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hellfirenacht · 5 years

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Can’t Be Unseen Chapter 5

Sal Fisher x Reader

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

AO3

Chapter Summary: You have a DREAM and think back on MEMORIES.

Larry didn’t stay long that night, at least no more than two hours. It was getting late, past midnight, and though he didn’t have an official curfew, he didn’t want to make his mom too worried or suspicious. He put his long-since cast off shirt back on and gave you a hug and a kiss on the forehead before he headed to the basement floor.

You closed the door behind you and made your way back to your room. As you changed into your pjs you noticed a small mark on your collarbone, and felt very thankful that it was sweater season. You didn’t really want to worry about covering hickeys with make-up come Sunday when your parents came home. You’d already had the talk way too many times with your parents. As lucky as you were that they were more than willing to tell you where they kept condoms in the apartment, you really weren’t feeling that right now.

Sleep came easily to you that night, without thoughts of overthinking for once. Though it was mostly because you were so tired from everything that happened that day. Within minutes of laying down you were passed out.

It‘s almost time for school, the late autumn sun threatens to set and yet you worry about being late. You are in the school hall, your class is towards the gym but each turn of the corner puts you between your old elementary school and your current high school. But that’s normal, right? Yes, this is what “school” is.

Travis is in the library giving you a dirty look from behind the help desk. He calls you a dirty harlot for kissing Larry. You aren’t allowed to use the computers anymore.

Class has started and you’re late. You wonder if it’s even worth going to class since you can’t open your locker and you’re late. Oh, you aren’t supposed to be here. This is your old elementary school anyway. It would be best if you left.

You exit the building; something feels off. You are outside of your high school and your childhood neighborhood is right across the street despite it being a few states away.

There’s someone next to you. You tell them you think you’re dreaming as if you are commenting on the weather.

“Oh, that’s cool.” they seem to agree. You ask them what you think you should do if this really is just a dream.

“You should probably leave. It’s not really interesting here.”

School is a dull place for a semi-lucid dream, you decide walking back into the building. If this is a dream, then you might as well find some company.

You walk into the first classroom you see. Larry is sitting on his desk and you tell him that this is a dream and that he should explore with you. He responds by standing up and throwing his backpack across the room before jumping down and following you out.

He asks if you usually know if you’re dreaming and in kind you explain this has only happened a handful of times. You’re outside on the sidewalk, he tells you to try and fly.

You doggy paddle in the air at best for a few seconds before landing on your feet. You know you can’t actually fly and that ruins your dream logic. Larry is still impressed that you did as much.

It’s nighttime and the street lamps are lit. The moon is full and close, way too close. The craters of the moon are more prominent than you’ve ever seen and you feel uneasy. You tell Larry you don’t like the moon.

He makes a big leap over your head, landing easily as though for a moment gravity didn’t bind him. He lands in front of you and you keep walking. It’s Halloween and pumpkins are everywhere. One is carved to look like Sal’s mask.

Larry asks if this is your dream then where is Sal? You aren’t sure. It’s honestly pretty rare that people you know play a big role in your dream. You simply shrug your shoulders and Sal appears in the distance before walking into the shadows of the woods. You cry out for him but he’s gone and you go after him.

Larry has disappeared and you run through the trail and find yourself at the edge of a lake. Sal stands at the edge next to a doc and you approach him.

He asks you, if he’s Jason-chic does that mean he should jump in the lake and scare children? You deny his request, noting that the stuffed animal you won him so many months ago (which he isn’t even holding) would be ruined. You tell him you’re dreaming and he nods, unphased.

He says that even if it is a dream he’s real and you agree. Of course he’s real, and you’re sure that when you wake up that both of your friends will remember this adventure. It is science and a fact.

You feel Larrys’ arms around your waist and you look at Sal who’s still staring out into the lake. This is normal, right? You close your eyes and someone kisses you and you kiss back. Larrys’ nose pressed into your cheek. The lips on yours turn hard and unmoving like plastic. Sal’s hands were so nice and cool. No, wait Larrys’ hands were warm. No-

You open your eyes and gasp in horror taking a step back. Sals’ mask is gone and his face is distorted, glitching, loud, static-

Larry asks if you’re really going to look at his best friend like that. You can barely hear what he’s saying over the static. Sal says’ something but his voice is distorted. Sal reaches a hand out but you push it away as the world around you starts to pulse. You don’t deserve Sal You don’t deserve Larry You don’t deserve You don’t deserve You don’t deserve you don’t deserve-

The world was quiet as you woke up, the distorted sounds of the dream halting in an instant. Outside the sun was just starting to rise but still you found yourself unable to move from the nightmare. You took a few slow breaths and began to relax back into your bed, reassuring yourself that it was only a dream.

You don’t deserve-

No, you weren’t going to think about it. You were not going to let some stupid dream tell you what you did or didn’t deserve.

Sal deserves better. You claim to like him yet kiss his best friend.

‘Shut up.’ you think to yourself. ‘I’m allowed to move on!’

You spent the next hour trying to get back to sleep, but ended up tossing and turning instead until you gave up and made your way to the living room. You laid down on the couch and turned on the tv in the hopes that some cartoons would help you turn off your mind.

The couch still smells like Larry.

It took you three minutes to find some air conditioner to make the couch smell like gingerbread. That turned out to be a small mistake when the scent was too overpowering. Giving up on laying around you started putting away all the decorations that you had brought over from the previous night and having some breakfast.

By this point it was 9 am, and you dared to glance at your phone for the first time since you woke up. You didn’t know if you were hoping that Larry would text you or not.

There were no direct messages, but there were a few in the group chat.

ToddFace: Thanks for inviting us to the party, Sal!

SallyFace: glad you and neil could make it!

AshleyFace: Jamie had fun too. Shes looking forward to seeing you all again

SallyFace: lol glad we didn’t scare anyones date off

Had anything with Larry not happened last night, you would have thrown in a “Sal you could never scare me off ;)” but instead you closed the chat. No reason to make things harder on yourself than it already was.

So many times you found yourself staring at individual conversations with your friends. So many times you considered reaching out to talk but you faltered each time. It had never been hard for you to reach out to a friend before this whole mess with Sal and Larry so why was it hard now? You used to pride yourself on letting your friends know when you were hurt or confused or just needed to vent but it felt impossible right now.

The rest of the day went by with nothing to report. There was some scattered small talk in the group about holiday plans, Christmas lists, inside jokes, and questioning about what would be the best way to sneak snacks into a movie theater with increasingly weird food. All good distractions until you found yourself sucked into a computer game that lasted you until bed.

...

Sunday came with your parents waking you up with bright and happy smiles on their faces telling you to get packed because you were all going to the old lake house!

A feeling of excitement and unease spread over you. On one hand, you loved going to that lake house with your parents. After spending so much time moving around as a kid and teen, that lake house was the one consistent place you could go that would be unchanged.

On the other, there was no wifi in the house and even with unlimited data, the signal was spotty at best and non-existent at worst. You’d be cut off from your friends for the next two weeks. It would be after Christmas that you’d see them again. You wouldn’t even really get a chance to say goodbye to them either.

But this is what you wanted, right? A chance to get away from everything to really think things out. You pulled your suitcase and started shoving clothes haphazardly into it. Not like you really needed to dress nice to be around your parents. It’d be two weeks of board games, decorating yet ANOTHER tree, carols, eggnog, and every other cheesy Christmas cliche your parents could think of.

Still though, you grabbed your laptop and charger. When your parents were making kissy faces at each other, this could be a good time to catch up on all those games you’d been meaning to play. Maybe even watch some movies or-

Your phone dinged twice, alerting you to two messages from Sal and Larry and your heart jumped slightly. No, you needed to calm down. It was just the group chat and they’re just shit posting.

It was not the group that.

LarryFace: hey I got some free time today, wanna hang?

SallyFace: So it’s been a while since we’ve got to see each other one on one. Are you busy today?

You could almost laugh at how absurd this whole had become. Why is it that every time you wanted to clear your head, these two managed to have the worst possible timing. It was almost a blessing that your parents came home just to whisk you off on a four hour drive to the middle of nowhere.

You responded to Larry first.

BlankFace: Hey sorry I can’t. My parents are actually taking me to the lake house for a few weeks

LarryFace: oh that’s a bummer. Any idea when youll be back?

BlankFace: Not til after Christmas, looks like.

LarryFace: wanna hang out when you get back?

BlankFace: It’s a date-

You delete the last message, changing your mind.

BlankFace: Sounds like a plan!

Your direct your attention to Sal’s message, hesitating on how you want to approach it. He hadn’t asked to hang out one on one since you two talked things out. There was a slight pang in your chest that you wished so badly would go away. What was it about Sal that was so hard to get over? He wasn’t your first crush, or even the first guy to turn you down.

BlankFace: I’m really sorry, I wish I could but my parents are taking me on vacation for the next few weeks and I’ll be out of town til after Christmas.

SallyFace: They’re taking you today?

BlankFace: Yeah, you know how they are. Overly spontaneous during the holidays. I’m packing now.

SallyFace: Do you want any help?

You typed and deleted the word yes. There was an insistent thumping in your chest, telling you to say yes but you pushed it back. If you saw him right now, after making up with him and making out with Larry, you were sure that you’d end up saying or doing something you shouldn’t.

BlankFace: I’m almost done, thanks though!

You grabbed your backpack and dumped it on the floor before shoving your toiletries in it. Then you reached under your bed and grabbed a shoe box and fitting it into your bag. You flipped through the binder that was in your backpack and pulled out some of its contents, shoving them into a side pocket.

SallyFace: When are you leaving?

“Are you done packing? You’re mother and I are ready to go when you are!” you dad called from the living room.

“Almost done! Give me two seconds!” you replied, shoving your chargers into your backpack, and grabbing your headphones.

BlankFace: Now.

Within moments you were in the backseat of the car as it pulled out of Addison’s designated parking lot. Your headphones were in, but before your music kicked on, you swore you heard something.

Turning behind you, Sal was running after the car before he seemed to run out of breath and wave at you. You waved back, watching his figure grow smaller in the distance. A few months ago he had been a few inches shorter than you, but looking at him now, had he grown a bit? What had you really missed out on in those embarrassing months after the failed date?

‘He came to say goodbye.’ you thought to yourself as his figure disappeared. ‘He came to say goodbye and I snubbed him because I’m still a coward.’

The early morning was a good excuse to lean against the cool window and pretend to sleep. You covered yourself up with the blanket that your parents kept in the car during the cold months and allowed a few tears to escape your eyes.

When did you become someone who couldn’t face their own feelings? A few months ago you had always been so honest with everyone about everything for the most part. Or maybe, that was a lie. Did all that flirting with Sal really count as the truth? Thinking back, you never did have a chance to really say how you felt about him, even as a friend.

Guess you weren’t as mature as you thought. Maybe you just always hid the big truths with smaller, flashier truths.

SallyFace: see u when u get back. I’ll miss u.

‘I already miss you.’

...

It was late afternoon when your parents pulled into the driveway of the small lake house. You’d lost signal a while ago but you’d had it long enough to tell the group chat that you were gone for a bit and that you’d miss out on the next few weeks. Ashley promised to send memes by snail mail, and Todd said to have fun.

The lack of electronic entertainment wasn’t a big deal for the next few hours as you and your parents set up decorations and going out to chop down the tree with your dad.

“So, why did we decorate the apartment as much as we did when we were gonna have Christmas here?” you asked as you untangled string lights.

“Because the holidays should be celebrated in different ways!” said your dad, wrestling with getting the tree to stand straight. “At home we can have a flashy Christmas but here we can be away from it all and just enjoy the simple things!”

You weren’t sure if that was a real answer, but you had no reason to say no to it.

“Tomorrow I think we’ll turn on the fireplace.” mused your mom. “Yes, and we can roast chestnuts and marshmallows. And maybe if you’re good, Santa will come and leave an early gift!”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Though your parents had given you the “Santa isn’t real” talk many years ago, they still liked to believe in the spirit of the holiday to the fullest. You wondered what was it about your parents' relationship that made everything so happy? Normally, you ignored it whenever they started going on and on about how in love they were but after what happened with Sal and Larry, you couldn’t help but wonder; what’s it mean to be in such a loving relationship?

That night after dinner, you decided to ask them. The three of you sat around playing a card game, when you finally managed to spit it out.

“Mom, dad?” you started. “How did you two first know that you wanted to date each other?”

Your dad looked a little surprised. “Well, it all started on the first weekend of December a little over twenty years ago- I saw your mom standing in the park and-”

“‘-Said to yourself “that’s the woman I’m going to marry’. Then you took a chance and asked her on a date and you both went dancing a five star hotel and proposed that very night.” you finished. “I know that, you’ve told me the story a million times but... what really happened?”

He smiled at you. “I guess you are a little too old for fairy tales aren’tcha, kid?” you nodded.

“I was lost.” your mother explained. “It was cold and it was miserable and it was raining- not snowing. I was supposed to check into a hotel for a business meeting that evening but I couldn’t figure out where it was, when your father approached me.”

He took her hand. “She looked like she was having a rough day, so I offered to walk her where she needed to be. Turns out It was at the hotel I was working for at the time.”

“I had graduated college a year before, and your father was working his way through trade school.” your mom added.

“Even half drenched and frazzled, I still thought you were beautiful.”

“I thought you were cute enough for a bellhop.” they both laughed.

“I did ask her out though, the next day. I was clocking out and she was about to leave and-”

“I asked you out, dear.” your mother gently corrected. “I asked if you wanted to grab coffee.”

“And your mother, the charmer, asked me out. She swept me off my feet and was enchanting and funny and wonderful and-”

“Dad. Please.”

“Right, sorry. She was just really something special. Still is, of course! But our first date was us sitting in a hole-in-the-wall cafe, decorated for Christmas with the snow falling outside.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“So how did you know that you wanted to see each other?” you asked. “How did you know it was going to last?”

“We didn’t.” your mother explained, honestly. “We saw each other once, and then wanted to see each other again, and we kept up that pattern until we realized that we always wanted to see each other.”

“Is that what love is?” you asked quietly.

“It’s what it means to us.” your father said, looking your mom and for a moment you didn’t see your parents. You saw two people twenty years younger and madly in love.

“I think I like that story better than the fairy tale.” you admit.

“I wouldn’t trade our story for anything in the world.” your dad said. “Now, does this sudden interest in asking about dating and love have anything to do with... anything?”

“I like Sal.” you admitted finally.

“A fine young man! Very polite though I do wish he’d let us take a peak under that mask.” Your dad said, taking a sip of his drink.

“It’s a prosthetic, dear. He needs it.” your mom chided gently.

“Sal doesn’t like me.” you added.

“Now I can hurt him for you, though it would be a long drive back.”

“Dad no.”

The floodgates opened at that moment, and you told them everything. About how long you’ve had feelings for him, the date, his face (dad tried to press for details about what you saw, but your mom shushed him), and finally about Larry kissing you. You fudged some details about how much kissing went down, saying it was just a goodnight kiss rather than how far it went.

“I just don’t know what to do.” you said. “I’m so confused and I don’t know how I feel about either of them anymore. I don’t understand how this can be so easy for some people.”

“You’re father and I did get lucky, but that doesn’t mean we both didn’t have our share of past relationships that weren’t messy and confusing.” your mother said, handing you a mug of hot chocolate.

“Lord knows I messed up plenty of good relationships before I met your mother. The main thing you need to do to have any relationship work is to build a strong foundation of trust and communication.”

“If you feel like you don’t know what to say, maybe write them each a letter explaining how you feel.” your mom suggested. “You always did like to pass notes in class.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling a little. “That’s not a bad idea.” you admitted. “Maybe I will.”

“You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Your father said. “But if you’re going to be kissing anymore boys- now I do know that I want grandkids or at least grand puppies someday- but you know the condoms are in the-”

“WELL GOODNIGHT MOM AND DAD, GREAT TALK. SEE YOU IN THE MORNING.” you suddenly stood up and rushed into your room. As gross as your dad could be, the talk had made you feel better, just a little.

You sat at the small desk in the corner and turned on the lamp. Reaching into your backpack you pulled out the shoe box that you had crammed in there and opened it. Your mom was right, you did love to pass notes in school. You loved it so much that you tried your best to keep every single one that had been passed between you and your friends, carefully dated, folded, and set in this very shoe box for safe keeping.

In this box was every memory you had since moving to Addison Apartments; notes between you and Ashley in art, scribbles and doodles from Larry, old tests that Todd helped you study for with encouraging comments in the margins, and misheard lyrics from Sal.

Sal and Larry had been fighting over lyrics to a metal song they had been listening to, each hearing different words through the fried vocals of the lead singer. It had become a game that they’d pass the headphones around to everyone at the table to try and decipher what was being sung. Each time, Todd would look up the song online and announce who had come the closest. Usually everyone was wrong.

There were even a few pictures in the box from Ashley’s old Polaroid; everyone wearing their hair (as best they could) in pigtails on April Fool’s day, Larry and Sal at Homecoming with Sal wearing a stunning yellow dress, all of the boys on top of each other in a dog pile, Maple painting Ashley’s nails, and one of you and Sal.

This was one you hadn’t even shown Sal. In the photo, he was playing a game on his Gear Boy and was attempting to explain how to get through the level. In that moment though, you weren’t looking at the screen, you were looking at him. Ashley had managed to capture you looking so softly at him that you had to make sure that he never ever saw it until you were married with children or puppies.

You never did beat that level.

Looking through all of this, you grabbed a few sheets of paper and started writing.

Sal Fisher, today is the day that I’m going to tell you everything and then I’ll be able to move on.

Next Chapter

#sally face x reader #sal fisher x reader #sal fisher #sally face #cbu #nacht fic #sally face imagines

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theliterateape · 5 years

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Hope Idiotic | Part V

By David Himmel

Hope Idiotic is a serialized novel. Catch each new part every week on Monday and Thursday.

LOU HIT THE SAN FRANCISCO CITY LIMITS JUST AS NIGHT WAS COMING DOWN. He used the hostel book as promised to find a well-rated spot with a good view of the city. He’d never stayed in hostels before and was curious. He’d hoped to meet a few strangers he could make friends with for the night and explore the city with, but the place was pretty empty. It was too early in the summer for college students or Europeans to be backpacking their way through the country.

Lou was sent to a room with four bunk beds. Two bunks — top and bottom — were occupied with sleeping bags, clothes and shredded bags of potato chips. Lou claimed the top bunk closest to the door. He tossed his stuff onto the mattress and quickly returned to the front desk.

“Where’s the best place to go for a few drinks?” he asked the grimy grunge-brat wearing flannel and a Sonic Youth T-shirt. “Maybe a place with good live music.” He was directed to a place called, Shattered Glass. He was able to walk there from the hostel, which sat at the top of a hill and owned a perfect view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Like every other place he had encountered in California so far, this bar was mostly empty. On the small stage at the back end of the joint, a weathered man, who looked like he may have been part of the West Coast punk movement in the 1970s, played a banged-up acoustic guitar and sang cover songs of everything from Iggy Pop to Lisa Loeb. Miller Lites were six bucks a bottle, but hell, that was San Francisco.

Lou tried to engage the bartender in some friendly conversation about the town, where to go, what to do and where the hell everyone was that night. But the bartender, a bored, sad-looking man of about thirty-five, wanted nothing to do with it. And after six bottles of beer and an hour of the aged, never-was rockstar, Lou paid his thirty-six-dollar tab and took off.

He wandered the streets searching for a little action, but found nothing worth getting into. So, he headed back up the hill to the hostel, where he figured he’d tuck himself in and wake up early. Get a head start on the day. Grab breakfast. Visit the bridge then continue north into Oregon.

When he left the hostel, he remembered leaving his room’s door open just as he’d found it. When he returned, it was closed. He put his ear to the door to inspect any potential sounds. When he didn’t hear anything, he slowly turned the handle and opened the door. It was pitch black in the windowless room. He pulled out his cell phone as he closed the door behind him. He flipped the phone open to light the few steps to his bunk. He climbed up and carefully took his shoes and socks off, then slid into his sleeping bag. Lou had a near-perfect internal clock and rarely used an alarm. As he closed his eyes, he said in a whisper, “Wake up at seven a.m. Wake up in seven hours.”

Just as he began to fall asleep, he was startled by noises coming from within the room. He hadn’t scanned the place with the light of his phone before going to bed; he had just assumed he was alone. The noises were coming from one of the bunks that earlier he’d seen loaded with someone’s belongings. His cell phone was resting on his chest, and for a moment, he considered flipping it open and seeing who or what was in the room with him.

Now he was going to bear witness to alien robot sex and perhaps become a post-coitus sacrifice. Fuck Michelle. Fuck hostels. Fuck robots. Fuck San Francisco.

There were rustling sounds and what he thought were voices being muffled by blankets and pillows. He heard music being played. Not songs: more like ring tones from a cell phone or video game soundtracks from a handheld game system. The bunk squeaked in rhythm as it tapped the cement wall. He looked over and saw blue and green and red lights glowing, flickering intermittently from under blankets. It was like robots having sex.

Lou was scared. This sort of thing would never happen under the parking lot light of a hotel. Why did he make that promise to Michelle to stay in hostels? Why did he keep that promise? He had a perfectly workable system when on the road, and she fucked it all up with her law school arguments and girlfriend charm. Now he was going to bear witness to alien robot sex and perhaps become a post-coitus sacrifice. Fuck Michelle. Fuck hostels. Fuck robots. Fuck San Francisco.

He debated making an escape, but figured he couldn’t collect his stuff fast enough in the dark without disturbing the alien robots that would probably kill him. So he slouched down farther into his sleeping bag, pulled his pillow tightly over his head and the opening of the bag around the pillow so he was entirely encased and protected, like a caterpillar in a cocoon. He forced himself to think about anything else: Chicago; Michelle; his career in twenty years; Chuck; his house in Las Vegas; the family dog Max greeting him at his dad’s house; Crater Lake; the price of gas; his pending empty bank account; his résumé; where he would live… More and more, he was less afraid of the increasingly loud and strange sounds coming from the adjacent bunk, and starting to fear what was waiting for him outside of that dark hostel room.

Panic finally put him to sleep. And when his eyes popped open at 7 a.m., he was still stuffed down in his sleeping bag and drenched in sweat. Slowly, he peeked his head out of the bag, but couldn’t see a thing because even during the morning, the room allowed no light to come in. He didn’t hear anything, so he flipped his phone open and aimed it across the room. It didn’t illuminate much, but from what he could see, the coast was clear. He swung his legs over the edge of the bunk and hopped down. He reached the light switch and turned it on, ready for the alien robots to spring to life and attack him. But he was alone. No one, nothing, was in the room with him. The things he had seen on the bunks when he checked in were gone. Other than his own stuff and the beds, the room was bare.

He wondered if he had imagined the noises and lights. Was the anxiety of the move playing tricks with his brain? Was he going crazy, or were there really alien robots having sex a few feet from him last night? It didn’t matter. It was over. The day was anew.

He put on some fresh clothes, brushed his teeth in the communal bathroom, paid his bill and took off toward the Golden Gate Bridge. It was early and traffic was light. It was just Lou and a European couple on the pedestrian part of the bridge. He could tell they were European by the formfitting brightly colored jeans and vinyl windbreakers that looked like they were stolen off the set of a 1980s Wham! video. The air was cool and salty. There wasn’t much fog like expected, so he was able to grab a few good photos of the bridge and some grainy, but mostly decent, shots of the Alcatraz rock. The majesty of the Golden Gate Bridge was one thing. But what really grabbed his attention were the emergency telephone boxes secured to the bridge every couple of yards. They had signs above them that read:

CRISIS COUNSELING THERE IS HOPE MAKE THE CALL THE CONSEQUENCES OF JUMPING OFF THIS BRIDGE ARE FATAL AND TRAGIC.

He looked over the railing into the San Francisco Bay. He knew how it worked. A sad, troubled life. A moment of uncertainty — then certainty. A little leap. This was America’s hot spot for suicide aficionados. It was either the impact with the water or the greedy undertow of the bay that would kill a person. Lou wondered for a second what part would kill him. If it wasn’t the fall, could he survive? He was a strong swimmer. It was a rhetorical question; actually killing himself was not on his mind.

Still, he wondered about those emergency phones and about the operators on the other end of them. How many lives were saved by the telephone? How many operators heard last words? He considered picking one up and telling the operator that he would kill himself unless someone in Chicago would have a job waiting for him when he arrived in two weeks. But then he figured that probably wouldn’t work. No one would want to hire a demanding suicidal maniac.

He used his cell phone to call Michelle from the bridge. He hated the idea of bothering her at work, but she assured him that a phone call from him was never a bother but a blessing.

“Michelle Kaminski’s office,” her secretary said.

“May I please speak with Ms. Kaminski,” Lou asked.

“Ms. Kaminski is in a meeting at the moment. May I take a message for her?”

“Thank you. Please tell her that Lou Bergman called. She has my number.”

“Will she know what this is in reference to?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll have her return your call at her earliest convenience, Mr. Bergman. Have a wonderful day.”

He meandered along the bridge for a few more minutes until Michelle called back. “You called?” She did not sound happy.

“Hi, baby. That was a quick meeting.”

“It was three hours long — just finished.”

“Brutal. Guess where I am?”

“I don’t know… Moon Lake or wherever.”

“Moon Lake? You mean, Crater Lake. No. I’m standing on the Golden Gate Bridge. God, Michelle, you should see it. It’s beautiful.”

“I’d love to be there with you. But I have a job to do. I’d love to be able to take two weeks off to do whatever I wanted and go wherever I wanted, but I have responsibilities. People depend on me. I have billable hour quotas I need to hit. But you go ahead and enjoy the view from the bridge, Lou.”

“Whoa. I’m sorry that upset you. You sound busy. I’ll let you go.”

“I am busy, Lou. I’m always busy. This is my job. I think you need to hurry home.”

“I know, baby. I’m on my way to you. Just 12 more days. It’s nothing.”

“I mean it. This road trip, I get it. I know you like driving all over with no direction, like its your last hurrah or something, but you need to consider me, Lou.”

“I have direction. I know exactly where I’m going.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about me slipping away. You’re losing me.”

“What?”

“I know you’re moving here to finally start your life, but mine has been happening, and you can’t expect me to just wait around for you to show up whenever you please. It’s not fair to me. I love you, Lou. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But I can’t promise you I’ll be here when you finally show up. I hope I’ll still be waiting for you, but I don’t know. I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

What the hell just happened? She’s raving like a madwoman, he thought. He’d been through this with her before, however. In moments of personal stress, Michelle had a tendency to overreact and lash out at anyone within striking distance. There was one week during her freshman year in high school when her best friend Jen was too busy to hang out with her. As retaliation, during a soccer practice warm-up exercise, Michelle kicked a ball has hard as she possibly could at Jen, hitting her square in the gut, knocking her on her feet and forcing the air right out of her lungs. Jen had a soccer-ball–sized bruise for several days and was benched for that weekend’s game because of the injury.

When Michelle told this story in her maid-of-honor speech at Jen’s wedding, she didn’t understand why no one laughed at it. “Because it’s just mean,” Lou told her. But Michelle disagreed and stood by her case that Jen had it coming and that it was a funny story. Besides, they were still friends after all, she argued.

Maybe Michelle was freaking out on him because she’d just emerged from a painful three-hour meeting. She was just stressed at work and jealous that he was out having fun. Envy. That’s what it was. He wasn’t losing her. She was just kicking the soccer ball in his gut.

✶

HE DROVE INTO TOWN AND FOUND A PLACE TO GRAB A BAGEL AND COFFEE, and read one of the scummy alternative papers in the wire basket by the door. As he was biting into the bagel, he received a text from Michelle:

I’m sorry I barked at u. But hurry. I won’t wait forevr. Stop wasting ur life.

“I really don’t have time for this right now, Lou,” Michelle said when he again called her. He couldn’t let a text like that go without further explanation. Clearly, she was not just lashing out. She was giving him an ultimatum: Stop having fun or she was leaving.

“You’re not being fair,” he told her.

“No. You’re not being fair to me or your career. You know what the right thing to do is. So do it.”

He drove a little farther north but pulled into a gas station just before leaving the San Francisco limits. While the car fueled up, he called Chuck.

“She’s right. What am I doing out here? I’m wasting all of this money that I don’t really have, when I could be in Chicago looking for a job. And now what? Now she’s going to break up with me when I get there? All broke and unemployed but with some photos of the town where Hemingway shot himself? What the fuck am I doing?”

Chuck was at the hospital in Indiana where his mother was recovering from her second heart surgery. “First of all, calm down. Just breathe,” he told Lou. “She’s not going to break up with you. You’ll find a job. Just relax.”

“I can’t! I’m telling you, I’ve got a bad feeling about all of this. I’m freaking out. I swear there were robots fucking in my room last night. I gotta get to Chicago. I gotta get my life going. I know! I’ll call a shipping company, have them pick up my car from this gas station. I’ll call Southwest and get a plane ticket, and I can be home by tonight.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” Chuck said. “Now, shut up and listen to me. You’ll end up spending more money on shipping and flying than you will driving. If it’ll keep you from going insane, cancel the adventure. You can try it again another time. I’ll do it with you. So calm down, drive back into the city and find I-80. It starts there. Just take that straight across into Chicago. You’ll be there in three days.”

✶

WHEN LOU PULLED UP TO MICHELLE’S HIGH-RISE on Lake Shore Drive, he was covered in a layer of highway dust, beef jerky crumbs and sweat. His breath reeked of Red Bull, dehydrated meat and a tired piece of chewing gum. His hair was oily, but he thought it looked pretty good for having spent the last seven days windblown in the driver’s seat of his Volkswagen. If only it could look that good after a shower.

As he looked at himself in the rearview mirror, he closed his eyes and sighed. He told himself out loud, “All right, asshole. Don’t fuck anything up.”

When Michelle answered the door of her pricey northside one-bedroom apartment and saw Lou standing there, her face exploded into a smile. She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside, where she kissed him long and perfectly. Then she drew all the blinds down on the large windows that presented a picturesque Chicago — the peaks of downtown buildings, Belmont Harbor and Lake Michigan’s expanse out east, and the garden rooftops of Wrigleyville to the west. Again, their mouths met, and they fell into a rabidly intense lovemaking session.

“Welcome home,” Michelle said once she caught her breath, both of their naked bodies sweaty and shaking with pleasure.

“I can get used to this,” he said.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV

#Hope Idiotic #Chicago Fiction #Las Vegas Fiction #Fiction #Novel #David Himmel Fiction #David Himmel Author #Bildungsroman #Dark Humor

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lotus0kid · 7 years

Note

Happy 5th anniversary!!!! 🎆🎆🎉I have a prompt, Belle is pregnant and while out on a date( or just out of their house) with her husband Rumple, her water breaks.

OUaT: Anniversary Fic the 12th

((Thanks for prompting! Hope this works for you.))

“Are you warm enough?”

It must be the sixth time he’s asked, but Belle’s endlesspatience allows her to reply, “Perfectly.”

Rumpel still peers over the top of her head at the smallspace heater placed on the back porch, where they sit beneath a blanket ofstars. It’s growing colder at thebeginning of October, but he’ll do whatever it takes to allow Belle tocomfortably venture out into the open, breathe fresh air and feel the wideworld around her. She’s been in far toomany cages.

Moderately assured that all is well, he settles beside her,curling his arm a little more firmly around her shoulders. His other hand hovers near her hip. Without even looking, she catches his wristand lays his hand over her round belly. An automatic smile lights Rumpel’s face, even as an undercurrent of fearcontinues to flow, whispering that this won’t last, it’s too wonderful, it’llget snatched away, he’ll ruin it, just wait and see. He draws in and releases a deep breath, anddrowns the whispers in a bath of stars.

A cloud sails by and slowly reveals a shining crescentmoon. Beside him, Belle lets out a smallhum.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, filled withcuriosity.

“Just an old story, from home. About where stars come from.”

“Yes?”

“They’re the children of Umera, the goddess of night. She places them in a cradle, which is thecrescent moon. When the moon grows full,they go out into the sky, as stars.”

“A child every month, that’s a large family. Is there a father?”

Belle smiles and dips her chin. “Yes. Vinaos, the god of the day.” Belle turns to fix her eyes on Rumpel. “He brings light to Umera’s darkness.”

Beneath Rumpel’s hand, he feels the tap of a tiny kickingfoot. He grins, “I think the little onelikes that story.”

Belle’s chuckle is full of warmth and love as she pressesher hand over Rumpel’s. “Not long beforewe get to meet them.”

“No, not long.”

Belle rests her head on Rumpel’s shoulder, and they wait forthe future to arrive together.

��---

Rumor has it that Rumpelstiltskin is working on some new objectof terrible dark magic. The shop hasn’tbeen open for days, though a brave soul snuck around back and peeked through awindow to see him bent over his arcane work. The spy could only say it seemed to be made of black fabric and that hewas sewing something into it with fierce concentration. It was decided that no move would be madeagainst the sorcerer, not yet.

Currently, said sorcerer is having a cup of tea and readinga book one evening when his wife returns from the library. At this point in Belle’s pregnancy, Rumpel isready to beg her to stay home, but she simply promises not to do any heavylifting and goes her own way. He mustadmit that the library is her first child, and she will care for it as long asshe’s able.

She joins him on the couch and holds out a small rectangleof stiff paper. “Look what Snow droppedoff today.”

It’s an invitation to a Halloween party, Rumpel reads. “Well,” he says, “I’m not sure why shethought you’d be interested in a party that late in the month. Or that shewould, for that matter.” Thequeen-turned-bandit-turned-teacher has already had one child and will soon bewelcoming her second, so she ought to know better. She and Belle have actually bonded somewhatduring their nearly concurrent pregnancies. Rumpel and David have tried not to make much eye-contact with eachother.

He looks at Belle, but doesn’t find the agreement heexpects. “What if I am interested?” sheinquires.

Feeling metaphorical tremors in the ground below his feet,he swiftly replies, “Then I’d say have a lovely time, dear.”

It’s not the correct answer. Her face falls into a pout, “You wouldn’t come with me?”

“I, well, that is...” Rumpel sputters, “No one’s ever beenhappy when I’ve turned up at a party.”

“And they never will if you don’t try,” Belle counters,“We’re all in this together now, Rumpel, we need to make an effort to geton. Besides that, Snow and David arefamily now, thanks to Henry. Can I writeyou down as my guest?”

Well, if nothing else, Belle’s looming due date must betaken into consideration. He’ll likelybe a bundle of nerves, but he won’t leave his wife’s side. “Of course you can, sweetheart.”

Belle gives him a brilliant beam, only for it to quicklyfade. “Hm, well, now I have to think ofa costume. Gods, what would evenfit?” She gestures at her ponderousabdomen.

“Actually, about that... Hang on.”

He climbs to his feet and heads for his office to fetch the gifthe luckily just finished today. He’sspent hours upon hours fussing over it- it’s probably for the best he can giveit to her now. He strides back to theliving room and sits down, presenting Belle’s gift with a flourish.

Her mouth falls open as she carefully takes the black dressfrom him. “Rumpel, this is amazing,” shebreathes as her fingertips explore the minutely detailed embroidery of acrescent moon that decorates the stomach area of the dress. Every crater, mare, and rill is represented,until all fades into shadow.

“I did what I could,” he replies humbly, “I liked your starstory too.” He leans over to kissBelle’s cheek, only to find it wet with streaming tears.

At his concerned hum, she gives him a wide if waterysmile. “It’s so beautiful, Rumpel. Thank you.” She leans in for a kiss he is happy to collect, despite the tang ofsalt. Then she’s levering herself offthe sofa and marching away, tossing over her shoulder, “I’m trying it on rightnow.”

Rumpel holds his breath until she returns, then lets it outin a sigh of relief as he sees the dress’s perfect fit, especially in thedecoration, which cradles the curve of Belle’s stomach on the lower right side. “I love it!” she cries, spinning to make theskirt flare around her thighs. Then shepauses and faces Rumpel. “What aboutyour costume? Vinaos might be a littleobscure.”

“Not to worry,” he replies. A purple cloud bubbles up in his hands and dissolves to reveal anastronaut’s helmet, complete with a visor coated with opaque gold. He puts it on and flicks the visor down,hiding his face. “In case anyone getsannoying,” he explains.

Belle giggles even as she shakes her head at him, then goes totake off her new costume and put it away until it’s needed.

---

The final few weeks before Belle’s due date are even worsethan Rumpel imagined. He hardly sleeps,which is more of a problem than he anticipated. Back home where the Dark Curse is strong it sustains his everyneed. Out here amidst the imported magicof Storybrooke, he needs to help it along. But that’s becoming steadily more difficult as the days go by, and thevicious whispers command him to be on guard every second for someto-be-determined doom.

Belle is restless as well, but in a surly, frustrated wayRumpel knows he can’t begin to understand. He does catch her whispering furiously at her stomach, “Get out, justget out, I know you’re ready, so get on with it!”

By the time Snow and David’s Halloween party rolls around,Belle’s raring to go just to burn off excess energy. Rumpel is too addled from lack of sleep to domore than trail after her in his astronaut helmet and a gray jumpsuit.

They’re fashionably late mostly because of Belle’s two emergencybathroom visits. When they reach theapartment building, she marches stolidly up the stairs, though she needs torest on Rumpel’s arm halfway up.

“If you’re tired...” he begins, stopping when Belle giveshim a severe glare she belatedly twists into a smile.

“I want to do this. Let’s go.”

They make it to the landing, where Belle takes a long momentto collect herself before pushing the doorbell. The door soon swings open to reveal Snow White wearing a ring of brownfrills around her hips with her belly painted robin’s egg blue complete withspeckles on top. Her jumper has a row offeathers down each arm and a construction paper bird’s beak is tied over hernose. She smiles wide and cries, “Belle,you made it! Come in!” That smile shrinks as her gaze moves overBelle’s shoulder and lands on Rumpel. “Oh,hello, Rumpelstiltskin. Thank you forcoming.”

As if she never locked him in a subterranean prison andthrew away the key. As if he neverconspired with her greatest enemy to ruin her happy ending. Life is a funny thing. “Good evening,” he responds, and sidles inbehind Belle.

“I love your costume,” Snow exclaims at Belle, “The moon,that’s so great, why didn’t I think of that?”

Belle finds a true smile as she looks down at herdress. “Rumpel made it.”

“Oh,” Snow says, a shadow flickering over her face beforeshe brightens again, “Oh! Okay, so that’s... Anyway, this detail is amazing. What kind of spell does that?”

“My two hands, dearie,” Rumpel can’t help sniping, “You knowI can actually breathe without using magic, if I concentrate.”

Snow shrinks back with wide eyes and a pinched mouth. Belle gives him a very subtle jab in theribs. “Rumpel, she’s being nice.”

It’s always been his opinion that Snow being “nice” is halfher problem, but he clears his throat and says, “Indeed. Apologies. And thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I,uh, I sewed this too.” She plucks at abit of brown frills.

He has to smile at the tiny gleam of hope in her eyes, anddeigns to look over her handiwork. “Verynice,” he decides.

Snow beams, “Thanks. So, anyway, we’re all in here, really informal, just family. There’s snacks, and wine and beer, andsparking apple juice for the two of us...”

She leads Belle and Rumpel toward the living room area,where the sofa and a few chairs are occupied by David, Emma, Regina, andBae. Agonizing though it’s been, Rumpelhas given Bae total control over how much contact to have with him. They see each other fairly regularly, thoughboth are naturally preoccupied with their unique fatherly duties. It still feels like a miracle to see Bae turnto him and smile- not as warm and bright as before, but an unspeakably vastimprovement to the ragged hole he left in Rumpel’s life for so long.

When Rumpel can expand his attention beyond Bae, he findssmiles of varying degrees of friendliness all around the room directed at himand Belle. Wearing his own featheryjumper and bird beak, David says, “Hi, guys! Great costumes!”“Yes!” Snow chimes in, “Isn’t Belle’s great? With the black fabric and the sewing?”

There’s a round of thoughtful nods Rumpel chooses not tointerpret. Emma scoots closer to Reginato let Belle sit at the far end of the sofa. David sets a chair for Rumpel between Belle and Bae.

“Thank you,” he says as he sits, and notices Bae eyeing himfrom beneath a Yankees cap.

He twists the grip of a lowered baseball bat between hispalms and murmurs, “Please tell me you aren’t wearing a suit under there.”

The fact that Bae knows how he customarily dresses is enoughto make Rumpel’s heart glow. He gives hisson a smirk and quips, “Just a linen, very light.”

Bae snorts into his chest and Rumpel feels like a hero. It’s somewhat easier after that to sit andchat a bit, or just listen to the conversations floating around him. Snow hands out ghost-shaped biscuits andpumpkin cupcakes. Rumpel actuallyrelaxes a little, even finds his eyes drifting shut a bit.

“Okay, everyone!” Snow’s cheery declaration startles him tofull awareness. Belle shoots him anamused look as Snow continues, “I was thinking to wrap up our evening, we mightwatch a scary movie. How’s that sound?”

“Fine, as long as it isn’t Rosemary’s Baby,” Regina replies, painted cat’s whiskers curling asshe sneers in Belle’s direction.

“As long as it isn’t TheWicker Man,” Emma retorts before Rumpel can take Regina’s head off with afireball. She adjusts her cowboy hat andleans back so light glints on the silver star pinned to her plaid shirt.

“I was gonna go with Jaws,”Snow pipes up.

“That’s barely ahorror movie,” Regina says, “But it’s acceptable.”

“Why thank you, Your Majesty,” David mutters on his way tothe television.

Belle leans over to Rumpel and whispers, “Do I even want toknow?”

“Ignore her, sweetheart,” he replies, lacing his fingerswith Belle’s firmly.

“What do you think I’ve been doing?”

He winces, remembering that while Snow and David haveapparently forgiven and forgotten Regina’s wide array of sins, neither of themlanguished as her prisoner for years on end. And Belle wouldn’t have, if you’dbothered to look for her. Ah, that’sright. Rumpel’s sins make Regina’s looklike the mischief of a playground bully. And yet Belle, the best person he knows, has willingly become his wife,and the mother of his child. Life is sovery funny.

While Sheriff Brody is attempting to save his picturesquetown from a killer shark, Rumpel feels Belle’s fingers tense sharply betweenhis. He glances at her and sees she hasher other hand pressed to her stomach. “Belle,are you all right?” he whispers.

“I’m... fine. I justneed to use the toilet. Help me up?”

He leaps to guide Belle off the sofa.

“Excuse me, sorry,” she murmurs to the rest of the group asshe eases out and down the hall to the bathroom.

Rumpel takes his seat, but watches her go with worrychurning his stomach. Eventually hemanages to refocus on the film. He’salmost comprehending dialogue again when Belle’s cry of “RUMPEL!” strikes hisbrain like a bolt of lightning. He’s atthe bathroom in a literal flash. “Belle,I’m here, open the door.”

For an awful moment there’s nothing but a low, torturedmoan. Then the door cracks open. He pushes it open to see Belle hunched over,gripping the sink with a puddle of liquid between her feet. She gives him a tremulous, agonized smile andsays, “Oops.”

“Okay,” Rumpel breathes, attempting to force his paralyzedbrain into functioning. “We need... toget to the car.”

Dismay fills Belle’s face, “Oh, I don’t know if I can do thestairs ag- AH!” Her body tenses hard andRumpel imagines if she were any stronger she’d tear chunks out of thesink. All he can do is lay careful handson her arm and back and let her lean into him until it passes.

“Belle, we need to be home,” he tries to explain, “That wasthe plan, wasn’t it?” Quite honestly, atthis moment he has no idea what their plan was, despite the hours of work thatwent into it. He holds up his hands andpurple smoke starts to swirl around them. “Can I just-?”

“No magic!” she cries, “Not now, I don’t want to travel likethat, when I’m like this. Please?”

The smoke vanishes under her desperate gaze. “Of course, but... I just...” He glances around and notices the group of people standing four feetaway, staring like this is another scene in the film.

Snow steps forward, slipping past Rumpel and moving toBelle’s side. “I guess the baby isn’t afan of Richard Dreyfus, huh?” she remarks gently.

“Who?” Belle asks, but another contraction steals Snow’sanswer as she moans louder than ever and doubles over.

“Okay, it’s okay, just keep breathing...” Snow murmurs asshe rubs Belle’s back. To Rumpel, shesays, “So, poofing her home is out and the stairs are a problem. What does that leave us?”

“How about the tub?” Emma suggests, peering over Rumpel’shead. “Like a water birth.”

The words snap Rumpel’s brain back into action. “Yes! That was the plan. Good. Belle, w-?”

“Let’s do that!”Belle wails.

With a great sweep of his arm, Snow’s narrow tub is replacedby a wide, deep Jacuzzi filled up three-quarters with warm water.

“Wow,” Snow briefly marvels, “Okay, yeah, great. Belle, let’s get you, uh... Oh, hey, I thinkwe need a little privacy now, please?”

To Rumpel’s surprise, Regina turns to the rest of the partyand declares in her most imperious tone, “All right, gawkers, back off. Rumpeland Snow only, let’s give them some space, come on.” She herds Bae, Emma, and David back down thehall.

Snow says to Belle, “We’ll get you in the tub soon,okay? It’ll be nice and warm and you canrelax. Let’s take off these shoes, andget out of the underwear- just lean on Rumpel, that’s fine...”

While Snow does the necessaries, Belle’s head droops towardhis shoulder, only to bump against the bloody astronaut helmet he only just nowrealizes he’s still wearing. “Sorry,sweetheart,” he mumbles, banishing the thing to oblivion where it belongs. Belle presses her damp forehead into thecurve of his neck, and he smooths a hand over her hair.

“Okay, we probably want to get that lovely dress offtoo. Rumpel, if you could unzip theback?”

They ease Belle out of her costume. In a moment of whimsy, Rumpel sends it tohang over the curtain rod by the tub where she’ll be able to see the crescentmoon. He also replaces Belle’s bra witha softer bikini top. With one last wavehe replaces Snow’s costume with dark blue nurse’s scrubs. She shoots him a startled look, but wiselysays nothing. They don’t quite manage toget Belle into the tub before the next contraction hits, and she sags betweenhim and Snow with another bone-deep groan.

“Almost there, Belle,” Snow croons, “A few more steps- canyou take a few more steps?”

“I... okay...” she whimpers.

“I’m here, love,” Rumpel says, “Come on, follow me.”

They inch up a smooth ramp to the edge of the tub where itparts into a short stairwell. Bellesighs as soon as her foot enters the water. Snow has her sit on the edge and part her legs so she can take a look atwhat’s going on.

Holding Belle steady against his chest, Rumpel asks Snow, “Youdo have a fairly clear idea of what you’re doing, yes?”

“Sure. I’ve done thisbefore, albeit from Belle’s end, and anyway we’ve been sharing all ourbooks. I knew she was leaning toward awater birth. Really, they’re so natural,as long as there aren’t any complications my job’s basically just to standthere and catch.”

“And if there are- complications?” Even thinking the word sets off sirens in hishead.

Snow looks him in the eye, “How about you go and call yourmidwife now, just in case?”

Cursing himself for not thinking of that sooner, Rumpelgently shifts Belle into Snow’s waiting arms and steps away from the tub andout of the bathroom. It takes a specialperson to even consider delivering the Dark One’s child, but Mistress Oggseemed downright cheerful about the idea when their paths crossed at thehospital. She seems cheerful about mostthings, but Rumpel and Belle detected a core of iron in the old woman that wasencouraging enough to bring her on.

Once he fumbles his way through phoning her, it takesseveral rings and a strange burst of static until a voice sings out, “Coo-eee,Rum, how are things?” Mistress Ogg’svoice sounds a bit distant, perhaps he’s on speakerphone. Mountain wind whistles down the line.

“Belle’s in labor,” he replies shortly while Snow sneaks outaround him and walks down the hall.

“Ah, a bit early but not bad. How quick are the contractions coming then?”

“I... I’ve no idea.” He curses himself once more for letting panic conquer him so completely.

“To be expected,” Mistress Ogg says breezily. “I’ll be on the road then. Could be a little while though, I’ve a longway to go. She’s in the water now?”

Rumpel wonders just how far away she can be in Storybrooke,but regardless pokes his head into the bathroom to see Belle leaning back withher arms laid along the edge of the tub, eyes closed, face pale but calm. “Yes, she is. And we’re not at home. We’re ata... a friend’s place.”

“Right, I see. Bethere as quick as I can, love, not to fret.” She hangs up before Rumpel can give her Snow’s address. He’s about to call again when a small cryfrom the bathroom has him stuffing his mobile into a pocket and rushing toBelle’s side. She grips the edges of thetub with her face twisted into a grimace. Rumpel sits behind her and smooths his palms down her tense arms. “Deep breaths, love,” he reminds her softly.

Belle drags in and blows out air at a slow, even pace. She relaxes as the contraction passes.

“Mistress Ogg is on her way.”

“Good.”

“How are you?”

“Better, now.” She tiltsher head back and peers up at him to murmur, “Sorry about this. I know we wanted to be at home.”

Rumpel just smiles and cradles the back of Belle’s head inhis palm. “This is perfectly fine, sweetheart. We’re... we’re with family.”

That wins him a smile. He dips a hand in the water to check its temperature, stirring in a bitmore heat. Belle hums and takes a fewmore deep breaths. Her gaze wanders tothe hanging dress and she inquires dreamily, “We still like the name Lucy,right?”

They considered every option in the book, and in severalother books, and that was a particularly strong contender. Though they opted not to learn the genderbeforehand, as her due date has neared Belle’s become thoroughly convincedshe’s having a girl. “I like it if youdo.”

“How about Estelle as a middle name?”

A corner of Rumpel’s mouth curls up. “Lucille Estelle.”

“Our starlight.”

He bends down to kiss the top of Belle’s head. “Sounds perfect to me.”

All that’s really left to do is wait. As the contractions quicken, Snow returns tolift Belle back onto the edge of the tub and check her readiness.

“I... I feel like I might need to push,” Belle whimpers,twisting clenched fists in Rumpel’s jumpsuit.

“Well, I think that’s because you need to push,” Snowreplies, “I can see the head.”

Belle lets out an anxious moan, “But Mistress Ogg isn’there- ah! I have topush!”

“Okay, come back in the water, here we go...” Snow and Rumpel guide Belle into the tub andlet her position herself kneeling with her elbows braced on the edge.

Snow crouches behind her in the tub while Rumpel comes toface Belle on the outside, letting her grab his hands in a vice grip. “It’s too soon,” she whispers, “What ifsomething’s wrong?”

Rumpel rests his forehead against hers. “Then we’ll handle it. Everything will be fine, Belle, Ipromise.” In this moment, despite allevidence, he actually believes that.

Belle manages a tiny smile before it contorts into a grimaceand her whole body strains. After amoment, Snow announces, “The head is out! I don’t feel an umbilical cord. Let’s work on the shoulders now.”

“It hurts...” Belle grits out.

“I know, but keep going, you’ll get through it soon.”

“You can do this, sweetheart,” Rumpel murmurs, “I’m righthere with you. I love you.”

Belle’s eyes lock on his and don’t break contact even as shegroans and pushes with all her strength. Somewhere far away, Snow says one shoulder is out. Belle’s groan intensifies into a powerfulbellow. “That’s it!” Snow cries just asthe bellow stops and Belle’s left panting and trembling, her head falling toRumpel’s shoulder.

Rumpel looks in wonder as Snow gently lifts a tiny, wrinkly,squirming creature out of the water. Shewipes at its nose and mouth, it wriggles a little more and releases a plaintivewail. Belle’s whole body shudders at thesound and she lets out a sob.

“It’s a girl, Rumpelstiltskin,” Snow says with a beam, “Aperfect little girl.”

“She- she’s... okay?” he quavers, halfway to sobbinghimself.

“Seems like it,” Snow replies, wincing a bit at anotherrather piercing cry from the baby, “Let’s have her meet Mom, huh?”

Rumpel helps Belle carefully turn over. She’s still shaking, but her arms are steadyas Snow places the baby in them. Thewailing stops instantly as she snuggles into Belle’s chest.

“She is perfect,” Rumpel whispers in awe, his chin onBelle’s shoulder.

“Hello, Lucy,” Belle murmurs, “How nice to meet you.”

“Our starlight.”

Minutes or perhaps days later, someone bustles into thebathroom saying, “Cheer-o, ducks! Lookslike the little mite beat me to the punch. Let’s see what’s left for me to do.” Mistress Ogg makes quick work of tying off and cutting the umbilicalcord. “There now, how about we have thehappy da bundle up his girl while the afterbirth comes?”

Rumpel has never wanted to do anything more, or been soafraid to do it. Belle shifts Lucy intohis arms like she’s made of glass. Mistress Ogg pops off her boots and socks and climbs into the tub whileSnow lays out a clean, soft towel on the floor. Rumpel kneels down and lays Lucy on it, where she immediately frowns andsquirms against the cold. “Don’t worry,dearest, I’m here,” he whispers while wrapping her up snugly, “There you are, safeand sound.”

He picks her up and holds her to his chest before moving tosit on the closed toilet seat. They gazeat each other with tired eyes. When hersslip shut, he manages to tear his own away and notice Bae standing outside thebathroom, looking more like a nervous teenager than Rumpel would think possible.

“Baelfire, would you like to meet your sister?”

His eyebrows jump and he stuffs his hands into his pockets,but he pads into the room and hunches over to grin down at the baby.

“This is Lucille Estelle Gold. You can call her Lucy.”

“Hey, Lucy. I’m Bae. Or Baelfire. Or Neal. Or whatever.” He and Rumpel chuckle quietly. Lucy’s eyes crack open and blink a few timesbefore closing again. “She’s beautiful,Papa. I can’t believe I’m a bigbrother.”

“Life is very, very funny, son.”

Mistress Ogg has drained the tub, swathed Belle in a severaltowels, and delivered the afterbirth before she suggests Lucy try nursing. Rumpel carries the baby to Belle, and eventhough she seemed quite deeply asleep, she latches on to her mother’s breastquickly.

“Hungry one, isn’t she?” Mistress Ogg remarks, “That’sfine. She doesn’t like wasting time, weknow that much.”

After a while, Belle lets Rumpel perform some very gentlehealing magic so she can get out of the tub at last. He transforms her bikini top into a looseblack dress that shimmers with silver and blue sparkles. Her original dress gets bundled up and pushedinto a pocket of Rumpel’s jumpsuit. Hekeeps one arm firmly wrapped around her waist as they leave the bathroom, Lucyheld close to Belle’s chest. They findthe rest of the party sitting at the kitchen table, looking on curiously.

A wide smile stretches across David’s face before he all butbounds over to them. “What a night,huh? Are you all okay?”

“We’re fine,” Belle replies, “Lucy, this is Prince David,your...” Her gaze jumps to the ceiling as she puzzles out the family tree, “Nephew’sother grandfather.” Emma and Regina havestood and come to flank David. Belle’sgaze moves over them as she says, “And that’s Princess Emma, your nephew’smother. And- Regina, his other mother.”

Emma peers over David’s shoulder and smiles warmly, butdoesn’t seems too interested in getting closer. Regina gives Lucy a smile as well, this one more wistful thananything. “What a sweet little girl,”she says, her voice softer than Rumpel’s ever heard it.

“We’ll be going home now, I think,” Belle says, heading tothe door where Snow stands. “Thank you,”she tells her, “I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

“Anything you want is yours, Snow,” Rumpel says, “And I domean anything.”

“Oh, no, please, it was the least I could do...” sheinstantly demurs, up until she bites her lip and mutters, “Can we keep thetub?”

Rumpel snorts. “Yes. And you can send me thewater bill.”

“Deal. Thanks forcoming to my little party, guys.”

“We had a... an interesting time,” Belle saysdiplomatically. Rumpel snickers, thenguides his wife and daughter through the door as Snow holds it open. Mistress Ogg follows, coming along to helpthem settle in at home. The small familyheads into the future together.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #fanfiction #once upon a time #poca-staks

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