Summary: It's Hogmanay, and Gold and Belle are staying with Aunt Elvira

Note: Black Bun is a Scottish bake traditionally eaten at Hogmanay.

Elvira's drunken song is 'The Widow', which we used to sing a lot at our folk group.

It, like this chapter, is a bit racy, but nothing too bad. The higher end of the T spectrum.

Black Bun

To say that the first day of the new year had dawned would be a little bit of an untruth. What had happened in reality was that Belle and Gold had noticed that the sky was no longer black outside, but a dark grey colour indicative of daytime on a misty, drizzly, Glasgow January morning. The notion of Hogmanay lasting until sun-up on the first was slightly defeated when there was no sun to be seen, but Belle didn't mind. She was warm and snug in bed with her husband and even if they had not stayed out till sunrise, they had certainly stayed awake.

"Happy New Year," Gold said presently, the words lost in a yawn. He pulled Belle in closer to his side and pressed his lips to her hair. "Sun's up, I'm going to sleep now."

Belle batted his bare chest playfully. "Aunt Elvira will be back any minute, we have to use all the time we have."

Gold laughed but didn't resist as Belle rolled over on top of him, pillowing her chin on her arms on his chest. He twisted one of her curls round his index finger, regarding her through sleepy, sated eyes.

"I have to admit, I do feel a bit like a teenager again doing this," he said. "I know we're married and therefore the fact that we make love isn't exactly a secret, but it still feels sort of... clandestine. Sneaking off and getting up to no good in relatives' beds with the fear of getting caught."

"Well, it's not as if we're in Aunt Elvira's bed," Belle pointed out. "We're in her spare room. But I know what you mean. Doing it in other people's houses is a bit strange. And definitely only to be done when they aren't there."

They had tried to stay at the party, they honestly had, but once the new year had chimed in and it had passed two o'clock, Belle had begun to feel the distinctive urge to get her husband alone as soon as possible. From the way that Gold had casually asked if she wanted to 'get out of the crush', she'd known that he was feeling exactly the same way. Since Elvira was still in full swing, quite happily knocking back gin and dancing around with Maisie the poodle under her feet, it made sense to go back to her bungalow where they knew that they would be uninterrupted for a good few hours, until the sun made a vague attempt to rise and the revellers at the party over the road returned to their homes.

Belle turned her head slightly to look at the devastation that they had wreaked on the room. Staying with Aunt Elvira for Christmas and Hogmanay was all very well, but as Belle maintained, there were certain matrimonial activities that could not in good faith be done in someone else's house, in someone else's bed, when they were only a few yards away. Especially, in the case of Aunt Elvira, when a furry little canine voyeur might decide to try and join in the conjugal festivities at any moment. They had seen the opportunity, taken it, and made the most of it. There was absolutely no rhyme or reason to the array of clothing that was strewn around, looking as if a small explosive had gone off in the wardrobe. It wasn't often that she and Gold reached the stage of literally ripping each other's clothes off, but the week of abstinence - and at Christmas, when the increased amount of alcohol lowered inhibitions exponentially - had evidently taken its toll on them worse than they had anticipated. Belle was pretty certain that Gold's shirt had no buttons left on it and her tights were now a torn and laddered mess neatly draped over the vanity mirror.

"Do you think anyone noticed that we left?" Belle asked, wriggling under Gold's touch as his fingertips traced patterns over her back.

"Of course they did," Gold replied sleepily. "Elvira's got eyes like a hawk, even when she's swimming in Gordon's and tonic."

"Do you think anyone realised why we left?"

Gold raised one eyebrow at her.

"Are you sure you don't know the answer to that one already?" he asked pointedly. "We've been married less than six months, and it's Christmas time, and we're staying in a two-bed bungalow with my aunt. We were only ever going to be going home early to get some coitus non-interruptus. They definitely realised why we left."

"Oh dear..." Belle buried her face in Gold's chest. "Is there any hope that Aunt Elvira will have imbibed so much gin that she'll be delivered home snoring in a taxi, and she won't remember?"

Gold shook his head, and when Belle risked a glance at his face, she could tell that he was biting back a laugh. Belle sighed.

"She's never going to let us live it down, is she?"

Gold shook his head again and Belle groaned.

"It's not that bad," he said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "Think about it. Would you rather have stayed over the road with the neighbours and Aunt Elvira and Maisie, or would you rather have come back here for a little... personal time?"

Belle required precisely no thought to answer that one, and leaned up to capture Gold's lips in response. He smiled against her mouth.

"Exactly," he murmured once she finally released him, casting a glance across at the window and the dull light beyond the curtains before running his hands down Belle's sides to land on her waist. "Now, how long do you think we've got before she comes back?"

Belle grinned. "What happened to you going to sleep?"

"I think I might be persuaded to stay up a little longer. Since we still have the house to ourselves, and all..."

They had got as far as another kiss before a faint barking noise started up. A rather familiar barking noise. Gold gave a long sigh and rested his forehead against Belle's.

Accompanying the barking was the sound of a rather reedy elderly female voice singing at the top of her tiny lungs. Aunt Elvira was on her way home and she seemed to be just a little bit worse for wear.

"...so boldly ran the widow and the door she opened wide, and as she did a tall and handsome stranger stepped inside..." she warbled. Gold gave a snort of laughter.

"Sh!" Belle pressed a finger to his lips. "We've got to pretend we're asleep! At least that might preserve us some dignity!"

"...she gave him bread and brandy, and when that he was fed, he said 'my dear now have no fear, it's time to come to bed'..." Aunt Elvira continued, before humming some more of the tune and then, rather unexpectedly, knocking on her own front door.

"Errant Nephew!" she called.

Gold's eyes flickered towards the bedroom door; he was obviously in two minds about letting his aunt into her own house.

"Errant Nephew, I locked my keys in there, please let me in." There was a pause and Gold shook his head.

"Nope," he muttered. "Bed is nice and warm and comfortable. Not getting out of it."

"Errant Nephew, I know you're in there and I know you're not asleep. Now leave your poor wife alone and let me in, you randy devil."

"How did I end up with the reputation as the insatiable one?" Gold asked, affronted. He gave a heartfelt groan and Belle moved to allow him to get up; there was no way that anything was going to get done - be it sleeping or more pleasurable activities - with Aunt Elvira shrieking through the letterbox. Belle watched him move around the room making himself decent, and she pulled the covers up to her chin. The bed was remarkably chilly without Gold's wonderful warmth to use as a living snuggle blanket.

Outside, Aunt Elvira was singing again.

"... At sixty-nine the widow laughed. 'Again, again!' she cried. The devil, he said: 'Well I can see just how your husband died'..."

"All right, all right," Gold yelled to her as he left the bedroom in the direction of the front door. "If I let you in will you stop singing lewd folk songs at the top of your voice?"

A few moments later, a small bundle of barking dog bounded into the spare room and stood at the side of the bed, tail wagging so hard that Belle thought it was in danger of falling off. Maisie looked up at Belle expectantly with big chocolate brown eyes, hoping for treats, and Belle gave a wry smile. She'd seen those eyes before not all that long ago. Her husband had incredibly persuasive dark eyes when he wanted to.

"Maisie!" Aunt Elvira came into the room and dragged Maisie out by the collar. "Leave the lovenest alone, you've no idea what's gone on in here. Happy New Year, pet," she said to Belle, almost as an afterthought. "Sleep well my dear. If he lets you," she added with a wink.

Gold, who had followed his aunt into the room, simply pressed his hands over his rapidly reddening face.

"One of these days, that poodle is going to find herself on a half hour cycle in the tumble dryer," he grumbled once dog and mistress had left the room again. "With her owner following soon after."

"You should probably be more charitable to your relatives," Belle said with a yawn as Gold undressed again and slipped into bed beside her, welcoming her arms around him and not commenting on her cold nose nuzzling into his shoulder blade. "It's Christmas after all."

Gold's response was a resounding 'hmph'.

They fell into a sleepy silence. Belle was just dropping off when she felt Gold bring her hand up to his lips and kiss her knuckles.

"Happy New Year, Mrs Gold."