At Belle’s insistence, there had been plenty of photographs taken, of everyone and everything, in every combination imaginable. Her discovery of this bit of technology had led to his purchasing her an assortment of cameras, equipment, and of course books on the subject – after the many years of living without her memories, his beloved grasped at anything that preserved moments in time so beautifully. He had to admit that he had been skeptical of her new passion (but always supportive), but seeing the photographs of Bae and Henry and himself lining the walls of their home, he wholly agreed with the practice. His wedding gift to Belle was to convert one of the spare rooms into a functioning dark room for her work.

Now it was morning and time to set off on their adventure at last. Bae had dropped them at the airport, still in his wrinkled suit from the night before, and after some heartfelt hugs they had made their way through check-in and security before depositing themselves in the deserted food court.

Rumple lowered himself into the orange plastic chair beside his wife (it was wonderful to think of her that way now) before placing the precariously balanced tray on the small table. Two muffins and two cups of tea, the best breakfast he could scrounge up at the crack of dawn; he’d just been glad to find somewhere in the airport that was actually open at this early hour, as the airport itself had only begun daily operations a half hour ago.

Belle lifted her head from where she’d been resting it on her arm on the table and blinked dazedly at the paper cups on the tray. “Is that coffee?”

He faltered for a moment, frowning with worry that he’d guess wrong on what to order. “Did you want coffee?” he asked hesitantly, eying the coffee shop down the hall that was already beginning to have a steady stream of customers.

“Gods, no,” she replied, taking a sip of her tea despite the steam coming from the lid. The sigh that followed was a happy one, and Rumple smiled at her contentment.

“So are you going to tell me where we’re going, or do I have to wait for the next airport to catch a peek at my tickets?” It had been part of their deal for the honeymoon that he wouldn’t know where they were going until during the trip itself; his darling Belle had been kind enough to inform him their final destination was somewhere in Europe, but she’d gone so far as to pack his suitcase herself to keep the secret. She’d done a miraculous job of it really, despite his frequent suggestions of amending the conditions of the bargain in exchange for certain… favors. (She hadn’t taken him up on a single offer, sadly.) He had to admit, though, that he was genuinely enjoying their adventure together.

Belle gave him a long look over the top of her tea as she cradled it between her hands. He could practically see the wheels turning away as she weighed her options. In fact, it was genuinely surprising when she reached into her carry-on and pulled out a blue-covered guidebook. “We are going to Switzerland.”

Rumple stared at the book in confusion, chancing a glance at his wife’s eager smile before drinking in the cover again. Finally, he just couldn’t help himself. “Dearie, why?” he practically whined, for a fleeting moment feeling much like a teenager must when being dragged off on a boring vacation with the family. “It’s all neutral! Wouldn’t Germany be more interesting? Or France? The French had a lot of executions…” It couldn’t hurt to make suggestions, and his Belle did love learning the history of this world.

But she just shook her head with that stubborn expression firmly in place. “You should have thought of that before you agreed to my choosing our destination.”

Alright then, one last try. “France is also very romantic…” The narrowing of her eyes told him she was having none of his shenanigans.

“So is Switzerland,” she countered easily. “All those beautiful mountains, with plenty of wine and chocolate to go around. Just because it’s been neutral for five hundred years doesn’t mean it’s not an interesting and wonderful place to visit.” She set the book on the table in front of him, the thud possessing a note of finality he wouldn’t have expected from the innocent-looking volume. “I’ve made up my mind, Rumple. It’s Switzerland or no honeymoon at all, including all typical honeymoon activities.”

He actually opened his mouth to protest the ultimatum she presented before reconsidering the move. This was the start of something new for them, and he didn’t think beginning with an argument was the best way to go about things. So he did as the other men of Storybrooke had advised and let his wife have her way in this small matter, for both their sakes. “As you wish, dearest.”