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English
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Published:
2025-08-04
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1,537
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
21
Kudos:
61
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324

Night Drive

Summary:

Mr. Gold is tired of rescuing Belle from dates with her fiance.

Notes:

This was my first fic for the showdown and I would be interested in doing more things like it so.....pls feel free. To share your thoughts. JUST SAYIN' <3

Also I will probably post my final showdown fic (I'm not posting all four because there was one I didn't like ahahaaaaa) in two weeks!

Work Text:

The Cadillac pulled up, and for the first time all night, Belle relaxed. Maybe a strange reaction to the prospect of getting into the notorious Mr. Gold’s car alone, but then, Belle had been the one to call him.

“Took you long enough.” She slid into the passenger seat, shivering as she finally escaped the chilly night breeze. Her sleeveless cocktail dress provided no protection, and she’d forgotten her shawl inside. Oh well. Gaston wouldn’t notice.

“I can’t drop everything to pick you up every time you don’t want to date your fiance,” Gold said, driving off before her numb fingers had even found the seatbelt. 

“I’ll dust your shop tomorrow on my lunch, don’t worry.” Belle sank back into the supple leather. He’d arrived with the seat warmer on, like he’d known she would run a quarter-mile from the party before calling him and stand on a street corner with naught but a chiffon skirt for warmth. 

“My shop is clean, French,” he said. “You’ve dusted it twice this week, and twice the week before, and three times the week before that.”

Belle chewed her lip. Gaston had been attending a lot of dinners recently, hadn’t he? 

“So, I’ll trade you something else.” 

Gold glanced at her, mouth a flat line. “No. I’m afraid this is the last time. You’ve nothing I want.”

Belle’s heart sank. Mr. Gold had been there since the beginning, since her father’s medical struggles, since Gaston had taken a shine to her, since she’d agreed to go on a first date to a benefit in Boston with him. He was always there, sitting in his shop, dusting his collectibles while she came in and pretended that everything was fine.

“Come on, Mr. Gold.” She tried to keep her voice light. “Everyone knows you can’t resist a good deal.”

Somehow, his mouth flattened further. “This is a terrible deal.”

It was a terrible deal. Belle wasn’t even that thorough when she dusted. She was too afraid of breaking something.

“Does he not wonder where you’ve gone?” 

Truthfully, Belle didn’t know. As long as she arrived on Gaston’s arm, stayed through photos, and wound up back in his house at the end of the night, he didn’t ask questions. 

“I always tell him I need some air,” she said. “Which is true.”

Gold’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, and Belle seized on the hesitance in the gesture. She was wearing him down—he’d make another deal. 

“Why don’t you leave him?” He stared at the road. “You’ve never struck me as a woman afraid of making waves.”

Belle smiled sadly at her hands in her lap. “You know why.”

Gaston Hunter, one of the richest men in Maine, could clear her father’s medical debt. He could get him the best doctors, could make sure that he was taken care of if he ever had to be moved to a home. And he would—all Belle had to do was be the perfect wife.

They rode in silence, and Belle watched Mr. Gold’s profile. He had no obligation to talk to her, no requirement to make conversation, but against all odds, they’d been friends for years. Not close friends, but they both worked alone at desks across the street from one another. Belle had introduced herself on her first day and then one thing led to another, and soon she stopped by after work almost every afternoon.

Not wanting to sit in this thick silence any longer, Belle shifted in her seat to face him better. “I started a new book I think you’d hate.”

“Did you?” 

This was routine too. Belle would read anything at hand when she was ready for a new book, and Mr. Gold hated anything “unrealistically happy,” but enjoyed grimacing when she described them.

“Yes, it’s about a woman who lives in a town obsessed with Christmas, and there’s a no-nonsense lawyer who ends up stranded there and he befriends her grumpy cat and that’s how she knows he’s the one.”

She watched him, knowing that this was exactly the sort of sap he would scoff at, but he just stared ahead. 

“There’s a line where everyone is appalled that he’s never had marshmallows in his cocoa.”

“Awful,” he said, but she had been telling him the silly plots of romance novels for years, and he never sounded so rote.

He turned onto the highway that would take them back to town, and Belle watched the streetlamps fade into nothing but darkness, the road narrowing to two lanes.

“You know, dear.” He tapped the steering wheel, “Most in your situation would have just made a deal with me.”

Belle opened her mouth, then closed it. Was he offended that she hadn’t dealt for payment of her father’s cancer treatments and home care? But they were tens of thousands in debt, on track to lose his shop, unable to even sell it. If she asked Mr. Gold for the money, she’d be another number on his ledger, just like everyone else.

“I don’t want to borrow money from you.” She wished she hadn’t forgotten her shawl. She needed something to hug around herself.

“You’d rather marry a man you don’t like than do business with me?” 

He was offended, wasn’t he? His expression hadn’t changed, but Belle knew him well enough. Sure, he was ruthless in dealing with people, always asked for the absolute most he could, but she could see he hadn’t always been that way. 

She opened her mouth to say that she wouldn’t be able to pay him back no matter how generous his interest terms, but that wasn’t quite right. 

“I like doing business with you.” She fiddled with the hefty stone on her engagement ring. 

“Are you worried about paying me back?” he asked. “You could trade something other than money.”

At that, Belle looked at him. Of course, Mr. Gold often traded for favors, but she had never heard of him trading such a sum for anything other than repayment with obscene interest. 

“I don’t want to owe you for the rest of my life.”

“Of course not,” he said. “My mistake for thinking it was the better option than being married to Gaston Hunter for the rest of your life.”

Belle frowned. Her thoughts made so much sense in her head, if only she could translate them out to Mr. Gold.

“If I’m in debt to you, then who will I talk to after work?” 

He finally turned to her. “What?”

“If I owe you thousands of dollars or the biggest favor of my life or—whatever.” She twisted her ring around so she couldn’t see the diamond. “Then our relationship will change. I’d rather spend little bits of time like this with you forever because I married Gaston than that.”

As soon as she said it, she knew it was crazy, and Gold eyed her like she’d just confessed to murder. 

“Why?” 

She shrugged. “I think you’re my best friend.”

Belle watched him until it was clear he wasn’t saying more, then turned to the window. She recognized where they were going, but it didn’t occur to her that it was because he was driving to his shop, not Gaston’s house. He parked, and though her heart lightened at this longer reprieve from her fiance, she frowned.

“Do you want me to dust now?” 

“Leave Gaston,” he said, and Belle’s eyebrows flew up.

“Didn’t we just—”

“Leave Gaston,” he repeated. “That’s my price.”

Belle stared, hardly sure she’d heard him correctly. Leave Gaston? He watched his shop, jaw clenched, hands around the wheel like he could run from her at any second. Except he couldn’t, because she was in his car, one of the more comforting places she could think of. Why didn’t Gaston care where she went at the end of the night?

Leave Gaston. What if she did? What if she did leave Gaston and let Mr. Gold clear her father’s debt? 

“Would it be extra for you to drive me there now to pick up my things?” 

He licked his lips, and suddenly, all the weight lifted from her. Was she really going to leave Gaston? 

“Tell him you’re having an affair with DA Spencer,” he said. “I could use him being distracted next week.”

“Oh, I see.” Thank god their easy rapport had returned. “I’ll be a pawn in your political games now, is that it?”

He smirked, but then, before he could volley, Belle stretched across the console and grabbed his cheek. Gold froze, jaw pulsing beneath her hand, but then slowly, slowly turned and pressed into her palm. 

Belle leaned toward him, then touched her lips softly to his. They both sat there for several seconds even after they had separated, and then Mr. Gold opened his eyes.

“That wasn’t part of the deal, you know,” he said. “I wouldn’t ask—for that.” 

“I know.” She smiled at him. “That was just because I like you.”

A smile crept across his face, slow like it was out of practice, but then before she could even respond, he was rocketing out of his parking spot.

Apparently, they were both ready for her to leave Gaston.