Note: Hello again folks. How are we all? I just want to say, in case anyone's worried: everyone who has sent me a cupcake idea, your idea will be written – I have plots (and indeed cakes) in mind for all of them. It might just be a little while before I get round to them. So keep looking, your prompt will not be forgotten. So, without further ado – more baked goods!

We've gone back in time again, to almost immediately after Carrot Cake's epilogue. I've skipped the juiciest bits to keep it at an appropriate rating, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless.

Summary: The morning after Belle and Gold's first night together, prompted by Julie Winchester and anon reviewer Diane.

Probably self-explanatory from the summary but I'll always try and give warning – sexual innuendo throughout so the higher end of a T.

Almond Croissant

The first thing that crossed Belle's mind when she woke was how lovely and warm she was, especially since it was the middle of December and she didn't have any clothes on. The second thing that crossed Belle's mind, once she remembered where she was, why she was there and why she didn't have any clothes on, was that Gold made an excellent man-shaped hot water bottle and if she could have him in her bed every night, she'd never need to wear pyjamas again.

She had forgotten just how warm a second person made a double bed.

Belle rolled over onto her back to try and regain some of the feeling in her arm where she'd ended up lying on it, and Gold shifted in his sleep at the loss of contact. She glanced over at the shimmering gold silk in an unattractive puddle on the floor where it had been hastily discarded, and remembered the previous evening: the ball, the mulled wine making everything a little bit fuzzy round the edges, being an impromptu witness to Graham's proposal, and what had come after…

She felt Gold move beside her and twisted to see him blinking sleep out of his eyes.

"Good morning."

He smiled languidly. "Morning." He leaned across to kiss her briefly, but when Belle tried to deepen it and push him back down onto the pillows, he pulled away.

"Not now, give me a moment."

"Problem?" Belle asked, her brow furrowing minutely.

"Only if you don't let me out of bed to go to the bathroom," Gold replied pointedly. "All last night's whiskey's catching up with me."

"Ah. Right."

She released him and let him get up, turning back onto her stomach to get comfortable again and returning to her thoughts of the previous evening. She had been nervous during the cab ride home, she'd admit that freely, and she knew Gold had been as well. It was no secret that it had been a long time since either of them had shared a bed. Theirs had been a slow-building romance with its fair share of hiccups, and perhaps, deep down, they had been subconsciously putting off this moment, afraid that when it came to down to it, something would happen. When it finally came down to the bedroom, it was easier for Belle to remember that she'd lived this moment vicariously through prose so many times but didn't know how she would measure up in real life. It was easier for Gold to remember that beneath his suits he had eleven visible scars from the accident and the following surgery. Yes, they had both been nervous, but once they'd made it inside and kissed in the hallway, impatience and lust had swept the fear out of them. Because when it came down to it, they trusted each other and were comfortable enough with each other to say if something wasn't right, and that was really all that mattered.

And when the moment had come, Belle couldn't remember why she had been worried.

Gold returned to the bed and welcomed her readily this time, and Belle decided that starting the day with kissing was an excellent idea. When they finally broke away by mutual consent, she rested her chin on her hands, elbows planted firmly on the mattress, her eyes narrowing in pleasure involuntarily as Gold's fingertips stroked up and down her spine.

"Ruby was right," she said.

Gold's fingers stilled on her skin.

"Ruby was right about what?" he asked, and Belle could swear that there was the smallest hint of fear in his voice.

"You remember the first time you asked me out, that Sunday in the café? You came into the tail end of a conversation between Granny and Ruby concerning the difference between barristers and solicitors."

"Yes, I remember."

"Well, prior to that, Ruby had surmised something about lawyers."

"Which is?"

"Barristers may have briefs, but solicitors wear boxers."

"Indeed." Gold raised an eyebrow. "I'm not wearing either at this particular moment in time."

She was about to make some hopelessly clichéd comment about taking advantage of the fact but was interrupted by a loud rumble from her stomach. She hadn't eaten all that much the previous evening, and the sunlight peering through the crack in the curtains told her that it was late on in the morning.

All the same, she was still mortified. She groaned and hid her face in Gold's chest, only to find the man practically vibrating with silent laughter.

"Shut up," she mumbled against him. "It's not funny."

"You're right. It's not funny. It's hilarious."

Belle moaned."Gold!"

"Oh come on, I've already proved this morning that basic bodily functions have to take priority sometimes." He gave her shoulders an encouraging squeeze, the action seeming to reassure her that all was well. "What do you want for breakfast?"

Belle raised her eyes to meet his and gave a small smile.

"Depends," she teased. "Are you on the menu?"

Gold shook his head.

"That, my dearest Belle, is called cannibalism, and the last time I checked, it was illegal. And as we have established, I am a lawyer and I know these things."

"Ah, but when was the last time you checked?" Belle asked. "Things may have changed since then."

She bit down on his collarbone, not hard enough to leave a mark.

"True enough. Would you prefer me fried or boiled, madam?"

Belle pretended to give the matter serious thought.

"Lightly poached," she said eventually. "And topped with hollandaise sauce."

Luckily – or unluckily – her stomach growled again before she could get too caught up in extremely unwholesome ideas about hollandaise sauce and its various uses.

Gold bit back a laugh. "I think I have some almond croissants in the freezer. We'll have to make do with those."

Belle sat up and drew her knees up to her chest under the covers, watching Gold leave the room in his dressing gown and wondering what to put on. Donning her dress again seemed a bit overkill for a Sunday morning.

Catching something white out of the corner of her eye, Belle found her conundrum solved.

X

She knew she'd had the right idea when she saw Gold's reaction to her sidling into the kitchen wearing just his shirt and her French knickers. He stayed staring at her from over the top of the freezer door for a good two minutes.

"Have you found the croissants?" she asked lightly. "I'm starving."

"I, erm…"

Apparently coherent speech was beyond him. He ducked back down into the freezer and began rummaging in the drawers. Belle leaned over the top of the door and Gold looked up at her.

"Well?" she pressed. "Aren't you getting cold in there? Won't your knee be going stiff?"

She probably shouldn't be teasing him, because at this rate she'd never get any breakfast.

He held up the croissants and pulled himself off the floor, grimacing slightly.

"You're right about the knee," he muttered. "You're going to be the death of me, did you know that?"

Belle pouted. "Surely death by sex is a good thing? Four popes have died whilst having sex."

"What on earth were popes doing having sex in the first place?" Gold asked incredulously as he shut the freezer door and limped across the kitchen to put the oven on.

"I've no idea." Belle moved over to the table and sat down, crossing her legs demurely and fiddling with the shirt cuffs.

Croissants warming nicely, Gold came back across the kitchen and pressed a kiss to her forehead. The scene was so domestic, it was as if they'd had this Sunday morning routine their entire lives.

"Are you all right?" Belle asked in earnest. She was remembering the little gasp of pain that Gold had given the previous night when he'd ended up with all his weight on his bad knee at one point. He nodded.

"I'm fine," he said. "A little out of practice maybe. One forgets the trivial, unimportant things like knees in the heat of the moment."

Belle gave a cheeky little smile.

"Out of practice, you say?" she purred. "Would you be requiring some assistance to… get back into practice?"

Gold's eyes were dark and lusty as he nodded his agreement.

"Oh, most definitely," he growled. His accent had been getting progressively thicker for the last few minutes. "They do say that practice makes perfect."

He slipped a hand down the front of the shirt and Belle caught his wrist.

"Food first, fun later," she scolded.

"So there will be fun later?"

Belle looked from the oven to Gold to the kitchen door and back again.

"Well, I'd hate to keep us from important practising time." She licked her lips. "What are your thoughts towards breakfast in bed?"