Archive of Our Own

It was Belle’s own fault, really, for not checking her e-mail first thing in the morning. If she had, she would have known her class had been canceled, and she could have crawled back into bed for another couple of hours. But she hadn’t, and now there she was, ambling down the empty hallway, not even bothering to hold back her yawns. She was planning on heading back to her room, putting her pajamas back on and maybe taking a little nap before her afternoon class, but when she passed by an auditorium door left slightly ajar and heard a familiar voice coming from within, all thoughts of sleep vanished without a trace. Belle stopped, looked around to see if anyone was heading over, then approached the door when she knew for sure the coast was clear.

“Correct, Mr. Doyle. It could indeed be said that the book deals with the conflict between individual desires on the one hand, and societal expectations on the other. But none of you has pointed out the simplest one, which is – and prepare to kick yourselves when I tell you because it’s painfully obvious – that all men are bastards.”

Belle stifled a giggle. A few students inside laughed nervously.

“But what about Ralph Touchett?”

“Good point, Ms. Hada. That dullard was alright, wasn’t he? Let’s be fair and make it bastards or invalids, instead. And yes, I am aware I fall into both categories, thank you.”

More nervous laughter. Belle tried to look inside, but the door blocked her view. It had been several days since they’d met on the roof and he’d kissed her silly, and the wait for more was killing her. Just a glimpse, for now, would be good, Belle thought to herself. If she could just see his handsome face for a few seconds, she could carry on with her day like a champ, she was sure of it. From her vantage point, she could just see his legs as he leaned back against the desk, and as she stood there and listened to the discussion, Belle came to a rather bold decision. She took a few seconds to fight down the mischievous grin on her face and practice her look of innocent surprise, then opened the door and walked in.

Silence. Belle put on that quickly practiced face of mild shock, then looked from Professor Gold to the gawking students, then back to Gold again. Deer in the headlights was the look she was going for. His arms folded, eyebrows raised, he gave her a critical look and waited in silence for her to explain herself.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I-I thought this was American Postmodernism!” said Belle, inwardly patting herself on the back for that little improvised stutter. A nice touch, she thought.

“Did you, now?” he replied, a lopsided smirk twisting his lips.

He was staring her down, and Belle wasn’t surprised. This was his territory, and he had his mask firmly glued to his face. She had always thought him just a little bit glorious when he stood in front of an audience, and in that moment she recognized in herself with an almost violent sense of nostalgia those same feelings she used to get back when she still took his classes. It had been almost half a year since she’d last sat in one of his lectures. She swallowed and answered his smirk with a little grin. Belle knew she must have made quite the picture, because she heard that hesitant laughter coming from the students again (she’d half forgotten they were there at all) and yet all she could think about was the first time she saw him. The first class of his she’d ever attended four years ago, where she was the only one to sit in the front row, and she could have sworn he’d given her an appreciative smile when she raised her hand and pierced the silence when no-one else would. But she was staring, now, and people were talking, so she forced herself out of her reverie and started to make her retreat.

“Sorry for disturbing you, Professor.”

“Just a second, Ms. French,” he called after her, making her freeze in place. “I know it’s been a while, but you actually read The Portrait of a Lady, didn’t you? Unlike the majority of this lot.”

“I did, yeah.”

“Before you go, would you mind telling us who you think Isabel should have married instead of Osmond?”

“No-one. Wasn’t that the point?”

“Obviously, but humor me and pick one.”

Belle put on a pensive look and made a soft, thoughtful sound for dramatic effect. In reality, she was buying herself time, because it had been ages since she’d read the book, and she was never quite as good with names as Professor Gold seemed to be. Every second felt like an eternity as it ticked away, and the pressure was mounting, but by some miracle, the name she was looking for popped up in her mind and rolled off her tongue.

“Henrietta.”

The classroom erupted in laughter. With an impressive show of authority, Gold managed to silence the room full of students with a simple yet elegant wave of the hand that wasn’t even accompanied by the usual stony glare, because he was still steadfastly beaming at her instead.

“All men are bastards, right?” Belle added.

She bit down on her smirk in an attempt do subdue it, but it was a lost cause, really. And for a moment there, there was no mask to speak of, and Belle could see that she had made him proud somehow. It felt pretty amazing, she had to admit to herself.

“Again, I’m so sorry for disturbing you,” she said, walking slowly backwards towards the exit.

“That’s quite alright. Goodbye, Ms. French,” he said, his grin not letting up, his eyes not straying from hers until she had closed the door between them.

Back in her room, just as her head hit her pillow, Belle’s phone beeped. She sighed, grabbed the infernal thing from her nightstand and was ready to switch it off completely and toss it to the side when she saw whose message it was, and her annoyance transformed into joy so fast it almost ousted the sleepiness from her head completely.

Cute.

The fluttery feeling in her stomach was just the slightest bit terrifying to her then, because one word had summoned it, and that, in itself, was preposterous. One word, and she was grinning at her phone, curling up on her bed as if that would still the butterflies in her belly somehow, trying to come up with a response as if it were a matter of life and death. It was particularly ridiculous, then, that she ended up texting back just the following:

;)

It took her a little while longer than it normally did, but eventually she slipped into a shallow sleep, the fingers wrapped tight around her phone slowly loosening the further she drifted.

…

The days they didn’t bump into one another were dull days indeed, and on those days, Belle liked to waste time by grabbing her phone, starting a message, changing her mind and erasing it, and then, invariably, calling herself an idiot for it. In fact, that’s exactly what she was doing as she walked out of her last class of the day, when a young, gangly, nervous looking guy approached her and tapped her on the shoulder. Belle, startled, stuffed her phone back in her pocket and looked up.

“Are you Belle?”

“I am.”

“Professor Gold told me to give you this,” he said, holding out something Belle couldn’t quite identify at first glance.

“He did?”

It was a simple white plastic lighter, but as she turned it in her hands, she noticed there was something written on the other side. In black permanent marker, it simply read: 7 PM.

“He said he saw you drop it, and he didn’t have the time to return it to you himself because he was running late for something.”

“Oh, right, yes. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

The boy hurried off and left Belle standing there, holding a lighter that had never been in her possession before. She stared at the black markings on the side, her smile slowly growing wider as she began to realize what this was – it was a cleverly devised invitation for a secret rendezvous, and Belle was charmed and impressed. The time wasn’t very subtle, of course, but the place – well, the lighter itself was the hint, wasn’t it? If she was wrong, she would be left alone on the roof with nothing but this lighter, looking like a fool. She knew she could text him to make sure, but for some reason, that felt like cheating to her, and Belle had never cheated on anything in her life so far. She wasn’t about to start, now.

She took out her phone and checked the time. Half an hour left to ditch her books in her room, freshen up and make her way up to the roof for whatever it was Gold had planned. Belle had half a mind to text him and ask why he’d moved their date up by several weeks, but she thought better of it. If Gold was set on being cryptic, rest assured he would stick to hints and riddles until the game was over and she had figured it out on her own. That much she knew.

When she opened the door to the roof at exactly 7 pm with her fingers playing with the lighter in her coat pocket, Gold was nowhere to be found. What was there, however, brought a tentative smile to her face. Right in the spot where she had spread her picnic blanket that day was now a different blanket. Blue, this one was, and as she approached it, she could see that there was a brown paper bag set right in the middle of it. Cautiously, as if some part of her thought Gold would jump out from behind the stairwell and startle her, she walked up to the blanket and – mindful of her short skirt – slowly sat herself down. The bag was fairly heavy as she took it up and placed it in her lap for further inspection. When she opened it, her smile grew bigger, because the first thing she saw was a beautifully rolled joint, slipped between a dark blue ribbon tied around a golden cardboard box. Also slipped under the ribbon was a little note. She laughed softly to herself – gold, seriously? – as she lifted the box out and put it to the side. Finally she took out the small plastic bottle of orange juice that was in there and placed it squarely on empty bag to keep it from flying away should the wind make another appearance, the way it had last time.

That box, though, looked more than just a little inviting. A quick sniff confirmed her initial suspicions that Gold had rolled her a glorious looking joint, and then she took the note from between the ribbon and the box. She unfolded it and began to read.

Belle,
I thought your plans for that
day should go through after all.
But I don’t regret derailing them
and I haven’t forgotten our deal.
Take care.
- G

Belle smiled at the note for a little while longer, then folded it and slid it safe into the inner pocket of her coat for which, up to this moment, she had never found a use. She took the box in her hands once more, tucked the joint behind her ear for safekeeping, and slowly, with her smile growing into a grin, pulled at the ribbon until the little bow disappeared and she could open it.

Chocolates. Of course. Gorgeous, expensive looking chocolates. White, milk and dark. Some plain, some shaped like little fruits, some with a walnut on top, some with an intricate flowery design piped on. The longer she gazed upon these little edible treasures – one hell of a step up from the vending machine chocolate she’d brought up with her – the giddier she felt, and the stronger the urge to grab her phone, call Gold and demand he come up there to be summarily hugged, kissed, and thanked.

But that wasn’t the plan, though, was it? And as she placed the joint between her lips, lit the end with her brand new but marked lighter and inhaled, Belle realized that this was fine. More than fine. It was perfect. Now she was finally having that little bohemian college moment she had set out to have when she had ventured on this roof for the very first time, only the chocolate was way better than expected, Gold’s joint was infinitely neater than any she could have rolled herself, and she could enjoy it fully now she knew for sure that it wasn’t going to be the highlight of her college experience. Because that was going to be something else entirely, which thought led her to grabbing her phone and typing a message before the weed could start to do its job and cloud her mind.

A date with me is risky but you’ll leave weed lying around on the roof of the institution that employs you?

Belle pressed send, then waited patiently for a reply. Inhaling deep, she realized he’d rolled her a spliff, because the nicotine had sent her head spinning just a little bit. It was then that her phone buzzed and beeped in her hand. She grinned throughout the conversation that followed.

You can’t prove anything
Thank you :)
You’re welcome
Wish you were here though
Would have defeated the purpose, and I’m at a meeting
Gotcha. Btw, secret message on a lighter? Clever + adorable
Stop texting me and get high

She chuckled softly to herself, put her phone away and proceeded to do just as he’d suggested. The sun was setting, the breeze was warm, those chocolates were to die for, and Belle French was getting incredibly, undeniably, beautifully high.

…

Belle would have to have a little talk with herself about stereotypical schoolgirl crush reactions to mundane things later, but in the moment, she could have sworn heart skipped a beat when as she walked past some wide open auditorium doors one sunny afternoon, she saw Professor Gold pack his notes and books into his leather satchel. He had probably just finished a class. With a little smile, she knocked on the open door and waved when he looked up.

“Belle,” he said, returning her smile for a brief moment before glancing at the back of the auditorium.

Belle followed his gaze and saw the last of the students leave through the doors in the back of the room.When they were well and truly out of sight, Belle walked in and closed the door behind her.

“You busy?”

“Not at all. Last class of the day. I’m afraid you’re too late to interrupt this time, if that was your intention.”

He smiled whenever he managed to make her laugh, Belle had noticed, and this time was no different. He returned his attention to his notes, shuffling papers, rearranging them, flattening them with the palm of his hand and sliding them into a bulging folder.

“Have fun yesterday?” he asked without looking up from the desk.

“Yeah,” she said with a little mischievous grin. “I did. Shall I bother asking where you got... it?”

He laughed and shook his head. With the folder stuffed full, Gold slid the entire thing into his bag and finally looked up to meet her gaze again.

“Perhaps I’ll tell you one day,” he offered with a little smile.

“That ‘one day’ being-”

“Yes, our date,” Gold almost whispered, making Belle giggle. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“It’s just us in here,” Belle tried to assure him, moving closer to the desk where he was fiddling with the leather straps on his bag.

“For now, yes. But those doors in the back are wide open and someone could walk in at any point.”

“We’d hear them walk up the stairs, first.”

“Belle...” he said softly, almost pleadingly.

Belle forgave herself for describing the look he gave her then as being puppy-like, because there was no denying that that’s what it was. A little confused, a little unsure, but full of affection and screaming out an unvoiced plea for her to either do something or put a stop to things, but just not to leave it up to him, for heaven’s sake.

Belle looked over her shoulder to see whether anyone had approached the open door at the back of the lecture hall. The coast proven clear, she closed the distance between them, wrapped her fingers loosely around his wrists, stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his jaw in a kiss. She stood there with her lips to his stubble for a few seconds, thumbs caressing the vulnerable skin of his wrists. She felt his head dip just a little bit, his hair falling against her face, and before pulling back completely, she couldn’t help but rest her head against his chest for a moment. When he kissed the top of her head, Belle thought her heart was about to burst, her breath catching in her throat.

It almost physically hurt to pull away; like a wire strung taut between them, cut mercilessly in two and snapping back to deliver a blow to the chest with a hollow sound. Oh, Belle knew she was in trouble then. No-one had ever made her feel something quite as profound as that before.

“Sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you,” she murmured, smiling down at her shoes for a moment before gathering her courage and glancing at him.

The look in his eyes soothed her. That was not the look of a man who didn’t just feel that same strange ache.

“You already thanked me.”

“I know.”

“You’re still welcome.”

“I know.”

“You say that a lot.”

“I-”

“- know. Yes. You do,” he laughed.

Belle grinned, shook her head, and, swallowing the lump in her throat that had no real reason to be there, headed slowly towards the door.

“I should go.”

“Alright. See you soon,” said Gold, giving her a little nod and a melancholy smile.

Belle wasn’t sure why she felt like there were tears threatening to well up in her eyes. She wasn’t sad. Oh, no, quite the opposite. It was just that whatever he had given her in there, whatever it was that had happened, it had just been a tad bit overwhelming. A little bit too close to what she’d been wanting for the longest time, and isn’t almost getting what you want just the most terrifying thing in the world?

She needed a nap.

…

It had been two weeks since they’d met on the roof and one week since being alone in a room with him had made her heart ache in the best possible way, and Belle was getting just a little bit anxious to see him again. She’d settle for hearing his voice, but she wasn’t quite ready to call him, no. She had had her finger on the call button countless times the past few days, and each time, after some deliberation, she thought better of it and put her phone somewhere on the other side of the room in case she got the impulse again.

But texts were easy. Texts were safe. A text was a soft knock on someone’s front door while a phone call, on the other hand, was duct taping the door bell down and pulling up a lawn chair. So Belle lay down on her bed in her pajama pants and an old T-shirt that evening, grabbed her phone, and wrote the most boring text she had ever written in her entire life, hoping he’d take it from there if he felt like it. If she was bothering him, he could easily shut down the conversation, and Belle wouldn’t have to embarrass herself. Yes. Texts were perfect.

What are you up to?
Stuck at a party.
Any fun?
None at all. Black tie nonsense.
Does that mean you’re wearing a tuxedo? :o
Perhaps.
Come on, answer me! :( Tuxedo?
Stop making me smile. People are starting to think I’m enjoying myself.
ARE YOU WEARING A TUXEDO
I am! Stop shouting!
Please, please, please send me a picture
I can do you one better. Roof in 15?
YES

Belle only realized that fifteen minutes was cutting it a bit close after she’d already shout-texted her response, but by God – she would make it with a few minutes to spare if there was even the smallest chance that this man was telling the truth about that tuxedo. So she jumped into her well-worn pair of skinny jeans (less friction, less time wasted) and grabbed the nearest top she could find (which luckily turned out to be rather cute,) settled for sneakers and was about to rush out the door when something caught her eye.

Gold’s jacket. Well, she thought to herself with a little grin, it probably would be chilly on that roof. She had to roll the sleeves up, but she was actually rather pleased with how it looked on her. Maybe he was just going to have to get another jacket, collateral be damned.

Gold was already there when Belle pushed open the door to the roof, his back to her, looking out over the campus, black clothes a stark contrast against the orangey pink sky. The creaky door alerted him to her presence, and when he turned around, Belle was well and truly satisfied with what she saw. He hadn’t lied about that tuxedo, and he looked better in it than she had imagined – so good in fact, that she gasped, then giggled into her hands.

“You’re so handsome!” Belle practically squealed.

“Oh, come off it,” he huffed. But he couldn’t quite fight down his little embarrassed grin.

“Handsome,” she repeated, lower now, but with laughter still glaringly present in her bright blue eyes. She moved closer, and so did he.

“I like the look of you in my jacket,” he offered.

“So do I.”

They stood there smiling at each other for a moment, a silence that wasn’t quite uncomfortable, but was bulging at the seams with meaning and potential, and the longer they waited, the more it itched, so Belle was exceedingly grateful when Gold broke eye contact and moved towards the stairwell with determined steps, telling her to hold on; he’d brought them something. Whatever it was, he held it behind his back, now, with a smug smirk that made Belle want to roll her eyes.

“Swiped this,” he said, finally showing her what he was holding. Belle gasped yet again at the sight of an expensive-looking bottle of champagne.

“Are you kidding me? You stole that?”

“More or less. I didn’t think to steal any glasses, though. I hope you don’t mind drinking from the bottle,” said Gold, slowly lowering himself to the ground to sit with his back up against the stairwell door. Belle laughed and joined him, scooting up close.

“I’ve got two gap years and four bloody years of college behind me, Gold. I’ve been eating out of pots and pans to keep dishwashing to a minimum – of course I don’t mind drinking from the bottle. Do you?”

“Don’t be daft. I’m Scottish.”

“Wait, you get to make Scottish jokes and I don’t?”

“Would you like me to get started on those Australian jokes, then?”

“Point taken.”

She watched him fiddle with the foil covering the cork.

“What do you say, Belle? Should I uncork this responsibly or shall we see how far it can fly?”

“You have to ask?” she replied, head cocked to the side, smirking.

And off the cork flew with a satisfying pop, crossing the length of the roof until, rather disappointingly, it bumped against the knee-high brick ledge and refused to roll over and tumble to the ground below. They were both so focused on their little projectile fun, neither of them noticed the foam bubbling up from the bottle until it spilled onto Gold’s hand and dripped down. Belle yelped and lunged towards it, hands around Gold’s arm to steady it as she tried to catch the stream of champagne pouring down the side of the bottle with her mouth until it ceased. When she sat back, she was met with Gold’s horrified yet amused stare.

“Oh, Belle, really now,” he half-laughed, half-cringed, bringing the palm of his hand up to his forehead.

“What?” she giggled, looking at him with wide, honest eyes.

“Really? You don’t... Honestly?”

“What is it?”

It appeared she really didn’t. Gold shook his head again, willed down his smirk and told her, “Never you mind. It’s nothing.”

Belle shrugged and released his arm. Gold, still quietly laughing to himself in disbelief, brought the bottle up to his lips and took a sip.

“So, what was the occasion?” asked Belle, accepting the proffered bottle in both hands (they were small compared to his, and the bottle proved to be rather heavy) and taking her first, non-sexually suggestive sip of the evening.

“Just another dreadful butter-up-the-donors soiree, if you will.”

“Ohh, I see. They need you to charm the rich guys.”

“Yes and no.”

“More or less, yes and no – I feel like I’m talking to a magic eight ball, here!”

“I’m sorry,” he laughed. “It’s just a little embarrassing. I stole my own champagne, in a sense.”

“Wait. What? You’re a donor?”

“Yes. Well, not directly. There are some ethical issues with accepting large monetary donations from your employees. Let’s just say teaching isn’t my only source of income and a whole bunch of lawyers and accountants have found a way to make it work.”

“That all... sounds a little sinister, I have to say.”

“Put a leash on that imagination of yours, Belle. Just investments, property, boring things like that.”

“Why the secrecy?”

“Well, let’s say I was complete and utter arsehole, committing fireable offense after fireable offense, but without my donation...” he trailed off, gesturing through the air as if waving the rest of his sentence into existence. “Etcetera etcetera.”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

“I’d skip these awful things if only someone else was as good at parting rich old men with their money as I am. Being one myself, and all.”

Belle snorted, shoved her shoulder into his playfully and handed him the bottle.

“Another secret, huh?”

“Not a word, you hear?”

“Promise.”

Belle’s eyes drifted to his neck as he drank and lingered there, just a little bit hypnotized by the muscles moving and twitching under his skin.

“Do you even have to teach?”

“For the money? I suppose not.”

“Then why do you?”

She took the bottle from him, but he remained silent for a little while. He stared off into the distance, eyebrows furrowed as if deep in thought or inner discussion. His tongue flitted past his dry lips to wet them, and he sighed.

“The devil makes work for idle hands,” he finally spoke.

Belle frowned, visibly confused. He looked at her, then chuckled softly at her nonplussed look.

“Never heard that one before?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure.”

“What I mean is someone like me is best kept busy.”

“Or you’ll what? Rob a bank? Burn down a hospital?”

“Probably not that,” Gold laughed, “I don’t know. I think it’s best not to find out.”

“I think you do know. You know exactly what you’re afraid of,” Belle said with a dazzling smile, poking him in the knee.

He looked at her, his eyes dancing over her face as if she were a puzzle, a trick of the eye.

“But I’ll let you keep that particular secret for now, since you’re spilling all your other ones left and right.”

“Actually,” Gold remarked, “now that you mention it; you’re right. How are you prying all of this out of me?”

“Don’t look at me! I don’t know! All of your secrets just come flying out of your mouth.”

“Well then, take pity and tell me one of yours.”

“A secret?”

“Or several.”

“I can’t think of one right now.”

“Oh, you are a dreadful liar.”

“I really can’t! I don’t really have any secrets, I think.”

“You should try keeping one. Can be good fun.”

“I guess I can see the appeal in having something all to yourself.”

“Mhm. That’s why I like coming up here to smoke, for instance. I don’t give a toss if people know I’m an occasional smoker. I just like it better if they don’t.”

“You don’t like people thinking they know you, do you?” Belle asked with a knowing smile.

“You’ve always been a perceptive little thing,” muttered Gold, returning her smile.

As they shared the bottle between them and the sun set lower in the spring sky, Belle felt herself getting steadily giddier. She was leaning against him, now, just a little bit. He was warm and he smelled great for some reason, but Belle chalked that up to the champagne, and this sudden urge to draw him out of his shell with teasing words along with it.

“Maybe I do have a few secrets,” she mewled, capturing his upper arm and hugging it to her body.

Gold willingly let her steal his arm away, smiling fondly. He had no place to rest his hand but on her drawn-up knee, but in the moment, it didn’t seem that significant a touch. Pleasant, though. Warm.

“Go on, then. Spill. Redress the power imbalance.”

“Nah. I shouldn’t. Not now.”

“And why might that be?” asked Gold, turning his head to look at her.

“Because if I were to tell you them now, odds are we’d be arrested for public indecency,” she said, voice deadpan but eyebrows raised in an innocent look, perfectly sweet smile dimpling her face.

Gold just stared at her for a moment, until her smile turned into a devious smirk, and he narrowed his eyes at her.

“Can’t behave after half a bottle of champagne. I’ll have to remember that.”

“I could behave. I just don’t want to right now,” she replied with a little giggle. “Now come on. I think we should watch the sunset.”

Belle leapt to her feet with surprising elegance considering her tipsy state, then held out a hand for Gold to grasp. He took it without a single objection or complaint and let her help him up and lead him to the edge of the roof where they stood side by side, hand in hand. It wasn’t a conscious thing; they’d just neglected to let go of each other’s hand, that was all. The sky’s colors were a lot more intense than they were the last time both of them had been up there; warmer, a promise of summer, fewer spring pastels and not a cloud in sight.

“Why don’t we kiss?”

Gold looked at her, smiling as if she was the strangest, most fascinating curiosity in the world.

“I thought we were waiting for our date.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“Delayed gratification?” he offered.

“That’s dumb.”

“Vastly overrated,” he muttered, indulging more than agreeing. He was enjoying her tipsy, looser lips more than he would ever admit to, and he would rather have her talk him into terrible decisions than shoot her down.

“I mean, we’ve already kissed, right? Well, you kissed me. You kissed the living daylights out of me, actually – like I’ve never been kissed before.”

“Really?” he asked, grinning an endearingly boyish grin that warmed Belle’s heart beyond all belief.

“Yes, really,” Belle assured him, her voice a little lower, smirking with slightly narrowed eyes. “I didn’t know which way was up, after.”

“Oh stop it,” he muttered, looking away to hide that embarrassed grin as it grew even wider.

“So, maybe spare me a bit this time.”

“This time, hm?”

She raised her eyebrows and gave a minuscule nod. His grin melted into a bemused little smile, and the way his eyes moved between hers and her lips as if he were still looking for a more explicit permission made Belle chuckle softly. On her tiptoes, she reached out and with her fingers gently placed under his chin, brought their faces closer together. His dark brown eyes stared right back at her until they went out of focus and Belle let her eyes slide shut and their lips move softly, sweetly together. Absently, not very consciously at all, Belle considered that perhaps, his lips were a perfect fit for hers. And spare her he did, until he decided that what Belle’s lips really needed were a tiny kiss each, and the unbearable sweetness of it made her fall against him, her head against his chest and her hands clutching at his lapels.

“I can fit you right -” he pulled her closer, gathered her to his chest and under his chin, “- here without those heels.”

“I can fit you somewhere else.”

And with those words, Belle had taken a sledgehammer to the atmosphere and smashed it to bits without a second thought, but they were laughing amidst the shards and the sound was so welcome, so delightful to both of them, that neither really mourned the moment.

“Fuck’s sake, Belle,” Gold laughed, hands covering his face and his flustered grin.

Belle was giggling uncontrollably now, reaching out to pull him back into a clumsy hug after he’d stumbled back theatrically.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she chuckled.

“No you’re not,” he muttered into her hair, grinning madly still.

They only really managed to dismantle the embrace halfway, his arm still wrapped around her waist as they turned towards the setting sun again. And for a minute there, it seemed like the shattered pieces of the moment preceding Belle’s gloriously direct come-on were mending themselves. But only for a minute, because Belle wasn’t quite through with that hammer, it seemed.

“Ooh, I get it now!”

“What?”

“The thing with the bottle. Why you laughed. God, you have a filthy mind,” she teased.

Gold huffed and put on his most indignant look, rendered utterly ineffective by the grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

“That’s rich coming from Belle ‘I can fit you somewhere else’ French, isn’t it?”

Belle could see he was trying to glare, but the softness in his eyes and the hint of laughter in his voice weren’t lost on her. She found it difficult to see anything else, actually, and she simply smiled and rested her head against his shoulder in response to his scoffing tone. His arm tightened around her waist, and she could feel that pull of the string again, that wire between them. She knew it had to snap again. They couldn’t stay up there forever.

“Do you have to go back to the party?”

“Mhm. In five minutes.”

“Can you make it ten?”

He smiled down at her. She smiled back.

“Sure.”

...

I’m bored
Read a book
No, entertain me
I’m at a faculty meeting
So? Talk to me
What about?
I dunno. What do you wanna do on our date?
Haven’t given it any thought
I bet you have ;)
Watch it
No, but really, what do you wanna do?
Miniature golf
Hilaaaarious
What do you want to do?
Line dancing
All joking aside, we can just do whatever
I mean I know where I’d like to end up, but idc about anything before that
Duly noted. A fun-filled day of ‘whatever’ we shall have
You just gonna ignore my suggestive little hint there?
Put the phone down minx, I’m shite at subtle texting and people are starting to notice
Stop replying then
Can’t. Meeting too dull, you too amusing, so you need to stop
Well I won’t, so I guess people will notice you getting/sending inappropriate texts
Wouldn’t call these inappropriate
Not yet ;)
Don’t you dare, French

Well. If that wasn’t a direct challenge, Belle didn’t know what was.

Why not? You gonna blush if I tell you those secrets now?
What I’ve been wanting to happen?
Inappropriate
And where?
Absolutely uncalled for
The desk in your office
I’m switching off my phone
No you’re not
Back of the lecture hall
My room
That little alley between the rec sports complex and the student union building
Front of the lecture hall
Back of your car
My bedroom back home
Library
You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve imagined in that library
Can’t believe I’ve agreed to go on a date with Satan
Knew you didn’t switch off ;)
There will be consequences for this
I should hope so
No more replies from me, my turn to report
Fine :( Bye handsome

...

“The ‘consequences’ you mentioned?” Belle breathed.

Gold was pressed up against her back, his breath hot against her neck. He didn’t answer, but the firm touch of his hands at her sides told her enough.

Belle had been browsing in the mostly abandoned Old English section of the library when she saw Professor Gold walk briskly past, with his arms full of journals. Their eyes had made contact for a split second before he was obscured by the shelves to her right. What she had heard then was his footsteps slowing, then the distinct sound of a stack of Papers on Language & Literature issues being unceremoniously dropped to a table, and then his footsteps again – only this time they were coming closer. She had watched and waited with bated breath, and when he reappeared at the end of the aisle with a dark look on his face, her stomach had flipped.

And now he was up against her, his chest to her back, and the heat in her belly slid steadily lower. He took her wrists and slowly moved them up, placing her splayed hands against the shelves. Belle’s heart pounded, her blood raced, chills traveled from where his fingers touched the skin of her arms to her spine, and from there rushed straight down between her legs.

“Is this okay? I want you to tell me to stop if you’re uncomfortable. I’ll stop,” came his low voice entirely too close to her ear for her not to whimper softly in response.

“I know,” she managed to croak out. “Don’t stop.”

It had never crossed her mind that this man wouldn’t have backed away and apologized a hundred times in thirty seconds if she had even so much as hesitated to give consent. But the fact that he had explicitly asked made her heart glow with fondness and an unbelievable warmth that threatened to distract from the heat pulsing elsewhere.

But then he buried his face in her neck, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin there, and Belle’s mind snapped back to one thing, and one thing only. Her hands were still splayed against the books on the shelf, but she had to hook her fingers onto the wood instead so as not to push the books through and to the floor on the other side, when she felt his hand in the middle of her chest, just below her breasts; firm, steady pressure as it moved ever so slowly down over the fabric of her blouse, then over the hem of her high-waisted skirt and further down still, her breath catching in her throat when the warmth of his hand neared the place where her anticipation grew hot and urgent.

“The things you’ve imagined in this library,” he murmured against her skin. “Let’s see.”

What a completely inappropriate time to notice the dark L of his accent, subtle though it was in front of those particular vowels. Oh, but it made sense, really, to notice it then. How could she not think about what his tongue was doing there, in his mouth, forming words meant to draw her out and turn her on? His other hand was at her chin, now, fingers tilting her head up just a little bit, exposing more skin for his lips to touch. Belle whimpered and tried to arch against him, knuckles white, lips parted, and then-

He was gone. He had moved away and left her wide-eyed and practically panting. She span around and looked over his shoulder to see if someone had come near and spooked him, but they were still very much alone. And then it hit her. What this was. Payback.

“You can’t be serious!” she hissed, the harshness of her voice dispelled by a flustered grin she had no hopes of subduing.

Her face felt hot and she knew she was blushing, but the way he was gazing at her with that look that suggested he was just a little bit proud of himself was so charming to her, that she didn’t even bother to try and hide the consequences of his actions. He’d more than earned his little victory.

“Silence in the library,” he whispered, taking a few more steps back, smirking the smuggest smirk Belle had ever seen in her entire life.

“That was low!”

“And now we’re even.”

“Are we, though?” she teased, voice a little lower, eyes demonstratively drifting down to where his trousers definitely didn’t fit the way they did before, then back up again to note that his smirk had almost turned into an embarrassed grin.

“Trying to get yourself into even more trouble?” he teased in return, with no real bite behind the words. The moment was changing again; she could feel it shift between them, and his grin softened until it was barely there anymore.

Belle’s heartbeat steadied. With the red fading from her cheeks, she knew that the moment had passed and whatever it had left in its wake was not quite as straightforward. The library had never been so silent as it was then, with the pair of them looking at each other, trying to determine if everything was still the same. And then, to her relief, the unknown made way for an unwavering sense of certainty when it dawned on her that what she felt when the heat ebbed was unchanged. It was still what she felt when he’d draped his jacket over her shoulders that day, it was the proud look on his face when she’d burst into his lecture under false pretenses, the sweetest kisses in that empty classroom, his arm around her waist as they watched the sun set from the roof, it was dozens of unwritten texts, her finger hovering over the call button. It was still all of that. It’s just that now it was also his voice in her ear making sure he wasn’t tearing her at the seams while his hands pulled at her strings and wound her up. And it was perfect.

She wanted to say something. She just didn’t know what it was. So she picked up her bag, lonely and forgotten on the floor, slung it over her shoulder, and on her way past, murmured, “We’ll see who’s in trouble,” as close to his ear as she could get without standing on her toes. She glanced over her shoulder – somehow knowing he was watching – just before she left the library and shot him a smirk.

Who was in trouble? Still mostly her. Had been for four years now. But he didn’t have to know that.

…

Exams, papers, whatever. Belle had done enough of them to know that she would be fine, and a good thing it was, too, because her mind was elsewhere completely for most of the day. In between revising and churning out papers like she was getting paid for it, Belle did little more than eat, sleep and check her phone to see if he’d sent her a text, but the message she was waiting for came only in the afternoon on the day after she had finished her last exam. As if he knew.

And it wasn’t a text.

“I believe congratulations are in order,” sounded his voice in her ear.

“Well, I haven’t graduated just yet.”

“That’s just a formality. You know you passed everything. You always do.”

“Let’s say I agree with you. Does that mean we can go on that date, now?”

“Does tomorrow work for you?”

“You know what really works for me? Tonight.”

Belle heard him chuckle softly.

“I’m dead serious. Come pick me up. I’m tired of waiting.”

He didn’t speak for a little while, but then she heard him sigh.

“If you’re sure this is what you want.”

“Four years, Gold,” she said, softer now, wanting to reach through the phone and smooth that hint of insecurity away. “This is what I want. Is it what you want?”

“Yes.” And there was no hesitation in his voice. No fear. Just intent.

“Then give me an hour to get ready. I’ll meet you at the parking lot, if that works for you.”

“That’s perfect.”

When Belle hung up, she was shocked with how calm and yet demanding she’d been, and her heart was racing. What if he’d taken it the wrong way? What if he had other plans for tonight? What if she’d managed to annoy him already? But no. No, she told herself firmly, slipping into her favorite blue dress. It was fine. He wasn’t lying when he said this was what he wanted, she could tell. It would be perfect. In about an hour, she wouldn’t have to wait anymore, and she could hold his hand in public, and kiss him some more, and run her fingers through his hair and demand he take her home with him. And with her red lipstick on and her hair pulled up, the nerves settled and transformed into a dark undercurrent of anticipation instead.

And he could barely keep his eyes off her in the car, Belle was pleased to notice. Well, it was a little dangerous, she supposed, but there was barely any traffic, so she was sure they’d live. Probably.

“So, where are we going?”

“Well, you didn’t give me much notice, so I’m afraid the only thing I’ve managed to come up with is we stroll down the boardwalk until we deem one of the restaurants worthy of your lovely blue dress’s presence,” he said, glancing down at the hem of it, making Belle laugh.

“You like it?”

“Very much.”

“Matches your shirt, don’t you think?”

“I can’t even remember what it is I’m wearing, sweetheart, to be honest” he chuckled, hands clenching and unclenching around the wheel. Belle smiled at the endearment.

“Sweetheart,” she repeated, as if she were tasting the word on her tongue. Gold shot her a quick sideways look, a little nervous, now.

“Sorry. This date thing,” he started, pausing to sigh, “might open the endearment floodgates. And the curse word floodgates, for that matter.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” she laughed. “I like it. I liked ‘dearie’ until I realized you call everyone else that, too. Sweetheart’s perfect, if it’s just for me. Is it?”

He turned his head to give her a look with knitted brows that suggested she was absolutely off her rocker for even suggesting that it wasn’t.

“Yours alone.”

And there was that feeling again, stretching from her chest to his, pulling at her, making her want to rush up to him, push up to him, latch on and drown in his embrace. Clear as day. She couldn’t stop smiling.

And they could barely stop talking and laughing long enough to even really properly consider the restaurants they were passing on the boardwalk, arm in arm as they were, her head falling to his shoulder each time he made her giggle. They simply wandered into a half-decent looking one, tired of walking, wary of straining his ankle too much. For a moment there, it looked as if Belle and Gold were about to have a perfectly traditional dinner date. But then just as they were being led to their table, two rather loud grey-haired men in expensive looking suits appeared, one of them clasping Gold’s shoulder with such force that Belle cringed at the slap, and the other shooing away the waiter and telling him, “Gold and his companion, here, will be dining at our table.”

“No, no no no, Hector. Not tonight,” said Gold. “Not ever, really, but sooner in hell than tonight.”

“Oh come on, Gold. We didn’t finish our talk at the party when you mysteriously disappeared,” replied the larger of the two.

“You’ll dine with us. Our treat.”

“Gentlemen, I have no intention of turning this into a party of four, now if you would just be so kind as to-”

“We’ll just shout friendly conversation at you across the room if you insist on sitting somewhere else.”

Belle had been watching the entire thing unfold, her arm still wrapped firmly around Gold’s, when she noticed his knuckles had gone white. She looked up, and her heart nearly sank; she had only seen that face once before, when it had preceded someone’s well-deserved expulsion from the school. Enough was enough.

“Actually, I’m not feeling too well. Do you think you could drive me home?” she muttered, trying her best to sound weak and queasy. And in an instant, his face softened and the anger in his eyes was replaced with genuine concern. That concern, though, soon made way for a look of recognition. He’d caught on. Of course he had.
“But of course, sweetheart,” he cooed, then turning towards the two baffled men and with his jaw almost clenched, said, “You’ll understand if we leave you two gentlemen to it.”

They were left standing and nodding, mute all of the sudden, and Belle had to muster all her self-control not to burst into laughter until he’d safely guided her out of the building and away from the windows with his hand firmly in the small of her back.

“Do I ever owe you,” he growled, the hand at her back sneaking round her waist and pulling her close.

She giggled against his shoulder, arms wrapping around his neck.

“Let’s just have ice cream for dinner, and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal.”

It was dark, now, but the moon was out and the sea was glistening. The bench they’d chosen to sit down and have dinner on had the perfect view.

“Two years, though,” Gold muttered in between licks of his chocolate ice cream. “Bit excessive, don’t you think?”

“Hm?”

“Two gap years, you said. What on earth did you get up to?”

“Oh. Worked, mostly. Went to Australia for a bit. And read a lot.”

“Did you work to save up for college?”

“Yeah,” said Belle, reaching out and taking his cone to switch it with her strawberry one. He didn’t even blink at this – just accepted it as if it was the most normal thing in the world. It made Belle smile. “I could have worked and studied at the same time, but I wanted to be able to focus.”

“Couldn’t your parents have helped?”

“My father’s business doesn’t always do too well. He offered, but I refused.”

Gold smiled. “Of course you did.”

“But you’ll notice I didn’t refuse your offer to pay for dinner.”

“I did, yes, and I’m most grateful for that. Buying you ice cream’s the least I could do to reward you for your clever malingering back there.”

They switched cones a few more times and ate in comfortable silence, until all of the sudden, Belle slapped her hand to Gold’s knee and startled him out of his reverie, staring at the sea as he was.

“Wanna spend a little more money on me?” Belle asked, grinning her most mischievous grin.

Gold narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but nodded regardless. Belle pointed over her shoulder. Gold followed her gaze towards a row of claw machines in the arcade behind the bench they were sitting on, and slowly began to smirk.

“Oh, Belle. Let me teach you a little trick.”

“Oh?”

“Come on.”

He took her by the hand (her heart beating a little faster, her grin nearly splitting her face in two) and led her to one of the machines. Belle wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t his fingers gently gliding over her hair and pulling out not one, but two of her bobby pins.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you a fighting chance,” he muttered, snapping one of the pins in half, then bending the end at a 90 degree angle. He did the same with the smaller pin, but didn’t bend it quite as far.

“Cover me, will you,” he said, crouching down with a soft groan.

Belle didn’t know quite what to do, so she just moved a bit closer and hoped that’s what he meant.

“Is that a lock? And are you picking it?” she whispered, watching his fingers manipulate the pins into the lock of a panel on the claw machine, twisting and turning and altogether impressing the hell out of her with how fast he managed to – click – it open.

“Would you like to say that again? Louder, perhaps?”

“Are you just gonna take something out?”

“Course not. That would be theft.”

Belle leaned down a little to see what he was doing. He had his fingers on what looked like a control panel, quickly turning a small knob to one side, then shutting the panel and – with another little groan of pain – standing up as if nothing had happened. Belle was practically gaping at him, but he paid her no mind. He merely fished a coin out of his pocket and held it out in the palm of his hand.

“Give that a go.”

Her smile was tentative and her eyes narrow, but she took the proffered coin and slid it into the slot. The machine burst into life, lights flashing and music blaring, and Belle was more than a little relieved it hadn’t burst into flames yet. She moved the crane towards an adorable stuffed crocodile, pressed the button, then watched in awe as the claw grasped the little fluffy reptile firmly, pulled it up from from the pile, dragged it over to the shaft and dropped it. Just like that.

Belle’s mouth had dropped open, her eyes wide as could be.

“That never happens,” she said, voice low and conspiratorial.

Gold quirked an eyebrow and smirked his knowing smirk.

“It does when you change the programmed claw strength.”

Belle couldn’t quite pick up her jaw from the floor, until she reached into the machine and retrieved her prize. She clutched her new reptile friend to her chest and stood on her toes to kiss Gold on the cheek.

“That was impressive. And very sweet of you. Where did you learn how to do that?”

“My father taught me.”

“He sounds like an interesting man.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“Will you change it back?”

“I don’t think I will,” he said softly, smiling.

But he wasn’t smiling at her. Belle turned around and saw a little boy, looked about six or seven, brown eyes wide and bright, staring at them as if they were seven feet tall and made entirely of diamonds. Gold reached into his pocket again.

“Here you go, lad. Try this one,” said Gold, sliding another coin in the slot.

The boy beamed and latched himself onto the machine. With his arm around her waist, Gold and Belle left the kid to his newfound plush toy riches. The devil might find work for idle hands, Belle thought to herself with a secret smile, but if that work made a lonely looking kid smile like that, then perhaps the devil wasn’t all that bad.

Neither of them even mentioned going back to the car, but that’s where they were heading anyway. In silence, but smiling. Her arm still wrapped around his, as if she were afraid they would be torn apart somehow.

“You’re taking me home, right? Yours?” said Belle, with just a little hint of a tremble in her voice.

“Would you like that?”

“Very much.”

The car ride was silent, too. There was nothing left to be said. The wire between them was tight and tugged at their hearts, pulled them closer together and towards the inevitable. And even when the door of his pink house fell shut behind them and Belle began to remove the rest of the bobby pins from her hair, letting down strand after strand of soft hair under Gold’s watching eyes, the reality of the situation didn’t quite sink in. How could it? Four years of wanting this. One month of promise. How could this moment possibly feel real?

“Belle. If we...” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, combing it back and letting it fall to the front again. “Would you stay?”

“Stay the night?”

“It’s alright if you want to leave, after, only I feel like I have to be honest and admit I wouldn’t like that very much.”

She closed the distance between them, cupped his face in her hands and smiled up at him, looking straight into his dark, uncertain eyes.

“I took that for granted.”

“You did?”

“Mhm,” she murmured, nuzzling his cheek with her nose. “I had it all planned out. Sex, cuddle, fuck, fall asleep, wake up in the middle of the night, fuck again, fall back asleep, wake up, morning sex, cuddle, shower sex, and then you cook me breakfast.”

He laughed a nervous laugh that almost shattered Belle’s pokerface.

“No pressure, then.”

“What? Can’t fry an egg?”

Belle laughed at her own joke, but not for long, because his mouth was on hers in a heartbeat, swallowing up the laughter and making her clutch at his jacket to steady herself. His hands were everywhere – just everywhere at once; in her hair, then down her back, grabbing at her and pulling her so deliciously close to him that the heat between her legs was near instant. Just instant lust that had been pooled deep within her since that moment in the library, bubbling up, coloring her cheeks red, making her push up against him and mewl into his mouth. And then that bold tongue of his again, making her come undone in his hands, against his lips, and she was out of breath before she even knew it. And somehow they were halfway up the stairs at that point.

“Bedroom, I assume?” she breathed when he finally let her break away.

But there came no reply. Just his dark eyes, warm and intense, bursting with determination and want. She must have assumed right, because moments after, she found herself falling backwards onto his bed, her dress already pushed up her thighs somehow. He crawled on after her, following her as she scooted further up the bed to make room, but his hands on her thighs stilled her, and she let herself sink into the bed in surrender.

“Come here,” she murmured, reaching out to grasp at his tie and tug him up to cover her body with his. His thigh between hers, his hair tickling her collar bone as he mouthed at her neck. “We’ve got all night.”

…

“You okay, Belle?”

Belle stopped drawing circles on his bare chest for a moment to look up at him, smiling bright despite the early hour and the lack of sleep. He was smiling, but she knew he was still just a little bit concerned. It was okay, though. Nothing she couldn’t deal with – and nothing she wouldn’t deal with in a moment. If her plan was working.

“Course I am. Are you?”

“I’m great.”

“Good,” she said. And her fingers went back to tracing invisible patterns on his bare skin until her teasing touches had done the trick and she suddenly found herself being grabbed and pulled on top of him with a giggly, high-pitched squeal.

“Are we on schedule?” he asked as she pressed tiny kisses to his chest, his fingers sliding through her hair.

“Just about.”

“Room in your schedule for a wake and bake?”

She looked up at him, brow furrowed, clearly confused, and Gold couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh sweetheart. You’re the worst college student in the world. Never mind.”

“Whatever it is, I bet it’s not as good as this,” said Belle, trailing a hand down his chest.

She saw him swallow, and her pout turned into a little predatory smirk.

“No, you’re right. Not even close.”

“Show me tomorrow morning, maybe.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes, tomorrow. Unless you’ve got plans?”

“None. Just yours.”

It was four years of wanting him, one month of nearly having him, one night of being with him, and Belle was still very much in trouble. But now so was he.