flip-flop. "Ah yes," his voice soured with recognition. "Mills?" he queried, and Belle had no choice but to nod. "Yes, it would seem the world is quite small."
"So… it is that Mills family?" Belle asked, just to clarify. The image of Regina's face floated through her mind, and she shivered, just imagining what connection she must have had and how that impacted her relationship with Gold. It did make sense, in some small way, thinking about how she talked to her about Mr. Gold. Pieces were falling into place.
Of course, for him, it didn't seem like such a big deal, and he continued eating, cutting the proper way, fork turned around and knife down – like her mother taught her but father did not maintain as time went on. Whatever the case, she watched his hands and then his face as he chewed, and swallowed, as calm as ever. "Well, her late father, Henry," his eyes flicked up at her, "was a partner with us. After his untimely passing, we didn't want to remove the name. Henry Mills was a good attorney, solid man;" he nodded slowly, "his daughter was… less solid."
Belle couldn't help but let out a bark of a laugh. If that wasn't the truth, she wouldn't know what was. "So… the Mills' aren't involved in the actual firm anymore?" she asked, picking up her toast and nibbling on it. She was starving, despite the upset of the knowledge that Regina was connected to him in another way.
The pause between them held no promises of good news for her, and Belle swallowed hard, "Not in the same way, no, but we are the legal council for the club," she should have known, "and she does have… connections, through various associates to the firm." Belle understood the implications and she frowned, just imagining how many people she could hear about them from, how many eyes were on her all of the time and she never even knew it. She wondered, momentarily, whether or not that was why she was smoking Belle out in the first place. It was likely.
Nibbling at the toast a little more, Belle tried to calm her thoughts by herself. It wasn't as though Regina had her eyes on everything. She was just trying to find Belle's slip-up. She had no actual idea. That must have been it. It had to be. Glancing up at Mr. Gold across the table, "I'm on probation," she finally admitted, feeling another weight float up from her shoulders. "She's looking for anything to fire me," Belle explained, "and this," a hand wave between them, "is breaking every rule there is in the Bunny handbook."
It seemed like that was enough for him to put down his fork and knife and look at her, really look at her. He mulled his jaw, "Why do you keep working there, Belle?"
That was the elephant in the room, wasn't it, the reason she stayed. Licking her bottom lip, Belle took a deep breath through her nose. "The money," was her first reaction, though it felt somehow hollow. If it was really just that, she'd find other ways. "It's not just about the money," she admitted, thinking of the place itself and all of the things that went on. "I have friends there – better friends than I've ever had in my entire life." Belle's eyes searched for anywhere except his face, "It's nice to have people."
"People hurt each other," he pointed out, though not maliciously. It was a counterpoint, a discussion Belle did not anticipate. She wondered what had hurt him so badly in the past that he would point something like that out.
Shrugging, Belle considered. "They do," she conceded, "But people are also supportive, caring… loving," she smiled a little bit, glancing up finally to take in his contemplative expression. "It gets really lonely without people." Belle had never realized, up until she started talking about it, how much she hated being lonely, how painful it was to be that way. When she looked at Mr. Gold, maybe he was thinking the same thing, because he looked distant – like he was thinking of another time, maybe when this apartment wasn't so clinical looking and there had been people around. "You were lonely, weren't you?" she asked quietly, not wanting to startle him too much.
"No," he answered a little too quickly for Belle's taste and she tilted her head, drawing her eyebrows in to decide what would be the best question to ask – or just will him to speak with her stern look. Apparently the latter occurred because he spoke again before she did, "I am not alone nearly enough to be lonely," his lips quirked into a smirk, deflecting with humor.
Belle pushed herself up from the table and walked around the side of the table, putting her hands on his shoulders. "You don't need to be alone to be lonely," she pointed out, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze before she leaned down to kiss his cheek. Mr. Gold turned his head and caught her in a surprise kiss, soft and sweet. Belle didn't want to read into it too much, but she could tell he was agreeing with her. A pleasant hum buzzed in her throat as he tried to get her permission for a deeper kiss and Belle pulled away with a sly smile. "Time to get ready for the day."
Unable to talk Gold out of calling in 'sick' and several hours later, Belle was just… glad… that she was out of the penthouse. Riding in the back seat of the car alone (she at least got him to agree to do some work at home), Belle could not have been happier for scarves. She had been absolutely mortified when she was brushing her teeth and she noticed the dark splotches on the side of her neck – marks that she hadn't even realized she was given.
Her scream had her only companion moving faster than she thought was possible, and as he laughed at her, full and hearty, she couldn't help but hit him on the shoulder, though she couldn't muster the will to actually put force behind it. Then he pushed her against the counter… Well, now she was going to work with the very marks he laughed at emblazoned across her neck.
She had tried to cover them up with make-up but she just… it wasn't working. Belle knew who she was going to have to ask, and she prayed, probably for the first time in ages, that Ruby would not say anything. Doubtful though, Belle realized, and she would have to answer for it. It was the most anxiety ridden ride she'd ever had, and pulling in front of the club, Belle just couldn't wait to get it taken care of. If Regina saw, that would be the end of it.
Clamoring out, she murmured her thanks to Hongrois who nodded without any difference from the previous day, though Belle felt like he could just tell – that everyone could just tell – and she flushed as she stepped out and practically ran inside. She was a few minutes late, everyone would probably already be there, and she hoped she could slip in – avoid trouble, but, of course, as she stepped out of the stairwell, "Bunny Belle!" the oily smooth voice of Regina greeted her and Belle had to stop herself from cringing and uphold the most insincere smile she'd ever had.
Belle slowly turned around, hoping her scarf was on as securely as it felt, "Regina, hi," her attempt at smoothness was the best she could do. "Sorry, got caught up this morning," not an untruth, her mind immediately wandered to the walk-in shower and the extra time spent there. She willed herself to not blush. "Is there something you need?"
"Just checking in," she smiled, putting her arm around Belle's shoulder. Belle tensed and her stomach twisted anxiously. She wanted to flee, but Regina was there and she had her cornered. She was like a jaguar or some other big cat that hunted alone and Belle felt like a gazelle or something small that was going to be eaten alive. "I heard, last night, Mr. Gold was a bit rough with you?"
Belle blinked, a disgustingly bright blush coming onto her cheeks. Word choice, word choice, Belle couldn't deal with. She had to overcome this. Her lips quirked into a half smile and shook her head, "Just his normal self," Belle's voice wavered only slightly, trying not to betray herself, but it was almost impossible. Secrets were that way for a reason.
"Oh, Bunny Belle, you don't have to protect him, trust me," her voice practically purred, attempting to lull her into security, make her believe that it was alright to trust her. Belle was on high alert though, she wasn't going to slip up, she couldn't. "I wouldn't want him to run you off," she laughed brightly, though there was no actual sunshine and kindness in her voice, she was like a doll – lifeless eyes and painted smile. "I have some… very important customers coming in tonight," her voice was careful, and Belle's smiled ticked a little bit, "So I'll need you to help with the section by the band."
Belle wasn't sure how she felt about that. It was the busiest section, it was away from the bar (a farther walk), and it wasn't her section… she wouldn't have a chance to get to the phone… There were many things that Belle did not like about this scenario, not limited to the gleam in Regina's eyes that made her squirm uncomfortably. "I – well, are you sure you'd want me to switch? I'm clumsy as it is," Belle smiled, thinking talking about herself might make it a bit better, "wouldn't want to give me extra chances to drop glasses, I think!"
Regina laughed briefly, shaking her head at Belle, pulling her along as she walked. Belle stumbled at first, but regained her footing, practically jogging to keep up with Regina's long strides. "You'll be doing cigarettes and cigars with Ruby tonight; it's going to be a busy one."
"Are you sure I can handle it?" Belle asked, hoping that Regina would realize what a terrible idea it was and let her stay in her section where she could smile at Gold and lean over the table and flirt with him instead of handing out cigarettes to strangers that she didn't care about. Maybe it hadn't been a long time that they personally knew one another, but he had been coming to the club for as long as she had worked there, and she had always waited on him. She wondered, momentarily, what he thought about it – but couldn't dwell as Regina stopped.
Turning to face Belle, Regina's face softened, her head tilting just so. She put her hands on her shoulders, and it really just seemed like she was trying so hard – compensating for something, but Belle couldn't know. "I have no fear you can handle it, Bunny Belle. Now get ready. I had Yaga dry clean your gold suit to wear again, for the special occasion." She actually didn't realize that they had stopped in front of the backstage door, and for that, Belle was grateful. She wanted out of Regina's company immediately.
They parted ways, Belle nodding her understanding and she walked into the back, the other girls, the ones she had talked about that very morning, were all gathered, and heads turned as she entered, evidently louder than she intended. She blushed at the attention and moved through to her usual seat near the back. Ruby, Ashley, and Mary Margaret were all surrounding the seat and two of the three looked positively exhausted.
Ashley and Ruby, with their tired eyes and pale skin, probably just a little bit too much champagne and dancing from the night before, turned on her, eyes narrowing at the exact same time. "Hello girls," Belle smiled brightly, hoping to distract them, and possibly use a pitch just a touch too high to discourage any questions, "did you hear there are VIPs tonight?" she asked, curiously. The other girls seemed to look between one another, shrugging their shoulders. It didn't appear anyone but Belle was informed of this. "I'm doing cigarette box with you, in your section, Ruby."
Ruby sluggishly turned her head, blinking for a moment before a slow smile spread across her face. "Running with wolves tonight, huh?" she giggled, "You'll make great tips," she added before yawning and grabbing the glass of water on her desk, drinking almost the whole thing in a few gulps. Clearly, someone was dehydrated.
Belle smirked just a little bit, knowing the all too familiar sign of a good night – the girls often came in downing asprin and water in excess, "How was the mansion last night?"
It seemed like they were reticent to say anything about it, each of them exchanging a look in turn. Belle merely removed her jacket, keeping on her scarf for the time being, until they were distracted and she could grab her collar and cuffs. "It was fun," Ruby answered almost too cautiously, "it didn't end until six this morning." Ashley groaned out loud, apparently that detail was enough to break down her stoic face for a reaction.
It also allowed Ashley to jump in, "There was champagne everywhere – and dancing – and people! So many people! Ruby had her hands full all night," she stole a glance toward her raven haired friend, who tried to look innocent for a moment before she was giggling. Belle and Mary Margaret were now sitting side by side, waiting for the explanation for that little interlude. "Well," Ashley continued, Ruby's lips shut, "first, the accounts manager – Mr. Hopper," Ruby chimed in with his first name, "Archie – was there, and Ruby danced with him for half the night, but then there was this other guy - August, I think? Said he was a poet or something, a storyteller and…"
"And he was so charming!" Ruby finally gushed, practically squeaking with excitement. They were suitably distracted, Belle noticed, and was so glad she brought it up. "He was telling me," she looked so excited she squeaked, "He's been to Nepal! He held a lemur," she sighed, a romantic little thing, and Ruby dropped, with her body facing the wrong way, onto her chair. "Archie is totally sweet, kind of in a Frankie Avalon innocent sort of way, but August… well… he's – he's like James Dean… Rebel without a Cause!"
That was just too much. Exchanging a look with Mary Margaret, she and Belle started giggling. "You know," Mary Margaret pointed out, "you probably shouldn't be messing around with either of them – unless you want the Chicago Police Department getting involved."
With a roll of her eyes, Ruby leaned her arms on the backrest of the chair, her chin resting up them comfortably. "It was just a little bit of fun, M&M," she pointed out seriously, and then allowed herself to grin. "By the way, Belle, I love your scarf." Belle looked down at the fabric, giving herself a moment to clear her throat.
"It's the same one I've always worn," she covered quickly, "but thanks," a sweet smile, enough (she thought) to put it to rest for Ruby's sake. Besides, she had another tactic, "Ashley, did you and Sean ever make up?" she turned now, to look in the mirror at her station and fix her hair, busy her hands. Ruby sat up straighter, and Ashley stopped getting ready.
She pursed her lips; Belle could see it in the mirror and sighed. "We're working on it," the terse answer was enough that Belle could tell it wasn't the best question to have asked, but maybe it would keep them quiet. Turning her head slightly to the right, she wondered if it looked like Tia's handiwork. "Belle?" Ruby trilled in a song-song, "You're dragging your feet today and you weren't at the mansion last night…" she eyed her critically, "stay up late?"
Alright, Ruby was being nosy – too nosy –she needed someone discreet to deal with the problem of her neck. Licking her lips, she shook her head, ready to lie once again, "Not at all. Why would I be?"
Pulling her chair over, Ruby shook her head. "You're so sweet," she cooed, like Belle was a baby and she was looking for a bottle or had just taken a few toddling steps. "Belle, I'm not stupid."
Hands in her head, Belle turned her head to look at her, "Of course you're not. Why would you say that?"
Ruby reached forward, quicker than Belle had time to react and tugged the scarf from the side of Belle's neck. The woman tried to stop her, clamping her cheek against her shoulder, but the fabric was slippery, Ruby's hands too fast and strong, and the scarf was abandoned on the floor. All three of her companions gasped at the same time and Belle's cheeks lit on fire. "Belle!" Mary Margaret squeaked, "Did you burn yourself curling your hair this morning?" she asked, wide-eyed innocence and concern coloring her face.
Color rose to Belle's cheeks as Ruby rolled her eyes with exasperation, "M&M! Those are not burns," she pointed out, "those are hickeys – and Belle has been keeping secrets!" All three seemed to scoot forward at the same time, blocking her in. "Who is it?" Ruby asked, "Details!"
Belle knew she couldn't – and she didn't want to. Her cheeks were flaming red, she felt very exposed, and she shook her head, scrunching her shoulders up like some kind of demented turtle just to avoid looking like a complete floozy. "I can't," she looked at all three of them in turn, "Really – I mean, if I could… well, I wouldn't – but even still, don't ask, please?"
"Is everything okay?" Mary Margaret immediately latched onto the lack of information as something bad, and put her hand on Belle's. Her sympathy was much more genuine than Regina's ever could be, and Belle shook her head, placing her hand over Mary Margaret's.
Ruby, however, did not find the moment touching. She balked in laughter and pushed herself up and out of the chair. "Those aren't bruises M&M," she explained, "Those are hickeys."
The word was like an arrow, and Belle was shot straight through the gut. She didn't like the way hickey sounded, but certainly there wasn't really another word to convey what they truly were. Her hand flew up to her neck, covering the mark while her skin was hot and burning with embarrassment. "Ruby," she hissed, wanting to avoid the attention that was dragging their way, "Can you help me cover them, please?"
The moment was most likely intentional, sweating Belle out for details or something – but that wasn't going to happen. As far as Belle was concerned, Ruby could try as much as she wanted as she wanted to – nothing was going to be revealed, even if she was going to go insane by the constant questions.
It seemed like that was how the next hour passed as Ruby used whatever it was in her little kit that she had to cover up the dark marks and make her skin look as creamy and white as it had been before. Snapping on her collar, it was almost like they weren't there at all, and despite Ruby's demand for a payment of information, Belle could only tell her that they were very much worth getting and giggled with the knowledge her secret would surely scandalize them if she told. Mary Margaret was, at least, not trying to push her, though it didn't mean she wasn't leaning in to hear what was passing between the girls.
They got dressed, zipping each other up in turn, fixing what needed to be fixed either in their hair, their make-up, or their suits, and readied themselves for the next shift. Belle wondered who could be so important in the middle section that they needed her to cover with a cigarette box, and what Mr. Gold would think of it. She wasn't keen on the idea, but sticking by Ruby's side, she had no choice. Looking up at the girl who towered over her, Belle smiled, "Ready?"
"When you are," she giggled and hooked their arms awkwardly. "Come on, I'll show you where the trays are and give you a quick rundown before we start." Apparently Ruby's under-the-weather appearance upon Belle's arrival melted away and Ruby certainly had a convincing game face as she tugged her out, tipping forward in her heels for another night at the Playboy Club.