A/N: Oh my Gosh, thank you all for the encouraging words that I've gotten as a result of writing this. I'm so excited to see more and more notifications and reviews, which I really love to read! Keep them coming and I'll do my best to keep my writing coming as well. This chapter includes references to "Skin Deep," which I think will help everyone with a little bit of chronology. And with that, I do not own OUaT, and hope you all enjoy! Continue reading, reviewing, and enjoying! :)
After the first unfortunate (and confusing) mishap, Belle was not going to take any chances. Cradled in his arms, as though she were a ragdoll, she felt her breath hitch in her throat. She did not touch him – ever. But in such a position, she realized just how… warm he was. She had always assumed his skin would be cold and alarming, but that was not the case. He was hot to the touch, and getting that close, she could see his skin, while kind of a grey-green had a distinct golden tint to it – just like his eyes. They were so much more interesting up close – chocolate brown, but flecked with gold…Her voice was stuck in her throat, and she felt her whole body flush.
Even he seemed thrown off. It piqued her interest, wondering what he was thinking and why it had thrown him off so much. He knew she was clumsy, and yet, he looked at her like she had grown a third eye… Then put her down, flexing his fingers, as though he was supremely uncomfortable – and then he assured her he would get used to it…
It had struck her, very keenly. He had not accommodated any arrangements in the castle for her, and by the end of the morning, after she had cleaned a number of the bedrooms, all of the curtains were down. Every last one was gone.
As every afternoon approached, she thought about how meals were quickly becoming her favorite part of the day, sitting – even quietly, in the big hall with his company. Any company was welcome, but she felt like today, she really looked forward to it. It had been so bright and beautiful in here, with the windows all uncovered – every time she passed a window, she had to lean her head back and soak in as much sun as humanly possible.
For days, she felt a triumphant sensation whenever she walked by a bare window, the sun streaming down on her, bathing her in its warm glow. She still, of course, toted her shawl around, but it hung loosely over her arms now, instead of tightly clasped around her to ward off the cold. And it was certainly cold, even despite the sun. Triumph only lasted in the face of the transparent panes, however.
He made all efforts to avoid touching her, even when she passed him his teacup, or served him meals. He stepped away when she stepped forward, and she, occasionally did the same. It was a strange dance they had, moving back and forth… but like the chastest of courtly dances, it was all about eyes, never hands. When their eyes met, Belle's cheeks felt hot and she couldn't discern the look he had in his eyes – so clouded with mystery. Everything about him was cloaked in mystery.
She wondered about it for days, moving so carefully through the castle to avoid awkward encounters. She did not want to upset him, after all. And he seemed so much testier recently. He had thrown a vase the previous day – some deal gone wrong, she presumed. It was funny; the angry Rumpelstiltskin was not the one she was afraid of, not in the slightest. It was when he made her blush and her heart race that she was truly scared… So, she avoided it for as long as she could – for several days until it had gone so long since a significant interaction that she forgot her apprehensions.
As she walked through the halls, she could see the clouds were gathering in the sky and there was that familiar look of rain. Even despite this, she took whatever sun seeped through the clouds and felt like it was giving her a new life. Belle grabbed her shawl from her 'room,' and then rushed to fetch the afternoon meal and tea. Her cheeks actually started to hurt as she carried the tray toward the hall. So, when she pushed the door open, he was sitting at the wheel, the windows bare and revealing the early spring sky – ready to open up and send the world in a frenzy of water. She didn't realize, until he looked up, "Humming?" that she had even been doing it, and flushed pink.
"It is all this freshness," her step was springier than usual, placing the tray on the table, glancing around the room. It felt so much lighter, but the air was still… not quite right. But, she started to pour the tea anyway, looking at him out of the corner of her eye, "Perhaps we could even open a window? It looks so much like rain."
"Dearie," he sounded amused, pushing himself up from the wheel, "Why would we open the window if you think it will rain?" he raised an eyebrow, taking his cup, as he always did, perching in his seat like the master of the house he was.
All she could do was shake her head though, and sighed longingly, "The smell." Her shoulders dropped and she stared at the windows, a pleased sound buzzing in the back of her throat – he shifted in his seat. She hoped that he would allow even one to be opened. But each latch remained in its place, much to her dismay.
"The smell?" he replied, sounding so skeptical. His lip was curled just enough that Belle thought he looked like an angry cat, or one faced with a bath. She couldn't imagine he didn't understand that rain had a smell – especially spring rain.
She practically did a spin, landing facing the windows brimming with light, throwing her arms out and her head back – she was giddy. "Yes! It's fresh and sweet, with just a hint of grass in the air," she sighed, turning back toward him, clasping her hands in front of her chest with a hopeful smile, imploring him to open them. "Please?" she felt like a child, but she so wanted this.
He pursed his lips, taking stock of her. "You have been reading too many fairy stories," he nodded decisively, more for his own sake than hers, she assumed. And then, he raked his eyes over her, perhaps judging just how badly she wanted that window open… she felt suddenly exposed. Her smile did not dampen though, and she batted her eyelashes – if she couldn't win one way, she would win another. He sighed and in a flash, his hand was up and he snapped. The window next to her creaked open and Belle felt a gust of spring wind as it lifted her curls and brushed her skirt around her ankles.
"Thank you!" she let out an excited squeak she rushed forward and threw her arms around him without a second thought. It seemed so natural for a moment, until his whole body tensed and Belle realized… she just… Oh, this was awkward. Pulling away, it was the second time in one week that they had made awkward contact- that he made her feel warm all over, her cheeks burned and her chest tightened.
She retreated. Inside, her head is screaming, do the brave thing and bravery will follow, but she was not doing the brave thing. She was petrified of him, of how he commanded such a presence when she got close – how he made her embarrassed and girlish, it was so strange. The way he took always stepped back, it was obvious he was scared of her too; she could see it in his face.
He tugged on the bottom of his vest, finding anything to do with his hands, and he sniffed, so trying to be proper. It surprised her – when she was being dragged into his life, she was fairly certain he would care nothing for propriety and rules, but it was quite the opposite: he respected almost every rule there was, except, of course, polite conversation. "Yes, well, your window," he murmurs, still tugging at his vest, and then at the silky cuffs of his shirt… she notices a discreet burn mark on it– most assuredly her doing – she might not have done any washing, but she did attempt to iron… once... Much like laundering, it was forbidden territory now… (Honestly, how was she supposed to know silk burned so easily?)
She laughed anxiously, and wrapped her shawl tight around herself. "Thank you," she smiled, fidgeting a bit before she moved over to the widow, glancing at him every few steps. He looked so awkward, standing there and staring. She was glad for the distraction of pushing the windows further open to look over the grounds. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling slowly with the fresh air, her eyes fluttering closed as a result. All she needed was the sound of outdoors and the smell – they wrapped around her and she felt an instant comfort.
"I should like to go outside," she sighed, mostly to herself as she opened her eyes. The grounds, she could tell, at one point, had been landscaped perfectly, without a single leaf out of line. Now, they were overgrown and wild. She found it so much more interesting than the neatly kept gardens at home, where you always knew what was growing where and how nothing every crossed paths, she could see here, it was a different story altogether.
She did not expect an answer, so when she heard his voice start, in that deep timbre, Belle started, looking over her shoulder. "Not in the rain, dearie," the right corner of his lip twitched upward, "We know you do not fare well in water." Belle laughed and he let out a deep breath.
"Starting this evening," he paused, swallowing, "I will be gone for the next several days," he finally announced. "Business in Gilder," he briefly explained. She knew what that meant, and knew not to ask about it. He was going to make a deal, create an exchange. He gave what was desired, but took something in return. She wondered what it would be this time. She just nodded, letting the spring storm wind blow against her face, a few drops of drizzle wetting her cheeks, nose, and lips.