#sfss

Everyone involved in the production was particularly looking forward to this particular scene (well, apart from Rum, who would have to spend eight hours in make-up for it), because it marked the first appearance of Rum’s character’s wife. Lacey, much-missed human spouse to Rum’s alien Dr Stiltskin, stranded in space aboard the ill-fated ship Aurora Borealis, had been mentioned often in the show’s run but have never yet been shown on screen. This episode would change all that, and knowing that the role had been cast but no announcement had been made, Internet speculation was rife as to which lucky actress would be sharing Rum’s scenes.

In this much talked about episode, the Aurora Borealis had come under attack from alien hostiles who had used a poisonous gas to try and knock out the crew. The gas had been ineffective against the predominantly human crew, but the very alien Dr Stiltskin and the part-alien Officer Arendelle had both succumbed to its effects. Stiltskin spent most of the episode in a dreamworld, trying desperately to return to consciousness whilst living in a fantasy of having been returned home and reunited with Lacey. Naturally, any good reunion after being unceremoniously separated from a life partner needed copious amounts of sex, so the showrunners had dutifully written Stiltskin’s first and only bedroom scene, in which Rum and his co-star would be very naked and Rum would require complete make-up coverage.

Belle took a deep breath and stopped her pacing. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen Rum’s ass before. He’d bared all for the camera enough times before in various other films and TV series; indeed some of the younger talent doing their first ever nude scenes had come to ask him for advice, guidance and reassurance. Whether they’d got it was a different matter, Rum really wasn’t the most reassuring person at the best of times, and at eight o’clock in the morning when he’d been poked by a make-up artist for the past four hours, he was even less so. Still, they’d all managed to get through their exposure unscathed in the end. Belle sighed, sinking down into the nearest make-up chair. Sure, she’d seen Gold’s ass in films before, but seeing it on a screen was very, very different to seeing it in person. And applying several layers of make-up to it.

Still, there was no more time to think about it. She could hear the uneven triple step of Rum’s feet and cane coming along the deserted corridors towards the make-up room, and she knew that she had to get her head in the game and stop overthinking the entire situation. She was a make-up artist and this was her job. That she had a crush on her charge was entirely beside the point.

Gold entered the room with what would have been a black expression had he not looked so thoroughly exhausted. Belle immediately put the kettle on.

“Bad night?” she asked, and received a grunt in return.

“I don’t think I slept at all,” Rum muttered as she waved him behind the curtain. The make-up room, usually one long open space, had been partitioned off for the occasion to allow Rum some privacy. Normally when actors had nude scenes, Belle would do their make-up checks in their trailers, away from the rest of the cast and crew milling about, but since Rum required so much make-up, she really needed to have her entire kit available to her, as well as a couple of extra pairs of hands should she need them to get him finished in time.

He sat down in the chair and accepted his tea gratefully.

“So, where do you want to start?” he asked.

“Bottom half first,” Belle said. “We’ll work our way up from your ankles, then by the time we get up to your chest and arms, your lower half will be dry and you can sit down for a bit. Did you bring any kind of entertainment? We’re in for the long haul.”

Rum reached into the seemingly limitless pockets of the ratty old bathrobe that he always wore to set, and pulled out a half-litre of whisky. “Yep. I’m all set.”

Belle rolled her eyes.

“It’s not going to be that bad,” she said. “You’ll be on a closed set, it’ll only be you, Claire, Cara and me, and Archie several feet up in the air doing the lights so he’s not going to see anything. You’ll be fine.”

“I’m not worried about today,” Rum grumbled, pouring a generous measure of whisky into his mug before kicking off his shoes and shimmying out of his jeans. It was time to get down to business, and Belle settled herself on the floor beside him with her airbrush, running a hand over his calves. He’d nearly had a heart attack when she told him he’d have to shave his legs in order for the make-up to sit properly, but he had nonetheless the obeyed her instructions. “Well, that’s a lie. I am worried about today. Everyone gets a bit drunk before baring all to the world.”

“Yes, I do seem to remember that ‘vodka’ was your main word of advice to David and Mary Margaret before their big love scene.”

“Well it worked for them. That was a wonderful episode.”

He didn’t speak again for a long time, and Belle didn’t push it. She did, however, keep an eye on the amount of whisky that was going into the mug. She continued to work in silence on his legs, until she had gone up as far as she could without him taking off his underwear. Here was the crunch point, and  she sat back on her heels, wondering when would be the best time to let him know she needed to get to his backside. Finally he spoke again, pushing the whisky bottle to one side.

“No, the main thing I’m worried about is when the episode airs.”

Belle put the finishing touches to his left leg and gave him a blast with a cold hairdryer to set the paint quickly, and she glanced up. “Why’s that?”

Gold just gave her an incredulous look.

“I’m fifty-two,” he said. “No-one wants to see my naked rear on screen.”

“Oh, I think you’d be surprised. I do keep telling you to check out your Tumblr following.”

“Belle…”

“All right, all right, I’ll be quiet. But seriously, there’s at least one person out there who wants to see your naked rear on screen.”

“Really?”

Well, since he needed the confidence boost, she might as well go all in. Belle winked at him, and Gold went distinctly pink.

“Really? You… You’re ok with that?”

Belle just gave him another wink, and in that moment, with him so sweetly befuddled and unable to get his head around the fact that Belle found him attractive, she realised that all the awkwardness had gone from her task.

“Boxers off, cock sock on now, Rum.”

He kicked off his underwear in something of a daze, jumping when the cold paint hit his backside.

He doesn’t seem sure, but nonetheless takes a step back and lets her take over. The normality of the motions of making tea help to steady her nerves, and once they are sitting at the table with their cups, she’s feeling much more like herself again.

There’s just one thing that’s niggling at the back of her mind about her ordeal, and it’s not one that she wants to broach with Rumpelstiltskin. Not exactly for fear of his reaction, per se, but because she doesn’t know whether he would think her utterly mad. The little puppy dog that started this whole sour adventure. She really wonders what has become of it, because although she has seen that using animals is Cruella’s modus operandi, she really can’t blame the poor dog for his role in the proceedings. He had just been an innocent pawn, just as she had been, and a part of her really doesn’t want him to have to go back to doing Cruella’s bidding when he should be enjoying a carefree pup’s life. 

If she voices these concerns to Rumpel, however, she’s pretty sure that she’ll just receive an incredulous look in return, as if he can’t believe that after the fright she’s just had and the assault on her own person and her compromised safety, that she should be so worried about the wellbeing of the dog that lured her into that position in the first place. So, she says nothing, and instead just drinks her tea. After reiterating for the umpteenth time that he does not expect her to do any more chores today or tomorrow in order for her to get over her ordeal, Rumpelstiltskin leaves her alone, once she has once again reassured him that she’s all right and she doesn’t need anything. Really, his concern for her is very touching, and she wonders if perhaps there is some kind of deeper feeling at work there.

Belle doesn’t think any more on it. That’s not a path that she wants to go down, because her own feelings towards him are so confused at the moment. He gave up a precious artefact to get her back, without a second thought it seemed. Is her presence in his castle really so much more valuable to him than a device that can show a person’s greatest weakness?

Alone in the main hall, Belle tries to focus on reading, but she just can’t get her mind to settle after so much turmoil, and she wanders the halls for a while. Rumpel is holed up in his laboratory in the tower again, and she knows that she will probably not see him until the next day. He likes to bury his feelings in work and experimentations, she’s already worked that out about him.

Her steps eventually wend their way in the direction of the kitchen, not out of any hunger but just because it’s a place to go, and she immediately stops in her tracks because it’s clear that she is not alone in there. She can hear someone else breathing, a kind of snuffly, not quite human breath. It’s obviously not Rumpel, because she would be able to see him, and it seems more animal than anything else. Belle creeps a little further into the kitchen and picks up the nearest utensil to use as a weapon if needs be; her experiences today have put her on high alert. Not, of course, that a spoon is going to do all that much damage against an interloper.

As she rounds the kitchen table, however, she finds that there is no interloper, and the question that has been hanging in the back of her mind ever since she got back to the castle has been answered in clear and precise fashion. The Dalmatian puppy that led her away from the castle is sitting in a basket under the counter, looking up at her with doleful pale eyes, as if apologising for its role in her earlier plight. It lets out a pathetic little whine as she approaches, and nuzzles her palm eagerly as she holds it out.

“Hello there, Puppy,” Belle croons, scratching him behind the ears. “I’m glad to see that you’re all right, little one. The bad lady didn’t hurt you, did she?”

The puppy gives a little yip, jumping up and licking her face, and Belle can only laugh at how innocent and affectionate he is.

“I thought you might want to know that he was all right.” Rumpelstiltskin’s voice behind her makes her jump, and Belle turns, a little guiltily, the pup still in her arms.

“Rumpel! I didn’t realise you were there, I, erm…”

“I was going to see if I could find a good home for him tomorrow,” Rumpel continues. “But if you want a friend in the castle, then I see no reason why you can’t keep him. I know that it can get lonely whilst I’m away dealing.”

Belle looks down at the puppy, who licks her again, effectively sealing the agreement and claiming her as his mistress.

“I think I would like that,” she says, without a shadow of a doubt.

X

Making her way back into the town centre with Rumpel, having released True Love’s Magic at the well, Belle is overawed by the world around her, drinking in all the sights and sounds of this brand new land, one that she has never had a chance to see before now. Suddenly, there’s a loud cacophony of barking from across the street.

“No, Pongo, wait, no!”

A large Dalmatian is pounding across the road towards them, almost bowling Rumpel over in his haste to get to Belle, jumping up and barking at her, his tail wagging so eagerly that it looks like he’s about to wag it off. Belle gasps, because she would recognise her puppy from the Dark Castle anywhere.

“Hello there Pup,” she says, taking his front paws and letting the dog cover her with kisses. “My, you’ve grown, haven’t you?”

“And never to be parted again.”

He takes a sip, the fizzy liquid burning the back of his throat in that delicious way. It’s certainly better than the moonshine that others on the ship made during their long journey home, and he savours the taste. They always had plenty of food on board, with the replicators and regular supply stops throughout the quadrants, but nothing that really tasted like proper home cooking. He’s missed Lacey’s cooking almost as much as he’s missed Lacey herself. When he’s finally satisfied himself that everything in the house is real and he’s not hallucinating or dreaming, he settles on the sofa beside his beloved wife, and she snuggles into his side.

“I missed you so much,” she whispers. “Especially on the holidays. Gordontide has been utterly miserable these past few years.”

Stiltskin is touched that Lacey continued to honour his religious holidays in his absence, and he kisses her gently.

“This year it will be a proper celebration,” he says.

“As will Thanksgiving.” Lacey drains her glass and settles into his side. There’s something unspoken in the air between them, as they both know what is going to happen tonight. Although they had their share of long distance love after Aurora Borealis re-established contact with Force Base, to be able to see and feel Lacey after so long… Stiltskin can’t wait. They’re hovering around the subject, perhaps both of them feeling that they ought to let him get used to being home before they do anything, but they’re both adults in love with needs and desires, and they have both missed each other so very much.

“Dinner?” Lacey suggests, and as much as Stiltskin feels like having her for dinner right here on the sofa would be a much better idea, there is something very tempting about the idea of a good meal with Lacey at his side. Proper food and proper TV was the way that they always used to celebrate his return from the shorter trips he’s been on during his career. He leans in the kitchen doorway as she cooks something from his homeland, full of greens and spices, and in that moment, Stiltskin has never felt more blessed. He’s home, and he has everything he needs. If he ends up prolonging the cooking process a little by going over and slipping his arms around Lacey, nuzzling into her hair and breathing in the delicate citrus scent of her shampoo, feeling rather than hearing her soft laughter, then so be it. When they do finally sit down to eat, it could almost be any normal evening, as if he hasn’t just spent four years apart from her and as if just a few short hours ago, the fate of the Aurora and all her crew wasn’t still hanging in the balance. The most notable difference is that Lacey is practically glued to his side, as close to him as she has ever been with all her clothes on.

As the nature documentary they’ve been watching ends, she hits the remote and the screen winks out, leaving them in semi-darkness, the faint purple hew of the city lights around them giving the room an otherworldly feel that he will have to get used to again having been so long without it. In the space ship, everything was dark, but it was constantly loud, with all the noise from the warp core and the engines humming in the background without cease. Now, back home, the situation is reversed. The insulation in the windows mean that the city is silent around them and all he can hear is his and Lacey’s breathing, but even without the lights on in their apartment, there is still that persistent urban glow all around.

“I’ll clean up,” Stiltskin says, collecting together their plates, but Lacey pulls him back down before he can get up.

“No, it’ll keep till tomorrow. There are more important things to be done tonight.”

She kisses him then, deep and with all the same joyous passion that she had shown him in that first kiss when they were reunited in the Aurora hangar. He can taste the hot green peppers on her tongue and all he wants to do is keep kissing her for as long as he can, the plates instantly forgotten.

“Oh Stila,” she gasps as she finally lets him up for air. “Oh Stila, my love, I’ve missed you so much, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, my little dove,” Stiltskin growls, and he kisses her again, pushing her down against the sofa cushions and feeling her arms and legs snake around him and pull him in tight against her, her fingers digging into his back as if she can’t get him close enough and never wants to let him go. For all that their evening up until this moment has been calm and lazy, getting back into the normal routine of life on solid ground, their movements now are frantic and desperate. Having put off this last ultimate reunion for so long, they’re now rushing towards it with all the force and finesse of a space ship on warp ten. Stiltskin manages to wriggle out of Lacey’s hold on him and wrestles his shirt off, Lacey’s top and bra following in short order. There were times before, at the start of their marriage, when they were so keen to make up for lost time after a separation that they’d done it against the door as soon as they’d got into the apartment, not bothering to undress and just moving the barest minimum of clothing out of the way. Now though, although he has no desire to take his time like he usually does, Stiltskin wants the clothes gone; he wants to see and touch every inch of Lacey’s body, something he has been denied for so long.

“Oh Lace,” he breathes, kissing his way down her chest and sucking on each pert rosy nipple in turn. Her skin tastes divine, like it always has done, and her fingernails are tracing patterns over his bare back and tickling the place beneath his shoulder blades where he’s particularly sensitive.

“Stila.” She’s wriggling underneath him, pressing her hips up into his and providing the most wonderful friction against his twitching cock. He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted her quite as much as he does right now. “Please, Stila, make love to me. I want to feel you inside, I’ve missed you so much…”

Her words tail off and she keens under his touch, and Stiltskin can’t take it anymore. They scrabble out of the rest of their clothes, and Stiltskin takes a long moment to drink in the sight of Lacey sprawled beneath him, naked and lovely and every inch perfection, so much more wonderful in the flesh than memory could ever make her out to be.

“Come here, my love.” Lacey traces a fingertip up his rigid length, and Stiltskin’s eyes flutter closed. Her hands on him have never felt so good, and she keeps talking as she continues to stroke him. “Come here, Stila, come on inside, I want you so much, missed you so bad…”

He slips a hand down between her legs, finding her entrance wet and welcoming, and then Lacey’s hands are back around his back, pulling him down on top of her for another fierce kiss.

“You’re ready?”

She nods. “I’ve been ready since the moment you landed, darling.”

“This isn’t going to take very long,” he warns as he reaches down to line them up, pressing just the tip inside her soft heat and thrusting in long and slow. This truly feels like coming home, and Stiltskin cannot help but groan in pleasure as he loses himself in Lacey’s embrace.

“There’s time enough later,” Lacey whispers, wriggling her hips beneath him to encourage him to move. “We have all the time in the world, Stila. So much time.”

He’s right; after so long without Lacey’s touch it takes him hardly any time to come, but Lacey doesn’t mind, petting his hair as he rests his forehead against hers, both of them panting. He has plenty of time to make it up to her now that he’s back for good, and he plans to start just as soon as his limbs no longer feel like jelly.

Dear Mr Gold,

Thank you for expressing your interest in participating in the next season of the Great British Bake-Off. We are holding regional auditions around the country between 1st and 20th September, please attend your nearest session at...

Gold just blinked. He had never expressed any interest in participating in the Great British Bake-Off. Well, never outside of his own living room, when he wistfully talked about the opportunity to Bae and Aunt Elvira, but had no actually intention of following up on his whims. His first thought was that this was some kind of elaborate scam in which he would arrive at the stated location and be kidnapped and shipped off somewhere, although why anyone would want to hold a sheep farmer to ransom was beyond him. He was still going with the possible-human-trafficking hoax theory when Aunt Elvira came into the kitchen.

"Rum, you look as if you're about to faint," she said. "Surely the phone bill can't be that scary."

He shook his head. "It's not the phone bill."

"What is it then?"

He held out the paper to her without a word and she pulled her glasses down from her forehead to read it. To his surprise and alarm, Elvira broke into a broad grin.

"You know, I was wondering when this was going to arrive," she said. "It's been about three weeks."

"What's been about three weeks?"

"Since Bae filled in the application form, of course."

"What?" Gold was rendered completely speechless for several minutes, his mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out, gawping at his aunt as he tried to make sense of what she had just said. Bae had entered him into the competition? Without his knowledge? He'd heard of not asking the bill-payer's permission before entering telephone competitions but this was an entirely new level of deception. He knew that he really ought to be angry with his son for going behind his back like this, but since he had not (as yet) caused any harm to anyone, Gold was just left in a state of utter perplexity, completely unsure of what to do now.

"Well?" Aunt Elvira pressed.

"Well what?"

"Well what are you going to make for the audition? You've only got a week to decide!"

"Nothing. I'm not going."

"Oh Rum, why ever not?"

"Because I'm not." The argument with Aunt Elvira galvanised him a little, and he stomped angrily out of the kitchen and up the stairs towards his son's bedroom, knocking in a way that he hoped sounded like he meant business.

"Come in."

Rum poked his head round the door and waved the paper at him. "Would you care to explain this?"

Bae looked up from his homework, raised an eyebrow and came over to take the paper. Like Elvira, his face also turned into a grin.

"It came! Awesome. What are you going to bake?"

"Bae, you have not answered my question."

Bae shrugged. "Well, you always make noise about entering and you never do, so I decided to take matters into my own hands or you'd never get anywhere with it. Think about it, thanks to me, you're one step closer to meeting Belle French."

"And you didn't think to tell me that you'd done this?"

"Well..." At least Bae had the decency to look sheepish at that moment. "I was going to. I guess I just kind of forgot about it till now. So, what are you going to bake?"

"I'm not. This is a ridiculous venture and I'm not taking part in it."

"Oh, come on, Dad! What have you got to lose?"

"I..." He tailed off. Bae did have a point there. If he never made it to the competition, then he really was in no worse a position than he was now, and if he did make it to the competition, then even if he went home in the first week, he could at least say that he'd made it to the tent out of all the thousands of applicants that they received every year. And he would have the chance to meet Belle French. It was no secret in the family that he'd harboured a crush on the little Australian judge ever since he had first seen her grace his TV screen.

"You know you want to really," Bae wheedled. Gold narrowed his eyes.

"I'll think about it."

"Excellent!"

Bae went back to his homework, making it clear that there wasn't going to be any more discussion on the matter, not that there was really all that much left to discuss. Still reeling from the revelation, Gold made his way back to the kitchen, where Aunt Elvira was waiting for him calmly with a pot of tea.

"And your verdict is?" she asked lightly.

Gold poured himself a mug of tea and stared into the depths.

"I'm not sure yet."

Aunt Elvira leaned across the table and patted his hand. "Make your rye cottage loaf," she said. "You'll never go wrong with that one, and everyone who's ever tasted it says that it's lovely."

Gold didn't reply, still lost in thought, trying to weigh up the pros and cons. On one hand, he was self-employed and he had a lifestyle that left very little free time for this kind of thing. On the other, Bae and Elvira were both so confident that he could do it. They would never have entered him if they didn't think that he could go the distance, and he really didn't want to let them down.

"All right," he said eventually. "I'll do it for Bae."