The importance of a first impression was not lost on Belle, and she could nervously feel her pulse in her throat as she sat in the small waiting area. It was tastefully, if sparely, decorated, with the portrait of an old white man in what was an obviously expensive antique frame, and table lamps that were either Tiffany or a very fine reproduction of the style.

The secretary behind the desk paused her click-clacking and spoke up.

"Ms. French?"

Belle stood. "Yes?"

"Senator Gold will see you now."

"Thank you," Belle said, taking a deep breath as she strode toward the gorgeous oak double doors that led to the senator's office. A golden plaque hung to the right of the door: 'Senator R. Gold, Maine."

Pushing the handle in, she found herself in an equally tasteful, if more cluttered, space. Every shelf, every wall seemed to be covered in memorabilia and collectibles; medals, pottery, weapons. It felt less like the chamber of a politician and more like a pawn shop, or a museum exhibit.

"Miss French," she heard a deep voice growl from behind a turned office chair. Her stomach dropped as it began to rotate, revealing the man she'd come here to meet. He stood from his chair, walking forward from his desk to extend a handshake to Belle. She shook it, meeting his eyes; something deep inside her shivered.

"Senator Gold," she said, realizing her hand was still in his and pulling it back to her side. "It's lovely to meet you. Thank you for inviting me for a meeting."

The senator nodded. "Please, Miss French, take a seat." He gestured to the armchair that sat in front of his desk as he moved back to his own.

"Belle," she said in reply, smoothing her dress and crossing her legs as she sat. "Belle is fine."

"Belle," he repeated, turning her name over in her mouth as though he were trying to work out the shape and feel of it. "Alright, Belle, well, I appreciate your time today. I don't have a lot I can spare, but I've been told great things about you, so please make this worth my while."

Belle swallowed, flattered but even more nervous. "Thank you, Senator, that means a lot to me." She cleared her throat as she reached into her bag, retrieving a copy of her resume and handing it across the desk to the man.

"My degree is in Information Science," she explained, "so my long-term goal is a position with the Library of Congress. That said, it really was a very comprehensive program, and I have skills in organization, time management, and written and verbal communication, and I'm a very quick learner, so I know I'd make a fine secretary."

"Assistant," Gold corrected her.

"Assistant," she repeated, "apologies. I was under the impression that the role was mostly administrative."

"It is, dearie," he replied, "mostly. My work can be a bit," he paused, choosing his words carefully, "unique."

Belle nodded, not fully understanding, but unopposed to picking up dry cleaning, or whatever else it was the senator had in mind.

"My father says you did good work together campaigning in the nineties," she said, "so I'm excited to get to work with such an influential man."

The senator felt heat creep up his neck and into his face.

"Yes, well, I owe him a favor, and you'll do well enough," he replied curtly.

"Thank you," she said, biting her lip as she politely smiled back. "Well, in that case, when can I begin?"

The senator looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since she'd walked in his door. She really was a beautiful girl, wasn't she? Dark brunette hair cascaded down her shoulders, past the pale white skin of her face, with big, bright eyes and painted lips. Did she know just how beautiful she was?

The senator cleared his throat as he regained his train of thought. "Begin? How about tomorrow?" He reached for the leather planner that sat in front of him, adding a notation with an expensive fountain pen. "It's a big day, but I think you can handle it."

Belle nodded again, resolute in her ability to impress this strange, scary, oddly magnetic man. "I can handle a big day," she said, "Big in what way?"

The senator smiled coyly. "Just a gala," he said, "black tie, of course, and I'll need to memorize these." He pulled a small binder from the top drawer of the desk. "There are thirty-two associates in there that I expect you to be prepared to brief me on should we meet. Headshots and titles are included, as well as the name of their spouse if they have one." He passed it across the desk.

"Thank you," Belle replied, a pang of nervousness hitting her in the gut, but no less assured in her task. "Anything else?"

"No," he said, "thank you, Belle." His lips hung on to her name as long as they could. "But again: black tie. Do dress for the occasion, dearie." He began to stand from his chair.

"Of course," she said, mirroring him and standing as well. "What time should I be ready? Should I come here?"

"Yes," he replied, "at five. The car will take us to the gala, it's not far."

She nodded. "Alright. Here at five, got it."

The senator reached out his hand toward her again. "It was lovely to meet you, Miss French," he said.

She took his hand, shaking it, as expected, though she felt as though electricity flowed from his skin into hers.

"Belle," she corrected him again, softly.

"Belle," he repeated. Their hands still held one another's.

"Senator," Belle said, finally pulling her hand back, "if I may ask."

"Yes, Belle?"

"I saw your name outside your door, but it just said 'R.'"

"Yes," he answered, matter-of-factly.

"So, what is it?" she asked. "Your name?"

The senator didn't reply at first, he just breathed in and then out for a moment.

"You mustn't laugh," he said. His face was serious. "You know many cultures consider names sacred. They believe that names hold power."

Belle nodded in agreement, though she did grin a bit. "I won't laugh," she assured him, "I'm sure it's a lovely name."

"It's a family name," he said, still hesitating.

"Alright."

Another pause.

"Rumplestiltskin," he said, his eyes meeting hers again.

"Rumplestiltskin," she repeated.

He nodded. An electricity neither could name hung in the air.

"Well, Miss French," he stopped himself, then emphasized as he corrected himself, "Belle. Well, Belle, I'll see you tomorrow."

"At five," she replied, nodding, taking a step back toward the double doors, but not breaking her gaze into his eyes.

"Five," he said, "see you then, dearie."

"See you then, Senator," Belle said, then correcting herself as well with a coy grin, "Rumple."

He felt his heart quicken as she said his name, and then she was gone.

--

A gala. Black tie. Fancy.

Belle had been nervous. She didn't exactly have the time or money to find something new to wear, especially with nearly forty headshots and names to memorize. She wasn't even sure she had anything in her closet that fit the bill, and as she pulled hanger after hanger of dresses out, she grew more frustrated.

And then, a glimmer from the farthest reach of her closet. Belle pulled the yellow dress from the back of the wardrobe and examined it. It was technically a bridesmaids' dress from a friend's wedding, but it was floor length; you could even call it a gown.

Hair pinned atop her head and a pair of heels to accent her outfit, Belle wrapped a shawl around herself and hailed a cab bound for Rumple's office, eyes fixed on the pages of the binder he had given her even as she drove in his direction. She could not mess this opportunity up, and the thought of embarrassing herself in front of the senator was even more daunting than wearing a bright yellow bridesmaid dress in front of hundreds of other senate staffers.

The taxi dropped her at Rumplestiltskin's office building, and she traced the same path she'd taken the day before to his office on the fourth floor. This time, there was no secretary at the desk in front of the oak doors, and after a moment of hesitation, Belle let herself inside.

"Senator?" she called as she walked in slowly, then softer, "Rumplestiltskin?" She closed the door behind her.

"Rumplestiltskin?" she called again, and suddenly he emerged from behind a bookshelf.

"You're late," he said, not meeting her eyes he adjusted his cufflinks.

"Excuse me?" Belle said, then ignoring his comment, "You look nice."

Rumple turned his eyes up to actually look at Belle, finally. His breath caught in his throat, and he took a moment to regain his composure.

"You look beautiful," he said in reply, "but I did say five."

"It is five," Belle said.

"Five-oh-four, actually," he corrected her. "Timeliness is important to me. Remember that."

"Alright," she said, curtailing her annoyance and taking a breath. "Shall we go then? Or is there more to do here?"

"No," he said, "the car is waiting."

Rumple opened the double doors, gesturing for Belle to go through, then closing them after both exited. He offered her his arm as they made their way through the nearly-empty halls of the senate office building, down the elevator, and into the waiting black town car that sat at the entrance of the building. Rumple opened the door for Belle as she got in and shut it behind her before letting himself into the back seat with her.

"Thank you," Belle said, "you're quite the gentleman."

"I'm nothing if not polite, Miss French," Rumple replied as the car took off toward its destination.

"Belle," she corrected him again.

"Belle."

They rode in silence for the duration of the short ride, and when they arrived, Rumple again got the door for Belle, helping her out, and extending his crooked arm for her as they entered the lobby of the hotel where the gala was taking place.

Going first to the check-in at the very front of the lobby, Belle was surprised when Rumple retrieved two keycards from the woman behind the desk. Rumple could see the confusion on her face.

"You don't have to use it, but I wanted to give you somewhere to step away to if you need to freshen up." He handed her a plastic keycard, the room number written in permanent marker. "I always book my own room to retire to; these events can be exhausting."

"Please feel free to use your room as you see fit, it's already been paid for." He slipped his own into the breast pocket of his suit coat. "And if not, I can call the car for you when you'd like to leave. My obligation here is only until about nine, and then you're released."

Belle nodded, tucking the keycard away into her clutch.

Giving her his arm once again, the pair headed to the bank of elevators bound for the main event. The bright silver doors opened, and they stepped into the empty lift, light classical music playing from the ceiling. Rumple hit the button for the ballroom on the twelfth floor, and took a deep breath, resting his weight upon the delicate filigree of his cane's head, allowing himself to think for just a moment how nice her delicate arm felt in the crook of his. He glanced at Belle, this strange beauty who was using him to secure a job as a librarian, no less. Belle, who'd arrived seemingly out of thin air - almost like magic - and stood here, a vision in yellow, as though she'd been spun into gold herself. She glowed, and he wasn't even sure she knew it.

Time stretched itself toward infinity as Rumple took in the vision beside him, and abruptly started again as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open to reveal the chaos of the 74th Annual Senatorial Gala.

While it had felt gentlemanly just a moment again, the senator worried about appearing lewd; he knew what they called him in the papers, and he knew what the press was dying to print about him.

'SENATOR R. "THE DARK ONE" GOLD CAUGHT HARASSING NEWEST ASSISTANT' splashed across the front page of next morning's Washington Post would seriously hurt his reelection chances. His last had only just resigned the week prior, and he knew they would rake him over the coals given any provocation.

Anxiety climbing from his gut into his throat, he released his elbow, his arms falling to his side as he created noticeable space between himself and Belle. As they entered the ballroom, the gap closed again as Belle leaned in. Rumple could feel the warm touch of her breath on his face and lost touch with reality for a brief instant.

"That's Governor Regina Mills," she whispered, "and her wife, Emma."

"I know who she is," he hissed back, "She's the Governor of Maine. Do you even know what state I represent?"

"Sorry," Belle said meekly, backing away again, silently kicking herself for speaking up at all.

She stood on the sideline as Rumple said hello to the governor and her wife, exchanging pleasantries about next year's election cycle and how the couple's young son was getting on. Belle could see and feel the women's eyes on her, but neither addressed her until Rumple introduced her.

"And this is my Belle," he said, realizing in real time that he'd fumbled his words, crimson spread across his cheeks. "My assistant, Belle," he corrected himself, gesturing to her.

Belle nodded and extended her hand to shake theirs. "It's lovely to meet you both," she said, smiling.

"Likewise," Regina said, smirking, her eyes flashing a knowing glance back at Rumple. "I have a good feeling about this one," she said to him. "Have a good night, Senator. Belle," and she and her wife headed in the direction of another party to exchange pleasantries with.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Belle turned back to Rumple.

"I'm sorry, that was foolish of me not to connect the dots, but you don't get to be unkind," she said matter-of-factly.

Rumple looked at her, stunned for a moment, the feeling melting into a long-unfamiliar warmth.

"You're right," he said, without further argument, then a pause. "I'm sorry." He paused again, looking into Belle's eyes.

After another beat, he added, "You did your homework. I'm impressed, Miss French."

She was surprised, but cautiously and pleasantly so. "Belle," she corrected him again, "and thank you." Their gaze held for a moment longer than necessary, each curiously looking for the answer to a question neither could even frame.

"Shall we, dearie?" Rumple said finally, gesturing in the direction of tables full of extravagant table settings on the far side of the ballroom.

Finding their places at a table with a handful of other senators and staffers from New England, Rumple pulled out Belle's chair for her - he'd like to see the press make something out of a gesture that innocuous - and like time had folded itself around them in particular, dinner began immediately. Elegantly dressed caterers brought out plates of beautiful food, and Rumple could see the fascination in Belle's eyes.

"This looks wonderful," she said, and the look of awe was shared with a few other of the new staffers around them. The senator nodded in agreement, but he and the more senior among them had been to innumerable galas and were difficult to impress. Rumple noted for a moment how jaded he'd become to a life that was, in so many ways, pure magic; he wished he could see things like Belle seemed to be able to.

The speeches began as they all ate, then another speech, then another, and another, then awards, then another speech. Time seemed to drag on infinitely once again, this time torturing him with one stuffed shirt colleague after another spewing election season buzzwords at yet another overpriced gala. Servers would clear their plates, then replace them with another course, over and over again until it became nearly comical. Salad, then soup, then chicken, then another salad, for some reason. Had dessert and coffee always been served separately?

Belle's eyes would flit toward him every so often.

"Are you okay?" she would mouth from beside him, and he'd nod, though he could feel the color draining from his face. She could tell he was lying, and under the tablecloth, Rumple felt her hand fall on top of his knee. His heart faltered.

"It's okay," she mouthed, assuring him as she rubbed her hand. He was sure she was simply trying to comfort him and calm him down - her new boss was on the brink of freaking out at a public event, who could blame her? But she couldn't know the effect she continued to have on him. She couldn't know how hard he was working to swallow the heat that continued to grow in his chest each time their eyes met.

Finally, the speakers ended. The caterers stopped arriving with new dishes, and the lights came up again - somehow harsher and brighter than they were before dinner. The environment was frankly overwhelming, and the air was stifling. The string ensemble seemed to be playing louder and louder, and the silk tie knotted at Rumple's neck felt as though it were tightening by the second, choking him to death in front of all of his colleagues. It felt as though someone or something was slowly sucking the air right out of the room.

The others at the table seemed unfazed - they continued to laugh, and joke, and flirt, and flash their gorgeous white teeth at each other. Even Belle seemed to be enjoying herself, making conversation with the wife of a fellow senator; she seemed to be almost at home here, a magnetic vision in yellow.

Rumple could feel sweat leak down his neck past his collar.

"Excuse me," he said abruptly, pushing out from the table and walking with purpose toward the far end of the great hall. Quickening his pace as he passed the last table, he headed out the open double doors onto the balcony. Surrounded by the relative darkness of the night - no stars, just city lights in every direction - and breathing in the cool air, Rumple finally took a deep breath. In and out and in again, regaining his composure with every chest full of winter air, Rumple could feel his heartbeat against his rib cage. His pulse had begun to steady when the still darkness was interrupted by a soft touch.

Feeling the dainty but firm hand on his arm, Rumple turned, meeting a pair of bright doe eyes, so deep you could fall into them forever without stopping. Belle. His Belle.

"Miss French," he started, instinctively moving away from her touch, "this is unnecessary." The way his cheeks burned as his eyes held her gaze said otherwise.

"I'm sorry, Senator," the 's' sliding through a small smile like a snake, "I just wanted to check on you. Are you sure you're quite alright?"

"Yes," he said with a nod, "thank you, just needed some air."

"Alright," Belle replied, "do you mind if I stay? The air is so refreshing."

"Of course," Rumple affirmed with another nod, and he turned back to face the balcony's railing, resting his hands on its smooth, cool masonry. "Just as long as you don't talk too much, if that's alright, dearie. I did come out here for a bit of peace."

Rumple felt his heart leap into his throat as Belle's soft, warm hand came to lay upon his.

"We don't have to talk," she said softly, interlocking her fingers with his.

Turning his head, Rumple met Belle's eyes again. Eyes darting for a moment to the balcony's open doorway - all clear - he returned his focus to her face. She looked back at him with a small grin; he could tell she knew the effect she had on him, and Rumple could feel himself melting in her hands.

"Miss French," he started, his words catching in his throat. He started again, softly. "You should know this can't happen between us." He didn't let go of her hand, and his eyes stayed glued to Belle's.

"We can't do this," Belle agreed, still smiling, still lacing her fingers between Rumple's.

How many times since they met yesterday had he thought about the taste of her lips? How much time had he spent daydreaming of the way her scent would linger in his bed? Imagining his fingers tangled in dark hair; craving her hands on his bare skin. Wishing he could see the way those eyes glow in the pink light of a sunrise.

Throwing caution to the wind, Rumple drew his hand to her face, cupping her soft cheek as he kissed Belle with gentle fervor. He drew back after a moment, meeting her eyes again, then flitting downward in shame.

"I'm so sorry," he began, stammering, "I've had entirely too much to drink, and this is completely inappropriate. I am so sorr-"

Before he could finish, Belle cut him off, wrapping her arms around the senator's neck and leaning into another kiss.

"Finally," she muttered, pressing herself into Rumple as he gave in, melting into the possibility of love he knew he could never truly have. A love he could never deserve or call his own. But all the same, it was a love he could slip on for the moment, or even the night.

Rumple felt every muscle in his body loosen as they kissed; every dream he'd had of this moment paled in comparison to reality. No matter how many times he had imagined his hands at her waist and her tongue in his mouth, nothing could have prepared him for the bliss of this moment. Captured in the joy and heat, his lips left hers, and he peppered her cheeks and chin in small, featherlight kisses. He kissed a trail from her cheek to her chin, nibbling his way along her gorgeous jaw, down her neck, and planting a kiss at the base of her throat.

It was not lost on Rumple that he was more or less face-to-face with the most perfect pair of breasts he'd ever seen, and the animal part of his brain that lacked restraint may have taken over entirely if Belle didn't speak up then.

"Senator Gold," Belle said breathlessly, lifting his chin with her hands and raising his eyes to her again. He gave him another peck on the lips. "As much as I enjoy the enthusiasm, there is a time and place."

The blood began to flow from Rumple's pelvis to his face, and his cheeks glowed red again.

"Pardon my manners, Miss French," he said, straightening his tie and regaining his composure. He backed away, leaving breathing room between them.

"Not to mention it's quite cold out here," Belle said, biting her lip for a moment before continuing. "I know you have obligations here still, but if you need somewhere to warm up, don't forget I have a room on the seventeenth floor."

"Certainly, Miss French," he said with a nod, looking around again to make sure they were still alone. "And I'm on twenty-one. A suite," he added with a cheeky grin, "if that changes anything."

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled a keycard out and slipped it into Belle's hands, electricity jolting him as their fingers brushed. Leaning in, Rumple whispered in her ear "Twenty-one-oh-six," he said, "end of the hall on the right. One-half hour."

He punctuated the sentence with a lingering kiss on her perfect cheek before breaking away and waltzing back toward the bright lights of the gala.

"Don't be late, dearie," he added with a wink, and then he was gone, leaving Belle alone again on the cold balcony. She could still feel the warm spot where his lips had just kissed her skin, and turned the plastic keycard over in her hand as her pulse began to quicken. A half-hour, she told herself, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves as she walked back into the ballroom. She couldn't stop smiling.

Clenching and unclenching her shaking fingers, Belle made her way back to the table to retrieve her clutch, bidding the others still seated there a good evening and heading once again toward the bank of elevators. She could head back down to the lobby, call the car, and head home. She pressed the button to call the elevator. She could head home now, slip off this gown, settle in with a book and some candles, and call it a night. The elevator doors opened. She could end this here.

Fingers still trembling, Belle pressed the button for the twenty-first floor, eyes scanning the ballroom through the closing doors as they slid. Her gaze met Rumple's for a split second before the silver doors shut and she was rocketing upwards.

The doors opened again as Belle's heart raced, holding onto her clutch for dear life as she wandered down the hall to the very end on the right. The large wooden door of a suite was marked 2106 in golden numbers, and the keypad's light glowed green as Belle's shaking hands unlocked it with the keypad. She opened the door, mesmerized by the size of the room; it was several scales larger than her own studio a few miles away.

As she explored his suite, Rumple impatiently finished up his business in the ballroom on twelve. He needed to connect with the Senator from Kentucky about a piece of legislation a colleague was trying to push before the week's end. Despite his excitement about what was in store in his hotel room, the senator was a businessman before all else, and wanted the clear head sealing this deal would bring.

Quickly finding exactly who he was looking for, Rumple took advantage of the fact that his colleague had had quite a bit to drink from the open bar, and quickly finished his order of business, letting the other gentleman know he had other things he had to attend to.

Shaking hands with a handful of other colleagues on his way through the ballroom toward the elevators, he planned his escape. He'd schmoozed, and been seen with enough bigwigs to have made an impression; he felt confident enough to leave the gala behind. He thought about Belle's eyes looking back at him as her elevator had closed, and he bit his lip in anticipation as his own opened and carried him upward alone.

Disembarking and making his way to his suite, he took a deep, shaky breath as he unlocked the door and walked inside. He left his cane by the door, shuffling carefully toward the main room where an enormous kind bed lay beneath an exquisite chandelier.

Despite the tasteful decor and the luxurious surroundings, Rumple's eyes could focus on just one thing.

There, on the bed, was the most perfect vision he'd ever laid eyes on. Yellow dress cast to the ground, Rumple had silently wondered what lay under it all night, and the red lace lingerie draped across Belle's breasts and hips was far better than anything he'd imagined.

"Belle," he said, his voice breaking a bit. Clearing his throat, he repeated himself. "Belle. You look," he paused and took a step forward, "beautiful."

He walked toward the bed where Belle reclined, and he joined her on his hands and knees, positioning himself over her as he leaned forward and kissed her. Gently at first, then hungrily, he needed to kiss every part of her. He needed to show her how beautiful she was; he would do anything for her.

Belle's arms came up to wrap around his neck, kissing him back deeply. Then breaking it to look up with her doe eyes and say softly, "I thought you'd never come."

Rumple could feel himself losing control.

"Just you wait, dearie," he answered, kissing Belle from her lips across her perfect cheeks until his teeth met her earlobe. "Just you wait."

--

Continuing this fic into smut territory felt a lot like sending a dick pic no one asked for, so please use your imagination to fill in the blanks about what happens next. Pick your favorite porno and just imagine that's what happened. I have some options if you need inspo, but I'm not writing it out. Alright? Alright.

--

The first pink fingers of dawn had begun to reach across the sky when Rumple woke. Groggy, he rubbed his eyes; he was disoriented, still tired, and as his eyes adjusted to the still-dark room, his heart caught in his chest.

Belle.

The memory of the hours before came back to him, and a sleepy smile pulled at his cheeks as he took in the way the sunrise's glow kissed her face.

His Belle. Is this the one he had been waiting for all of this time?

Settling back down into the bed, Rumple turned to wrap his arm around the small brunette beside him under the comforter. He held her sleeping body tightly, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Belle stirred for just a moment, her big sleepy eyes fluttering open to gaze into his.

"Rumple," she said, her own smile forming as she looked back at him in the sunrise's pink haze. Belle leaned in to kiss him, folding herself into the safety of his strong arms and his warm body, and his fresh stubble that tickled her cheeks and chin.

As their kiss broke, they settled onto the same pillow and drifted back to sleep in the light of the rising sun. They would have to face a brave new world full of consequences for the choices they'd made the night before, but in this moment, they knew only peace in each other's arms.