A Society For Sinners

by ShakespeareanHoneyBadgers

Summary:

Just shy of six months after moving to Storybrooke, Joseph's life continues to become more and more complex. In addition to a new relationship on top of his marriage, he decides to form a support group for people like him recovering from alcoholism, which immediately spirals into barely-contained anarchy.

Meanwhile Belle continues to navigate her developing relationships with the MacAvoy Ives clan; her budding romance with Joseph, her deepening friendship with Hannah, and her tolerated existence around Francis.

Chapter 1: V-Day

Summary:

The pilot episode for a weird-ass comedy series, "My Neighbors the Wendigos"

“You survived!”

 

Belle smirked. Hopefully Ruby never understood the irony of her words.

 

“I did. How about you and Gran?”

 

“Well I didn't go after her with an axe, even though I was close a couple times,” she announced proudly.

 

It was a good type of odd, going back to old routines after the disruption of Lai Lai's visit and the snowstorm. She felt a bit like a Pevensie returning from Narnia, changed while her own world had stayed the same. Ruby had snuck out after the breakfast shift to visit The Little Shop of Wonders, and Belle thought it was a mix of her checking up on her friend and taking a breather from her grandmother.

 

“What about Baby Bundy? Your face is at least intact.”

 

“Don't call her that,” Belle protested, “Grace is a sweetheart she just… Is seven and has emotional regulation difficulties. Archie's working with her.”

 

Ruby's grin widened, “Awww, you really like little Bundy… Relax, it's just a joke, kids are nightmares. Kind of messed up they left her with you for literal days though.”

 

“They needed someone to watch her while they went out to look for Joe, and didn’t get back before it was in full force.”

 

“Yeah but I think she would've survived what, a few dozen feet?” Ruby raised an eyebrow, “What’s really going on is someone's trying to get under a certain Scotsman’s kilt.”

 

“It's not that ,” Belle said a little too quickly, “Grace is just…attached to me… And honestly I was glad for the company…”

 

Ruby winced at the reminder of Belle’s current bachelorette status. Belle glanced at the window to see Joseph watching her, hesitating at the door. He startled when they made eye contact and Belle smiled, waving him in to join them. The awkwardness of being caught was too much however; he took a step towards, a step back, turned around in a circle and then continued walking down the sidewalk as if he hadn't been thinking of coming in for his tea at all. Belle laughed and shook her head at his silliness, then turned back to Ruby…

 

…who was watching her almost mournfully.

 

“I never should have let you go through with that stupid deal,” she murmured, “I don't think even Will made you smile like that, and he was a decent guy. Gaston…he sucked the life out of you.”

 

He had. And while Will had been a sweet high school relationship, she had mostly been a placeholder until he could be with Ana again. Will’s rebound, Gaston's trophy, Joseph's… What? The worst she could come up with was “emergency babysitter” but that hardly felt like using her when she adored spending time with Grace. No, his intentions were very clear; his main desire was her friendship. A sanctuary when the chaos was too much, a cup of tea and a nice chat.

 

And he wanted the best for her; not in a vapid greeting card way, but sincerely, altruistically. If she did not want his circus in her life, she wholeheartedly believed he would step away and tell his family to as well. But as far as she could tell, even with the off-screen cannibalism going on, the best for her was him.

 

“Is the baby mama drama that bad?” Ruby wondered.

 

Belle shook her head, “No, no, Helena is… Well they're all very protective of Grace. It was a difficult pregnancy and…likely Helena’s only one. And even if they're not together, she still cares for him as her baby daddy.”

 

“And there's no weird…” Ruby's face twisted and contorted as if that would help her find the right delicately put words, “... residual feelings there?”

 

“No, it seems pretty platonic.” Belle sighed, “Helena… really likes to over share about her and Joe’s love life. Reminds me of you.”

 

“Oh shut up .” Ruby lightly smacked her arm, “And I told you, no replacing me as your best friend!”

 

Belle giggled, “There’s room in my life for two best friends.”

 

“That completely defeats the purpose of having a best friend!” Ruby whined, “And as your best friend, I advise you to lock Caleb in. It's not the 1800’s anymore, you don't have to do a whole year of widow’s mourning or whatever. If the town’s not judging you for getting Gaston whacked, they're not going to care about a quick rebound.”

 

“Getting Gaston whacked?”

 

“Yeah, everyone's pretty sure you hired a hitman to kill your husband, but it's you, and it's Gaston, so whatever, let it be an “accident”.” She emphasized the word with air quotes.

 

Belle rolled her eyes. Of course there was gossip… Unnervingly close to the truth but insane enough for it to not be taken seriously. She bit her lip as she remembered the bit of information she hadn't mentioned to Ruby yet.

 

“...he asked me out,” she admitted shyly.

 

“And you're just now telling me?!?!” Ruby squealed, “Oh my God, when, where, how long-”

 

Ruby jumped and Belle flinched at the sound of something large and delicate shattering next door. She stared at the shared wall.

 

“Should we go check and make sure he’s okay? That sounded, uh, expensive and devastating.”

 

“I’m sure he's fine.” Belle raised her voice a few levels, “He's just a bit clumsy .”

 

It was the third or fourth occurrence that morning; the first one had caught her off guard and she cried out, and could have sworn she heard a giggle in response. This time was almost expected, a petty reaction to Belle sharing her good news. At this rate there’d be no more antiques for Francis to sell.

 

“No official time or date yet,” Belle continued, “Caleb mentioned something about needing to make a reservation, but wants to keep it a surprise.”

 

“Well that's promising,” Ruby said, “Hopefully all goes well and Baby Mama doesn't cut the brakes in your car.”

 

“Hopefully,” Belle agreed, barely able to contain her excitement.

 

She had full faith Joseph would knock it out of the park with whatever he was planning. What she was less sure about was whether he’d be able to relax enough to enjoy it.

 

Meanwhile Joseph was doing his best to creep but not be a creep, pacing around the end of the block and waiting for Ruby to leave the shop. He couldn't face Belle after he panicked and just…kept walking as if he could play off the fact he was debating whether to be rude or not. But he still hadn't seen her leave, and Francis was clearly amused watching him going back and forth, so he finally relented and stepped into the antiques shop instead.

 

He sighed as he spotted the broom in Francis' hand, and what looked like an entire set of glassware on the hardwood floor.

 

“It was an accident,” Francis got ahead of the accusation.

 

“And how many… accidents have you had today?” Joseph asked.

 

Francis smirked, looking too proud of himself, “You know me so well,” he cooed.

 

Unfortunately. Joseph examined the adjoining wall, “Need to soundproof this,” he muttered.

 

“Oh but the things I hear ,” Francis’ smirk widened into a grin, “Don't you want to know what she's saying about you?”

 

“That I have a bellend for a little brother and a crazy ex?”

 

Francis pursed his lips, “She did make a couple of uncharitable but not completely off-base comments about Hannah… And Miss Lucas is never getting another tip from this family after the name she called Grace…”

 

“I thought I was permanently banned from that establishment.”

 

“You are but even you rebel to some degree.” Francis finished sweeping up the mess but he didn't look back up at him, “...she's very excited for your date.”

 

Joseph frowned, “As she should be. It's a great date you’ve come up with, she’ll be thrilled.”

 

“I don't think the venue makes much of a difference when the company is you.”

 

Joseph stepped forward but Francis stepped back, and he bristled until Francis nodded towards the windows. Of course, of fucking course . Joseph's chest tightened. 

 

“I think,” he began through gritted teeth, “Next time Hannah has to be the sibling and we get to be the spouses.”

 

Francis gave a soft laugh, “That sounds like an even worse idea than thinking we could stay separate for half the week.”

 

“It's not fair.”

 

“Ah, that's where Grace gets it from. I thought it might've been Hannah.” Francis rested his hand on the counter and Joseph followed, an indirect way to hold hands, “You’ll have to continue to forgive me, I’m rusty with…being open. I had hoped it would be like riding a bike.”

 

“It's not the same though, is it?” Joseph pointed out, “I’m much more…finite. And I took away your safety net of simply murdering whoever doesn't work out.”

 

He met Joseph's eye and Joseph shivered at the coldness in his expression, “Nothing on God’s green earth will hold me back if she hurts you.”

 

Joseph knew that. And Hannah would join Francis, turning on Belle in an instant if she hurt him or, God forbid, Grace. Though they had never been so direct, he was sure the same applied to him if he had ever dared or wanted to. Before things got too far, he would have to have a Grown Up Discussion about how much hurt was acceptable.

 

He did not know much about dating, but Joseph did know relationships didn't always work out. It wasn't even always a bad thing; sometimes two people just weren't meant to be. Belle did not deserve the death penalty…well period, but especially not if they simply broke up and Joseph cried over it. That was the risk he was taking… He just hoped he didn't lose their friendship over it.

 

Belle was disappointed when Joseph didn't immediately show back up after Ruby left, but she reminded herself that he did have his own life…and his husband next door. Her patience was rewarded when instead of one MacAvoy visitor, she received two.

 

“I’M FREE I’M FREEEEEEEE FREEEEEEEEEEEEE FROM THE MAN!” 

 

Grace came dangerously close to overshooting the bar stool, gripping onto the counter as it rocked on two legs. She looked up at Belle, terrified, then grinned as she steadied herself without toppling over. 

 

“The man?” Belle echoed inquisitively.

 

“Yeah, The Man. Except it's more like The Woman, because Mrs. Hubbard is a lady.”

 

Joseph took a seat like a normal human being, looking exasperatedly at Belle, “You want to take a swing at what Grace did at school today?”

 

She glanced at Grace, who was beaming. Couldn't have been that bad if Grace was happy and Joseph wasn't on the verge of tears, so hopefully not another stabbing.

 

“...learned?”

 

Grace giggled, “Cloooooooooose. Sorry Belle,” she said as her swinging feet hit the counter.

 

Belle looked at Joseph, who sighed.

 

“She taught her classmates morse code, and they all lost their last recess because they wouldn't stop tapping messages to each other.”

 

“VIVE LA RESISTANCE!” Grace pumped her fist in the air. 

 

“I need to keep a better eye on what books she's checking out from the school library,” Joseph muttered, “Where did she even learn morse code?”

 

“Dad.” She said it so promptly, so sincerely, Belle for a moment wondered if somehow she had forgotten the truth.

 

Grace looked at Belle pointedly and while she should not be condoning this…

 

“He was sending her morse code messages via the blinds during the snowstorm,” she explained, “Texted me a reference sheet to help translate.”

 

The noise from next door could only be described as sounding like a giant toddler throwing a temper tantrum at a gumball machine that ate his quarter. Grace gave Belle a devious look and Belle rolled her eyes at Francis' completely fair objection to his name being dragged through the mud. Better him than her.

 

“Of course he did,” Joseph said, and she did feel a little bad that he believed them so easily, “So Grace and I had a discussion about listening while someone is speaking… And not distracting her classmates.”

 

“In my defense it was a loooooot of review stuff.”

 

“Doesn't. Matter.” He turned to Belle, “So how has your day been?”

 

“Oh not too bad.” She set the kettle to boil, “I am very concerned about Francis though, he’s been dropping things all day.”

 

A buzz came from Joseph's pocket. He ignored it.

 

“Hopefully nothing too valuable. We have a business to run after all.”

 

“I’m glad books don't break when you drop them,” Grace said, “Just get dinged up a little. I wish they were waterproof though.”

 

“Me too,” Belle confided.

 

“It's scary that people read in a bathtub.”

 

“Well you have to be very careful and not take in one of your favorites.”

 

Grace looked deeply impressed by this apparent talent Belle wasn't aware was a talent.

 

Joseph continued to ignore the almost constant vibration as he ordered his tea of the day. Which, of course, led to Belle's notification noise going off.

 

“Don't,” he warned.

 

“What if it's an emergency?”

 

“It's not , he’s being a cun- cuntankerous old man.”

 

Grace sideyed Joseph, who looked away guiltily.

 

“I’m Scottish,” he mumbled defensively.

 

The message was not from Francis but Hannah.

 

jfc plz just tell me calebs alrite so I can tell Joe to fuk off

 

They're fine, Joe's just having a tantrum.

 

👍🙄🫶❤️🫶

 

Joseph jerked back and Belle glanced up, following his line of sight. Standing in the window, glaring at the pair of them, was a very put-off Francis. 

 

“Grace don't look.”

 

Grace, of course, turned to watch as Joseph gave Francis the reverse peace sign gesture. Francis’ head jerked back in fake shock, then he shook his head at Joseph's dismal display of manners. He then glanced at Belle, eyes narrowing. Though it still sent a chill down her spine, it lacked the full menace he was capable of. Less Hannibal Lecter, more Lex Luthor.

 

All menace subsided as Grace scampered up to the window, mocking him with silly faces. He squinted at her, shaking his fist in consternation, and Grace giggled, continuing to taunt him.

 

“Should we invite him in?” Belle asked.

 

Joseph raised an eyebrow, “Do you really want to? You invite him in once and he'll take that as he's allowed over whenever he wants.”

 

“...maybe not quite yet,” she admitted sheepishly, then realized, “Hannah hasn't visited in awhile.”

 

“Well that was in the moving contract,” he said, “She's not supposed to bother you more than fifteen minutes a week while you're working.”

 

Belle frowned, “Why?”

 

“Because you complained, remember? Said she was driving you crazy coming in here all the time for hours,” Joseph pointed out.

 

Belle winced at a sharp stab of guilt. She had told Joseph that…way back in November, when she was Helena the Crazy Not-So-Ex-Wife. So much had changed since then that it really did feel like Hannah was a different person.

 

“Well I also thought maybe she was trying to drive me insane on purpose,” she admitted, “I didn't realize she might have been genuinely trying to connect.”

 

“It's also possible she was both trying to drive you insane and connect,” Joseph said with a shrug, “They're full of contradictions like that.”

 

Like the heartless murderer making silly faces back at his daughter, oblivious to anything but her.

 

“Do you have plans for Valentine's Day?”

 

He said it so casually Belle wondered if she had misheard. But Joseph was ringing his hands together and Grace had twisted around to see her response. Belle’s heart thundered, fearing she had made a mistake.

 

“Ruby and I were going to have a girl's night,” she admitted.

 

Joseph's entire body relaxed and he smiled in relief, “Good. I mean, I was just worried you would be alone, I wasn't… Not that I…”

 

“It would've been a little bold,” Belle offered.

 

He nodded, “Exactly.”

 

“Did you want me to take Grace so you three…?”

 

Joseph looked mildly offended at the suggestion, “Take my Valentine from me? Never.”

 

“It's a Daddy-Gracie day,” Grace explained, rejoining them as Francis went back to the shop, “We wear fluffy pajamas and eat junk food and watch sappy movies and read sappy stories and make cards for Mommy and Dad. It's the best holiday ever, basically.”

 

“Sounds like it, I’m jealous.”

 

“I can share my Valentine if you want to join us.”

 

Belle smiled, “Thank you Grace, that's very sweet of you. But I don't want to interrupt your special time with your father, and I already agreed to go out with Ruby.”

 

It was absolutely precious they were both concerned about her being alone but in most ways, she had spent the last few years alone on Valentine's Day. Gaston had taught her that a charmer didn't always equate to a romantic, and while Belle didn't need elaborate gestures… She did want something …but not just anything . There needed to be heart behind it. Not empty flashy jewelry or clothes…like a summer dress that matched her eyes, or a necklace that made him think of her.

 

Maybe that was being too picky… But maybe she hadn't been picky enough so far.

 

“Don't you still have some Valentine's to work on, Gracie?” Joseph asked.

 

Grace heaved a sigh, “Yeeeeeeeeees.” She looked at Belle, “The first few were easy, but now I’m getting down to the kids in my class I barely know. Next year I’m going commercial, handmade for family only !”

 

“I’m sure you’ll still make something nice for them,” he encouraged her.

 

“When in doubt, quote the greats,” Belle advised, “Shakespeare, Austen, Dickinson…”

 

“Poe?” Grace asked hopefully.

 

Belle tried not to laugh, “Well he is one of the greats but probably not one to use for Valentine's inspiration.”

 

“I thought maybe some of the boys would like the gross stuff,” Grace reasoned.

 

Belle glanced at Joseph who nodded that yes, they were keeping an eye on what she was putting on those valentines. Grace got out her crafting supplies while the adults had their tea, the privacy interrupted by someone browsing the shelves briefly before leaving.

 

“How does that work?” Belle asked once the coast was clear, “The two of them have their holiday and then…?”

 

“Their Valentine's Day tradition’s been going on longer than I’ve known them,” he said grimly, “They…make it up to me though, when they return.”

 

Belle opened her mouth but Joseph glared at her, tilting his head slightly towards Grace.

 

“Francis and Hannah have their…date nights, while Grace and I have Daddy-Daughter weekends.” He carefully explained, “It's critical they have that time together but otherwise it's not like anyone keeps a tally. We take turns watching Grace but it's just something we feel out. Sometimes steak works out better, sometimes you miss salad.”

 

Belle tilted her head, “What?”

 

He cringed, “Sorry, it's the metaphor they used to explain this whole poly thing to me. I’ll probably butcher it but if you had one food you would eat for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

 

“CHOCOLATE.” Grace announced.

 

Belle considered, “Let's go with…pancakes. Filling, can be nutritious with the right ingredients, many different mix-ins and toppings, and perfect for any meal of the day.”

 

“Great, so you’ve made this decision. You are committed to pancakes for breakfast, lunch and dinner, every day for the rest of your life.” He stated, “But, well, you still go to the grocery store. You still see all the different available foods you could have chosen and sometimes… You crave something different than pancakes.”

 

“Like steak?” Belle guessed.

 

He nodded, “Like steak. So you agree with your partner… This is the part where I always get lost. But you get the gist, right?” He shrugged, “Sometimes people want more on their plate than just their favorite food, or have multiple favorite foods. Doesn't make it a worse way to go about eating, so long as every diner is on the same page. There's something about a radish in the fridge too… You’ll have to ask Hannah.”

 

“I think I’ve got it,” Belle assured him, then smirked, “So then you have a Valentine's Day equivalent with Mr. Steak and then another one with Miss Salad.”

 

Joseph snorted, “Nah, we’re not even that big on Valentine's Day to be honest. Don't need an occasion to bring them flowers and candy… Though one year before her date night with Francis, Hannah took me to see the northern lights and kissed me underneath it.”

 

Belle's jaw dropped. She could not believe how casually he mentioned it, as though such grand romantic trips happened to everyone . Joseph seemed to realize his cavalier attitude and fidgeted.

 

“It was gorgeous,” he said, “Truly indescribable… Sorry, they're rich, crazy romantics so those sort of once-in-a-lifetime experiences stack up. And the grandiose gestures are hardly that important compared to simply being with them.”

 

“I don't mean to be so callous and easy,” Belle said, looking him dead in the eye, “But I think I would let Francis kiss me, with tongue, if I got to see the aurora borealis in person.”

 

Joseph thankfully laughed, especially at Grace's disgusted expression.

 

“Well hopefully you don't need to demean yourself that much,” he said, a blush creeping up on his cheeks, “Maybe just offer to kiss Hannah and see if she’ll take you.”

 

Apparently he wasn't letting go of Christmas either.

 

Belle wasn't proud of copying someone else's marketing strategy for Valentine's Day, but Blind Date With A Book was just such a brilliant idea she had to try. She wrapped each book in colorful paper, listing a handful of tropes on an attached piece of paper so they had a general idea of what they were in for. In the days leading up to the holiday she got a few takers, making the idea a success.

 

In what was fast becoming a regular occurrence, Belle was woken up, this time by the crinkle of plastic. She opened her bleary eyes to find Audrey trying to eat something.

 

“Dee, stoppit.”

 

Audrey grumbled but allowed herself to be brushed off whatever was on the bed beside her. Belle rubbed her eyes before looking closer at the thing she’d been chewing on. A bouquet of roses with a variety of colors had been laid next to her, ranging from traditional red to friendly yellow to vibrant orange. It was the sort of beautiful chaos she would expect from the MacAvoys and she grinned, holding it to her chest and breathing in the scent.

 

She almost missed the black velvet box that had been put on her nightstand. It wasn't a jewelry box, Belle was sure by its size, but couldn't think of what else it might be. After finding a vase and sticking the flowers into it, she returned and read the kitten sticky note attached to her present.

 

Practice makes perfect , it said ominously, with a winky smiley face doodled underneath the words.

 

…there was a vibrating dildo in the box. How had she not guessed this as a potential gift. It was surrounded by little wrapped chocolates and a small bottle of lube with… Suggestive coloring of its contents. Belle picked up the dildo, examining it. Far larger than what she was used to; Hannah was right about practice. She stroked the silicone before she noticed one last item in the box.

 

Cut out from the original packaging, the words “Clone-A-Willy Plus” stared up at Belle.

 

It was her turn to show up uninvited, walking right through the front door of the MacAvoy house, “HANNAH!”

 

Instead, Joseph came rushing from the dining room, quickly checking her over, “What's wrong?!”

 

“N-nothing,” she stuttered, glad that she could blame her redness on the winter chill, “I’m, I’m fine, Hannah just broke in again and I was going to tell her off.”

 

“Lord… Sorry, I keep trying to explain to her…”

 

Belle's mind wandered while he explained what he tried to explain to Hannah. Joseph was in another suit, this one a deep maroon with a matching tie. It was a little loose but still, she had to fight the urge to glance down. Damn her for feeding into Belle’s growing desire, a devil whispering in her ear while she tried to be respectful of their dynamics and Joseph's own cautious pace.

 

His head was tilted and Belle realized she had failed to respond to something, “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

 

“I was asking if you’d like to have breakfast with us, since Tweedledee and Tweedledum have already left for their trip.”

 

She shook her head, painfully aware she wasn't even dressed for the day, “No I, ah, have to call and yell at Hannah while I'm still worked up, if that's the case.”

 

“Understandable. I’ll see you later?”

 

Belle nodded emphatically, and he grinned.

 

“I LOVE YOU BELLE HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!!” Came from the dining room.

 

Belle smiled, “Happy Valentine's Day, Grace! I love you too!”

 

“DADDY SAID I HAD TO STAY HERE SO THAT'S WHY I'M NOT GIVING YOU A HUG RIGHT NOW!”

 

“That's alright, Grace.” She tried not to laugh as Joseph rolled his eyes. “You have a good day at school, alright?”

 

“I’LL TRY!”

 

It was difficult to hold onto her anger after that, but she managed to work herself back up to irritated. In her own home staring down the “present”, Belle dialed the number. It rang just once.

 

“Well hey darlin’,” Hannah cooed, “Miss us already?”

 

“How the hell did you convince him to do that?!”

 

She gave a pleased hum, “That's the beauty of Joseph, he does as he's told. Don't go into the basement? Never even jiggles the handle. We need to leave the country? He’ll get started packing. Make a cast of your rock hard dick? Clearly it's to replace the last Joseph-shaped phallus we made for when we miss our little lamb.”

 

Of course this wasn't the first time they cloned his willy… Belle sighed, “Just because he doesn't question things as much as he should, it doesn't mean you should take advantage of him like that.”

 

“Sure it does, better to seek forgiveness and all that. What he don't know about his duplicated baloney pony won't hurt him.”

 

“That's not the point.” Hannah giggled abruptly. “What?”

 

“Nothing, Francis being an ass, that's all.”

 

“How so this time?”

 

Hannah giggled again, “He's saying being intimate with you must be like playing Mother May I. Mother may I hold your hand? Mother may I kiss you? Mother may I french kiss you?”

 

Belle huffed, “I think there's a vast difference between-”

 

“That's a good point,” Hannah mumbled.

 

“ Now what is he saying?”

 

“Oh just that if you really were a consent crusader you would've tattled on him sending a naughty pic to you.”

 

Belle's face heated, “It was an accident.”

 

“Yeah, uh huh, sure. You are too fucking smart to believe that.” Hannah's voice muted as she apparently lowered the receiver, “Am I still mad at you for that? …fuck you, like you’d say any different.” Her voice became clear again, “And like I tried to get your consent to send you photos and you ratted me out, Francis does it and not a peep. And I haven't heard shit about how you feel about your gift, just how Joseph might feel. So I’m starting to think asking your permission’s a waste of time.”

 

Belle tried to protest but she didn't have a well-put-together argument to counter with. She doubted Hannah would accept the logic that once it was done it wasn't worth fighting about, or embarrassing Joseph like that.

 

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness about his needs but hon, he is slower than a sloth swimming in molasses when he’s setting the pace,” Hannah continued, “Francis waited for him to make the first move and it took him months. MONTHS! So we're throwing you some lifelines, freak to freak, so you don't lose your damn mind in the meantime. I know the high horse is appealing to you but you’ll have way more fun down in the mud with us.”

 

She wanted to argue against her, that Joseph's comfort was more important than how fast they were moving… But it was difficult to ignore that they had years of experience with him over her, no matter how…skewed the data might be. And while she was prepared to wait as long as he needed… The… Lifelines … Would be helpful.

 

If it wasn't so infuriating and wrong, Belle could almost admire how skillful Hannah was at getting her to do exactly what she wanted Belle to do.

Notes:

Won't be able to keep up my usual daily uploads unfortunately due to the sheer chonkitude of this guy, but will try to get 2-3 chapters out a week at least.

Chapter 2: The Need is Present

Summary:

Daily Mirror Exclusive: Man Assaults Nun During Youth Group, Witness Attacked, Police Called to Intervene

Joseph knew about the phenomenon of phantom limbs; people with arms or legs who swore it still felt like the appendage was still there. Father MacAvoy had been dead for years and yet old habits still twitched whenever he was in the Convent of the Sisters of Saint Meissa. Maybe because of Sister Astrid, who reminded him so strongly of his own past life.

 

She was wilting more and more, and he wished he could press her to confess whatever was bothering her. But it was not his place, and they were barely more than acquaintances. 

 

“You’ve already got a headache?” He teased her as he noticed a hand to her temple, “Meeting hasn't even started yet.”

 

Grace had instantly run off with her Awana friends upon arrival, and he was pretty sure the youth group was more lively than anything else the nuns dealt with in a week. Astrid lowered her hand, looked at him, and his playful smirk vanished at the sight of her red-rimmed eyes.

 

“Sister Astrid, are you alright?” He asked.

 

She forced a smile, nodding… But the nod slowly turned to a shake, “To be honest… It's been a rough week.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can help with?”

 

She hesitated, glancing at her fellow sisters moving about the meeting room, and at the ever-present Mother Superior keeping a careful watch over her flock.

 

“Actually, could you help me reach something in the storage closet?” She asked, voice shaky.

 

“Absolutely,” he said, following her lead to the storage closet at the very end of the hall.

 

He stepped into the closet first, eyeing the top shelf and wondering if he’d have to admit he couldn't reach it without a stool, when Sister Astrid entered and shut the door behind them.

 

“I’m sorry, that was a lie,” she admitted, “I just wanted to get you alone, I mean, away from people who might… I just need to talk to someone who won't judge me, that's all.”

 

Thank goodness, he wouldn't have to get a stool after all. He overturned a bucket for her to sit on while he tested the integrity of a box. He didn't trust it, so sat on the floor in front of her like a child at story time.

 

“What's bothering you?” He asked, biting back the instinctive “my child”.

 

Sister Astrid shook her head, still fighting to gather the words together. 

 

“I… I’m struggling with… Doubts. Not about my faith!” She said quickly as if he would leap at the chance to call her a heretic, “But… I…” She sighed and shook her head, “...I don't seem to be very good at being a nun.”

 

“I wouldn't say that,” Joseph assured her, “You're always ready to lend a helping hand.”

 

“But I always screw up ,” she insisted, hands curling into frustrated fists, “And I know what you're going to say, that I’m only human, but no one else here seems to klutz it up more than me!”

 

“Your heart is in the right place,” he pointed out, “That matters far more than coordination.”

 

Sister Astrid’s chin quivered, “...what if it's not?” She whispered.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“What if my heart… isn’t in the right place?” She met his eye, fresh tears building up, “...I think I care more about Leroy than I should.”

 

Joseph was completely unsurprised. Sister Astrid was the only person he had ever witnessed coax a real smile out of the grump, and he was the only one who seemed to make her forget about other people watching her.

 

“Why do you say that?” He asked softly.

 

“The way he makes me feel,” she continued in a hushed voice, as if Mother Superior would kick the door down if she spoke too loudly, “The way he looks at me… And I want him to look at me like that, and I hope when I look at him he feels what I feel when he looks at me. We're not screw-ups when it's the two of us, we’re… Just us.” She wiped at her eyes, “I know it sounds stupid, and I’m making a big deal out of nothing… But it's something to me .”

 

“It's not stupid,” he murmured, “It's natural.”

 

“But I took vows!” Her voice raised but she quickly pressed her lips together.

 

Joseph fiddled with his hands, “That does complicate things… Would you be with him if vows were out of the picture?”

 

He was surprised when she hesitated, “...I don't know. I mean, his drinking is only getting worse and I don't… I’m not leaving the church just to be his babysitter.” She grimaced, “Is that cruel of me?”

 

“No, I think it's very mature of you,” he reassured her, “As much as you may want to, you cannot save someone until they want to be saved.”

 

Instead of comforting her, she only cried harder, “I feel so useless . He's so lost, and it's like I can't even find a flashlight for him!”

 

Joseph rose up onto his knees and held out his arms. Sister Astrid, a bit too enthusiastic, lunged forward and knocked the bucket out from underneath herself. He grabbed her, trying to steady her, but she only brought him down on top of her, shrieking as they collapsed.

 

“You alright?!” He asked.

 

Sister Astrid laughed, then cried, then laughed cried. Joseph smiled, wiping at her tears with the sleeve of his shirt.

 

“It's alright, you're going to be just fine,” he promised her.

 

The door was thrown open and before Joseph knew what was happening, he was grabbed by the scruff of his shirt and hauled out into the hallway, slammed against the wall. 

 

“WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING TO THAT SISTER?!”

 

Joseph's head spun, pinned by a pissed, pissed Leroy, if the stench of beer was anything to go by. He scrambled to catch up mentally and as a disheveled, crying Sister Astrid tried to get to her feet, he realized exactly how awful the scene looked from the outside.

 

“I, I can explain!”

 

“You got FIVE SECONDS!”

 

Then… Joseph realized he couldn't explain, let alone in five seconds. Sister Astrid had spoken to him in confidence; he couldn't betray that, and especially not to Leroy.

 

“I, I wasn't…”

 

“Put him down, Leroy, please!” Sister Astrid begged.

 

“No way!” Leroy's glare was diverted as several nuns appeared, Mother Superior in the lead, “Call Graham, I’ll keep the bastard right here!”

 

“What on earth is going on?” Mother Superior asked.

 

“He was on top of Astrid!”

 

“It, it was an accident!” Joseph begged, “I, I slipped-”

 

“On what?!”

 

Joseph faltered, trying to think if there had been anything he could've feasibly lost his balance on, “...the bucket?”

 

“You don't sound too sure of that,” Leroy snarled.

 

He slammed Joseph against the wall again and a jolt of panic seized him. If the other man left a mark…

 

“Ppplease,” he begged.

 

“Puh, puh, puh-lease,” Leroy mocked, “Save it, I caught you red- AAAAAAAH!”

 

Leroy lost his grip as he tried to push away his attacker, a blur of blonde curls and pink coat doing her best to get him off of her father...including sinking her teeth into his side. 

 

“Grace!” Joseph snapped, “Grace I’m fine, stop!”

 

There was a delay before Grace let go, sucking up the blood dribbling from her mouth. For a few terrified heartbeats he thought she had broken skin, but then he saw her tongue poke at a new gap in her teeth and she started scanning the carpet for the missing one.

 

Belle had settled in for the evening, book in her lap, Audrey by her side. The old grump had reluctantly returned to being affectionate to Belle after Grace had left, but spent more time than usual on the living room windowsill, watching and waiting. Her phone chimed and she glanced down, wary when she saw Joseph had sent her a picture. Not that he would send her anything inappropriate or gross but she could think of two other people who might on his behalf…

 

She opened the photo to find a blurry picture of a child’s hand, something small and pale cupped in the palm.

 

graces toof, A follow up text clarified.

 

Belle smiled, though wasn't sure what the proper reaction was supposed to be. Grace obviously took great pride in this though if she was using Joseph's phone to share the news.

 

Cool! How did you lose it? She asked, reading the text back to make sure Grace would be able to understand it on her own before sending.

 

bit a guy puhleez her daddy in trubble butt ok 👍

 

Belle read the message over and over but could not make sense of it except Grace had very likely bitten someone. Her usual translator was apparently incapacitated so she screenshotted the text and sent it to Hannah with half a dozen question marks.

 

There was a slight delay but she replied with…slight reassurance?

 

police got called for a domestic, bite unrelated, mor details soon ❤️🫶❤️😬🫤🤡🐷🐽⛪🎤📺😮‍💨🥺🥰😘

 

…hopefully Grace grew out of her confusing half-literate texts and didn't replace them with Hannah’s penchant for hieroglyphics. 

 

Belle got up, nervously organizing random things to distract herself. It was nearly an hour later before Hannah texted her again.

 

lmfao no charges C wil explain once grace in bed 😂🤣😂😅😇🐷🐽🤡🤡🤡🍆😆🐶🦷🥰😘🫶❤️🫶

 

…Belle supposed that was good.

 

She paced until the call came through and she barely let it ring once.

 

“Hey.”

 

She was met with a heavy sigh, “Can I stay at your house tonight?”

 

A mild uproar began at the suggestion from both Hannah and Francis, some of the phrases she caught being “oh come on”, “just having a laugh”, and “we weren’t the ones in the closet with a nun”.

 

“It doesn't sound like they approve,” Belle stated the obvious.

 

“Well maybe they shouldn't be assholes , then.” There was a brief struggle that sounded like Joseph attempting to close a door, “...yeah they're too keyed up, you’ll have to deal with the peanut gallery.”

 

“Alright.”

 

She went back to her room while the MacAvoys settled, where Audrey had not moved an inch since Belle’s departure. Joseph sighed deeply as a prelude.

 

“What did you glean from the texts?”

 

“Grace bit “a guy”, lost a tooth, and for some reason the cops were called but it had nothing to do with that?”

 

“I mean, it is related, she bit Leroy because he had me up against the wall.”

 

“You know it's justified when Joseph doesn't even scold her for being violent,” Hannah piped up, confirming the suspicion Belle had been put on speaker phone. Less for them to be able to hear her, she reckoned, more for her to be able to hear their snarky comments clearly.

 

“We still explained biting is inappropriate unless it's a last resort, and then clarified this did not count as a last resort,” Joseph assured Belle, “No marks, just a lost tooth and a very freaked out Leroy. We…don't know if she'll be allowed to return to Awana.”

 

“We do know someone who isn't allowed to return,” Francis said.

 

“Like for real, between the three of us I would never have guessed you’d be the first one to be banned at a place in Storybrooke, and the fucking convent ?”

 

“Will you two let me explain?” Joseph hissed. They fell silent. “...Belle, this part stays between the four of us, understood?”

 

She frowned, “Understood.”

 

He gave another sigh, “...Sister Astrid wanted to speak with me in private. She…has been having difficulties with her feelings for Leroy, and whether the church is the right place for her, and this discussion was…in a cleaning closet. She was crying. I went to hug her and we fell over. She screamed so Leroy came to see what the trouble was… And found us in a compromising position.”

 

Belle snorted, which of course set Hannah and Francis into a fresh series of giggles.

 

“It's not funny ,” Joseph protested, “I might have ruined Sister Astrid’s reputation!”

 

“Sorry, it's just… Very comedy of errors,” Belle explained, “Clearly Graham believed you, if you weren't charged.”

 

“I’m more worried about the court of public opinion, to be honest,” he admitted, “Sister Astrid did come to my defense but since we couldn't give specifics about why she was so upset… Well I don't think Mother Superior was won over.”

 

“And now he's barred because he's running around playing Seven Minutes in Heaven with nuns,” Hannah snickered.

 

“Now, now, be compassionate towards him,” Francis chided, “I’ve heard sleeping with nuns is a hard habit to break.”

 

Well at least Hannah seemed to think the word play was hilarious.

 

“They will never let me live this down,” Joseph muttered as the pair got distracted coming up with new puns for the situation, “But it's far better than them getting hung up on Leroy being a little rough with me.”

 

“He didn't hurt you, did he?”

 

“Nah, scared the piss out of me more than anything.” He went quiet for a few moments, “...you believe me, don't you?”

 

Belle tilted her head, “About what?”

 

“That it was an accident and I wasn't… You know.”

 

She rolled her eyes and smiled, “Of course I believe you. Why would I doubt you?”

 

“I don't know, just… I want you to know the truth, because I care what you think even if I don’t care about the gossip, and that you don't see me as some…deviant.”

 

“You are a deviant,” Hannah interjected.

 

“But not that kind,” Belle insisted, “I…would like to think I know you better by now, Joseph. At least to the point where I don't think you're assaulting women of the cloth during your daughter's club meetings.”

 

“Maybe if it was Sister Beeeeeelle in the closet,” Hannah teased, “Bet he’d have tripped on purpose on yoooooou.”

 

“Bloody hell, I need to nip this in the bud,” Joseph muttered.

 

Belle bit her lip to try and keep from smiling, “Well now you sound guilty.”

 

“GoodNIGHT Belle.”

 

“Bellesy! You should come over for a sleepover! We can play spin the bott-”

 

The call ended. Belle giggled and set the phone down. She did feel a little sorry for him but at least Hannah was distracted with something else to tease him about besides his unfortunate evening.

 

Joseph was right though; the gossip was too juicy and of course Ruby warned her the next morning about the potential molester she was going to start dating. Belle dismissed her concerns, chalking it up to a clear misunderstanding. The Court of Storybrooke Public Opinion seemed to side with her and after a few days, the Awana Assault was basically forgotten.

 

Belle had gotten lost again, telling herself she was just skimming it to know whether she should classify it as romance or fantasy. Unfortunately the novel snagged her, and before she knew it she was somewhere else entirely, a different time, a different world. She missed hearing the door open or the heavy footsteps search the aisles until they found her.

 

“I ain't a book guy, but I'm pretty sure stores make you buy them first.”

 

Belle startled, then grinned when she saw her guest, “Thankfully I know the owner.” She set the book back on the shelf, “How are you, Leroy?”

 

He shrugged, “Been worse, been better.” He scratched the back of his calf with the opposite foot, “...haven't seen you much since…”

 

Belle nodded, “Yeah, that's unfortunately true with a lot of people. Honeymoon phase, setting up the shop… Lost touch with just about everyone but Ruby.”

 

Leroy's frown deepened, “God knows what you saw in him.” He sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I gotta ask a favor of you.”

 

“Sure, what do you need?”

 

“You know the guy whose brother took over the pawnshop?”

 

If Joseph heard one more Catholic joke he was going to kick both of his spouses out of the house and make them camp out in the yard. It wasn't funny , except for their sick sense of humor and the dramatic irony that it was him getting trespassed and accused of crimes. Then there was having to explain to Grace why Daddy had gotten in trouble and dealing with her outrage over it.

 

No, it was not obvious to everyone that Daddy would never play kissy games with someone who didn't want to play. No, locking Mother Superior in that closet until she said Daddy was allowed to come back was not the solution. He also reiterated how very, very lucky she was that her defensive tacklechomp had not also gotten her barred, and staging a protest at Awana wouldn't get him allowed back. Hannah and Francis helped by not fanning the flames of their little justice warrior, no matter how much they agreed with her.

 

At least Belle approved of his choice to accept it and move on. Joseph knew exactly how much appearances could deceive, and he was not above scrutiny. He knew the truth, Sister Astrid knew the truth, and his family believed him; that was what mattered. Sure it was damning that he nor Sister Astrid went into specifics, but not as damning as admitting she was considering leaving the church.

 

This whole debacle had reminded him of his forgotten early Storybrooke ambition though. He’d gotten caught up in worrying over the situation with Belle and his family and had neglected his own aspirations until now. Joseph went back to the resources he had found for starting an AA group, wondering if the conversation with Sister Astrid had been a sign. Leroy was stubborn as a mule, and that was the impression Joseph got without knowing him all that well. 

 

It was difficult to accept help in general; accepting help for something as stigmatized as addiction was on a whole other level.

 

“Shop or shop?” He asked, parking alongside the antiques store.

 

Grace seemed reluctant to leave the warm car, even for the short walk, “Belle first, she has hot chocolate.”

 

“Smart choice.”

 

With Francis being in the shop, Joseph had shifted their schedule so they would meet up after Grace was picked up from school. By a happy coincidence, late afternoon was one of Belle’s slowest times, letting them talk more openly… Especially if Grace chose to go bother her other parents instead of hang out with them. 

 

Hannah was already there with Francis, and one of these days even her diminutive weight would break the glass display counters if she insisted on sitting on them. They turned from their conversation but Grace trudged right by, making a beeline for The Little Shop of Wonders. They glared at him as if he were responsible for this decision and he shrugged.

 

She has hot chocolate , he mouthed, pointing next door.

 

Hannah wrinkled her nose in distaste and Francis' mustache twitched. He wouldn't be shocked if Francis, within the week, went out and got the best damn espresso machine he could find for the back of the shop so he could make Grace hot chocolate on demand. Easing their jealousy about his time with Belle was one thing; easing their jealousy about Grace's time with Belle was something else entirely.

 

Both of their heads whipped towards the shared wall, and Francis gestured urgently for Joseph to head over there. He hustled over, wondering what on earth would cause such a-

 

“YOU STAY AWAY FROM HER!” Grace screeched as Belle rounded the counter, eyes wide with alarm, “GO AWAY YOU BIG BULLY!”

 

Leroy did not much look like a bully, holding one of the stools between him and Grace like a lion tamer. Her teeth were bared, fingers curled like imitation claws. Belle stood beside Leroy as Joseph rushed to Grace, ready to grab her if necessary.

 

“It's alright, Grace!” Belle assured her, “Leroy's my friend, he's not going to hurt me!”

 

“HE’S MEAN, HE'S A MEAN BULLY!” Grace insisted.

 

“Gracie, sweetheart, darling,” Joseph knelt down, “No one's going to hurt Belle, they were just having a chat.”

 

Grace gulped in air, dark eyes glassy with tears. She glanced at Joseph but quickly looked back at Leroy, as if he’d pin Belle to the wall if Grace didn't keep an eye on him.

 

“Everything's fine,” he promised, rubbing her back, “Belle knows Uncle Joe is right next door if she's in trouble. Leroy isn't upset at all right now.”

 

Except he was, face twisted in a mask of guilt, “Look, sister-”

 

“I’M NOT YOUR SISTER!”

 

“...what I did to your dad the other day? That wasn't right. I’m not…” He trailed off, whatever descriptor he wasn't dying on his lips.

 

Grace's fingers relaxed slightly, a choked sob slipping out. Joseph continued rubbing her back.

 

“You know how you were ready to defend your friend Belle?” He murmured, “That's just what Leroy did, he defended his friend because he thought Daddy hurt her. Just a misunderstanding.”

 

This seemed to click with her, and she slowly relaxed, fury cooling to shame. Belle gestured to Leroy to set the stool down and he did so. Grace looked at Joseph, trying to gauge his reaction and see if she stepped over the line. He smiled reassuringly at her.

 

“Why don't you go calm down with your mother and uncle and I’ll bring you some hot chocolate in a bit?” He offered. She looked out of the corner of her eye at Leroy, “Don't worry, if he starts trouble I’ll come get you.”

 

Satisfied with that answer, Grace threw herself into his arms, holding onto him more than hugging him. He hugged her back with all his strength, until she squirmed and gasped-laughed. Then, he kissed her cheek and sent her off, continuing to wave her on when she’d glance back at the three of them uncertainly.

 

“She's really not a bad kid.” He heard Belle telling Leroy, “She's just…protective. And still learning.”

 

“Still learning what, how to take a chunk out of someone?” He held his hand up towards Joseph, “No offense.”

 

“None taken. I’m, ah, sorry she did that, thought we were long past the biting phase.”

 

“Wasn’t that hard,” he admitted, “Just kinda freaked me out.”

 

“I need to go do inventory,” Belle announced, pointing at a direction far away from where they were at, “Just, um, let me know if you need anything.”

 

The men nodded their understanding and she slipped away, leaving them to it.

 

Joseph took a seat on the stool next to Leroy, the one that had previously been used to ward off Grace. Leroy was hunched over one of Belle’s cups, avoiding looking at him. Joseph positioned himself between facing forward and facing Leroy, fighting the urge to immediately start fidgeting.

 

“...Astrid told me the whole story,” Leroy muttered, embarrassed, “I messed up, slamming you to the wall like that.”

 

“It didn’t look good, what you walked in on,” Joseph said, “I don’t fault you for defending her.”

 

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry anyway.”

 

The gruff man stared into his drink, and Joseph wished he had thought to ask Belle for a cup before starting this conversation. It made for something to do during such long painful silences. But Joseph waited for Leroy to speak again, sensing there was more to this “chance” meeting than an apology.

 

Leroy’s frown deepened, “She’s worried about me, huh?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“She really thinks I can’t handle my liquor.”

 

“Respectfully, most of the time the liquor handles the drinker more than the drinker handles it. At least in my experience.”

 

“Yeah, what kinda experience is that?”

 

“I’m an alcoholic.”

 

Leroy looked him over, then shook his head, “Nah.”

 

“It’s true,” he sighed, “I always thought it was a bit pretentious, how alcoholics never referred to it in the past tense. But it’s true. You stop drinking, but you never stop wanting to drink, and a relapse just proves it never really went away.”

 

“How long you been sober?”

 

“Almost nine years.”

 

“Well, mazel tov.” He went back to staring down into his beverage, “...that little spitfire the reason you quit?”

 

“One of them.”

 

“Her ma?”

 

“She quit me before I quit the drink. Took a bit to reconcile, and convince her I was done for good.”

 

“And then she went for your brother?”

 

Joseph shrugged, “She has a very, very specific type.”

 

A muscle twitched in Leroy’s face; Joseph couldn’t figure out if that counted as a smile at his joke or not.

 

“...was it a bitch to quit?”

 

“A huge bitch, but I brought it on myself. Went cold turkey which I do not recommend. Could’ve killed myself but well, I already was.”

 

Leroy went quiet again, and this silence lasted far longer. Joseph knew how impossible it was to ask for help, to admit defeat with something that many people seemed to have no difficulty partaking in with moderation. And while he didn’t know Leroy very well, he got the sense he was a proud, hard working blue collar man, one who didn’t let anyone or anything tell him what he should do.

 

“...I’ve been thinking of starting up a AA group,” Joseph admitted, “Some personal matters waylaid me but once I get a venue maybe I’ll give it a try.”

 

“Don’t those usually take place in churches?” Leroy asked.

 

“Usually but I am currently banned from the only religious building in Storybrooke.” Joseph frowned, “And I don’t think petitioning the mayor to use the town hall would work… Having it at a business also wouldn’t be a great idea, going against the whole “anonymous” thing…”

 

“...I’ll see what I can do with the Mother,” Leroy said, “Might be able to sweet talk her without giving too much away. Catholics are supposed to be all about forgiveness, right?”

 

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

 

It wasn’t a promise, but if Leroy was successful in convincing the Mother Superior to let the group congregate there… Then maybe Leroy would also find the courage to attend. Or it might be a flop, and Joseph would just be drinking coffee by himself for an hour. But at least he would have tried to make a difference that way.

Chapter 3: Francis' Title-Winning Romantic Date of Reparations

Summary:

It's Macelle'in time folks, we gonna Macelle all over this chapter

It was a testament to how quickly she was adjusting to the MacAvoy chaos how a panicked Joseph being shoved through the door of her shop only elicited mild curiosity instead of deep concern. She watched as he pressed futilely against the now-barred door, Hannah not moving an inch on the other side. She then witnessed a litany of colorful combinations of swear words and threats that suggested he had been, well, married to Hannah for years.

 

“Swear jar,” Belle teased.

 

“Fuck of-” He cut himself off as he realized who had said it, blushing.

 

Hannah giggled, still pressed against the door to keep him trapped inside. Recognizing the odds, he let go of the handle and turned slowly towards Belle, approaching her as if she were the dangerous mythological cannibal. 

 

She raised an eyebrow at him, starting to suspect what was going on, “Hi Joseph.”

 

“...hi Belle,” he rasped.

 

“What's that about?” She asked, nodding towards Hannah.

 

He shook his head, “N-nothing.”

 

His hands were trembling, and he was on the verge of tears. Belle was torn between gently teasing him about how ridiculous he was being and wrapping him up in a blanket and setting him down in a reading chair.

 

“...is this about our date?” She guessed.

 

He seized up. Hannah nodded vigorously, and Belle did her best to keep from laughing, though it still snuck into her voice.

 

“Joseph, I already agreed to go out with you.”

 

“That was over a week ago, though,” he whimpered, “Vague…over the phone…”

 

“Well I haven't changed my mind, I’d still like to go.”

 

“But what if… What if it's elaborate and takes up most of your one day off?”

 

Hannah rolled her eyes and Belle had to agree with her.

 

“Then that sounds like a wonderful way to spend a Sunday.”

 

“You’ll have to get up early,” he warned, “And it’s…significantly out of town.”

 

“ Joseph .” She couldn’t keep the exasperation out of her tone any longer, “That’s fine . Which Sunday are you thinking?”

 

He played with his hands, “Is this Sunday too soon?”

 

“Not at all. What time are you picking me up?”

 

“...seven? But don’t, don’t eat breakfast, alright?”

 

“I won’t. Seven on Sunday it is.”

 

“Unless you don’t want-”

 

“I do . Do you?”

 

“Well yes of course but I just, I don’t want to-”

 

“Joseph MacAvoy,” she chided, “I am a grown woman and perfectly capable of telling you when I am not comfortable with something.”

 

“I’m not saying you aren’t!” He squeaked, “I just…I want to get it right .”

 

“I’m sure you will.” She put her hand down on the counter as if it were a gavel adjourning court, “Now, with that settled, were you two just passing by or were you going to hang out for a bit?”

 

Joseph looked worriedly at Hannah, eyes pleading with her for a reprieve. She huffed and let up on the door.

 

“No, I ah, I need to…recover,” he mumbled, “I’ll see you later.” He darted for the exit.

 

“Fucking told you it’d be okay,” she caught Hannah muttering as he slipped out. Belle didn’t catch his reply but whatever it had been, it had earned another eye roll. 

 

Hannah hesitated, watching Belle for a few moments with her hand on the door handle. Belle smiled, trying to be inviting, but Hannah stumbled away as if flustered. Belle didn’t know what to make of her reaction, or her increasing desire to be around the blonde. She supposed it was only natural to be drawn to Hannah after seeing her sweeter side, the bubbly and friendly version as opposed to the insane and manipulative one. 

 

For all her bravado, Belle was equally terrified, the sensation getting worse the closer it got to Sunday. There was the vague sense of doom should this whole venture go horribly wrong but more than that… She didn’t want to screw it up either. And while she tried to stay grounded in the present, she kept looking towards the future, wondering… Hoping…

 

By Saturday night she was a bundle of nerves, pacing around her closet, choosing and then unchoosing. She was being ridiculous, she knew she was, overthinking something Joseph was unlikely to even care about… Still, she found herself texting Hannah anyway.

 

Is it weird if I ask your opinion on what to wear for my date with your ex tomorrow?

 

The response was almost instantaneous, liek i give afuk if it iz send pics i rate

 

Belle eyed her…very extensive wardrobe and took a deep breath. Actually, if you aren’t busy, would you mind coming over? I…haven’t even really narrowed it down.

 

She didn’t hesitate. there in two shakes ofa lambs tail 🐑🐑

 

Belle went down to unlock the door for her, only to turn around and find her coming through the back. Hannah paused, almost contrite.

 

“Well at least you knew I was coming,” she said defensively.

 

“Why would you come through the back?”

 

“Lock’s easier to undo, and no witnesses.” She trotted over and took Belle’s hand, eagerly leading her up the staircase, “Come on, I’ve wanted to go through your closet for ages .”

 

“You haven’t already?”

 

“Well not for fun .” As if there was a big difference in how someone invaded another’s privacy…

 

It was endearing, watching Hannah flip through her clothes and gushing over them, as if Belle were some celebrity fashionista. There was still a gaping chasm to the left where Gaston’s clothes had been but slowly she was spreading out, filling in the empty spaces and claiming them as her own. Or maybe she should leave some space, in case…

 

Again, she was thinking too far ahead. 

 

“You’re really into this, aren’t you?” Belle said, amused.

 

“I love playing dress-up,” Hannah insisted, “Sometimes the boys will let me put their outfits together but that’s not as fun, and Grace is…” She paused, pursing her lips, “...she’s in her experimental phase, starting to dress herself. At least her school’s got a uniform while she learns that prints and stripes- … yes .”

 

Hannah unhooked one of the dresses from the bar to examine it more closely. It was a blue sleeveless with a dotted lace overlay, the hem reaching down to mid-thigh. Hannah’s expression softened.

 

“He’ll love this,” she said, passing it to Belle, “He likes blue, and it’s classy… It’s the priest in him, he appreciates a little modesty.”

 

Belle took it and met Hannah’s eyes. She was smiling but it was forced, the effortless joy swept away. 

 

“...you’re still okay with this, aren’t you?” Belle asked, “Not from a self-preservation standpoint but just…as a friend. I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

“Don’t worry about me, hon,” she said, waving away Belle’s concern, “It’s the shitty part of poly, that’s all. Feelings and fuck… They come no matter how much you remind yourself of the facts.” She looked at her, stone-faced, “I didn’t want him anywhere near you in the beginning. You’re the first person he’s been attracted to since he met us… And that means something. And here you were, hanging out with him and Grace while I had to stay away, because I was being good and letting them have their normal life, and it ate me up until I started to get to know you… And realized you weren’t half bad…”

 

Belle stepped forward, wanting to comfort Hannah, but she retreated a step, face uncertain. As if Belle was still a threat to them.

 

“...he’s a good man,” she said softly, “Not like me and Ives. He deserves everything … Including someone who gets him. Who can be the Hannah to his Francis. Someone to be fucking normal with. And yeah, it’s fucking terrifying, letting you in, sharing them with you. But Francis and I just have to trust you when you say you have their best interests at heart. You’re good for them, maybe too good. It’s a hard fear to shake, that he’ll pick you over us, but it’s nothing compared to…” She sniffed, squinting as if that would force the tears back into their ducts, “He’s made his choice and we struggle with that fact every fucking day . And who knows what Grace will choose when she’s old enough, and by god she’s growing up fast. Time with them is so incredibly precious, and now we gotta share that time with you…” She wiped quickly at her eyes, “Sorry, fuck, you didn’t ask for all that. Feelings are just the absolute fucking worst …”

 

Belle set the dress down and even though Hannah shied away, Belle still embraced her. Hannah stayed tense for several moments, then muscle by muscle relaxed into the comfort. 

 

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Belle murmured.

 

Hannah snorted, “Sure, I bet you love hearing how you’re dealing with a jealous ass wife when you’re supposed to be getting ready for your first date.”

 

“You were being honest and, while I’m still learning all the protocol, I have to assume that’s a big deal for serial killing cannibals.” Hannah gave a strangled laugh and Belle rubbed her back. “...I’m grateful I get the chance to share them with you.”

 

Hannah lifted her head and something passed between them. It wasn’t exactly dread, though it had the skipped-heart-beat feel of missing a stair step. Belle was suddenly very aware of her arms around Hannah, their bodies right up against each other, and even after freshly crying, Hannah was still the most beautiful woman Belle had ever seen. Hannah looked away quickly, wiping at her eyes, pale skin flushed.

 

“Accessories,” she croaked, “Let’s get some fucking accessories before I make an even bigger idiot out of myself.”

 

Belle pushed the moment aside as she let go of Hannah. Emotions had run high, and Belle had just been realizing how physically close her and Hannah had gotten, that was all. And if she noticed how beautiful Hannah was, well, it was a simple observation, like her soft golden curls or her bright blue eyes. A completely objective thought that just, for some reason, Belle kept having.

 

They found a thin belt that “kind of matched” Belle’s hair, and a pair of heels to bring it all together. Belle vocalized her concern that there might be a lot of walking and Hannah snickered.

 

“Nah, just like a normal amount,” she assured her.

 

“So do you know where he's taking me?” Belle asked curiously.

 

Hannah smiled, one part mischievous, one part melancholy, “Yeah and you're gonna have a great time. I already warned him you were gonna fall in love with him and blow him on the spot.”

 

“Hannah!”

 

She held up a finger, “Wait until after the date and then I dare you to tell me, public decency laws and Joseph's consent aside, you would not.”

 

Belle barely slept, and waking up early was less a problem than waiting for seven to come around. It would be more pathetic had she not noticed the lights downstairs being on at the MacAvoy house nearly as early. A few minutes before seven she went to wait in the hallway, giving one last check to her appearance. There was a knock, and Belle went to answer it.

 

Joseph wasn't as dressed up as when he worked the pawnshop, but he was still in slacks and a button-up that was just a few shades off from the blue of her dress. He gaped at her, his awestruck expression so innocent Belle wondered how this man was married to Hannah.

 

“You look very handsome,” she said shyly.

 

He opened his mouth, trying to respond, but all that came out was a troubling wheeze. She didn't want to make him any more self-conscious than he already was, but she couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out. His lips twitched in a nervous smile, and she followed him to the SUV.

 

Blueberry was an odd smell to be greeted with. Belle glanced down at the center console to see a pair of warm blueberry muffins and two thermoses. 

 

“They're not poisoned, or spat in or anything,” Joseph said unnecessarily as he climbed in, “I made sure.”

 

“Good to know. So Francis bakes as well as cooks?”

 

“Sometimes. It comes in bursts, usually during the winter.” He glanced at her guiltily, lowering his voice, “...he’s not quite as good at baking as he is at cooking.”

 

Belle picked up one of the muffins and took a bite, “Could have fooled me.”

 

As good as it was, she could only stomach a few bites. She toyed with her fingers, trying to ignore the way he kept glancing over at her, as if he couldn't believe she was there with him. She sipped at the thermos but Joseph still didn't have the hang of brewing tea. It was such a lovely gesture, from such a lovely man, and she was in danger of chipping her nail polish if she kept up this nervous fidgeting.

 

“What's Grace up to today?” Belle asked.

 

Joseph shrugged, “Not sure. Probably getting spoiled to death, might come home to a mess.”

 

“Or they’ll be tailing us the whole time.”

 

“...I don't think so,” he murmured, “Yes, they're abysmal at boundaries and privacy but… I think they know to back off for at least this first time. If there are…follow-ups…I can't promise they won't get…nosey.”

 

“Maybe we could double-date,” she offered, “If Grace doesn't mind being a fifth wheel.”

 

Joseph pressed a clenched fist into his thigh and for a moment, Belle wondered if she had said something wrong.

 

“...it means the world to me that you're willing to work with them,” he said, “I know how hard it is to…look past what they are, what they do… But there is good in them.”

 

Belle nodded, “I can see that now. I just…wish there was a more ethical way they could go about it.”

 

“Me too. Ideas have been tossed around or tried but nothing really viable’s come of it… Even if an alternative came up I don't know if it would… satisfy all their needs.” He sighed, “The real solution is to get kidnapped by a mob boss every few months, but that's a lot of stress.”

 

“Not sure how many mob bosses we have up here,” Belle joked, “We’d have to import.”

 

She supposed it was nice to know that they had at least attempted different methods of…procurement. Maybe her and Joseph could compare notes during a not-date-time and see if they could come up with any untried ideas that might help.

 

The first twist came when Joseph pulled into an elite shuttle service station and parked.

 

“Francis, ah, suggested I don't drive the whole way,” he explained, “Cut down on the stress, let me focus more on…” He trailed off, blushing.

 

“Color me intrigued,” she said, stepping out. 

 

She had hoped she could get away with not wearing a jacket if they were going to be indoors most of the time, but now she was realizing how naive that had been. She folded her arms and glanced around, hoping one of the parked buses was their ride.

 

“Here.” Joseph draped his own coat over her shoulders, still warm from his body heat. “There’s always an extra in the backseat, between Mrs. I-Do-It-On-Purpose-Because-I-Enjoy-the-Chivalry and Little Miss I-Do-Not-Need-A-Jacket-Never-Mind-Yes-I-Do.”

 

Belle smiled, “Thank you.”

 

He reappeared with another coat, then pulled a notepad out of his pants pocket. He glanced at it, then at the buses, then nodded towards one of them. Belle followed, noting the destination on the digital board.

 

“We’re going to Boston?”

 

Joseph wheeled on her, his frustrated expression adorable, “Hey now, don’t spoil the surprise.”

 

“By what, paying attention?” She nudged him playfully, “Boston’s a big city, unless this is a specialized kind of tour…?”

 

He shook his head, “No, no… I guess you’re right…”

 

It was a much nicer bus than Belle would have guessed, the few other travelers mostly business professionals or retired tourists. Joseph guided them towards a pair of seats near the back, letting her take the window. 

 

“I haven’t been to Boston in ages,” Belle said offhandedly, “Not since I dropped out.”

 

“Dropped out?” Joseph echoed.

 

Belle bit her lip, “Of my master’s program, when Papa got sick…”

 

“Oh. I didn’t know…I should have known…”

 

She shook her head, “It’s not something I bring up if I can help it, bit of a sore spot. I’m glad I got to be there for Papa but…I didn’t go back afterwards.”

 

“He didn’t-” Joseph huffed, cutting himself off, “Of course Gaston wouldn’t have.”

 

“It’s not the worst of my grievances with him,” Belle admitted, “I did get a bookstore out of it after all. Life just…had other plans for me.”

 

“Maybe you could go back now?” He asked as the driver climbed into his seat and started the engine. 

 

“I’ve thought about it,” she said, “But I think I’d rather travel instead. See the world before…” She trailed off, not sure if she should bring up such subjects right now.

 

Joseph didn’t press her to finish her train of thought, “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

 

And that was how they filled the next several hours, Belle telling him all of the dreams she had built and Joseph’s occasional input from his own brief experiences. Sometimes she caught herself rambling but he didn’t seem to mind at all, listening intently. It made her realize how long it had been since she had someone to just… talk about herself with. Not that Ruby didn’t care, but Belle was usually the listener in any given conversation, the one who asked questions. But now she was the speaker, and Joseph the curious one, and while she didn’t begrudge her own typical role… It was nice for once to have the spotlight on her.  

 

Joseph's nerves returned as their bus made it to the station in Boston, and he pulled the notepad back out. Belle caught a glimpse of it this time, the handwriting unfamiliar. He quickly tucked it away and shuffled them on to a waiting car service. Belle spent the trip looking out at the city, pointing out the occasional landmark to Joseph. The area became more and more familiar, until the driver pulled up to a building Belle almost knew better than her old dorm.

 

“You’ve been here before, haven't you?” Joseph said miserably, tipping the driver before joining her in front of the Boston Public Library.

 

“More times than I can count!” Belle took his hand, pulling him up the steps, “Come on, I’ll show you around!”

 

“Should I, ah, cancel the tour then?” He asked nervously.

 

They absolutely did not cancel the private tour. Belle practically floated along as their guide took them around the prestigious institution, learning new facts about the place she had all but lived in during her undergraduate. Joseph plodded along beside her, taking in the sights and the information passively. Mostly though, he seemed to be watching her the way he watched Grace, Belle’s happiness feeding his own happiness.

 

The tour concluded in one of the conference rooms Belle had never been in, with a ritzy bar and-

 

The staircase wasn't roped off. The tour guide had left them and the bartender wasn't paying attention to anything but his phone. Before she could be told no, she was climbing the spiral to the second story walkway, and to the bookshelves that lined the entire room. They were mostly dry reads, referential textbooks and such, but they were antique and obscure and beautiful . She at least resisted the urge to touch them, soaking in the ambiance of centuries of knowledge. She darted along, trying to skim as many titles as she could before she was pulled away.

 

Thankfully it wasn't the bartender yelling at her that she wasn't allowed up there, but Joseph's gentle “Belle?”. She glanced down to where he was standing, shuffling nervously.

 

“I'm sorry, maybe we'll have time afterwards but…” He gestured weakly to the table.

 

She had been so excited by the books she had completely overlooked the tea time spread. Belle's hand went to her mouth as she took in the fine china, the finger food, the antique chairs. It was proposal levels of thoughtfulness…just for a first date.

 

She tried to hold it in and managed to, right up until she was in front of him. His eyes were so large and hopeful, like a puppy hoping he had pleased his person… She burst into tears and he rushed over to comfort her, nearly toppling the table in his hurry. One of the tea cups did get knocked over and Joseph winced at the sound of porcelain hitting tile.

 

“Shit. I’ll pay for that!” He called over to the bartender who was already giving him a “that better not come out of my check” look.

 

Now laughing and crying, Belle stooped down to pick it up, “It's just chipped. You can hardly even see it.” She smoothed the now jagged edge but the fact was, it was extremely noticeable. 

 

“I’ll ask for a new one,” he offered and Belle shook her head.

 

“It's alright. Gives it a bit of character, don't you think?” She held it up for him to examine.

 

He was focused on her face though, “What did I do wrong?”

 

“ Wrong ?” Belle laughed again, more tears spilling out, “You did absolutely nothing wrong. Joseph I’m crying because this is the most romantic thing that's ever happened to me.”

 

Instead of relieved, he looked sad at this revelation…and vaguely guilty. Belle wiped off the rim of the cup and sat down at the table, doing her best to pull herself back together. 

 

“I wish it wasn't,” Joseph muttered, pouring her tea, “I wish you were used to this sort of treatment all the time. The bar is so incredibly low…”

 

“Well be careful about raising it too high,” she joked. She could definitely get used to this sort of thoughtfulness.

 

He poured himself a cup, “I hope he suffered.”

 

She wanted to cry again as she tasted Lady Lavender, the first tea he had ordered based off of her recommendation. 

 

Belle prided herself on her integrity and trying to do the right thing; knowing she lived next door to murderers and not doing a thing about it was immoral, but… It was difficult to hold onto her idealism the more involved she became. A hallmark of heroism was sacrifice but…perhaps she had sacrificed enough already? Maybe it was her turn for a happily ever after, even if it was a bit muddy instead of pristine.

 

Maybe, like Hannah had suggested, her being the hero was just giving Joseph and Grace solid ground to rest on when the insanity got to be too much. A quiet, peaceful sort of heroism.

 

“A Boston Tea Party, hm?” She said to distract herself from her emotions.

 

Joseph looked back at her blankly, not picking up on the irony, “Yeah, I guess.”

 

Then it clicked. Joseph referring to a notepad with unfamiliar handwriting at each transition. An extremely elaborate plan, being a VIP at a place Joseph had no idea held personal significance for her. An irony that would go over plenty of foreigner's heads, but not someone who had learned American history, or had spent a significant chunk of their lives living through American history.

 

“...this wasn't your idea for a date, was it?” Belle asked gently.

 

Joseph sagged into the chair, somehow apparently both relieved and ashamed, “No. Does that ruin it?”

 

“Not at all. But why would he…?”

 

“Reparations,” he explained, “He wanted to make it up to me, that standoff. So he came up with all this, took charge of the reservations and itinerary to help me not feel so stressed out… That part didn't work but he tried.” Joseph reached for the charcuterie board, putting some cheese onto a cracker, “I thought something simpler, like dinner maybe, but he thought braving death called for a much more involved first date. Hannah vetoed the dinner idea too, thought an activity would be better to take my mind off my nerves.”

 

“The three of you discussed your first date with me?” She asked, amused by the image of them having a strategy meeting over this.

 

“Yeah. It’d… It’d be weird not to talk about it with them, like it really was some sort of secret I was keeping,” he admitted, “Anyway they have much more experience than I do, not that it helped…”

 

“Well I don't know what I'm doing, if that eases your mind,” she offered.

 

Joseph sat up, “Was there anyone else besides…that bastard?”

 

“There was Will. We dated a bit in high school but I think I was just a rebound. A good friend, though,” she added, nibbling on some of the salami.

 

He grinned, “So we have equal experience then?”

 

Belle sipped at her tea, the temptation too good to pass up despite him being a nervous wreck all day, “Actually no. I never went further than making out with Will.”

 

A few beats passed before Joseph realized what she meant, and then turned an almost alarming shade of red. Belle giggled.

 

“It's alright,” she assured him, “I don't mind being the more innocent one.” 

 

She wanted to add her hope that one day he’d teach her some things, but she didn’t want to risk him having a heart attack.

 

“I’m…” He spluttered before changing tactics, “It's their fault! I was a…maybe not a perfect celibate, but at least I didn't know what a butt plug was!”

 

Belle was blushing even before she realized the bartender was listening. They both shielded their faces, laughing harder than they should have.

 

The surprises kept coming as, after their tea, they were taken on another private tour, this time of the rare books collection. Belle listened intently, soaking in the information and the secret-club feeling of it all. By the time Joseph very gently pulled her away to catch their ride back to the bus station, Belle was completely drunk off the day. She wished she could ask him if they could stay longer, overnight even, to wander the city and keep the date going as long as they could. She was scared if she went home, then she'd wake up the next day and realize it had been a very elaborate dream.

 

Hannah had been right in spirit, though Belle would swap out “blow him” with “kiss him until they both ran out of air”. She settled instead for holding his hand on the bus ride home, watching the world pass them by.

 

Belle ate what was left of the morning’s muffin once they were back in the SUV. The talking was getting sparser the closer they got to Storybrooke and closer to returning to reality. He pulled up to her house and walked her to the door, and they faced each other in the glow of the porchlight.

 

“This was…incredible,” Belle said, to put it lightly, “Thank you so much.” 

 

And thank you to Hannah and Francis, she mentally added, who helped orchestrate it and let her share a little bit of their sweet husband.

 

“Thank you. I…” Joseph took a deep breath, struggling for words. Her heart rose into her throat, fearing what was coming next, if he was letting her down gently. He released it, not meeting her eye, “...I really want to do this again. I mean not exactly that, though we could, but I was thinking something less…grandiose. A dinner, or a movie, or something, I dunno, whatever makes you happy.”

 

“I would love that.” She would do nothing but watch the clouds roll by if that was how he wanted to be with her.

 

Joseph met her eye as that pivotal moment came. As little experience as she had, she knew this was the time for any boldness. Asking him to come inside was too much, but something smaller… He tensed though, a flash of panic in his eye, and Belle realized she wasn't the only one afraid of taking more than what was given.

 

She made the decision, rising up onto her toes and wrapping her arms around him, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

She felt his muscles relax as he returned the hug, “Absolutely.”

 

They held onto each other for a long minute, tight and warm. Then she pulled away, and he made his way down the steps. She watched him get into his car and then went inside, smirking to herself. She was still wearing his coat.

 

Her hand went into the pocket and she pulled out the teacup she had slipped in when Joseph had been distracted. It wasn’t really stealing if he paid for a replacement, she had reasoned. She brought it to her nose and breathed in the lingering scent of lavender, a flock of butterflies rising from her stomach and spreading throughout her body. No matter what their future held, she would always have this one perfect day.

 

Belle considered just staying home the next day, wrapped up in her afterglow. But she had told Joseph she would see him, and didn't want to think how he’d take it if she didn't show up for work. She opened her eyes and glanced over at her nightstand.

 

The first thing she saw was a chipped tea cup, as tangible a reminder as Cinderella’s glass slipper.

Chapter 4: Psychopaths Versus Complicated Human Emotions

Summary:

Two deeply disturbed unhinged individuals do their best to be hinged for the well-being of their squishies.

To put it mildly, Hannah had a… complex relationship with her fellow females. She had grown up in a viper’s nest that taught her most women were catty, cruel, and would stab you in the back before you had even turned around. Her eldest sisters were competition for Mama's affection, whose own standards were so high and the penalties for failing so cold Hannah had given up trying. No one of any gender could be trusted when on the run/working as an assassin, and being a wendigo made it difficult for any friendship beyond surface level. Having a crazy attractive (eventually two crazy attractive) spouse and opening up their marriage had brought out the claws in other ladies and consequently herself, especially with how infrequently Francis reciprocated female attention. And, of course, it was always the unhinged bitches that caught his eye.

 

Hannah had done her best to work on her internalized misandry, but fuck it if the fact other women weren't competition went flying out the window the moment Joseph got eyes for a lady who could easily pass as one of her sisters. She feared another Becks or Debbie, but instead Belle was much more like Bethy, and Hannah forcefully retracted her claws.

 

Then, shit swang too far in the other direction, and now she was thinking things she shouldn't when they were supposed to be picking out an outfit for Belle to wear. On her date tomorrow. With Joseph. And it was all too fucking much.

 

She hopped the fence back over, fixing her hair and wiping away any possible mascara trail. She'd worn the good stuff today so it shouldn't run but still. She cleared her throat, walking right back in the house. Grace was helping to clear the table while Francis was doing the dishes. Usually it was her or Joseph's job to clean up but well, he was probably trying to keep busy.

 

“Did you pick out a pretty dress?!” Grace asked, hopping up and down.

 

“Well I’m not gonna pick out an ugly one for her big day tomorrow,” Hannah said. Grace beamed, skipping around and nearly dropping the plate in her hand.

 

Hannah felt the tension rolling off of Francis and she risked glancing at him. He was staring at her, taunt as a bowstring, ready to snap on command. Do I need to kill a bitch? His dark expression clearly said. 

 

Because of course he noticed she had been crying, and if he noticed Joseph was likely to as well. She waved dismissively. Stand down, all clear, Hannah's just crying at the drop of a hat again.

 

He remained tense, and fuck she needed some air too.

 

“Dad and I are going to go check on the other house,” Hannah announced, “You’ll let Daddy know if he asks, right sweetie? We’ll be back for bedtime.”

 

“Dad’s not done with his chore yet,” Grace pointed out. 

 

Francis eased slightly, shutting off the faucet and flicking water playfully at her, “Mind your own work, love. I’ll finish later.”

 

“You guys never let me use that excuse,” she complained.

 

Francis gave her something to complain about, and she squealed and twisted away as he wiped his hands on her shirt like she was a dish towel. Then he followed Hannah out the door, letting her take the wheel.

 

They were silent for several blocks, Hannah able to go her preferred speed of way too fast with just Francis in the car. Eventually, she fessed up.

 

“I think I have a crush on Belle.”

 

“No shit you have a crush on Belle.”

 

She smacked his arm, “You're supposed to fucking tell me when I have a crush on a girl, you know I’m bad at figuring that shit out!!!”

 

She didn’t take her eyes off the road, but she knew Francis was rolling his eyes, “Why on earth would I tell you when I’ve barely come to terms with Joseph's crush?”

 

“Because that's like, the queer code of conduct or something, I dunno. Is she straight?”

 

Francis was silent.

 

“Fucker I will drive us right into a tree, you know I will.”

 

“She did not react to your Christmas kiss like a straight woman, now did she?”

 

“I don't fucking know, I was too busy trying not to laugh in her face picturing Joseph's reaction.”

 

He sighed, “There's potential there, in my professional gay-dar opinion.”

 

“Well…okay.” Hannah huffed and slumped back against the seat, “Doesn't matter anyway.”

 

“If it doesn't matter then you wouldn't bring it up.”

 

“Maybe I just needed to get it off my chest, fuck-for-brains.”

 

Hannah slowed as they neared a speed trap, but apparently the police force had better things to do tonight. Francis tapped idly on the car door’s ashtray, and she had the impulse to smack him again for being so fucking annoying.

 

“Joseph's been waiting ages for this,” she insisted, “Wouldn't be right to stroll up all “by the way Belle, I too think you're hot shit and want to make out with you”.”

 

“Well then give it a little time.”

 

“But what if I give it too much time and she just thinks of me as a friend?”

 

“Then it wasn't meant to be, and at least you can kiss her at Christmas.”

 

“But then what if I’m just like this creep pining over her while she fucks my husband?”

 

“I hate to tell you this but you're already a creep pining over her.”

 

“Oh fuck you, acting all high and mighty because you won't let yourself like her.”

 

“Someone has to be vigilant.”

 

“Against what, her magnetic pussy?”

 

“Apparently.”

 

She pulled up to the house and their argument was given a rest as they checked it over, making sure everything was exactly how they left it. Kind of overkill, but with folks like Sidney and Regina around, a little tape to check for tampered doors wasn't a bad precaution.

 

Besides the acreage, the part that had really caught their eye about the property was the old bomb shelter. A few tweaks, a key code here, a lock there, and it was a cannibal murder bunker. Hannah opened the fridge, glancing over what cuts were available from the last kill. She found a decent chunk of thigh meat and pulled it out, rolling the cut between her hands to warm it slightly.

 

“I wouldn't trade them for the world,” Francis prefaced as he looked through his options, “But sometimes I do miss the simplicity when it was just us.”

 

“I get it, sweetheart,” she assured him.

 

He picked out some upper arm and they both hopped up onto the butchering table. Hannah ripped at her snack, tearing little bits off to pop in her mouth. Francis sank his teeth in and ripped his apart that way. It helped, in that comfort food sort of way, and while leftovers were never as good as a fresh kill, she still felt the traces of life thrum through her veins.

 

Just a pair of monsters in their cave, Hannah mused, doing their best for the humans they loved. 

 

“The absolute shrapnel she could cause, hurting all three of you at once,” he muttered.

 

“I know, darlin’, but she's done nothin’ yet but be a little judgy and accusatory.” Hannah shrugged, “What would she gain by waiting? Lulling us into a false sense of security to what, surprise us?” She shook her head, “She doesn't have the resources to really, truly get us in trouble. She's smart, but she's not clever, and definitely not the kind to be able to set a trap we wouldn't catch a mile off.”

 

Francis nodded, the gears turning in his head. Optimism was great for people who weren't criminals, and they hadn't lasted this long on luck alone. She couldn't fault him for running scenarios; she had been doing the same thing. But it all came down to the golden question.

 

Was this risk worth Joseph and Grace's happiness? Right now, the math was checking out.

 

“...what does your intuition say?” Francis asked quietly.

 

Hannah chewed on a bit of fat, “She’s compromising, same as us. Not lovin’ the fact of what we are but I think the truth really helped her see beyond whatever toxic bullshit she was projecting. She knows we’re attached, and I don't think she has any delusions of running off with our squishies. But…” She ripped off another bite, “...they're gonna fall in love. It's inevitable, like shit, we were powerless against Joseph, she's only lasting so long out of decency… And he…” Hannah met Francis' eye, “... he's gonna be a fucking mess at the start. This could even be worse than him finding out he was into you. So we gotta try our hardest to support him, and try not to let him see we're struggling, because he’ll drop this immediately if he thinks we're too upset, and while that sounds great… I don't think that's gonna be what's best for him and Grace long-term.”

 

“...I’m trying,” he mumbled.

 

“I know you are, babe. So am I. The beginning’s always bumpy as fuck.” She nudged his knee with her foot, “We’ll figure it out. We always do. Heck, maybe we can even do it without bloodshed.”

 

That got a smirk out of him, then a playful pout, “ No bloodshed? Not even a little?”

 

“ None . We are the law-abiding, straight nosed MacAvoys, and would never think of enacting violence on others.” She jutted her chin in the air.

 

Francis set aside what was left of his snack, crawling towards her, “What about violence against ourselves?”

 

“You would never ,” she taunted with a giggle, putting aside her food.

 

“But I would ,” he insisted, moving on top of her.

 

Despite his threats, when their lips met it was tenderly. Usually when they were going at it during a snack break, the more Not Safe For Joseph sort of sex happened. Tonight though, they made love as sweetly as if they were at home in bed instead of in the larder on the body chopping table. It was a reminder for what they both refused to say.

 

Worst case scenario, if Belle did steal Joseph, they still had each other, and always would.

 

Hannah's maturity faded in the early light of day. Both her and Francis tried to ignore their husband's tossing and turning, but it was difficult when he was in the middle. He woke up way before his alarm, showered, dressed in the outfit Hannah had picked out for him. Francis eventually got up but she played dead, scared if she so much as looked at Joseph she’d demand he cancel and never ever date anyone but them.

 

She felt him hovering over her, fought to keep her breathing slow and even. He brushed the curls off her face.

 

“I love you,” he whispered.

 

She loved him too. If she didn't, she wouldn't even humor the idea of him being allowed to have a life outside of being with her and maybe Francis.

 

The boys went downstairs and she had herself a little silent cry. Things were definitely harder this time; if someone managed to actually get to Francis' heart enough to break it in the past, she had always gone full Kill Bill on their ass. Even if she went full Kill Bill out of jealousy and squashed a potential romance instead of a real threat, Francis had been irritated but never irate. And if he killed her lovers she’d be pissed but get over it in a few days.

 

If they killed Belle out of jealousy, it could very well end their marriage.

 

Something wriggled under the covers and Hannah turned over, wiping away her tears.

 

“It's okay,” Grace cooed, cuddling up to her, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

 

Hannah wanted to cry harder at her baby girl wrapping an arm around her, rubbing her mother’s back. She sniffled and hugged Grace close.

 

“It's Sunday baby, you should be sleeping in.”

 

“Slept enough,” Grace said, looking up at her, “Big day, huh?”

 

Hannah nodded, “Yeah… Big feelings to go along with it.”

 

Grace nodded back, “I’m nervous, but it's a normal-sized feeling. I want them to have a good time on their date.”

 

“Me too, sweetie.”

 

“But Daddy gets weird when he's nervous. What if they hold hands but his is all sweaty?”

 

Hannah laughed, “Well I’m sure he’ll wipe it off first or something.”

 

“Were his hands sweaty on your first date?”

 

“A little,” she guessed. 

 

“What did you do on your first date?”

 

“We went clothes shopping.”

 

“That sounds exactly like Daddy's favorite thing to do,” Grace said, rolling her eyes as big as she could.

 

Hannah reached up and stroked Grace’s hair behind her ear, “Well when you're with someone you like, you don't really care what you're doing, so long as you're with them.”

 

Grace nodded, “Like errands.”

 

“Exactly like errands.”

 

“...I think I’d rather go clothes shopping than go to the library, even though I really like the library. You can only borrow library books, not keep them,” she pointed out.

 

“That's smart.”

 

She continued stroking Grace's hair, those big brown eyes so much like her fathers’. Science be damned, somehow both Francis' and Joseph's swimmers got to her egg at the same time and for the first time ever, a child with two daddies was naturally conceived and carried (almost) to term. It was the only way to explain how one moment she could be a tiny Francis, and in the next be a baby Joseph. If eating human flesh made someone a powerful immortal, then there had to be some kind of paternity loophole possible.

 

And, though she didn't like to think about that incident, Joseph was a part of them, both of them, forever. So who fucking cared about biology.

 

She glanced up to see that Francis had brought up breakfast, setting the tray on the nightstand.

 

“Poor poor Mommy, all alone with no one to cuddle her,” he lamented.

 

“Hi Dad!”

 

“She must be sooooooooo lonelyyyyy…”

 

“Dad, I’m right here! Under the covers!”

 

“Oh well,” Francis got on the bed, slowly lowering himself next to Hannah…and on top of Grace, “Guess I’ll have to do.”

 

“DAD! DAD NO! STOOOOOOOOP!”

 

Hannah helped brace him as he put more and more of his weight on Grace. She flailed as much as she could, shrieking as she was crushed “to death”.

 

“You hear something, love?”

 

“Y’know I thought I heard Grace.”

 

“Grace? Our Grace?”

 

They smirked at each other as she insisted she was suffocating… By screaming at the top of her lungs.

 

“...I think she's under the covers.”

 

“On the bed?” Francis rolled onto his side, “Oh she is here.”

 

Grace gasped for air dramatically, panting for several moments before narrowing her eyes at him.

 

“You're a right bastard sometimes, you know that?”

 

Hannah bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Francis narrowed his eyes right back at her.

 

“Swear jar, young lady.”

 

“Bastard’s not a swear, it means something.”

 

“All swear words mean something, Grace, that doesn't make them not-swears.”

 

This was apparently news to her.

 

They sat up to eat their muffins, Grace nestled between them. Getting their tattoo ring was a nice gesture but this, their little miracle, was a living breathing reminder of how much Joseph loved them. The lengths that he would go for them, even when he shouldn't have stayed. He had given them the child they so desperately wanted and for all the hell he went through on a regular basis… He deserved this one small thing he asked for.

 

Her and Francis just needed to get their shit together.

 

“We should go clothes shopping today,” Grace decided, “Like Mommy and Daddy's first date.”

 

Francis glanced over at Hannah and raised his eyebrows, “Well I’ll happily fill Daddy's role in that date.”

 

Hannah smirked and scrunched her nose at him. She bet he would but she didn't know if they could swing it with a kid in tow. They had to be responsible, after all.

 

Grace's idea was genius. It not only got them out of the house, but around too many witnesses to get up to much trouble. Joseph would give them shit for spoiling her but if retail therapy was the worst thing they did? A damn good day, all things considered. They drove to the nearest mall and Hannah once again mourned the demise of the classic hangout spot. They reminded her of her Destiny Assassinry days, catching a bite to eat and laying low after a successful hit.

 

Hannah and Francis made a game as usual to keep things interesting, as they passed through the various boutiques and department stores. Each would point out the ugliest, most garish clothing items imaginable to Grace and say how lovely that would look on Mommy or how Dad had always wanted a shirt like that. Sometimes Grace didn't bite but usually she did, and then tried to convince the parent to purchase said item for themselves. Hannah had no idea what she would pair her new metallic gold go-go dancer boots with, but she was looking forward to Grace forcing Francis to wear his new standard hippie tye-dye shirt in public.

 

It’d be a great day out… If they weren't constantly glancing about, their instinct insisting they were missing someone. That of course chafed at their raw emotions, but the balm was a minute or two of griping under their breath while Grace was too distracted to notice their discontent. Hannah was pretty sure they were using the term “bullshit” more than the stalls of a cattle stud farm.

 

The real interesting point of the day came when they stopped into Claire's, their pack mule sighing as he imagined the amount of damage they were about to wrought.

 

“Relax, it's mostly small stuff,” Hannah insisted.

 

“Small stuff adds up,” Francis pointed out, then eyed the lip glosses, “...do any of those actually taste good?”

 

“Well it’d defeat the purpose if they tasted too good,” she said, glancing through the flavors, “...I don't see any that you’d like, your sweet tooth’s not as bad as…” She stopped herself from saying the J word. He was probably tasting Belle's lips right now…

 

…and she didn't know who to be jealous of. Fucking girl crushes.

 

Francis grabbed a root beer flavored lip gloss and tossed it into Hannah's basket wordlessly.

 

“How old do you have to be to get your ears pierced?”

 

Hannah and Francis whirled around to find Grace sizing up the ear piercing station. 

 

“I think any age with parental consent, right?” Hannah glanced at Francis as she answered, “They pierce baby’s ears don't they?”

 

“Does it hurt?”

 

“Not a lot,” Francis said, “Just a pinch.”

 

Grace looked exasperatedly at him, “How would you know, your ears aren't pierced.”

 

Francis gave Hannah a wry glance, “Well so I’ve heard.”

 

Hannah tried to hold it together, “He's right, just a couple pinches.” Or one, if you just so happened to be gay in the late 20th century… Oh but that had healed up decades ago.

 

Grace mulled it over, “...I think I want to get my ears pierced.”

 

Francis glared at the ear piercing gun in disgust, “Another time, love.”

 

Hannah had to agree. She wasn't sure about the hygienics of a chain store, and Joseph would have an even bigger cow if the piercing got infected.

 

“Why don't you pick out some studs for when you do get them pierced?” She offered to soften the blow.

 

Grace nodded her acquiescence and the couple exchanged a shrug. Her body, her choice, and maybe if Joseph wanted a say he shouldn't be off getting blown in the rare books section of a library.

 

There was a break for food court pretzels, and then they were distracted by toy stores and an arcade. Generally arcades were a horrible idea and more than once ended in thousands of dollars in damage, but Grace was there to keep their competitiveness in check. Their biggest mistake came in not watching her wander off towards the first person shooter games, where she witnessed the demo reel of The House of the Dead.

 

Clearly the only thing to ward off nightmares that night was to kill all the zombies, Grace cheering them on while Francis griped at Hannah for shooting on his side of the screen and she griped at him for waiting so long to shoot. It wasn't the friggin’ Revolutionary War, she reminded him, he didn't need to wait to see the undead whites of their eyes.

 

More food court junk food, and then they called it a day. The backseat looked more like a padded room between all the clothes and new plushies, Grace nestled in and sleepy with contentment.

 

“We had a better date today,” Grace decided.

 

Hannah smiled, looking back at her baby girl, “I think we did, Gracie.”

 

“Will Daddy be home when we get home?”

 

Francis checked the time, “Not quite, we’ll beat him by a couple hours.”

 

“Unless we hit a moose.”

 

Hannah wasn't sure which was funnier, Grace's out-of-the-blue hypothetical or Francis' baffled expression at where it had come from. Hannah immediately pulled out her phone to do a quick search.

 

“...huh, we probably should be careful. I guess Maine has the highest population of mooses in the lower 48.”

 

“Exactly,” Grace nodded, as if she was very aware of this fact, “How long would it take to fix the car if we hit a moose?”

 

Hannah listened as the two of them hashed it out, including speed, size, and tow truck availability before eventually concluding there was a very slim chance a moose would cross the freeway when it was so busy, and maybe they should have bridges for the animals to cross over safely, should they need to. Her heart could just burst from the love she felt being part of these little moments with her perfect family.

 

She couldn't begrudge Belle wanting to get in on this; really Hannah was being selfish, hoarding the two most perfect men and the most perfect baby girl to herself. Joseph's heart was big enough; there was room for all of them in it.

 

xXx

 

It had been a wonderful day.

 

Joseph had been nauseous most of it from the anxiety of not wanting to fuck up. Belle had seemed nervous too but held herself together better. And that dress…

 

…he had never seen her so happy. She had radiated giddiness since she stepped foot in the library and as nerve-wracking as her breaking down in tears was, they were happy tears. She wasn't even upset when she pieced together who was really responsible for the date, or when he broke her cup. He could still feel the weight of her head on his shoulder from the ride back from Boston, her fingers laced with his.

 

Oh he had wanted to kiss her so badly. She might have even wanted to kiss him too. He had also wanted to go inside her house and extend the date just a little longer, to hold her until she fell asleep. To just…bask in the glow of her well-deserved happiness, knowing he gave that to her.

 

But he promised to be back for Grace's bedtime. And Belle was conscientious enough not to push. So it was just one glorious hug before goodbye.

 

He pulled into his home’s driveway, turned off the ignition and… Froze. He couldn't move, couldn't make himself get out and go inside. He started shaking and the sob came on suddenly and hard.

 

Fucking selfish bastard.

 

He had spent all day fawning over a woman who was not his spouse. Holding her hand. Cuddling up to her. Thinking…inappropriate thoughts. All while he had two wonderful spouses and a lovely daughter waiting at home, two wonderful spouses who were struggling with this decision. They tried to keep it from him, but he knew Hannah hadn't slept through him getting ready this morning, and that Francis wasn't “just tired” as he waited until seven with him. Joseph was hurting them and he loathed how he had still gone through with it.

 

And he hadn't even been fully present with Belle. Yes, of course he texted to let them know the pair of them had made it safely to Boston, but besides that… His mind had wandered, a reflex he couldn't switch off. He snuck a few pictures of the collection of cookbooks he had seen, and wondered if Francis was aware of them. He thought about Hannah scoping out sex spots, either for herself or Belle. Hannah had picked out their outfits to compliment each other; Francis had smoothed out as many details as he could and had clearly done his homework on a woman he couldn't stand.

 

Everything bled into each other and he had no idea if he was doing it right, if he was doing the best he-

 

“FUCK!” He nearly hit his head on the ceiling as he felt a light touch on his leg.

 

“I mean, if you want to, but you’re gonna have to move back from the car horn a ways.”

 

Hannah's big blue eyes were watching him from the passenger’s seat and he just couldn't. He yanked on the door handle but it was locked. He unlocked it and tried again… But the door didn't open. He unlocked it and tried for a third time to escape but alas, he still had no luck.

 

“Can you stop moving at the speed of light and just let me run away in peace?!”

 

“No,” she said bluntly, “Grown-up time, motherfucker.”

 

She twisted around to face him, and he leaned back in his seat, wiping at his eyes. 

 

“How was your date with Belle?” She asked gently.

 

“Fantastic,” he admitted, “She… we …had a great time.”

 

“Good. Grace took us to the mall. She made sure we saved you a pretzel, but Francis doesn't want you to know about it.”

 

Joseph choked out a laugh. Hannah gave a half-smile.

 

“...I wanted to kiss her,” he confessed, “Wanted to so badly, it was almost as sinful as if I had.”

 

Hannah let a few silent moments pass before asking, “Did I ever tell you about Dean?”

 

“You might've, there's a lot of names between the two of you.”

 

“He was the first guy I fucked besides Francis,” she said, drawing her knees up to his chest, “I went on some dates before this, thought about it but couldn't go through with it. Don't give me that look,” she smiled, nudging him as he raised a playfully skeptical eyebrow, “The proud slut you see before you today took time to build up from the good Christian girl who was saving herself for her husband and her husband only.” She ran her fingers through her hair, “Dean was the quintessential frat boy, like, a total caricature. Felt like a right of passage you know, the one-night-stand with a douchebag. In hindsight, I wonder if it wasn't on purpose, going for a guy who would just treat me as a number. Fucking the anti-Ives, if you will.”

 

“Did it go…poorly?” He asked.

 

She shook her head, “Nah, it was fine for what it was. Like a plain rice cake when you're hungry. He fell asleep five minutes after and I… This question kept looping through my mind like a broken record; what have you done, what have you done. I wanted to puke, wanted to bash my head in the bathroom mirror, wanted to scream myself hoarse. Instead, in a daze I called up Francis, begged him to pick me up. I figured he'd tell me to fuck off, that I made my decision of what I was up to that night and we’d meet up where and when we planned to the next morning.”

 

“He didn't,” Joseph said confidently.

 

Hannah smiled softly, “He didn't. Picked me right up, took me to the hotel room he was staying at. I sobbed off and on for days , just, so fucking disgusted with myself for betraying him like that.” The smile faded into a frown, “But I didn't. He knew what I was up to and how to find me. It just felt like I betrayed him, and he did his best to remind me it was consensual. But it's hard to shake that kind of guilt, especially when you got the sort of background we do.” She slid her hand into his, “You didn't betray me. You're not going to betray me. And my feelings? That's my shit to deal with, not yours.” She squeezed it, “It's your first time on our side of things; the shitty feelings and the new relationship buzz is gonna give you whiplash. But we're here, we get it, and we’ll deal with it. I promise.”

 

He leaned towards her and she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him as a fresh wave of sobs rose up. It was a relief to hear her say it out loud, to absolve him like she had done countless times before when he thought he was sinning. 

 

“I love you,” he wept, “I still do, I always will.”

 

“I love you too,” she promised, rubbing his back, “Always will.”

 

It was easy to forget that despite her rapid mood swings, juvenile antics, and unreasonable stubbornness, Hannah was capable of a high level of maturity. He was grateful that mature side was coming out so often with the conflicts with Belle…she could easily have been as childish as Francis, and then where would his potential girlfriend be?

 

Nothing could diminish his love for these bastards, not even the addition of another mostly sane person.

 

Hannah led him inside once he had calmed down enough to face the rest of his family. He didn't relish facing Francis but at the same time… Someone definitely did deserve a blowjob for that date idea. Grace ran up to him, beaming.

 

“Daddy, Daddy look!” She exclaimed, showing off two tiny rubies, one in each earlobe.

 

He turned to Hannah, aghast and demanding an explanation. She looked calmly back at him.

 

“Oh by the way, I pierced Grace's ears.”

 

“ You pierced her ears?!”

 

“I helped,” Francis announced as if Hannah doing it alone was the problem, shuffling into the hallway.

 

“It's okay Daddy, it didn't hurt that bad,” Grace assured him, again, as if that was the problem.

 

“More sanitary than doing it elsewhere,” Hannah defended, “I wore gloves and everything!”

 

“Can you two not make major body modifications to our daughter while I'm gone?!” He pleaded.

 

“Relax, it's not like I gave her a tattoo.”

 

“CAN I GET A TATTOO?!”

 

The answers ranged from “absolutely not” to “maybe a henna one” to “ask when you're older”. Still, Joseph wondered if he'd have to worry about these large-scale changes every time he left to go on a date with Belle.

Chapter 5: First Meeting

Summary:

Flyer on Storybrooke Bulletin Board: "Do you need a hand up? Storybrooke Alcoholics Anonymous, a newly formed support group for those struggling. We're in this together. ALL WELCOME, coffee provided. Sisters of Saint Meissa Convent, Room 301, 2 p.m. every Saturday."

As adorable as a flustered Joseph was, there was something just as adorable with a shy Hannah. Belle had glanced up from cleaning out a tea pot to see her hovering near the door, uncertain.

 

“Are you busy?” She asked.

 

“Slammed,” Belle said dryly, gesturing to the vacant store.

 

Hannah blew exasperatedly through her lips, making them buzz, “No customers doesn't mean not busy.”

 

“True but it does this time.” She set the tea pot aside, “What's up?”

 

“Nothin’ much, just wanted to drop a couple things off… See how you're doing…”

 

“Well I’m all yours.” Belle stepped closer to the counter.

 

Hannah approached and set down two pieces of paper; a plain scanned copy of what looked like meeting notes and a folded Monster High stationary piece of paper. Obviously Belle went for the latter first. In careful, wobbly handwriting was an invitation to a kingdom-wide ball at Draculaura’s castle this Friday (a pretend ball for the game, Grace clarified). She had illustrated it with all four of the monster dolls either dancing or having seizures.

 

“Look at that,” Belle beamed, “Only a couple spelling mistakes!”

 

“She copied off me.”

 

The flat tone caught Belle off guard. She glanced up to see Hannah glaring at her. Belle took an uneasy step back and the other woman caught herself, shaking her head.

 

“Sorry. I’m used to the sharing husbands bit, not so much sharing…my little girl,” she admitted.

 

Belle worried her lip, wondering if she was about to skate onto thin ice with the topic, “...Joseph mentioned you and Francis…” She trailed off.

 

Hannah nodded, “We’d lost hope… Joseph gave it back to us.”

 

She had not bitten Belle’s head off, which only encouraged her. More questions formed; questions that, as she learned more about the MacAvoys, seemed likely to have less-than-reassuring answers. Hannah remained quiet for once, and Belle felt compelled to ask.

 

“If you both wanted to become parents so badly… And your biology… Surely there was another way? Adoption? Fostering?”

 

Hannah stiffened, “Sweetie I don't think you want to have this conversation.”

 

“Well now I do,” Belle glanced to make sure no one was milling around, outside or inside, “Did it have to be yours?”

 

Hannah hesitated and Belle folded her arms, refusing to back down. She did not need to know the fine details of how wendigos…wendigoed, but considering the path her and Joseph were going down, as well as Hannah's own hope of surrogacy… Belle needed to know of any potential dangers any child of hers might be in just for existing.

 

Their stand-off lasted a minute before Hannah sighed, realizing Belle wasn't just going to let it go.

 

“Kinda.” Hannah admitted before sucking in a deep breath, “Look, we’ve never hurt kids. We’ve never put ourselves into a position where we would need to hurt kids. And as fucked up as it sounds, we both worry if there's no…biological connection… And the worst case scenario happened… Well I’d never fucking forgive myself.”

 

Belle did her best to take the news as passively as possible. Hannah and Francis were being careful, she told herself, negating any risks to possibly the one broad group of humans they didn't want to hurt. It should be a relief that they had a firm “no kids” policy.

 

…but no child of Belle's that she had naturally would have any blood connection to them.

 

Belle took a steadying breath, pushing onwards, “So then biologically Grace is Francis'?” 

 

Hannah shrugged, “Statistically more likely, but no one's rushing out to get a paternity test. It's just a precaution,” she said, catching on to Belle’s concern, “You’ve seen him with Grace, you think that man would ever do anything to harm her? Just…precautions.”

 

“Like the snowstorm,” Belle murmured.

 

Hannah's shoulders relaxed, “ Exactly like the snowstorm.”

 

Belle pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to push back the dread. How did Joseph just…sweep such conversations under the rug? She was understanding more and more how he could forget what they were, and seeing that they weren't the worst possible monsters… Still, this did not help her feel at ease. 

 

“How was your date?”

 

This didn't seem like a safer topic, but it was easier to stomach than child endangerment. Belle couldn't help but smile at the memory of yesterday.

 

“It was… It went really well, thank you.”

 

“Good,” Hannah smiled back at her, “I’m glad… I really am, honestly. You both are such sweeties, you deserve to have a nice day out.”

 

“How was he, after…?”

 

Hannah sighed, “He was Joseph, but eventually he calmed down. Beginning’s always bumpy, even without all the special circumstances this instance has… How are you doing?”

 

It took a moment for the question to register, “How am I doing?”

 

“This is new to you, isn't it?” Hannah pointed out, “Plus, like, everything else that's been going on this year so far…”

 

Longer than this year, but Belle wasn't about to remind her of anything prior to her trip south, “Alright. I'm doing fine.”

 

Hannah glared at her, “Don't bullshit me, Belle French. This shit falls apart if you aren't honest, and empty platitudes won't work on me.”

 

Belle blamed it on the accent that instead of tensing up, she giggled. Hannah squinted, still plenty fired up but Belle was getting better about knowing when it was her being expressive and her being deadly serious. She waited patiently as Belle formulated her thoughts into words.

 

“It's…difficult I suppose but compared to some of the other challenges I’ve faced… Not nearly as difficult.”

 

Hannah nodded encouragingly and waved her hand in a “keep going” gesture. Belle soldiered on.

 

“My biggest hurdle is simply…knowing where the lines are. I don't…want to take too much and things are still…fragile. Especially with Francis.”

 

“See? Much more productive,” Hannah praised, “You gotta get this shit out in the air or it’ll fester and cause even bigger problems down the line. It sucks big fat donkey balls but it's necessary.” She took a deep breath before responding, “Francis and I didn't have a lot of hard and fast rules besides being upfront and honest. Some people can get on with “don't ask don't tell” but neither of us would be able to stand that; too paranoid to sneak around even with permission. I’d rather hear he’s out hooking up with someone than him shoveling some vague bullshit at me and finding out the truth later. And that's one of a million reasons we love Joseph; man’s very forthcoming and considerate. Day One he told Francis he was attracted to you.”

 

Belle felt her cheeks warm, “Day One?”

 

“Yeah cutie, Day One,” Hannah's voice softened, “See that's the kind of guy he is. He would've never dreamed of doing anything with a married woman but he still told us he was attracted… Well, he told Francis, and then admitted it to me after I met you. But, like, fair enough, with just about forty years of marriage Francis can make these kind of discretionary calls.”

 

Hannah paused, head tilted towards the door. Sure enough, an older gentleman was walking very purposefully towards the shop, entering without so much as a glance at the pair. Hannah moved to leave but Belle reached out and touched her arm in a “wait” gesture.

 

Five minutes later he came to the counter, setting a book down without making eye contact. Belle rang him up and he paid, leaving without a word. Hannah held her tongue until he had left.

 

“Mr. Maus not a talker?” She guessed.

 

Belle shook her head, “No. Is that his name?”

 

“Think so, if he’s the guy I’m remembering from recon.”

 

“Never said a word to me. He’s currently working through Terry Pratchett’s catalogue, and my best book customer.”

 

Hannah smoothed the second piece of paper out, “Anyway fuck Francis, and honestly fuck me too. It's very kind of you to want to wait until we're all around a campfire singing kumbaya, but that's probably still a long ways away. Francis is a stubborn old prick who will hold out as long as he can on accepting you, and I… Well I’m trying, and I’ll get there eventually. But that's our shit to deal with, not yours, not Joseph's. You two just…be happy and work on your own thing.” She pushed it forward, “I made a scan of yesterday's council notes to catch you up. Every Sunday we do a sit-down of the upcoming week, schedules and stuff. Thought it might be helpful for you.”

 

“Thank you,” she glanced down and smiled at the letterhead.

 

There was the most serious looking marshmallow doodle Belle had ever seen as the logo, with the words “The Loyal Order of the Council of Grace's Guardians” in business serif type. The writing was in Francis' neat script and while it would take a bit to get used to, the notes themselves seemed very orderly.

 

“I should head out though,” Hannah said, sliding off the stool, “See ya soon, cutie.”

 

“See you at the ball,” Belle joked.

 

Hannah gave a dramatic twirl & curtsy, and Belle laughed. For some reason that made the blonde blush, and she hurried outside. 

 

Belle skimmed the meeting notes which, considering there were only three of them, were extremely formal. Madame Treasurer and Master Secretary were in attendance, with Mr. President’s absence noted (Master Secretary clarified he was absent because he was out being a SLUT ). Grace's obligations for the week were broken down, with the first initial of which parent was responsible for the activity. In much less detail was the obligations of each parent, and then a list of the topics that had been discussed.

 

On the table was a continuing back-and-forth on whether Grace was ready for her own pet, and the subject of spring break was introduced and whether they would travel. They had both mentioned wanting to go “Home”, but would discuss at a later date as well as asking Grace's opinion on the matter. They had also discussed…

 

…

 

…whether Belle should sit on the council.

 

Madame Treasurer (predictably) simps for Ms. French’s inauguration, since she is becoming more and more involved as Grace's sitter, Francis bitched, Master Secretary, lone voice of reason, points out how one extended stay does not equate to being a stand-in guardian. Heated argument followed. M. Secretary has no hope of getting Mr. President on his side. Meeting dejectedly concluded.

 

Yes, she could see Francis would continue to resist with as much foot-dragging and pouting as his spouses would tolerate. Belle couldn't begrudge his unwillingness to share though, and while she still did not know much about his extensive life, Joseph nor Hannah made it sound like it had been an easy path. 

 

Belle could be just as stubborn; the rest of his family wanted her around so he would just have to adapt. She'd seen glimpses of the man behind the monster… She just had to figure out how to coax him out.

 

xXx

 

There was something almost comically familiar in the way he snuck around; eyes alert as he entered the pharmacy, hiding the container in a paper bag, stealing hits when it felt necessary and covering up the smell with mints.

 

Joseph had not fallen off the wagon; he just knew if Francis found out how many antacids he was eating this week he’d throw a fit. He did not want to get checked for a stomach ulcer, he wanted to get this Saturday afternoon over with. Then there was the hurricane of feelings that washed through his chest every time he was with Belle, but that he could handle.

 

While Francis was distracted looking for an outlet, Joseph quickly chewed and swallowed a few tablets. Leroy had come through with getting the permission necessary for using one of the convent’s community rooms (including a probationary waiver of Joseph’s banishment). But would he show up? Joseph had put a flyer on the town hall bulletin board but who knew if anyone would read it. This could all just be a colossal waste of time and he was stupid for-

 

“I can feel your leg shaking from here,” Francis informed him as he finally found a spot to set up the coffee maker.

 

Joseph stopped his jittering for a whole three seconds, before his leg was pumping up and down again just as rapidly as before. Francis sighed, getting a pot started before going over to him. He knelt beside his chair, glancing at the closed door before resting his hand over Joseph’s.

 

“What is the worst that could happen?” He asked gently.

 

“No one shows up,” Joseph spouted off immediately, “Sister Astrid hates me because I didn't help her friend. The town no longer trusts me because I outed myself as an alcoholic. Grace is made fun of at school. Belle dumps me. You and Hannah go on a rampage because people taunt me. We have to move. The cops find evidence and-”

 

Francis squeezed to cut him off, “If no one shows up, you tried your best, and Sister Astrid will know that. No one cares that you were an alcoholic. Grace will beat the stuffing out of anyone that crosses her. Belle better not dump you after all the drama she's caused. We can't go on a rampage, as fun as that would be, and we’re not moving right as we finally get some semblance of normal.” He stroked the back of Joseph's hand with his thumb, “As I see it, if Leroy shows up, then you do your best to help him, and it's the most awkward coffee date you’ve ever had. If he doesn't, then we have a coffee date, where you spend an hour patiently trying to explain why exactly we can't have sex in a convent.”

 

Joseph couldn't help but give a small smile, and Francis smirked in triumph. He loved this man, asshole that he could be. Francis had always been able to give him a boost of confidence when he needed it most.

 

Francis stood up, “Text me if no one's here in fifteen minutes. I'm off to scope out all the surfaces I’d like to bend the two of you over.”

 

“If you must, just leave the poor nuns in peace.”

 

Joseph grasped his hand and stood up, checking the door before leaning in for a kiss. Francis allowed a brief one, sneering as he pulled back.

 

“Did you have some Tums?”

 

“Don't worry about it.”

 

“How long have you been eating Tums?”

 

“None of your business.”

 

“Joseph…”

 

“Oh go find the confessional and stop henpecking me.”

 

It did the trick, Francis' eyebrows lifting at the promise of priestly roleplay. He left, and Joseph only felt slightly guilty at using the sanctity of confession to distract him.

 

Unfortunately with Francis' departure, so did Joseph's mild bout of courage. He went over to the coffee maker, willing it to go faster so at least he could do something beyond fidget. He was not equipped to lead a fucking queue line, let alone a group for struggling individuals. And what was he supposed to say as to how he had sobered up? Right, so in the midst of the worst hangover of my life some git put a tracker in a diner's coffee pot and after 24 hours of hell I decided I needed to do something with my second chance at life other than drink myself to death. That purpose apparently was being a professional wendigo wrangler and father to the cutest goblin ever.

 

He jerked up as the door opened, then smiled when he saw a familiar sour face, “You made it.”

 

“Heard these things have coffee,” Leroy grumbled.

 

“Yeah, it's ah, it's almost ready. There's also some shortbread cookies.”

 

Leroy gave a grunt of approval and together they waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

 

“How long do these things go for?”

 

“An hour, I guess?”

 

“You guess? Ain't you supposed to know ?”

 

Joseph shrugged helplessly, “It's my first time.”

 

“First time leading?”

 

“...first time in AA.”

 

“Well shit, I thought you were an expert.”

 

Joseph shook his head, “Just an expert in fucking up.”

 

Leroy snorted, “I hear that.”

 

They got their cups and their cookies and sat down, Leroy taking a chair across from his in the half dozen chairs Joseph had arranged in a circle. 

 

“I probably should've gone to at least one, see how I’m supposed to run it,” he confessed.

 

“I’ve seen enough movies to know how to start,” Leroy insisted, getting to his feet. He batted his eyelashes in a mocking way, swinging his hips from side to side like a child bored during a recital, “Hi, my name's Leroy, I’ve been sober for zero days because I needed a drink to get myself to even come to this.”

 

“Heeeeeellloooooo Leeeeeeeeroyyyyy.” Someone intoned from the doorway.

 

Leroy swiveled around and Joseph stared at the man. He was dressed in a leather jacket and leather pants, his v-neck dipping uncomfortably low and displaying his chest. He wore heavy eyeliner that matched his dark hair and made his bright blue eyes stand out even more prominently. His right hand was decorated with half a dozen rings and his left… Joseph quickly looked away.

 

“The hell are you doing here, Jones?” Leroy spat.

 

The stranger gestured towards the coffee pot with his prosthetic hook, “Here for the refreshments, clearly.” 

 

Leroy spun around, “Kick ‘em out,” he demanded, “He's not gonna take this seriously.”

 

“Everyone's welcome,” Joseph said softly, even as he had the same impression of the man.

 

Jones took his time filling his cup, then eyed the cookies, “Not very handicap accessible, are they?”

 

“Make two trips,” Leroy grumbled, “Your legs work, don't they?”

 

“Not really the point, is it?”

 

He strolled over and sat a few chairs away from them both, sans cookies. He spread his legs and slumped down, sizing Joseph up. Joseph stifled his instinct to look away and shrink back from such an aggressive demeanor. Jones stared him down for a few more seconds, then deliberately turned back to Leroy.

 

“I believe you were speaking, mate.”

 

“I don't wanna talk anymore.”

 

“Pretend I'm not even here.”

 

“With that stench you call a cologne? Not gonna happen.”

 

“You two, ah, know each other?” Joseph cut in.

 

“Everyone knows Leroy,” Jones insisted, “He's practically the town mascot.”

 

“Better than the town lech,” Leroy muttered.

 

Jones seemed rather proud of the distinction, focusing on Joseph again, “I don't believe we’ve met. Killian Jones.” With the valid excuse of holding his coffee with his hand, he offered his prosthetic hook.

 

Joseph didn't hesitate, shaking it as if it were a hand, “Caleb MacAvoy.”

 

“Thought this was supposed to be anonymous,” Leroy grumbled.

 

“No one’s anonymous in this town,” Killian insisted, then looked Joseph over again, “MacAvoy… So tell me, which brother are you then? The sleaze or the cuckold?”

 

“The cuckold,” he said without missing a beat, “Though that seems to be a gross misunderstanding of our co-parenting arrangement.”

 

“You must admit, living with your ex-wife and the brother who took her from you is a bit odd.”

 

“It's unconventional but we do what's best for our daughter.”

 

“Chomper needs the extra hands,” Leroy said and while Joseph appreciated the defense, he did not appreciate the nickname.

 

Killian continued to stare him down before giving a dismissive glance away, sipping at his coffee. Internally Joseph heaved a sigh of relief, even though externally he had to maintain his assertive act. He’d watched Francis enough to know the signs of someone testing the mettle of a stranger, and knew if he didn't put his foot down now, he’d end up batted around like a mouse caught by a cat. He clasped his hands around his coffee cup, covering his ring finger.

 

“Well if you're not going to talk, and I have no intention of talking, we’re at a stalemate,” Killian concluded.

 

“Perhaps I should share then?” Joseph offered. He could only assume that the leader was allowed to give their own testimony.

 

Both men looked to him, mildly curious. He took a swig of his coffee before beginning.

 

“My name is Caleb, and I’ve been sober for just about nine years.”

 

“Bloody hell,” Killian immediately interrupted, “That long and you think you can still relate?”

 

Joseph nodded, “It gets easier but… There are still days I would love to down a Jameson and not feel for an hour or two. But I remind myself the world's still there when the alcohol leaves my system.”

 

“That's when you get another bottle,” Killian insisted.

 

“Just a temporary solution,” Joseph murmured, “A bandaid when you’re bleeding out.”

 

“Then what's the fix?” Leroy asked, “If you can't drink it away, how do you make it stop?”

 

Joseph shifted in his seat, “You do something about it. Easy to say, can feel impossible to do. I just… In my case, I was drinking to escape feelings of inadequacy, loneliness, hopelessness… It took me nearly dying to decide on a fresh start, to try and find purpose on my own.”

 

Killian snorted derisively, “No wonder you sobered up, you had nothing to drink about.”

 

Joseph shrugged, “Perhaps not compared to someone else's struggle, but to me it was enough reason. I didn't like who I was, I didn't feel like I was good at my job, and I was unable to figure out how to get the strength or ability to change either of those things. So…I dulled the pain.”

 

“Can't relate,” Killian said, then smirked, “But not everyone is as handsome and capable as I am.”

 

Leroy made a retching noise and Joseph had to agree. Maybe the Irishman was naturally this full of himself…or maybe it was an act. Even Francis didn't tend to be this aggressive with his arrogance… But if there was anywhere to be insecure, AA would certainly be the place.

 

“Clearly not,” Joseph drawled, “But us mere mortals do our best to cope with our inadequacies.”

 

It went on like that for the rest of the hour; Joseph doing his best to keep them on track, while Killian did his best to derail them in his condescending manner. Maybe Leroy had been right and he should have booted Killian out… But he couldn't help feeling the man showing up was a sign of his sincerity. He just…had difficulties being vulnerable. And in public, with strangers? Joseph could understand why.

 

“A raving success, then,” Francis said as he returned, helping to clean up.

 

“Not sure I’d call it that,” Joseph carried the remaining cups and coffee grounds as Francis picked up the coffee maker, “We spent a good twenty minutes talking about our favorite labels.”

 

“Well you're just building up camaraderie. They'll open up when they're ready.” Francis glanced around the table, then glared at Joseph.

 

“It wasn't me!” He protested, “Killian took the whole tray!”

 

“Right…”

 

“Why would I lie about that?!”

 

“Why are you getting so shrill?”

 

“Because this is a very stupid thing to accuse me of!”

 

“No one's making accusations.”

 

“You are, with your eyes!”

 

They continued towards the front as they bickered, going out to the parking lot. Killian was making his way towards a beat-up motorcycle and Francis practically snapped his neck looking over at him.

 

“See?” Joseph said pettily, “He’s putting them in his little luggage thing.”

 

“Oh I see alright,” Francis rumbled.

 

Joseph shot him a glare. Not that he noticed, since his eyes were fixed on…other aspects of Killian. Thankfully he was oblivious to the unnerving, slightly hungry stare that Francis wasn't even trying to hide.

 

“Could you not?” Joseph muttered, “He’s an arsehole.”

 

“Perfect,” Francis grinned, “I know just what to do with that particular orifice.”

 

Joseph rolled his eyes and went to their vehicle. He was just starting it up when Francis, apparently realizing he was going to be left behind to gape at the stranger, blinked into existence in the passenger's seat.

 

“Why don't you ever wear leather?” Francis complained.

 

“Because it's not comfortable?”

 

“You're my trophy husband, you should dress like it.”

 

“Doesn't matter how I dress, you're still all over me.”

 

“...well it wouldn't hurt to give me and Hannah a little eye candy now and then.”

 

Had he not known Francis as well as he did, he might've gotten upset that his husband had been looking lustfully at another man. But lust was all it was, as harmless as if he were drooling over a celebrity. Well, except for that time in Madrid, but that was hopefully an outlier, and that the man’s disappearance had nothing to do with Francis’ fixation... 

 

Joseph had what mattered the most; his heart. And Francis would never betray him or Hannah in such a way. He looked, but he would never touch.

 

Speaking of touch…

 

“What have I told you about using your desire for another man on me?” Joseph grumbled.

 

Francis' hand only paused briefly as it traveled up his inner thigh, “Well excuse me that the image of you in tight leather pants gets me going.”

 

Joseph gripped the steering wheel harder as Francis palmed him through his jeans, lips brushing against his ear.

 

“You’ve had a stressful day,” he murmured, “Why don't we go for a drive, find somewhere nice and remote, and I help you relieve some tension?”

 

Damn him. He shouldn't be rewarding his behavior… But the suggestion did sound incredible , as…tension relief was a specialty of Francis'. He sighed.

 

“...text Hannah, let her know we’ll be late.” Joseph felt his smirk before Francis pulled away to get his phone out, “Where am I going?”

 

“Take a right at that stop sign,” Francis instructed, “I think you’ll figure it out once we get out on Smith Road a ways.”

Chapter 6: You Are (un)Cordially Invited

Summary:

"Dear Izi/Belle,

You are invited to Draculaura's castle this Friday at 7 p.m. for a kingdom-wide ball. Please wear your best dress and there is a strict "no biting" policy.

Love,

Clawdeen/Grace"

(Belle, this is pretend, for our doll game. You can wear whatever you want, and I know you don't bite, but monsters bite, and I'm writing like I'm Clawdeen for charactor practice.)

Just in time, Belle mused as she spotted the envelope package in her stack of mail. She opened it at the shop and tapped the contents out into her palm; a thin cylindrical pendant with a notch at one end on a chain. She washed it, checked outside to make sure there were no pets about, and then tested it.

 

There was a thud on the other side of the wall, a muffled curse… And that was it. Belle tried it again. More cursing, enraged stomping about. She put the chain around her neck and retreated behind the counter, opening a book for cover. She watched out of the corner of her eye as the antiques shop owner stormed out, furiously looking around. He glanced briefly in her direction but failed to make the connection, going back inside. 

 

Belle waited for half an hour before using the pendant one more time, just for the satisfaction of his frustration. He prowled the block for the source, glaring once through the window. Belle stared back at him innocently, pendent tucked into her shirt and out of view, and after a few moments he returned indoors, defeated. 

 

As amusing as it was, she kept to the Rule of Three and didn't try to push it. It did make her feel safer, though, having some sort of defense. And it was far more convenient than a perfume bomb.

 

Joseph text-apologized for missing their standing appointment; Grace wanted to go straight home to make sure everything was ready for tonight. She shared the girl's nerves, having not been with all of them together since Christmas. Seeing how this play date was a big deal to Grace, it would of course be a big deal for the rest of them. And, of course, Francis would be scrutinizing her every move.

 

She was locking up for the day when the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She glanced to her right. Francis was, clearly by coincidence alone, also locking up and not taking the side door out as he usually did. He turned to face her and her stomach gave a nervous churn, expecting to be confronted about the noise earlier.

 

He took a long deep breath and made a show of exhaling, “It would please my family greatly if you would join us for dinner tonight.”

 

She smiled, relieved, “Oh that's alright, I’ll just warm something up at home.”

 

Instead of happily taking her excuse, he frowned, “Let me rephrase. Dinner is at 6 and we’ll be expecting you.”

 

Belle narrowed her eyes, “Thank you for the offer but I will come over at 7, as originally planned.”

 

His mustache twitched, “Excuse me, I’m still not making myself clear. This is not a request; you will be joining us for dinner.”

 

Even if she wanted to join them, those words had removed any desire to comply. She folded her arms, “I'm expected to drop everything for a late invitation? Or were you supposed to ask me earlier, but waited until the last possible moment so I would say I couldn't make it and you still fulfilled your obligation?”

 

When the tendon in his neck tightened, she knew she was right.

 

“I'm not hungry for anything you’d be cooking anyway,” she muttered, going to walk past him to where she had parked.

 

He grabbed her arm. Her heart jolted as a burst of adrenaline shot through her but instead of thinking about the immortal wendigo, her mind went back to Gaston and what grabbing her arm had meant then. She froze up and she hated that it was still her impulse, that she was still not completely free from the memory of her ex-husband’s violence.

 

Francis' grip would not leave bruises though; it was only as firm as it needed to be to keep her from walking away. She watched the recognition in his eye, something like remorse pass through his expression, and he let go of her. He looked down at the pavement.

 

“...please come to dinner,” he said softly, “For them.”

 

Belle grit her teeth together, trying to slow her heart as well as fight back her own stubbornness, “For them,” she agreed, then continued towards her car.

 

It was worth it to see Grace greet her at the door, unable to keep from hopping around in her excitement.

 

“WE GOT MUSHU’S!” She shrieked.

 

Thankfully she was completely immune to the tension between the adults, legs swinging so hard it looked like she was vibrating in her chair. Francis was distracted trying to get her to settle down and eat, Hannah was distracted making sure Francis was leaving Belle alone, and Joseph was taking advantage of both of their diverted attentions and scooping up as much of the fried Chinese food as he could without drawing suspicion.

 

“This is really good,” Joseph whispered to Belle as if he were committing sacrilege.

 

Belle smiled, “It is,” she whispered back, “Old family recipes, or so Grandma Fa claims. You have to take anything she says with a grain of salt.”

 

“I ordered the vegetarian stir fry for you,” Francis cut in bitterly.

 

“It's on my plate,” Joseph objected, pointing it out.

 

“And you think that's going to distract me from how many rangoons you’ve been scarfing down? Grace I will break your legs off if you don't keep still.”

 

“Yaaaaaay!” Grace cheered, serenading her dinner as she drew her legs up underneath her, “Handicap parking, handicap parking, popping wheelies in my chair ‘cuz my legs don't work…”

 

Francis glared at Hannah before pointing a finger at her. Hannah's jaw dropped in protest before she pointed at Joseph, but Joseph was already pointing at her. Hannah looked helplessly at Belle as if the brunette had any idea what they were doing.

 

“We’re placing blame for Grace on someone,” Hannah explained, “And I have never been excited about a threat of my legs being broken!”

 

The men glanced at Belle for her vote. She shrugged apologetically towards Hannah, “I mean if I had to pick between the three of you…”

 

They lowered their fingers, appeased. Hannah's grip tightened around her chopsticks as she tried to find a G-rated way to vocalize her displeasure.

 

“...I hope you step on a Barbie shoe,” she decided, “Not the soft kind, the hard kind, a stiletto heel riiiiiight in the middle of your bare foot. And you trip, and you fall, and get a big ol’ goose egg on your forehead everyone asks you about the next day.”

 

Why would Hannah ever curse when she had such threats up her sleeve?

 

“Dr. Hopper says I’m my own person,” Grace informed them, “And I decide who that is ultimately, no matter what happens around me.”

 

Francis looked very much like he wanted Archie to step on a Barbie shoe.

 

“That's right, honey,” Hannah agreed, “But you should probably decide to finish supper before it's too late to play.”

 

Grace instantly focused on eating as fast as she possibly could. Francis waved his hand towards her demonstratively.

 

“This was what I was trying to avoid.”

 

“Well your vague, empty threat was getting us nowhere.”

 

“You're going to give her anxiety.”

 

“A little nudge is not going to give her anxiety.”

 

“Incredible,” Belle murmured to Joseph, “They’ve even made parenting choices competitive.”

 

“Please, this isn't nearly the most creative they’ve been in finding something to squabble over.” He nodded towards her plate, “You get enough to eat?”

 

Belle nodded, “Yeah I, ah, wasn't very hungry tonight.”

 

He smiled, and it felt like a bubble had formed around the two of them. Shyly, he reached under the table and took her hand. Her fingers curled around his and she smiled too. She didn't know what strange twist of fate had decided to bring Joseph and his family here, but she was forever grateful it had. She couldn't bear to think of another timeline where they had simply chosen a different town and she would have never had the privilege to meet him.

 

She hadn't realized the bickering had stalled until Joseph self-consciously cleared his throat. She broke out of the bubble to find Hannah staring down at her food, Francis watching her with his inscrutable expression and Grace… Well the devious grin on her face and sparkle in her eyes were very much from her mother. She sucked her cheeks in for a fish face and made loud kissy noises towards them.

 

Belle blushed and Joseph gently reprimanded Grace to keep eating. More importantly, Joseph didn't pull his hand away…and Belle didn't let go.

 

Sexism was alive and well as the men went about constructing the kingdom, putting up the opposing castles and stables, while Grace and Hannah pulled out the accessories and dolls. Belle had been tasked with finding “ball music”, and she tried to think of thematically appropriate ambiance.

 

“AC/DC,” Francis suggested.

 

Hannah grinned, “Oh right, they have a whole song about balls.”

 

Joseph glanced skeptically between them but they put on a show of innocence.

 

“It is about fancy party balls,” Hannah insisted, “Right Bellesy?”

 

Joseph looked at her and how was Belle supposed to let this poor trusting man down.

 

“It's a double entendre song,” she said, “It’s about both kinds of balls.”

 

“Bellesy I have had about enough of you ruining our fun,” Hannah scolded.

 

“Your fault for thinking she’d go for it,” Francis muttered.

 

“Like sports balls and party balls?” Grace asked.

 

“Exactly, sweetie,” Joseph rushed to answer.

 

Belle landed on an instrumental playlist that promised spooky gothic castle vibes and set it to play. By then Grace was distributing everyone's doll and Hannah and Francis were getting set up in their respective towers. Clawdeen was visiting Frankie, Draculaura was perusing her closet to decide what to wear and Venus…

 

…Venus was apparently sniffing a horse’s mane, as Joseph was too interested in Clawdeen and Frankie's discussion to pay much attention to his own doll. Maybe Grace hadn't been exaggerating… Belle glanced at Hannah who smirked and rolled her eyes. Fine, she could help him out.

 

Belle hop-walked Isi over, humming nonchalantly before pretending to suddenly notice Venus, “Oh, hi!”

 

Joseph, remembering he was supposed to be playing, turned Venus around, “Hi there.”

 

“My name's Isi, I just moved here from another kingdom.”

 

“My name's Venus, I’ve…lived here awhile.”

 

“Oh neat! Maybe you can show me around.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Belle waited a few beats. Joseph watched her expectantly and she saw she’d have to take the initiative.

 

“Did you get an invitation to the ball too?”

 

“...yes?” He looked over at Grace who nodded encouragingly.

 

“Awesome! We can go dress shopping together!”

 

“Okay.”

 

Belle glanced around and Hannah nodded towards a coffin-shaped case that folded out into an extensive closet. Isi and Venus hop-walked over to look through the dresses and… Belle was blown away. Yes it was mostly manufactured, large production outfits but there were also a dozen or so handmade one-of-a-kind dresses so elaborate she was scared to even touch them. She delicately picked up one with an embroidered phoenix on the skirt, marveling at the details. She remembered Joseph mentioning who had made the Halloween costumes and glanced up at Francis, who averted his gaze.

 

He might not be as obvious as Hannah, but his ardor was just as intense. They did not love in half-measures, and Belle had a clearer picture now of what Joseph had been trying to describe. Deranged not only in bad ways, but good ways as well.

 

Grace glanced at the dress Belle was holding, raised her eyebrows in a “well if that's what you're really going to wear to the ball” face, and went back to her own in-character shenanigans.

 

Joseph was endearingly inept, hardly moving his doll around at all and apparently baffled that 75% of the play time was spent getting ready for the ball. He’d often get distracted watching Grace and his spouses, who were much better thespians and clearly in their element with improv. Clawdeen juggling her role as a spy for both sides was fascinating to watch, and Belle was delighted at how sophisticated a storyteller Grace was already.

 

To everyone's shock, it was Frankie Stein the Usurper who approached Isi Dawndancer first, while all four of them were at the ball.

 

“Haven't seen you around before.”

 

Belle glanced up from her twirling Isi around on the toe of one shoe. Francis met her eye long enough to confirm he was talking to her, before focusing on Frankie. Belle focused on Isi.

 

“I'm new,” Isi confirmed, lowering her arm to offer for a handshake, “My name's Isi, Isi Dawndancer.”

 

Frankie did not accept the gesture, “Charmed. I am Francesca Marielle Stein, or Your Majesty.”

 

“Your Majesty?” Isi echoed, “I thought…Queen Draculaura was the ruler of Avalon?”

 

“A common misconception. Perhaps by blood she's the ruler, but as far as the popular vote, it should be me on that throne,” Frankie insisted.

 

Isi tilted her head quizzically, “You vote on your monarchy?”

 

“It was an informal vote,” Frankie arm waved it away, “Point being the general populace tire of the old ways and hunger…for a revolution.”

 

The other monster girls had stilled, Hannah giving a muffled groan and slumping back against Grace’s bed dramatically. Joseph kept glancing up at Belle and Francis, making sure neither of them were about to take the confrontation out of character. Grace was absolutely glued to the scene though, resting her chin on her steepled fingers as she took it in. The pressure was on.

 

Isi twisted nervously, “I just moved here… I cannot make an informed decision about the politics of Avalon.”

 

“Consider this your education, then.” Frankie hopped closer, leaning in, “Neutrality favors the side of the oppressor, Miss Dawndancer. If you're not with me… You're against me.” With a flick of Francis' wrist, Frankie's hair flipped into Isi’s face before she hopped off.

 

Isi sputtered at the undead hair, earning a giggle from Grace. Belle glanced at Francis but he was too busy waiting for the only opinion that mattered to him.

 

“Good stuff good stuff good stuff,” Grace chattered, eyes bright with forming ideas.

 

“That was considerably less stressful than it could have been,” Joseph remarked as he walked Belle home, both of them dragging their feet to prolong the inevitable.

 

“Maybe I should just handcuff myself to Grace,” she mused, “Use her as a natural diffuser.”

 

“Nah, if you're going to use handcuffs…”

 

Belle turned to look at him as he went mute, and he very much seemed like he wanted the ground to swallow him in that moment. She smirked, then cocked her head as if confused.

 

“Hm? What about how I should use handcuffs?” Even in the near dark of the sidewalk, she could tell he was getting redder and redder.

 

“Nothing…”

 

“I'm curious though. I’d like to hear your insight about handcuffs.”

 

The insight was lost as he grumbled under his breath about “fuckers” and Belle giggled, leading him up to her porch.

 

“Escalating from butt plugs to handcuffs? What on earth will you bring up on our third date?”

 

“It's their bloody faul- Third? When was our second?”

 

She gestured towards his house, “Just now. We had dinner and hung out.”

 

“That's not a date, the whole family was there.” He glanced down at himself, “I’m not even dressed for a date!”

 

Belle shrugged, “If your criteria is the two of us alone for a prearranged occasion, then we might not get many dates in. Privacy seems to be quite the luxury in the MacAvoy household.”

 

“MacAvoy Ives household, and you might actually have a worse concept of what a date is than they do.”

 

She tilted her head at the correction, “MacAvoy Ives? Hyphen or no hyphen?”

 

“Hannah vetoed the hyphen, said it was too pretentious.” He shook his head, “Doesn't matter anyway, no official documents have the full last name like that. It's just…between us.”

 

“Didn’t throw Hannah’s maiden name in as well?” She teased.

 

“Nah, not with the history with most of her family behind it.” It was his turn to tilt his head, “...there is something elegant about MacAvoy du Bois Ives… MacAvoy Ives du Bois?”

 

“It’s for the best,” Belle assured him, “Run out of breath giving Grace the full name treatment.”

 

They hesitated as the conversation stopped, and they were at that moment again. Belle did not feel like anguishing over how to end the night; she rose up onto the balls of her feet and pecked his cheek before hugging him.

 

“Good luck tomorrow,” she said.

 

Joseph took a few moments to remember how to speak, “Thanks… I’ll need it.”

 

“You’ll do great,” she assured him, “Even if it's more than just Leroy that shows up.”

 

He nodded grimly and she wanted to kiss that expression right off his face. Instead, she went inside, trying on his last name for size. Belle MacAvoy Ives… It didn't sound right. Even Belle MacAvoy felt clunky. Maybe she was too close to her last marriage… She was just happy being Belle French for now.

Notes:

A special "fuck you very much" to Olive Garden Wi-Fi which didn't save the edits for this chapter and I had to redo them by memory, for better or worse.

Chapter 7: A Miner Occasion

Summary:

Pamphlet: "Mark your calendars for Storybrooke's annual Miner's Day Festival! Presented by the Storybrooke Chamber of Commerce and the City of Storybrooke, this treasured event celebrates our local history with games, crafts, activities, food, live music and much more! Stock up on handmade candles and support the Sisters of Saint Meissa. We hope to see you there!"

Belle was reading less, and she had never been happier about it.

 

Apparently the key to getting Joseph to linger in her shop was to officially date him; instead of rushing off at the first customer or excusing himself after finishing his tea, he would sit for hours at the counter chatting with her. Hannah was also working up to her previous hangout lengths and while Belle still zoned out sometimes during a tangent, it was not nearly as annoying as it had once been. She might have been more concerned about the patriarch's jealousy if it weren't for the fact that if one was with her, the other was likely keeping him company.

 

It made the hours pass by quicker, and broke up the tedium of being a sole employee in a business that did not receive a lot of traffic.

 

“Are you guys going to the Miner’s Day Festival?” She asked, filing receipts away.

 

Joseph tilted his head, “Miner's Day Festival?”

 

“Yeah it's a local event, celebrating the history of mining in the area,” she explained, “There's food and music and craft booths… Also a lot of activities for kids.”

 

Joseph grimaced, “Any with pickaxes?”

 

“...I don't remember if they're actual pickaxes or just toy ones,” Belle confessed.

 

He sighed, “I’m probably overthinking, the mental image just popped up of Grace with a mildly lethal weapon and Bridgette being a little snot.”

 

“I believe they're supervised while using them,” she assured him.

 

Joseph gave an exaggerated slump of relief and Belle giggled, then bit her lip.

 

“Maybe…we could go to the festival? Together? If Grace has to, or wants to, tag along that's fine.”

 

He stared at her as if they weren't already dating and she was asking him completely out of the blue. Belle folded her arms self-consciously, wondering if maybe she wasn't supposed to take initiative as the new girl.

 

“But that's here,” he said, “In Storybrooke. In public.”

 

“...yes… Is that a problem?”

 

“No, no, I just… We’ll be seen. Together. You…want to be seen with me? Like that?”

 

The muted sound of someone hitting their head against a hard surface repeatedly from next door at least helped reassure Belle that she wasn't losing her mind. 

 

“Why would I not want to be seen with you “like that”?” She wondered.

 

“I dunno,” he curled into himself, “Being with the man who's co-habitating with his brother and ex-wife, to take care of a half-feral child?”

 

“Do you want to be seen with the woman who may have had a hitman kill her ass of a husband?” She challenged.

 

He frowned, “Are people really saying that?”

 

“Apparently.” Belle shook her head dismissively, “I would be proud to be seen as a couple in public with you. Let people think what they will, I couldn't care less. I just want to be with you.”

 

Joseph's face was a strange mix of awe and guilt. He played with his hands, “I…I’d be proud too I’m… You deserve better .”

 

“I want you, as you are.” She said firmly, leaving no room for argument, “Otherwise why would we be dating?”

 

He lowered his head, thoroughly chastised, “...I’ll let you know if something comes up and I can’t make it,” he mumbled.

 

On the other side of the wall, Hannah breezed through the door, pamphlet in hand, “Guess wh- The fuck happened to your forehead.”

 

“Your husband, that's what happened,” Francis grumbled.

 

“Maybe you’d stop banging your head against the counter if you quit eavesdropping,” she said piously.

 

As if she had never gone into a fit when she had her ear to the wall, gleaning whatever insight she could. Belle and Joseph were both well aware of how thin the dividing wall was, but so far nothing concerning had been overheard.

 

It was simply…the charming mundane talk of getting to know someone. Histories, current events, future dreams… The building blocks for a relationship. And while he still had his doubts, Belle so far had been…exactly as she said she was. Difficult to fan the flames of paranoia without fuel.

 

…but he had to be vigilant. His family was enamored with the Aussie, extremely vulnerable should she turn on them. So he had to keep his distance, watching for any sign of treachery. He needed to protect them as best he could, since he wasn't allowed to simply eliminate the threat.

 

…they all sounded so happy with her though and yes, even she with them. He could only hope she meant it when she said she just wanted the best for them…

 

“We haven't made as much progress as I hoped,” Francis lamented, “Joseph questioned whether she really wanted to be associated with him in public as a couple.”

 

“Fucking hell, I would've punched through the goddamn wall if I heard that,” she muttered, “They planning another date?”

 

“Yeah, for this Miner's Day Festival thing.”

 

Hannah scowled, slapping down the pamphlet, “I thought I was gonna tell you guys first.”

 

“Sorry, precious. You can still tell me about it, she didn't give many details,” he offered.

 

Still scowling, she flattened out the trifold on the counter between them, “So there's this whole fucking history between the miners and the convent, like, apparently they used to trade coal for candles or something.”

 

Francis arched an eyebrow, “Is that the euphemism they used?”

 

“Right? Like I know I should think higher of the nuns but also let's be real, there's at least a half dozen bastards courtesy of the coal-and-candle trade-off.”

 

“At least.”

 

“There's gonna be, like, kids activities and info booths about the local history and stuff, basically perfect for us all.”

 

Francis narrowed his eyes. She was trying overly hard to sell this. Why would she…

 

“You're not going down into the mines.”

 

“I AM A GROWN ASS WOMAN I CAN DO WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT!” She reminded him, jabbing a nail into his chest, “What if there's fucking tours??? Then will you get over your fucking ludicrous ass notion?!?!”

 

“Are tours being offered?”

 

“...the brochure doesn't say but maybe they're private!!!”

 

“There are no tours because they are condemned ,” he reminded her, “And I do not want you playing in condemned mines.”

 

She snarled at him, “They’ve only been condemned a few years! This ain't like whatever pre-OSHA death traps you saw back in the day, I’d be fine !”

 

“Until you weren't, and a tunnel collapses on you, suffocating you.”

 

“As you well know, I can hold my breath a long ass time, and will just speedy-dig up to the surface!”

 

“Hundreds if not thousands of feet?”

 

“The tunnel is not going to collapse.”

 

He tapped out the syllables on her cute scrunched up nose, “No. Mines.”

 

Her teeth clacked together as she tried to bite him and missed, only pissing her off more. God, she was glorious when enraged. Francis wasn’t insisting on this just to spite her though and clearly, since she hadn’t just gone down there on her own, she knew that. He enjoyed her wild spirit too much to temper it. But he also wasn’t about to let her take risks without the confidence she would make it through alright.

 

He trusted her. He did not trust the integrity of a condemned mine, and he himself had never been buried alive that deeply. Ounce of prevention, etc, etc. 

 

xXx

 

“Fucking nuns,” Hannah muttered under her breath when they were scarcely out of the hospital.

 

Joseph shot her a reproachful glare but she ignored it, shoving her hands into her pockets.

 

“All those fucking women have nursing degrees? Bullshit. This town’s fucking weird.”

 

“Did you really want to work underneath Dr. Pervert anyway?” Joseph asked.

 

“He can look all he likes but if he touched me then he’d learn a thing or two about workplace boundaries.”

 

He grabbed the sleeve of her jacket and tugged lightly, reminding her to slow down. She glowered at him but resumed at a much less frantic pace. He followed after her, having to shove his hands into his pockets to resist the temptation to hold hers.

 

“Do you really want to volunteer somewhere?” He asked.

 

“Joe and I already went through the community college catalog and nothing caught my eye,” she grumbled, “Usually places are just begging for unpaid volunteers with experience but not in fucking Storybrooke.”

 

“Okay, I guess I meant do you really want to do something other than harass the two of us and Belle all day every day?” He clarified.

 

“Kinda.”

 

Sure enough, a few people seemed to come out of nowhere, brushing by the pair of them. Even though they didn’t look the least bit interested in what names Hannah was using, he knew they had to be careful on the street. Careful, careful, careful. The longer all of them were in Storybrooke the more insufferable it was not to engage in PDA with either of his spouses. 

 

He was homesick, and they were nearly a decade off from the possibility of moving back to Eden’s Ark permanently. Of being open with them all the time, not just with the curtains and blinds closed. 

 

The anguish must have been wafting off of him like heat. Hannah glanced over and slowly blinked at him. He smirked, and then slowly blinked back at her. It was the most ridiculous non-obvious display, but it was also the most Hannah gesture, to mimic the way cats showed long distance affection. 

 

“Look, Joe’s got the shop, you’re getting this AA thing going plus dating Belle, I should probably get some kind of part time gig or hobby or something so I’m not dependent on y’all to keep me entertained,” she explained.

 

Hannah was a busy woman; even before Grace went to school she’d go off either with one of them or on her own to explore the local area of whatever country they were currently in. Before that she was running a rescue, and before that… Well she had kept occupied. Even bugging her loved ones all day every day would lose some of its luster he supposed. 

 

“Maybe you can start a petsitting business,” he suggested.

 

She shot him a glare, “That does not sound like a Caleb-approved activity. You know I’d be too nosey not to snoop through shit while I’m in someone’s house.”

 

That was a good point.

 

Joseph tried to come up with alternative ideas as they approached downtown. Several people were setting up tents and stringing lights up in anticipation of tomorrow’s event. He was tempted to joke she should join the city council, but was far too terrified of her taking him seriously.

 

“This’ll be nice,” she murmured, her voice as gentle as her gaze, “Being paired off, I mean.”

 

“We have been paired off, you with Joe and me with Grace.”

 

Hannah wrinkled her nose, “Not the same though, is it?”

 

It wasn’t, but he had never resented it. He had his turns to be the public husband and Francis had his turns tagging behind with Grace. But…it would be nice to have someone to be affectionate with, romantically. Another adult to keep him company when the wolves had to roam.

 

He shifted his weight, “Might be nice, if Joe can keep from glaring at her the entire night.”

 

“He’s just protective of his older brother.”

 

“It’s possible to be protective and not an arsehole.”

 

Hannah considered, then shook her head, “Nah, don’t think so.”

 

“Yes, it is.”

 

“Nope. They go hand-in-hand.”

 

“See this is why I broke up with you.”

 

“Oh puh-lease, I broke up with you.”

 

“Pretty sure I’m the one who wanted to separate when I walked in on you and my brother.”

 

“I got the paperwork together though.”

 

“For our common law marriage? Maybe you were the one drunk through half the relationship.”

 

It was difficult not to laugh at them arguing the details of their false backstory. A smile still forced its way through his defenses, and Hannah’s eyes sparkled in a way that didn’t match the tone of her words. He slow blinked, and she slow blinked back.

 

Who was he kidding? Loving them had been anything but clear cut. But it had never stopped being worth it.

 

xXx

 

Belle didn’t overthink her outfit for Miner’s Day, seeing how she would be bundled up anyway. And while there were new anxieties, overall she felt less nervous. So far (knock on wood) things had been improving since the low point of almost being murdered. The worst was (she prayed) behind them. After work she had time to clean up a bit and have a light snack, then she went to knock on the MacAvoy Ives’ front door.

 

It resulted in what sounded like utter chaos, with heavy running footsteps, yelling, and a tiny battle cry. Hannah opened the door, barely mussed from the mad dash.

 

“Hey cutie,” she greeted, “He’s almost ready.”

 

“Thanks. You look nice.”

 

“Oh thank you sweetheart, you too.” She glanced back distractedly.

 

Francis was a few paces behind, trying to shake off Grace. Grace giggled maniacally, clinging to his leg like she was riding a bull. He gave Hannah an exasperated glare and she smirked.

 

“Back off, back off, back off! ” Joseph called as he thundered down the stairs, hastily zipping up his jacket.

 

“We’re not doing anything!” Hannah protested.

 

“ Yet! ” He tripped and braced himself against the wall, then went to grab his shoes.

 

Hannah rolled her eyes, “Just keep him away from the nuns, alright?”

 

“Hannah!”

 

“And closets.”

 

“ Francis! ”

 

“And nuns in closets!”

 

“Grace Bethany, I can ground you .”

 

Grace let go of Francis, rolled, and then stood up, “Alright, time to find some black gold.”

 

Francis and Hannah exchanged a glance, but neither of them informed her that black gold meant a completely different natural resource.

 

Joseph kissed both of his spouses goodbye and Belle found the difference in their outfits amusing. With long overcoats, leather gloves and stylish boots, Hannah and Francis looked like a pair of centuries-old vampires embracing a more modern fashion. Joseph and Grace, in their puffy corduroy jackets, practical jeans and boots, looked like their blue-collar farmer familiars. After a “big big” hug to Grace, Joseph shuffled Belle away as quickly as he could, even as Francis called out his curfew was ten o’clock sharp and Hannah reminded him to use protection. 

 

“Your giggling is only going to encourage them,” he groused as they slid into the SUV.

 

“It’s cute though,” Belle insisted.

 

“It’s not. I’m a grown man, I don’t need to be reminded that they expect me home at a certain time.” If he didn’t think their fussing was cute, then Belle was definitely not going to point out how cute she found him when he was flustered. Red as he was, he didn't need a coat. 

 

“Does Hannah ever look anything less than gorgeous?” She wondered idly.

 

Joseph gave her a quick, perplexed glance and she supposed it was an odd subject change. The image of Hannah’s cherry red lips and white peacoat had just stuck with her for some reason, a sort of timeless beauty about her.

 

“Well when she’s covered in blood, I don’t tend to find her that attractive,” Joseph said, “...then again I think Francis would argue that’s when she’s at her most attractive.”

 

A short drive later, they found a parking spot, walking the short distance to the festivities. She slid her arm into his and he jerked back as if startled.

 

“You don’t want to link arms?” Belle asked.

 

“It’s not that, I just…” He glanced around at the other citizens milling about, faces they both saw nearly every day. 

 

Belle sighed, “I’m starting to think you’re embarrassed being seen with m-”

 

“No!” He quickly insisted, “I…I just…”

 

“You just need to relax,” she decided, tugging him towards the booths, “Maybe a coal lump brownie would help.”

 

The chunky chocolatey Miner’s Day staple didn’t help but the longer they walked around, the more Joseph’s tension eased. Yes, people were looking at them, possibly even talking about them, but they were mostly left alone about their first public appearance. The one exception, of course, was the Lucases; Ruby gushed about how adorable they looked together and how it was about time , while Granny made him promise to treat her right and hinted at the fact she had a weapon “just in case”. Ruby had confided in Belle long ago that she wasn’t even sure the antique crossbow worked, but Belle had never wanted to provoke the elder Lucas regardless.

 

It was a silly thing, but it still warmed Belle’s heart to see Joseph interact with the town. Belle had loathed to be in public with Gaston, his arrogance or pigheadedness causing a scene more often than not. But Joseph… He was so deeply kind towards others. He listened; he remembered. He weighed Belle’s purse down with trinkets from just about every booth because the vendors had worked hard and deserved to have at least one sale, he reasoned.

 

I love him.

 

It was not a shock; perhaps the timing was a bit odd as Joseph was only standing there, listening to Miss Ginger go on and on about whatever she felt like complaining about today. Maybe Belle had loved him for weeks; maybe this was the actual point that fondness turned into something more. But it was the least surprising development to date; who could not fall in love with a man like Joseph? She just…had to figure out what that meant. Did he love her? Would Hannah and Francis be happier that she loved him, or feel more threatened? She didn’t know but she also wasn’t about to rush into telling anyone this new development. Not so soon after they were officially dating.

 

…were they even a couple?

 

They made their leisurely stroll amongst the booths, occasionally spotting Hannah and Francis or hearing Grace’s unique excited shriek from the kids area. The other couple didn’t seem to hover as much as Belle assumed they would, which either meant they were given space or they were being particularly stealthy with their stalking. Once, she heard Hannah’s distinct giggle, and looked over to see Francis’ arms around her, trying to steal a kiss while his mouth was coated with the dark syrup of a “coal dust” snow cone (or black licorice flavoring, equally disgusting as actual coat dust in Belle’s opinion). It was so…normal. Exactly the sort of small moment that a love story was made up of. She realized she was staring and glanced at Joseph, who had been watching with a soft smile on his face. He glanced back at her, then quickly away, flustered. 

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m supposed to be bitter, right?” He said and for a moment Belle had no idea what he was talking about, “But…he’s my brother, and she was my first love. I want them to be happy… Because I still care about them.”

 

“I think that’s very sweet of you,” she said, “Wanting that for them, it’s healthier.”

 

He shrugged, “Hard to seize your future if you’re still hanging on to the past.”

 

She wondered if he was saying that in general, or if he was thinking about his own past with them. Maybe he was even thinking about her past, the way he was watching for her reaction. There was very little she felt she was holding onto; her parents would always be in her heart but as far as Gaston? She was only too happy to forget those wasted years. Before she could settle on exactly what he was thinking, she realized his thoughts had moved on. His hand, which seemed to be moving towards her face, dropped down to fix her perfectly straight scarf. His jaw clenched and she could practically hear the self-criticism running through his head.

 

Belle reached up to touch his cheek and she wished she wasn’t wearing gloves. He met her gaze with the same baffled expression she had seen him wear before, as if he couldn’t understand why she’d bother with him.

 

Maybe now’s the moment , she thought and she leaned closer.

 

Joseph looked past her and immediately started scrambling, “Shit, fuck, she found the candle booth.”

 

Belle’s disappointment was temporary as she whirled around, rushing to keep up. It seemed a pretty innocuous scene to her; Hannah was just talking to Astrid with Francis beside her. The conversation didn’t even sound that bad once they got closer.

 

“-so there’s like no additives, right? Scents, colors, that kind of stuff?”

 

“Nope! Just straight wax.”

 

“And what kind of wax is that?”

 

“Hang on,” Astrid pulled out a sales flyer and quickly examined it, “...100% soy.”

 

“Peeeeeerfect, we’ll take a case.”

 

“Helena!”

 

She turned at the sound of her pseudonym and grinned, “Hey hon, you want me to order some candles for you and Belle too?”

 

“No! No candles for you either!”

 

Hannah folded her arms, blue eyes bright with scheming, “I don’t think you get a say in that anymore. You don’t want me to buy candles to help support the Sisters of Saint Meissa?”

 

Francis’ attention flicked between the pair as Joseph struggled to come up with an answer, and Belle could picture Francis munching on a bag of popcorn while watching whatever this confrontation was. She was taken aback both by the amount and Joseph’s vehement response against it. How many candles could they possibly use, even in their immortal lives?

 

“Are you planning a party or something?” Belle asked.

 

Hannah smirked, squinting in an “oh you sweet summer child” way, “Of a sort. You can come over some time and I can show you what they’re for.” She pulled out her wallet and credit card, “Unless Caleb wants to.”

 

“ Helena !”

 

The pair of them looked very pleased with themselves and slowly, Belle realized exactly what they would be used for. Hannah winked at her and she felt like she had one of those candles lit inside her coat. 

 

“Can’t leave them alone for a single night,” he grumbled as he led Belle away.

 

She was quiet for several strides, trying to recover, “So you…like…wax play?”

 

Joseph took so long to respond she thought he wasn’t going to answer, “...yeah.”

 

“That’s cool.”

 

“...actually it’s quite warm.”

 

He tried to hide his smile, which made Belle smile and nudge him playfully. He nudged her back, and wrapped an arm around her waist. 

 

Grace had apparently convinced several of her friends to take a break from the kid’s activities to cheer on Ari’s band like mini-groupies. It was adorable and clearly the redhead was loving the rock star treatment. They paused to watch and listen a fair distance away from the crowd. 

 

“The vocalist is great,” Joseph said.

 

“Yeah, problem is she knows it,” Belle joked.

 

Ari waved at Grace, who pretended to faint, and the pair of them laughed at the silliness. Joseph wrapped his other arm around Belle, holding her in front of him.

 

“Makes it all worth it, hm?” She guessed, “Letting Grace have some semblance of normal?”

 

“Yeah but…not just that.”

 

Belle turned to face him as the crowd applauded (and Grace screamed her head off). He kept trying to meet her eye, but just as soon as he managed he would have to break the contact. A new slower song started, and Belle rested her hands on his shoulders.

 

“...you’re worth it too,” he mumbled.

 

She swayed back and forth and Joseph frowned, confused. 

 

“You never learned how to slow dance?” 

 

“What, in seminary school?”

 

“I don’t know, I thought maybe Helena…”

 

He shook his head, “They haven’t taught me everything under the sun.”

 

She took each of his hands, placing them on her hips, and then demonstrated how one typically slow danced. He followed her lead, swaying in time to the music with her. For a minute they were silent, simply basking in the quiet easy moment.

 

Joseph did a quick survey of the area, then took a deep breath, “Hannah… There was a cave, a crystal cave, in Nevada she took me to… And I, I asked her if she and Francis had been there before… And she said no.”

 

Belle found herself playing with his hair. He was trembling but at the very least, she didn’t think he was going to cry.

 

“It was something just for us,” he clarified, “Something new… I have new stuff with Francis too, just for us. And there’s still a lot I don’t know or haven’t done… A lot of potential firsts.”

 

One of her hands went to cup his face. With another deep breath, he forced himself to meet her gaze.

 

“I’d like to have some of those firsts with you,” he said, “Just for us. Something… Belle I don’t think I have the strength anymore to just be your friend.”

 

Her heart swelled with Ari’s voice. He leaned down a bit. She leaned up a bit.

 

“I guess I’ll just have to be your girlfriend then.”

 

For a brief instance, all she saw were the string lights outlining Joseph, all she felt was his hands moving from her hips to cradle her head. She closed her eyes and met his lips halfway. Belle’s heart skyrocketed out of her chest, up into the night air, up into the clouds. For one blissful, perfect second, she was kissing the man she loved.

 

And then she heard a squeal.

 

They both broke away and spotted the source instantly. Hannah’s hand was clapped over her mouth and Francis was quickly distancing himself from her. Hannah darted off in the opposite direction, as if getting out of sight meant they wouldn’t know their intimate moment had been observed. 

 

“Fucking hell,” Joseph muttered, hiding his face in Belle’s shoulder.

 

Blushing but still high off the moment, she glanced back towards the stage. Grace was the only one facing their direction, and there was a look of absolute smugness on her face that was thankfully much cuter than when it was on Francis’.

Chapter 8: Second Meeting

Summary:

(Text conversation during AA meeting)

Francis: 🐑👴🐺⁉️ 🥺
Hannah: 🙄🙅🤡
Francis: 🥺 🔪🔪🧔
Hannah: 🙅
Francis: 🤬

It was impossible to have a constructive conversation about the escalating relationship with Belle without his spouses launching into half a dozen refrains of “Joseph and Belle, sitting in a tree, F-U-C-K-I-N-G”. 

 

Joseph guessed it was better than flying into a murderous rage, but only barely. 

 

Oh he didn't remember much of the rest of the night; probably shouldn't have driven home, as intoxicated as he was. Instead of hiding in the car he paced the backyard, for once being the one who needed to burn energy. Belle was his girlfriend. He was Belle's boyfriend. Belle was his girlfriend . 

 

He was impossibly lucky. Maybe he should play the lottery, with all this luck. Two wonderful spouses, a wonderful daughter, and now a wonderful girlfriend .

 

He didn't turn in until close to midnight, Hannah and Francis amused watching his excitement. He crashed hard once he was snugly between them, warm and content and perfect .

 

…then he woke up, sober. Foolish, greedy, acting as if this was the first time he'd been in love-

 

… love?! Where the hell had that word come from?!?!

 

A small mercy was that Hannah and Francis did seem less sullen, and might actually be getting used to him and Belle. Or they decided tormenting him about his feelings like they were in grade school was a better way to vent their feelings. The only thing that had raised Hannah's hackles was Grace's new song, “Gonna Have Two Mommies and Two Daddies”. Joseph made sure on the drive to school to let her know that there was nothing definitive, that it had been one kiss and dating was about seeing if a relationship would work.

 

“It will,” Grace said with complete confidence, her smug expression far too much like Francis' for his liking.

 

Saturday came around, and Francis volunteered to help bring the coffee maker again. This time it felt a lot less like him supporting Joseph and more finding an excuse to run into Killian. Joseph's suspicions were confirmed as Francis lingered, watching the door.

 

“I'm going to leave you home next time,” Joseph threatened.

 

“Can't. Coffee brewer's too heavy,” he said confidently.

 

“Hannah will help me.”

 

“And then you’ll have twice the trouble.”

 

“I'm not sure he's her type.”

 

“Great asses in tight leather is universal. You’d know that, if you’d…” He trailed off, glancing towards the door.

 

A minute later Leroy shuffled in, giving the same taken aback reaction Joseph was used to seeing when he was standing next to Francis, “...that's freaky, you two could almost be twins.”

 

Francis smiled, “Except the facial hair?”

 

“Except there's, like, fifteen years between you two. Your poor mom probably thought she was long done.”

 

Francis stilled, in his careful way not to let his true feelings show. When he spoke though, it was softly.

 

“I'm not that much younger.”

 

Leroy glanced at Joseph, frowning as he sensed he’d set off a trigger, “Probably not, I’m bad with ages. Can't tell a fifty year old from a twenty year old.”

 

“Should get your eyes checked,” Francis muttered before swiftly making his exit.

 

Leroy watched him leave, waiting until he’d be out of a normal person's hearing range, “Sorry, I guess?”

 

“It's fine, just a sore subject,” Joseph explained, before giving a conspiratorial smirk, “Think he's just jealous I'm turning into an early silver fox.”

 

Leroy smirked right back, “Yeah I saw you at the festival, cozying up to Belle.” His face fell, “You better not hurt her.”

 

“I don't plan to.”

 

Where were these people when she was with Gaston? Why hadn't they threatened him, and followed through with such threats? Maybe if they were true friends she wouldn't have had to wait for cannibals to do something about her misery.

 

Like last week, Leroy and he had settled with their cups by the time Killian strolled in.

 

“Where are the cookies?” He immediately asked.

 

“No cookies this week. Someone stole the whole bunch last time,” Joseph explained.

 

“Well why should we suffer because some bloke lacked common decency?”

 

Leroy scowled, and Joseph contemplated where on the disappearance spectrum Killian Jones had ended up. He doubted Francis would need much convincing…

 

Killian flopped down into his chair and sprawled out, “Right, what are we pissing and moaning about today?”

 

Joseph shrugged, “I suppose whatever topic interests the two of you.”

 

“Shouldn't you have some sort of plan?” Killian insisted, “12 steps and all that?”

 

“It's a support group,” he said, “I’m here to give support… Even to insufferable cookie thieves.”

 

Leroy bleated out a laugh. Killian gave Joseph a condescending smirk, but didn't have a smart remark to throw at him.

 

A long silence stretched between them, a silence Joseph vowed not to break. Eventually, Leroy sighed.

 

“Guess I’ll get this over with.” He held up his hand in a lazy wave, “I’m Leroy, in case you got a bump on the head and forgot. I’ve been sober for a whole damn day and it's the worst.”

 

Joseph smiled, nodding encouragingly. Leroy blew air through his lips, reminding him of an annoyed horse.

 

“Started awhile ago, as grabbing beers with the guys after our shift. You know, usual redblooded American man stuff. And that was it for a long time… Until the mines closed and we scrambled to find work. Then I was drinking because I was depressed, and bored. Forgot how to fall asleep without passing out. Now I’ve got this messed-up back that insurance won't fix and pain meds can only do so much for and it's like… What's the point?”

 

“Sorry you're going through that,” Joseph murmured.

 

“Eh, everyone's got their sob story,” he said dismissively, “I’m not here for sympathy, I’m here because… Somebody reminded me that there's at least one person out there who cares what happens to me… And I forgot that.”

 

“What's her name?”

 

Leroy and Joseph both looked at Killian and for the first time he was…serious. No cocky grin, no mocking raised eyebrow. 

 

Leroy bristled anyway, “Who said it was a she?”

 

“Maybe it's a he,” Killian allowed, “Though I don't get the sense your sailwind blows that way. Nothing motivates a man more than love.”

 

Leroy crushed his empty cup, “Doesn't matter, I’m never gonna be with her.”

 

“Not with that attitude,” Killian said, oddly gentle with his delivery.

 

“Not with any attitude, she's taken.”

 

“ Happily taken?” 

 

Leroy hesitated. Killian waved his hook in a “there you go” fashion. Leroy glanced at Joseph, a brief shimmer in his dark eyes.

 

“You really think she’d quit for me?”

 

Joseph recalled the smile on Sister Astrid's face as she spoke Leroy's name, “I think so… But only if you quit for her.”

 

“Well I ain't here to play tea party with you gents,” he insisted, and Joseph saw the fire inside the other man flare up.

 

Belle returned from work and to her surprise, was immediately greeted by Audrey running towards her screaming her head off.

 

“Alright, calm down Dee, I’ll get you some more food.”

 

But instead of towards her food dish or the pantry, Audrey sprinted towards the back door, pawing desperately at the glass. Belle would have been terrified of her intense reaction if a familiar face wasn't looking in.

 

“Freddi sweetie!” Belle threw the door open and Audrey darted out to rub up against her muddy legs, “What are you doing over here?!”

 

Freddi's tail whipped back and forth, looking more apologetic than in danger. She wasn't hurt but she was covered in mud, the rain from this morning making her a dirty brown instead of her usual red copper. 

 

Belle went along the length of the fence. Sure enough, towards the far right corner and what would be right behind the sex dungeon on the other side, was a deep hole. Joseph had never mentioned any penchant for digging and with the cold weather and her arthritis… This could've taken Freddi weeks to chip away at. Why?

 

But clearly the answer was right in front of her, Audrey weaving between her legs and Freddi nudging her gently with her muzzle. Juliet had found her way to Romeo.

 

It took plenty of coaxing to get darling Freddi to come inside, and she stepped as delicately as she could manage while Belle led her up to the bathroom. Audrey loudly tried to keep Freddi's attention on her at all times, and every time Freddi glanced at the little furball her tail would start going again. 

 

She started running a bath while researching substitutes for dog shampoo. It seemed as though if she diluted her own shampoo and made sure it didn't have anything toxic to dogs, that would do in a pinch. She expected a struggle but with a little help, Freddi went into the warm water without a fuss.

 

Then Belle squeaked in surprise as Audrey basically cannon-balled in; the first, perhaps only instance, of her voluntarily getting wet. Looking absolutely pathetic as she lost all her fur’s volume, Audrey only had eyes for Freddi. Belle rolled up her sleeves and set to work on cleaning the dog up.

 

“You know, you could have just asked Joseph to bring you over here,” she teased.

 

It was difficult to even pretend to be upset with her big puppy eyes gazing up at her, licking her chin gratefully.

 

Belle had initially intended to just use a towel to dry Freddi off but when she brought the blow dryer out for Audrey, Freddi's tail thumped excitedly. Belle liked to imagine Joseph fussing over her, combing out her fur and trimming her nails like a doggy spa day. Though Belle didn't go quite that far, she did cut up a raw chicken breast to split between the lovers.

 

It was only when she heard a knock at the door that she realized her mistake. Her heart sank as she went to answer it, and she felt like garbage seeing Joseph's distraught expression.

 

“Have you seen Freddi?” He begged, “They think she got loose when Grace took her out earlier, but haven't found where yet.”

 

Belle flinched, “Yeah I, uh, I have her,” she confessed.

 

Joseph's shoulders dropped as he smiled in relief, “Thank God. I knew she wouldn't have gone far, but it's so unlike her to pull an escape.”

 

“I think I can show you the reason, but you have to promise not to make fun of me.”

 

Intrigued, Joseph nodded.

 

Belle sheepishly took him into the living room, where she had laid a blanket over the couch. Freddi was sprawled out over top of it, contently watching the beginning of “Lady and the Tramp”, and Audrey was curled up on top of her, ready to sleep through the movie.

 

“I think our pets are in love,” she said.

 

“Sure looks like it,” Joseph agreed, “I can't just take her home now.”

 

“Well she's free to stay as long as she likes, and you are too,” Belle added shyly.

 

Joseph took out his phone and snapped a picture of the furry lovers, “I think this’ll be a good enough excuse for them.”

 

They ended up on the other end of the couch, sharing a bowl of popcorn and restarting the movie as Joseph had never seen it before. Belle curled up into his side, reading over his shoulder the group chat discussion of this afternoon's debacle. Apparently they had not noticed the growing hole because of some strategically placed outside toys and garden equipment and, even more damning, one of Francis' ladles had been found in the hole itself.

 

Grace's plea of “not guilty” was falling on deaf ears, as was her insistence they were “bigots getting in the way of true love”. So she was getting privileges taken away for a bit, and talk of her own pet had been delayed. 

 

Joseph's arm around her, head resting on his chest, Belle didn't realize she had fallen asleep until Audrey's hiss woke her up.

 

“Oh quit it, you,” Hannah grumbled back, “...shit, she's awake.”

 

Belle glanced around, disoriented. It was much darker than when the movie had started, and now it was on some documentary Joseph had been watching. She looked up at Hannah, then at Joseph questioningly.

 

“Sorry,” he muttered, “I asked her to come over to get you tucked in. I can't carry you myself and I…I really need to use the restroom.”

 

Belle gave a tired smile, “Sorry, you should've woken me.”

 

“Couldn't bring myself to do it,” he admitted.

 

Hannah slipped her arms underneath Belle and pliant as a sleepy toddler, she stayed slack in her hold.

 

“See you later, Belle,” Joseph said, shaking out his no-doubt numb arm. 

 

It didn't strike her fully until the next day, how odd it was. Someone roughly the same size as herself had carried her up a flight of stairs effortlessly and tucked her in beneath the covers like a child. It felt nice, to stay in that half-awake limbo, to trust all was well and she could go back to sleep.

 

Even the kiss on her temple felt nice, though the next day she'd wonder why Hannah had done that. Maternal instinct? Who could tell.

Chapter 9: Hannah Finds a New Purpose

Summary:

Flyer on Storybrooke Elementary bulletin board: "Looking to make a difference? Want to be involved with your child's school life? Storybrooke PTA is currently recruiting parents for a wide range of volunteering opportunities! Contact Regina at 555-123-4567 or Mary Margaret at [email protected] for more details."

The sky had not fallen. The End of Days had not arrived. Joseph did not receive True Love’s Kiss from Belle and packed all his and Grace's things to run off with her.

 

Joseph had a girlfriend and…that was that. The big change? He was happier, and occasionally left for a few hours to be with Belle. Oh, and a slight uptick in libido, but Hannah wasn't counting on that being permanent. Just until they got to that step.

 

She was proud of herself, to be honest. Shameful as it was, Joseph's happiness had not always been the priority. His well being had been, and happiness sometimes had to take a backseat to that. Hannah was truly glad to see him light up… Even if it was thanks to another woman. 

 

Really she should've known better, trusted better… But her and Ives hadn't made it this far without a decent amount of pessimism. And their early days of poly… It'd been a fucking bloodbath as they learned and grew and solidified that abso-fucking-loutely nothing was coming between them. The fear of Joseph getting swept up in new relationship energy, the fear that the jealousy would be too much for her or Francis to handle… 

 

…but either they had taught him their learned lessons well, or it was just another example of him being a better fucking person. Joseph had always been an open book, his few secrets innocuous. He was honest and trustworthy and so fucking sweet … The reasons they loved him were the very reasons he could handle this balancing act. 

 

And it helped Hannah at least that Belle was equally sweet. The transformation in that girl… Love looked good on her. Even Francis couldn't deny the way she looked at Joseph. Yeah, there was some melancholy watching them as a couple, but Hannah and Francis were both giant saps at their core, even if Francis was doing his Protector of the Family bullshit. Joseph and Belle were just two pure cuties being cute together.

 

Francis had brought home enough questionable women for Hannah to recognize a homewrecker. Since the Grand Revelation, there hadn't been another peep from Belle suggesting Joseph needed to “stand up to them” or that they were “toxic”. She'd found new things to criticize them for but now, instead of  glaring at her and looking like she wished Hannah would drop dead, Belle smiled and…actually looked happy to see her.

 

And didn't that just make Hannah's cold heart flutter a bit.

 

She was trying to figure out what the opposite of a homewrecker would be called (homebuilder? familymaker?) when Joseph's alarm went off. He whimpered and cuddled closer to Hannah, muttering something into the pillow.

 

“What's that, hon?”

 

He turned his head to the side, “I said if you let me sleep in, and take Grace to school, I’ll let you have your way with me.”

 

Hannah sprang upright like a jackknife, “Sold.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Um, excuse me?” Francis stepped out of the closet, buttoning his cuffs, “Why was I not offered this deal?”

 

“Because you’ve gotta go be the breadwinner like the stud you are,” Hannah explained as she rolled out of bed.

 

“I don't think the boss would mind if I were late,” he protested.

 

“You keep being late, you're gonna get fired,” she teased, kissing him on the way to the closet. He whirled around for an ass grab but Hannah dodged him, smirking.

 

He’d get his turn soon enough.

 

Hannah chewed over the possibilities as she got herself ready and drove Grace to school. They could try out those holy candles, see if she could get him to say his prayers… But a fucked-up part of her wanted to wait and see if and when Belle would take her up on her offer. She had certainly seemed interested, and it didn't have to be a sex thing… Would she be as sensitive as Joseph to the hot wax, and would her little noises be just as musical?

 

“Do you have a minute?”

 

Hannah was drawn out of her daydreaming and she turned towards the backseat, “Course Grace, what's up?”

 

She gave an uncharacteristically shy smile, “My art got put up in the hallway and I wanted to show you.”

 

Hannah put the car in park and turned the engine off, “I would love to see that!”

 

For such a small town there certainly were a lot of children… Or maybe since her homeschool had less than ten students it just seemed really big to her. All the kiddies rushing around made her anxious but seeing some of them wave at Grace, greet Grace, treat her like a normal little girl despite a few hiccups…

 

Her baby was gonna be alright. 

 

Showing her the painting she’d done of Audrey turned into showing her her desk, which turned into introducing her to her friends and teacher (Mrs. Hubbard graciously didn't bring up that they had already met over The Penciling). The bell rang and Grace gave her a tight goodbye hug before she left.

 

Hannah slipped into the (literally) little girl's room and went into one of the stalls to compose herself. It was just too much sometimes, her love and pride for Grace. And sometimes, when those feelings came up, she wondered how she as a psychopath could care more about her daughter than her own goddamn mother had cared about her.

 

Maybe Mama had been a psychopath too, but instead of violence, she’d just gotten off on control and misery.

 

And maybe, by the time Grace had her own babies, the du Bois poison would be out of their vein of the bloodline.

 

When she was confident she wasn't going to cry, she stepped back out, wandering the now empty hall. She wasn't even sure she'd been in an elementary school before (well, again, besides The Penciling). She dragged her feet, admiring the handiwork of other classes and students, mildly fascinated by the mundane details of a public student's life.

 

A bulletin board posted near the front office was the last excuse she had to dally. There were several announcements for upcoming school events, general reminders of policies and…a call for parent volunteers. She’d heard of a PTA before, usually in derogatory terms, and as far as she figured it was the academic equivalent to an HOA. She worried her lip. But like, any group of volunteers could get nasty, but for the most part people who were there-

 

“Can I help you?”

 

Hannah glanced towards a woman that looked exactly like someone would picture when thinking of an elementary school teacher. Fluffy cardigan, soft features, a kind smile and an energy that screamed “I give the best warm hugs”. She was holding a bundle of copies; Hannah could smell the fresh ink.

 

“I was just looking around a bit,” she replied, “My daughter wanted to show me her classroom and, well, I got distracted finding my way out.”

 

“Oh, I was… Hoping you were trying to figure out how to volunteer,” she admitted.

 

Internally, Hannah perked up, “Y’all that low on volunteers? I would think there’d be a couple dozen moms lined up every time there's an opportunity.”

 

The woman smiled, but it was more like a polite baring of teeth, “We’ve had a high turnover as of late…”

 

“Say no more, I thought I heard the Game of Thrones theme.” Hannah joked, “It's always the buttholes who ruin things, huh?”

 

She covered her mouth, stifling a laugh, “Well there's a meeting next Tuesday if you're brave enough.” She then extended her hand, “I’m Mrs. Nolan, by the way.”

 

Hannah shook it, “Helena MacAvoy.”

 

“Your eyes… Any relation to Belle French?”

 

She shook her head, “Don't think so, unless Daddy took a trip Mama didn't know about.”

 

…shit, with the age gap it’d be more like one of her brothers, though thankfully she was pretty sure the furthest south they ever got was the Florida Keys.

 

Hannah played with the idea over the next few days, weighing the pros and cons in advance. There were a few big cons but Hannah’s heart insisted she could figure out her way around them. Still, it wasn’t just up to her, and she knew at least one of them was likely to burst her bubble.

 

As necessary as Francis checking her blind spots was, it was still a little disheartening to think of him rejecting her idea, no matter how reasonable. It was just…she’d really gotten her hopes up for this to work out. 

 

“Anything else?” Joseph asked as they prepared to wrap up their weekly check-in.

 

Hannah took a deep breath and braced herself, “The school’s PTA’s looking for volunteers to fill out their roster or whatever. I was thinking of going to the meeting on Tuesday, check it out.”

 

Joseph beamed, “That sounds great. It’d be perfect for you, working with kids.”

 

She watched Francis, who was quietly processing the idea. Joseph looked at him, at first mildly offended he hadn't given her immediate support, then considered why.

 

“Can't be any more risky than anything else we’ve been doing,” he insisted, “Would there even be a background check?”

 

“Not the problem.” Hannah sighed, “...Regina’s the president of the PTA.” 

 

“ While being the mayor and a single parent?” Joseph asked, taken aback.

 

“All about optics, sweetie, and the power-hungry only get hungrier.” She did feel for Henry, though, poor kid.

 

Francis pursed his lips, “My main concern is whether you’ll spontaneously combust holding in that many curses.”

 

“Fuck you in all seven of your fucking holes, I can fucking manage.”

 

Francis blinked, then shrugged, “Well it is public school, I suppose.” He jotted down a synopsis of the discussion in his notes, “I’d like to think it over a bit, make sure we're not missing anything.”

 

Hannah nodded, then moved on to more pertinent matters, “Alright, what position tonight, boys?”

 

And would sweet baby Joseph ever stop blushing when she asked that? She hoped not, it was adorable.

 

She tried to think of anything else she was missing but Joseph was right; long as she kept her temper in check, this was no more risky than running a business or starting up a support group. And what was the worst Regina could throw at her? Saying she wasn't a good mom? Suggesting Grace bonding with Belle was her desire for a different mother? Fucking straw men coming from that bitch, and that was if Regina and her actually interacted.

 

Hannah would keep her head down, sit in the back, not cause a stir and sign up for what they needed help with if she could. And if the temptation came, she’d just picture Grace's angelic squishy face to calm her back down.

 

After spending some time at home with Joseph the next day, she went to the antiques shop. She wasn't sure how Francis handled being cooped up for hours in there with all the musty old smells, but she guessed it was an interesting bouquet. Also he was a fucking antique, so maybe the mustiness smelled like home.

 

She tiptoed up behind him and looked over his shoulder at the laptop screen, “Whatcha up to?”

 

“Oh, messing about with deep fake technology,” he said, navigating away from whatever tool he was using, “Scary stuff, but it could be quite the boon to us. Security footage tweaks and whatnot.”

 

“Nice.”

 

He opened up a short clip to show her, “Look what Joseph did.”

 

What followed was a pornographic video of something Joseph would never in a thousand years do.

 

“That's hot,” Hannah complimented, then smacked his shoulder, “But also stop that, you know he’d fucking hate this.”

 

“It's for my own amusement,” he insisted, closing the laptop and turning to face her, “You should go to the meeting tomorrow.”

 

Hannah's heart rose in her chest, “You think so?”

 

“Yeah,” he leaned back in the desk chair, “I know it wasn't the original plan to be involved with Storybrooke but… Here we are. And the goal is to give Grace stability and socialization so… We need to grow roots, too.”

 

Hannah bristled at the word and Francis frowned sympathetically. Roots were a thing to trip over… But he was right. Outsiders were the first suspects and while Joseph and Grace were doing the heavy lifting of getting involved with the community… Her and Francis had to do their part too.

 

Even if they’d prefer to eat most people rather than interact with them.

 

“You're not worried I'm just gonna go apeshit and rip Regina's head off?”

 

He chuckled, going to grip the back of her thighs, “Hiero, Hiero, Hiero… I’m offended you think so little of what I think of you.” He drew her into his lap and she straddled him, melting at the pet name. His hands traveled upwards, cupping her ass, “My deadliest assassin in the world knows how to control herself… When it counts.”

 

She threaded her fingers through his hair, nails scraping his scalp as she pressed against him, “And when it doesn't?”

 

He simply smirked.

 

It was one thing to hear a glass set shatter; it was quite another thing to hear what sounded like an entire shelving case fall over. Belle frowned, sliding a bookmark in and moving towards the shared wall. There was a lot of thudding, occasional crashing and it did not sound like Francis was alone.

 

Out the door before she had any idea what she could do if he was in trouble, she rounded the front until she came to the side of the antiques shop. The shade was down, leaving only a silhouette of the confrontation. Francis was throwing someone against the wall. Belle tried the handle but it was locked and, despite the cacophony, apparently that small noise was enough to interrupt.

 

Belle stood frozen as the other person was released and headed her way. She wasn't sure if it was a relief or even more mortifying when Hannah opened the door. Her shirt was half torn open, hair mussed and a trickle of blood coming from one corner of her mouth. She giggled, the sound more haunting with her darkened eyes.

 

“Sorry hon, we got a little carried away. Not used to having neighbors.” She giggled again, “We’ll try to keep it down.”

 

Belle's eyes went from her pale neck down to the exposed top of her breast, fresh teeth indentations already leaving a bruise. Hannah tugged her ripped top over it.

 

“You can watch if you like,” she teased.

 

Belle hesitated.

 

Belle…hesitated…

 

Belle … hesitated .

 

“No ah, you enjoy yourselves,” she stuttered once her brain started working again.

 

Hannah smirked, kissed her cheek, then shut and relocked the door. Belle stumbled back to her shop, mind spinning from those mad couple of minutes.

 

True to her word, they kept it down and Belle…tried far harder than she should have to make sure she didn't hear anything. 

 

“Are you okay?” Were the first words out of Joseph's mouth when he came for his daily tea.

 

Belle winced, “I’m fine just…shellshocked,” she glanced around but no one else was in the store, “I…walked in on Hannah and Francis.”

 

Joseph scowled, “Did they forget to lock the door again?!”

 

Belle snorted, “No, there was just…a lot of noise. I was worried there was an altercation.”

 

“That's kind of you but the last thing you should be doing is going towards either of them mid-altercation.” He took one of her hands in both of his, “Was there yelling?”

 

Belle considered, “...no.”

 

“Yeah then it's not a fight, it's foreplay.” He played with her fingers, and Belle's breathing hitched, “Took me a bit to figure that out. Sorry, is this bothering you?”

 

Belle shook her head, “No, it's nice.” And that was the problem, along with the fact she couldn't get the earlier scene out of her mind.

 

She wondered if Joseph ever got that passionate, in the heat of the moment, to pin them against the wall.

Chapter 10: Exchange

Summary:

Gonna be honest, this chapter's just a bunch of random conversations. Not even long enough to be a filler episode.

“Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow” was a nice sentiment but, like most words of wisdom, more difficult in practice than in theory.

 

It wasn’t even a particularly brave thing she was doing. Still, Belle’s heart pounded as she opened the antique store’s door, muting the sound of the bell above it. Quickly, quietly, she approached the register, set down what she meant to bring over, and turned to hurry away. 

 

“Not even going to say “hello”?”

 

Damn. Belle sighed and turned back to see Francis stepping out from the curtain that divided the back room from the shop. 

 

“I didn’t want to bother you, seeing how…yesterday…” She didn’t need to explain further.

 

He smirked, obviously quite proud of being caught in the act. He wandered towards the gift, examining it like one might a landmine they weren’t sure was functional or not.

 

“What’s this?”

 

“Something I had a few copies of gathering dust.” He picked it up, examining the front and back covers, “It’s a bit dense but it’s the most thorough history of the Storybrooke mines you’ll find.”

 

“Why are you giving me this?”

 

“Because I noticed you spending a lot of time at the information booths during the Miner’s Day Festival, thought it might interest you.”

 

He studied her and even now, in public, on the other side of the room and with the promise she was safe… She wanted to run. Worse than that, she couldn’t hide her pounding heart, her tense muscles, and his smirk warned her he was well aware how scared she still was to be alone with him. She was always on the brink of running away from him, and he was always on the brink of chasing her down.

 

He set the book back down, “You’d be surprised how rare it is for someone to clock Hannah or I,” he mused, “We’re quite charming, know how to put on a good face. I’d say not even Joseph suspected but, bless his heart, he’s not wary of others at all. You on the other hand… You had my number pretty quick, didn’t you?”

 

“The home invasion was a dead giveaway,” Belle said dryly, “And the fact you kept staring at me like I was a piece of meat.”

 

Francis chuckled softly, “I suppose. You should consider wearing perfume.”

 

Belle considered vomiting, then taking back her book, then vomiting again, “Why, having difficulty controlling yourself?”

 

He grinned, “Oh no, just if you wanted to be courteous. You wouldn’t much like it if you could smell fresh bread from the bakery right before lunch, would you?”

 

“Go to hell.” She spun on her heel, ready to storm out.

 

“One thing I was curious about, before I go to hell?” Belle didn’t turn around but she stopped, waiting. “I noticed yesterday you spent an unnecessarily long time looking at Hannah’s breast. I’ve been wondering what you were staring at; the bite mark, or her exposed body?”

 

She continued on her way without dignifying him with a response, her cheeks burning. It had been a mistake to think he could be anything but a beast towards her. 

 

The next morning, a mysterious package was left in front of The Little Shop of Wonders. Belle eyed it like a decapitated horse head but when she picked it up, it was the weight and size she’d expect of an older hardcover. She took it inside, unwrapped the brown paper exterior…and immediately went over to Mr. Gold’s.

 

“What is this about?” She asked, holding the book up.

 

Francis turned from the display light he was flicking on and smirked, “Well correct me if I’m wrong but I believe it's the tale of two sisters who, after the passing of their father-”

 

“I mean why did you give this to me?”

 

He shrugged, “Quid pro quo, Clarice. You gave me something, I give you something back, as I have no intention to be indebted to you. Why, do you already have that edition?”

 

Of course she didn't have the 1907 copy of “Sense and Sensibility” just lying around. “You know, sometimes people do things out of the goodness of their heart and don't expect anything in return.”

 

“I'm aware of the existence of such suckers,” he assured her, “They make for easy targets.”

 

“Why are you playing this game?” Belle asked in frustration, “You're not fooling me, I’ve seen there's more to you than this.”

 

He grinned, spreading his arms out as he leaned forward, “It's simple really…” He paused for unnecessary dramatic effect, “...I get immense joy from fucking with people and you are incredibly easy to fuck with.”

 

She hated to admit it, but he had a point. He had ages of experience knowing exactly how to get under a person's skin and she…well in all honesty she could be reactive. She would have to figure out how to administer the oft-prescribed advice; don't react to the bully and they’ll get bored and, eventually, leave their victim alone.

 

Again, easily given, much more difficult to live by.

 

Despite the sour start, Hannah's cheeriness when she came in to Belle’s shop brightened the morning. She listened as the blonde recounted what she had learned about Storybrooke Elementary’s PTA, or more accurately about the people involved. She was surprised how much Hannah had intuited from a single meeting and how accurate she was, but again, it made sense for a prolific killer to be good at reading people.

 

“I made this for you while they were bickering about the book fair theme,” she announced, sliding over a ripped off bit of notebook paper.

 

It was a doodle with two stick people (one long haired curly, one short haired curly) kneeling in front of a short haired stick figure with an oddly detailed enormous phallus. On the other side of the page was a mustachioed stick figure with an equally detailed equally enormous phallus apparently stroking himself.

 

“...thank you?” Belle attempted to respond, “It's lovely, I think?”

 

“You can tear Francis off if you don't want him to watch,” Hannah offered, “It just didn't seem very realistic he wouldn't be peeping on Joseph getting a two-girl BJ.”

 

Belle tried to take the information as blase as possible, did her best not to visualize the crudely drawn scene… But she knew even before Hannah’s smirk that she wasn't hiding her reaction well.

 

“...it's something I’ve always wanted to try,” she confessed, her voice soft and low, “Thought it might be fun, yanno, teamwork . But you two are light-years away from that right now…”

 

Belle bit her lip, curiosity pushing her sense out of the way, “Have you ever…with Francis…?”

 

She shook her head, “Nah, Joseph's been our only threesome. Francis has shit taste in women and I’m…I struggle with female friendships…”

 

“Friendships?” Belle echoed.

 

Hannah nodded, “Just…never got the hang of it. I know it's cliche but guys are easy for the most part. Simple, one browser window at a time. Girls… Girls are so fucking complicated, they got like hundreds of tabs open at all times. A guy will call you ugly but a girl…they’ll devastate you with a single offhand comment that’ll haunt you the rest of your life because of how specific it is.”

 

“I'm sorry you’ve had such poor luck,” Belle said, “Maybe one of these nights you can come out with me and Ruby and whoever else she drags along. Her network’s full of really nice ladies.”

 

Hannah scowled, “She's the bitch who called Grace Baby Bundy.”

 

“I’ve talked to her about it. She's quite used to the taste of her foot in her mouth.”

 

The scowl did not relax. Belle reached across the counter and rested her hand over Hannah's, “You just need to give her a chance, like you gave me a chance.”

 

Hannah's cheeks suddenly went pink and she glanced up at Belle, looking…frightened.

 

“...I should go,” she mumbled and pulled away before Belle could figure out what had scared her.

 

“Hannah,” she called after her softly, but she was already out the door.

 

xXx

 

Freddi was refusing to move.

 

“Come on, sweetie,” Joseph coaxed, “I know that's where our girlfriends live, but we're not visiting them right now.”

 

His girlfriend… Belle was his girlfriend … It still thrilled him to think, even though it was rare for an opportunity to say it out loud. The guilt of adoring yet another person was becoming less and less, and his greediness didn't feel as much of a flaw as time went on. It was all different, but it was all wonderful, and he felt so incredibly blessed for all this love to give and receive.

 

…did he love Belle? He cared a lot about her to be sure, she was very dear to him, but love had such a strong connotation. And it would be his luck that, much like their first kiss, the moment he said it to her Hannah and Francis would jump out from behind some bushes.

 

…yes, he was fairly certain he loved Belle. The exact shade was what he wasn't sure of, and he wasn't about to tell her so early into their official relationship besides. They were taking their time, and Joseph was savoring each small milestone as they came up, getting the chance to marvel at every step instead of being pushed along hurriedly to the next one. 

 

He tugged on Freddi's leash but her arse remained planted right where the sidewalk met Belle’s walkway. She gave a few hoarse barks, out of practice as she was with raising her voice, before giving a low howl. She glanced up at him, wriggling in her “I’m sorry please forgive me” way.

 

“I understand, love,” he assured her, scratching behind her ear.

 

He went to text Belle, but Audrey beat him to it. She had no trouble being heard, yowling at the top of her lungs and thudding against the front door. He tried not to laugh as Belle's muffled voice attempted to quiet her, then as she opened the door and panicked.

 

“Audrey!” She shouted.

 

Audrey was past the point of listening though, galloping to Freddi. Freddi's tail thumped happily as Audrey collided into her, purring up a storm. 

 

Joseph looked to Belle and smiled, “Sorry, Freddi wanted to say hi before we went on our evening walk.”

 

Belle smiled back, “No need to be sorry, good excuse as any to see you.”

 

His cheeks warmed, “You're welcome to join us.”

 

Her smile widened, “Let me grab my coat and some shoes.”

 

The pair turned into two pairs; Belle on Joseph's left and Audrey on Freddi's right. He was concerned at first Audrey might panic and dart away at strange noises or the occasional passerby, but she was completely focused on Freddi, chattering to her while Freddi’s tail wagged non-stop.

 

“Is she indoor-outdoor?” He asked curiously.

 

Belle shook her head, “No. Once Papa took her in she never wanted to go outside again… Until she met Freddi.”

 

“She was your father's?”

 

“Well she bonded with him more,” Belle clarified, “We had only been in the states a few months when Audrey adopted us. She moved in underneath the porch and…we think she was hit by a car or something.”

 

“Oh no.”

 

“Papa and I nursed her back to health and…we needed her as much as she needed us, dealing with my mother's death. Then, when he passed… She comforted me.”

 

Joseph had never really grieved over his parents; grief required knowing them. But he did understand the void of absence and having a family of his own, he could only imagine the pain losing one of them would bring. He glanced at her but she wasn't crying, merely somber.

 

“He sounds like he was a good man.” Joseph said, “I wish I had the chance to meet him.”

 

“You two would have gotten along,” she said confidently, “Both of you are shy, quiet, full of kindness…” 

 

She stopped, staring straight ahead. Joseph tensed, looking between her line of sight and what was before them. She shook her head dismissively.

 

“It…just struck me again…” She said, “...I don't think Papa would have liked Gaston at all, if he knew the real him. If I had told him the truth as to why I married Gaston.”

 

Was Joseph ever going to hate a man as much as he hated Gaston? Doubtful. At this rate he almost wished he had taken a shot or two at the bastard himself.

Chapter 11: Third Meeting

Summary:

Post-game summary: Isi Dawndancer visited Burg Frankenstein whereas her and Frankie discussed several engaging topics such as self-governance, the limits of a monarchy, the pain points of democracy and how the nature of monsters may or may not be similar to the nature of man. Fascinating ideas were, admittedly, brought to the table, forcing Frankie to reflect on her policies and beliefs as an emerging leader.

Also Clawdeen and Draculaura had a horse race, and Clawdeen won.

“What's pot roast?”

 

“A roast made in a pot.”

 

“That's not helpful.”

 

“Grace, you’ve had it before, you like it.”

 

“Maybe I’ve changed since then.”

 

Francis shot Joseph a withering glare, as if her argumentative nature was his fault. When it came to Grace’s gene pool he was the least stubborn contributor. 

 

“It’s cow,” he said, even though Francis didn’t deserve his help. 

 

Grace wrinkled her nose, even though one of her favorite foods was hamburger, “...why do we eat some animals and not others?”

 

“Good question, my wee Descartes,” Francis said, “Lot of it has to do with culture. For example, in some Asian countries they eat-”

 

“Grace, attack!” Hannah called from the parlor.

 

Like a tiny sleeper agent, she sprang from her chair and rushed over to Francis. He bobbed and weaved but when Grace flung herself at him he stayed still, allowing his legs to be octopussed. 

 

“I GOT HIM!” Grace assured her mother.

 

Francis sighed, looking over at him. It was a joke , he mouthed. Joseph shook his head, mouthing back not with you before leaving to answer the door. There had been threats from both of them about greeting Belle like the stereotypical shotgun-loading father trying to intimidate a young gentleman courting his daughter. So far he had managed to keep Hannah from hauling out her partial knife collection to show Belle but right before the Miner’s Day Festival? Well Francis had tried to get away with greeting her with a fillet knife. Thankfully Hannah had spotted it and deployed the only consistent defense so she could intercept.

 

Never a dull moment in this godforsaken house.

 

Belle was lovely as ever and the dinner was relatively drama-free (save for Grace contemplating becoming a vegetarian and Francis looking like she had disowned him). There was mild heartbreak as Freddi checked Belle over and then stared at the door as if Audrey was going to stroll in behind her, and Freddi tried once again gently to dissuade Belle from eating the meat, nudging at her and giving her big sad eyes. Belle didn’t eat much regardless, especially the roast, and Joseph mentally prepared himself for a Francis rant about it later that night. 

 

Interesting developments arose during the Game of Monster High. Joseph wasn’t sure whether he was relieved Belle wasn’t trying to rope him in…or concerned that her main interaction was with Francis. Both of them focused on the dolls and their drama, as Isi Dawndancer interrogated Frankie Stein on her policies as a leader. It…got very boring very fast as Belle and Francis delved into philosophy that went way over his head, let alone Grace’s, but they were at least getting along and seemingly enjoying themselves, so the other three just… Let them go about their make-believe politics.

 

“I’m chipping away at him,” Belle gloated as Joseph walked her home.

 

He smiled, “That you are. Think you almost got a smile out of him tonight.”

 

“Give it a few more sessions and I might even make him laugh,” she boasted, “And not maliciously.”

 

“Careful, don’t get too cocky,” he teased, brushing her hair behind her ear.

 

He loved being able to kiss her goodnight, and to hold her close for a few moments before he left. Her lips parted and even this felt nice, her tongue sliding against his…until he started to feel the hunger behind it. He froze up, unsure how to react, if he should just go along with it or try to- 

 

She pulled away, frowning, “Sorry I, ah, got a little carried away there.”

 

“That’s alright,” he said quickly, smiling to reassure her.

 

“I know you have to get back to tuck Grace in…” Vocally she trailed off but he could read the rest of the sentence in her eyes.

 

Otherwise I’d invite you in.

 

“Right I, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He was very too much conscious of how he walked away, careful to not make it seem like he was running away, that he was taking this very well and extremely casually.

 

She wanted to be more intimate with him.

 

He took Freddi out, less to give her a chance to tinkle before bed and more a chance to calm himself down, pacing frantic circles. He was, he was… scared . Not of any consequences but of…Belle. Of what she wanted and how he…he…

 

…didn’t. But he did. But he didn’t. He was so fucking confused and he wasn’t going to be able to untangle this all quick enough to keep it to himself. 

 

He finally surrendered, heading inside to help tuck Grace in. He could feel both of them tense up, well aware something was wrong with him. The three of them got ready for bed but instead of getting under the covers, they sat in a tight circle on top of them, Hannah and Francis waiting for him to explain with barely concealed concern.

 

Joseph fidgeted, knowing the words were still getting themselves in order, and that it might not be comprehensive at all. But there’d be no sleeping until he tried.

 

“I don’t think this is going to make sense to either of you,” he warned, picking at the skin around his nails, “So just…try, alright?”

 

“Of course,” Francis promised.

 

“...I think Belle wants…to take things to the next level.”

 

Several seconds of silence followed. “...what am I not supposed to get?” Hannah wondered.

 

Joseph took a deep breath, “I…don’t. I mean I’m not saying ever, just…right now. I’m…not ready. I’m…really happy with where we’re at right now.”

 

He didn’t look up from his important exfoliating task, letting them take his contradiction in. 

 

“You don’t… have to sleep with someone just because they want it,” Hannah said gently.

 

“But how am I supposed to tell her that?!”

 

“Words would be a good start,” Francis suggested. 

 

Hannah smacked him, “...I mean he does have a point,” she muttered a few beats later, “Belle’s a tough cookie, she’s not going to crumble because you want to wait a bit.”

 

“How is that going to make her feel though?! I don’t want her to think it’s because of her…”

 

“By this point she should know you well enough to recognize that you’re being truthful when you say it’s not about her,” Francis said, “It’s not as if she isn’t familiar with your anxieties.” 

 

“This is different ,” Joseph insisted, “I just feel no matter how I tell her it’s going to come off wrong. Because it’s what I should want, right? And it’s not even that I don’t want to, I am just… really enjoying this… innocence of these first few steps. And sex will change that.”

 

The part he couldn’t verbalize, even while they were being open and honest, was that he had been enjoying having a relationship that didn't revolve around sex. Not that he didn’t like sex, he really… really liked sex…but he just wasn’t up for it as often as it seemed the average man was. Hannah and Francis had each other if he wasn’t in the mood, but Belle… If she only had him, and he had to perform for three partners… Either she or they would be disappointed, and he did not know how to handle that part of the juggling act.

 

“Sweetie, look at me.” He obediently met Hannah’s eye. “You gotta tell her, alright? You know what she would hate worse than not fucking you? Fucking you and afterwards finding out you did it just to make her happy. She’ll wait for you, but you gotta let her know your boundaries. Shut up.” She nudged him as he snorted at the irony. “Look, this is supposed to be your healthy relationship or something. Stick to your boundaries with her, but not us.”

 

“Only we’re allowed to pressure you into sex you’re not sure about having,” Francis said more confidently than the statement probably should have been spoken.

 

“And if she pressures you, we’ll put her in a pressure cooker,” Hannah decided cheerfully.

 

Joseph laughed, their dark humor oddly comforting. He rubbed at his face, giving an exasperated sigh. Francis rubbed his back and Hannah held his hand, and fuck him for loving these abysmal human beings and letting them push him around as they did. 

 

“I think you’re just glad you get to keep that part of me a bit longer between the two of you,” he said.

 

“Well yes but we also want you to be happy or some other nonsense,” Francis said. 

 

“Problem is I want her to be happy too,” he muttered.

 

Hannah squeezed his hand, “I think I’ve got a solution.”

 

“Oh this’ll be good.”

 

“Fuck off, you’re the one wanting our support. So Step One, you seduce Belle.”

 

“I…don’t think this is a solution,” Joseph warned.

 

“Step Two: Tie her up and blindfold her.”

 

“I don’t like where this is going.”

 

“Step Three: Francis fucks her instead,” she beamed proudly, as if this was a perfect solution to all their problems. 

 

Joseph had to clap his free hand over his mouth to keep from waking Grace at Francis’ flabbergasted and appalled expression.

 

“But I don’t want to fuck Belle,” he pointed out slowly.

 

“You’ll do as you’re told, whore,” Hannah insisted.

 

Francis stared at her, trying to decide whether he was offended or aroused.

 

“Hannah, love, that is rape,” Joseph reminded her, “She would be tricked into having sex with someone I can almost guarantee she doesn’t want to have sex with.”

 

“Only if she finds out and honestly after a dicking from him, she might change her tune.” 

 

“I think you need to rub one out,” Francis said, “Your Belle erotica is becoming a little unhinged.”

 

“If anything this is more hinged than some of the earlier shit,” she protested.

 

Settling between them when they finally bickered themselves tired, Joseph was struck by how unbothered he was at the idea of Francis having sex with Belle. His main concern was safety, as he was still nervous about the two of them being in close proximity to each other in general, let alone being as vulnerable as sex required. Maybe it was because he already shared Hannah with Francis that the idea didn’t upset him; maybe it was because Francis had no interest in a romantic relationship with Belle, and so Joseph didn’t feel like he was competing. Francis could easily keep up with all three of them in the bedroom, and Joseph would feel less pressure to sexually perform. 

 

He had originally thought Storybrooke (and eventually, his relationship with Belle) would be him carving his own life out, having a singular identity again. And he did have friendships and routines that Hannah nor Francis were a part of. But like the town, keeping Belle separate from his spouses was just less and less appealing as time went on. He liked having dinner with all of his loved ones at the table; he enjoyed watching Belle with Grace or seeing her friendship with Hannah grow. Belle would make her own decisions about how she wanted to interact with each of them but… Joseph had no qualms about sharing his crazy spouses with her. Because, in a way, they were a part of who he was, his family just an extension of himself. 

 

And, well… Francis was a really good lay.

 

Joseph risked bringing cookies to the third meeting, since his point had been made about theft. Just to be sure, he had made a sign asking the attendees to only take one. The same pattern followed; Francis left once the coffee maker was brewing to do God knew what, Leroy arrived on time, Killian made a show of being late. They were about to begin when the door opened again and another man stepped through. He was blonde, well-dressed, and briefly glanced at Joseph before going for the coffee.

 

Killian and Leroy exchanged a look before turning back to their own cups. Joseph tried to push the judgment out of his head and heart before the doctor joined them.

 

“Welcome,” he said, “I’m Joseph, and you are…?”

 

He looked blankly at Joseph, “We’ve met briefly. Your wife was the one looking for a volunteer position.”

 

“Hey doc, I don’t think you got the memo,” Leroy smirked, “We’re supposed to pretend we’re all strangers, yeah? Alcoholics Anonymous . And Belle’s not his wife.”

 

“That was not Belle,” The doctor said confidently.

 

“It was Helena,” Joseph explained, “She’s my ex.”

 

“I’d ask why you’re tagging along with her checking out volunteer opportunities but seeing what opportunity she was checking out,” Killian looked pointedly at the doctor, “...well if I have any competition for the title of Storybrooke’s biggest lech it would have to be Dr. Whale.”

 

His face was stone, “If we’re going by first names, Victor will do just fine.”

 

“Whatever you say, Vicky,” Leroy sneered, making Killian grin.

 

“Enough,” Joseph said firmly, “Would anyone like to add something constructive to the discussion?”

 

Leroy’s hand shot up, then he tucked his pointer finger behind his thumb in an “ok” sign, “Three days. I went three days last week without a drink, and I had never felt shittier. Also I relapsed.”

 

“Well progress is progress, even if it isn't linear,” Joseph encouraged, “Good job.”

 

“I have been sober for zero days since last week,” Killian announced, equally as proud.

 

“Why are you even here if you're not gonna try?” Leroy grumbled.

 

“Rabbit Hole’s not open this early,” Killian insisted, “Need to kill time.”

 

“And this is the best place for that?”

 

Killian shrugged.

 

Victor stood up, “This was clearly a mistake, I shouldn’t be here.”

 

“Woooow, a whole five minutes, good joooooob,” Leroy jeered.

 

“Leave him alone, mate,” Killian defended, “He can’t mingle with the common man too long or he’ll start to smell like poor folk.”

 

“Victor, please.”

 

The doctor paused and looked back at Joseph, “It’s nothing against you or this, I’m just…not positive this is for me.”

 

“That’s fair,” Joseph said, “But to be honest I could really use another adult around here.”

 

Leroy and Killian vocalized their objection but Joseph kept his eye on Victor. He wavered but eventually sat back down.

 

“I suppose I could endure one session,” he said, and Joseph felt relieved he had made the right move. A little veiled flattery had gotten Francis to do plenty of things he initially objected to. 

 

“So like, do we have to repeat our stories every time a new guy shows up?” Leroy wondered.

 

Joseph shrugged, “Only if it helps, I think.”

 

“I mean Vicky already knows what’s up with me,” Leroy insisted, “To give him credit he did try to get the surgery set up for my back, the insurance just screwed me.”

 

“Do I even want to know if you’re still taking the pain medication I haven’t signed a script for in months?” Victor asked.

 

Leroy was silent for a long while, “...definitely doing things above the board and legally, yup.”

 

Victor sighed and shook his head, “Whatever. We’re all just trying to make it through the day.”

 

Joseph nodded empathetically.

 

“I can sum it up,” Killian volunteered, then pointed at Joseph, “He’s been sober forever.” He pointed at Leroy, “He’s trying to get sober.” He pointed at himself, “I’m here to drink in the entertainment.”

 

“How long is forever?” Victor asked.

 

Joseph shrugged, “Eight, nine years.”

 

Victor nodded and stared down at his hands, “Well, I’ve been sober for about…negative two years now. Since…you know.”

 

Killian and Leroy glanced away self-consciously. Joseph had exactly zero clues as to what Victor was referencing but it didn’t feel like the time to ask him to elaborate.

 

“...I was supposed to be a surgeon,” he said, “Making a real difference. Now I’m a general practitioner who gives yearly physicals and flu shots.”

 

“That doesn’t make you lesser,” Joseph protested, “You’re just saving lives in a different way.”

 

Killian flinched. Leroy cut him a look. Victor just looked…defeated.

 

“I’m not saving anyone’s life,” he muttered bitterly. 

 

The rest of the meeting continued awkwardly and even though he was the first one out the door, Victor stayed until the end. Killian followed but Leroy lagged behind.

 

“I, uh, probably shouldn't be telling you other people's business,” he admitted to Joseph, lowering his voice, “But I thought maybe it’d help, since I don't know if or when he’ll actually spell it out.”

 

Joseph probably shouldn't be encouraging him either but he wasn’t above gossip, especially to gain a better understanding of someone, “Say what?”

 

Leroy shifted his weight, “Couple years ago, there was a hunting accident, buddy got spooked. Anyway Vicky prepped for surgery only to find it was his brother bleeding out on the table. Did the best he could but well… Wasn't good enough to beat Death.”

 

Joseph recoiled at the mental image, “Poor Victor.”

 

“Yeah so like if anyone's got a reason to drink themselves stupid…” Leroy shrugged, “He’s always been a rich prick though, so we can ride his ass about that.”

 

Joseph shook his head, “I can't even imagine.”

 

“Right? Like I just have my boys that are basically brothers and I’d never want them that close to death and having to rely on me .” He waved his arm at Joseph, “At least you're the older brother, you gotta be used to looking out for Joe.”

 

It was a poor comparison; as if Francis would ever be in that dire of straits. But… The watery racking cough he heard upon his return from Oregon rang in his ears.

 

“We look out for each other,” he said, then sighed, “Speak of the devil did he get lost on his way in…”

 

If Francis was out in the hallway trying to flirt with Killian so help him he’d find a basement to lock the bastard up in and let him starve for a few days to remind him who his ass belonged to…

Chapter 12: You Are (Un)Cordially Invited 2: The Return of Regina

Summary:

Francis' Recent Web Searches:

"Humane beef farms in Maine"
"Crab shibari tie"
"Generation Alpha list of slang terms with definitions"
"What is skibidi?"
"How have we as a society fallen so far so fast?"
"Best slang for father to embarrass Generation Alpha daughter with"

It was only a matter of time before Hannah’s luck ran out. 

 

So far she had managed to evade Mayor Mills but apparently not tonight. Maybe because Regina had caught on to how she kept slipping away before being cornered and interrogated like Joseph and Francis. But Mary Margaret had chatted with Hannah for a few minutes, delaying her, and the crowd of parents hadn’t cleared a way fast enough. She smiled back the “shit” that was forming on her lips, and Regina smiled just as hollowly at her as she approached.

 

“Hi there,” she greeted, “I noticed you last week but didn’t get the chance to introduce myself. I’m Regina Mills.”

 

“Of course.” Then Hannah reminded herself she was supposed to be trying to behave, “I’m Helena MacAvoy, Grace’s mom.”

 

Regina’s eyes flicked over her features, “I see the resemblance now.”

 

Hannah crossed her legs, doing her best to look as authoritative as a grown adult could while seated at a child’s desk, “Is there anything I can help you with? Or just saying hi?”

 

“Well you are the only MacAvoy I hadn’t introduced myself to yet, so I thought it was about time we met face-to-face.” Regina clasped her hands together, trying to appear contrite, “I’m assuming the dinner invitation from your husband is on hold for now?”

 

“Can you manage not to throw glasses or accusations around?” Hannah smiled and laughed as if it were a joke. Regina tepidly laughed back. “I’m just pulling your leg. Not the first drink thrown at Joe, or the first time someone’s claimed he’s slept with their sister. But trust me, I would’ve known if he’d done anything with her; he doesn’t get anything past me.” Her smile faded into a frown, “My condolences, by the way.”

 

She could see Regina’s instant replay of the sentence running through her mind, but Hannah was as skilled with her words as Francis. It wasn’t often they interacted with family members of their victims, and oh how tempting it was to fuck with this bitch who was apparently just as insufferable as Zelena was. But since eating Regina had been taken off the table, well, Hannah had to be careful about giving in to temptation. 

 

Regina sighed, “Well in all fairness, he made some very valid points, and I was not as sober as I should have been when discussing the matter. I only wish I knew what happened to her.”

 

Hannah nodded sympathetically, “Yeah, it’s unfortunate not every case is wrapped up in a neat little t.v. episode bow.” God her husbands were going to fucking kill her for this. “Why don’t you and Henry come over for dinner this Friday, if you aren’t busy? I’ll have Joe make us some real nice steaks.”

 

Regina smiled, and clearly this was what she was hoping would come of their dance, “We would love to. Is there anything I should bring?”

 

Hannah uncrossed her legs, “Maybe some grown-up juice, if you want to partake. We don’t typically have any alcohol in the house…” She rose to her feet, looking her dead in the eye, “On account of Caleb’s sobriety. I know, I know, it’s his responsibility, but I don’t want to leave that kind of temptation sitting around… It’d be like pouring the drink for him.”

 

Alright so that was petty, but it had been eating at her for months . As proud as Joseph had been of himself, the fact Regina had been so aggressive in trying to get him to drink with her pissed Hannah off. She and Francis had to deal with their addictions the rest of their unnatural lives but Joseph had beat his, continued to beat his, and that was fucking worthy of them cheerleading him on and removing any obstacle they could. Just because Regina was clearly happy being a functional alcoholic it didn’t mean she should force it on others.

 

Speaking of forcing it on others, the news of her impromptu invitation went over like the Hindenburg with her family.

 

“We should just have Henry over,” Grace grumbled, “Regina’s sus.”

 

Francis glanced up from helping Joseph put away the pieces of the board game they had been playing when Hannah came home, “Sus?”

 

“I think it’s short for “suspicious”,” Grace explained, “It’s mostly towards people, but sometimes actions seem “sus”.”

 

“Where’d you learn this from?” Francis asked curiously. 

 

“My friend Dana. She’s teaching me slang words and I’m teaching her bad words.”

 

“Grace, don’t teach your classmates bad words,” Joseph scolded. 

 

“It’s just for educational purposes,” she insisted, “We’re not using them on people.”

 

“There’s a slippery slope that’s tripped up plenty of men,” Francis mumbled to himself.

 

Grace was quiet for several beats, before announcing, “Did you know that most kids don’t know what the “c” word is? I’ve known that one since like, forever .”

 

“The Americans don’t like that one very much, sweetheart, now let’s get you ready for bed.”

 

Grace headed up the stairs with Francis while Joseph looked like he was horrified by the life choices he had made that led to his daughter being the one teaching other students swear words. Hannah giggled, helping herself to a seat on his lap.

 

“Sounds like Friday’s a good night for you and Belle to do something,” Hannah suggested.

 

Joseph frowned, “You don’t want me here? As a distraction or something?”

 

“Actually no, I don’t.” She carded her fingers through his hair, “We can handle Regina, and will catch you up on any backstory updates. The less anyone thinks about us and you and how that works, the better.”

 

He met her eye briefly and then glanced away, a shy smile on his lip, “So if I have dinner with Belle on Friday, and have a date with Francis Saturday… When do I get you to myself?”

 

Still, after all this time, her heart fluttered, “Good question. Maybe your date with Francis will go so well you can get him to watch Grace for a bit on Sunday.”

 

“The Lord’s day? Hannah .”

 

She giggled; as if that had ever stopped them before. Joseph did his best to pick her up and carry her, but couldn’t even manage to get up to a standing position. That was the heart of it though; he tried, even when he couldn’t hope to match his wendigo spouses. He still tried. 

 

xXx

 

“Are you busy Friday?”

 

Why did those simple words send such a thrill through Belle? “No, why?”

 

“Joe and Helena are kicking me out of the house. They’re having the mayor over for dinner- as a guest,” he added as Belle’s eyes widened.

 

She glanced over towards one of the tables where a new regular was completely engrossed in his newspaper. Between him camping out and her getting to hear details on this new twist, Belle knew which she would prefer.

 

“Helena got to talking with her at the PTA meeting yesterday,” Joseph explained, “She's bringing Henry so Grace is pretty excited.”

 

“That's nice for her.” Belle tried to keep a straight face, “You don't want to be Regina's date?”

 

“No I ah,” he smiled sheepishly, “I’m actually seeing someone right now.”

 

“Are you?”

 

“Mhmm.” He looked up at her, a boyish mischievousness lighting up his eyes, “Not to brag but she is far prettier than the mayor.”

 

“Oh really?”

 

“And her inner beauty?” His grin widened, leaning forward as if confiding a secret, “... breathtaking .”

 

She didn't have a choice. On the clock or not, she had to kiss him. Maybe that kiss lasted longer than was strictly called for, but it still felt far too short. Her mind raced with a brief fantasy, of locking the door and taking him to one of the reading chairs for a quick, intense- When he pulled away, she saw a mix of regret and fear in his features.

 

Belle laughed, trying to make light of it, “Sorry, I got carried away, you just said you were seeing someone.”

 

The playfulness was gone though.

 

“I'm sorry,” he said softly.

 

She took his hand and squeezed it, “There's nothing for you to be sorry about.”

 

At least this time he didn't run off, even if he was still on edge. Belle was on edge as well, thinking about whether she could last until the end of the work day or if she’d have to run home for lunch. She really hoped she remembered to charge JJ, and that small Valentine's bottle of lube was running lower faster than she expected. It might be time for another “essentials” trip with Hannah.

 

xXx

 

Friday came far too soon for Francis' liking, perhaps because he was so focused on Saturday. It was a necessary evil, inviting Regina over. Suspicious people avoided having visitors in their home… Even the nosey types of visitors. Having to be careful around Grace anyway meant very little was out in the open; still, Hannah did a sweep beforehand to be safe.

 

A true pity, the wasted opportunity of Regina at their dinner table. He could think of a dozen insidious things Hannah and he would have done prior to Joseph but alas, only fantasies. He did have a little mischief up his sleeve however, as he kept an attentive eye on his prep. 

 

“Father.”

 

Francis glanced down from his work. Grace crooked her finger and obediently, he crouched to her level, already sensing what sort of “talk” she wanted to have.

 

“Wipe that smirk off your face, mister.” She set a hand on each of his shoulders, “I need you to behave for me tonight, alright? Don't embarrass me.”

 

“Skibidi,” he immediately chirped.

 

“No! Stop! I'm serious!”

 

“Don't worry, Grace, your father's a rizzler, no cap. He's dripping with rizz, skibidi.”

 

“You're being cringe!”

 

“No you're being cringe, very sus.”

 

There was a knock at the door.

 

“Just stay in the kitchen where you belong!” Grace insisted before racing to answer it.

 

“Sheeeeeeesh,” Francis concluded, hoping he got the pitch right. 

 

Really, it was all her fault; he hadn't even considered brushing up on the latest slang until Grace started using it. He was only trying to relate to her and well… Someone had to suffer now that he had learned about that cursed toilet video.

 

If she was this easy to embarrass now, her teenage years were going to be quite entertaining.

 

He half listened to the greetings as he set the vegetables to simmer and turned his attention to the steaks. It was a script he was familiar with; the pleasantries, the upfront offer of a tour. The main difference of course was the miniature version, Grace only interested in showing Henry one thing.

 

“Freddi! Freeeeddddiiiii! Fredfredfred!”

 

A world-weary sigh elicited from the dog bed but Freddi obliged, getting up and shaking off her nap.

 

“This is Freddi!” Grace told Henry as they came into the dining room, “She's the best dog ever basically, but her bones hurt so you have to be gentle with her. I didn't even know bones could hurt unless you broke them but I guess that's just something that happens when you're old.”

 

“Hi Freddi,” Henry greeted. She wagged her tail as he scratched her behind the ear.

 

Francis again wondered exactly how upset Joseph would be if they ate Regina and if the addition of an adoptive son might counterbalance his threat of a divorce. Maybe the “being mayor” part was the bigger issue and as long as they got away with it…

 

Alas, Sidney had just disappeared, even if that wasn't their doing, and Gaston’s hadn't even hit the six-month mark yet. No snacking on any Storybrooke residents for a good while.

 

“Hi Mr. MacAvoy.”

 

And didn't his heart just sing every time someone called him that? Francis smiled, “Hello Henry, how do you like your steak done?”

 

He blinked, “Um, I guess cooked?” A reasonable response from a seven-year-old. 

 

“I want mine still mooing.”

 

“I know, Grace.” Medium for her as usual, on the rarer side. He didn't want to risk her getting sick from trying to follow his and Hannah's tartare preferences.

 

“Wow, a man who cooks for you, how lucky is that?”

 

He glanced up in time to see Hannah crossing her eyes behind Regina's back at the comment she had heard countless times before. He hid his laugh behind a smile, “No, I’m the lucky one, actually, finding Helena. Nice to see you again, Mayor Mills. How do you like your steak?”

 

“Well done, thank you.” One more point against her.

 

“He’s full of it,” Hannah said, trying to draw attention away from him as Regina sized up the kitchen, “He didn't find me, I found him. Now down this hallway is the guest room and bathroom…”

 

Regina continued to watch him, setting a Pinot Noir on the counter, which was going to pair terribly since no way in hell was he cooking a prime cut for this bitch. Not even five years old at that… But he continued to smile, Grace's laugh in the background making it more sincere. Regina followed Hannah on the rest of the tour, and Francis did what he could to make the wine serviceable.

 

Hannah's timing was impeccable as always, finishing up as he was ready to dish the plates. To his disgust, Regina sat in Joseph's chair, and he was going to have to sanitize the hell out of it after she left.

 

“Don't bother with grace, Mommy,” Grace said as they were all seated, “They’re not religious, though I’m working on getting Henry saved.”

 

Christ, he was not going to make it through this meal if Grace didn't sheathe her tiny claws. He wasn't sure if her barbs were nature or nurture, but he was positive that Grace inherited Joseph's “friend until proven otherwise” attitude towards strangers. And Regina, clearly, had proven otherwise, and now Grace was reflecting Hannah and his approach to strangers.

 

Polite yet contemptuous.

 

“That's alright Gracie, we can pray just to ourselves,” Hannah said, refusing to look at Francis so she wouldn't crack up. 

 

The rest of them waited in an awkward (for the Millses) silence, Regina clearly still deciding whether the child had made a dig at her or not. Francis gave a “kids say the darndest things” shake of his head.

 

He forcibly took Grace's plate from her before she could harpoon and gnaw on the whole steak like a barbarian, cutting it into pieces and watching Hannah in his periphery. Her nose had been twitching but clearly she didn't believe what it told her, slicing off a piece and tasting the meat… And glancing at him quickly. He winked at her while Regina was distracted cutting up Henry's steak, and she sucked her cheeks in to keep from giggling.

 

It was a risk they hadn't taken in ages, but Francis knew with Regina right in front of him, he wouldn't be hungry for beef. Hannah’s eyes cut to the kitchen and he gave a small nod. He had been supremely careful not to cross-contaminate and keep an eye and nose out for which cut was whose. She grinned wickedly and dug in, and Francis passed Grace's plate back to her.

 

“We should have a night where we all eat like animals,” she decided, “No utensils, just fingers and mouths.”

 

“I’ll bring it up with the committee,” he assured her, “But tonight, with guests present, we eat like civilized human beings.”

 

“Booooooooo.” Grace picked up her fork, frowning, “...why are cows so cute but so tasty?”

 

“Wish I knew. You’ll have to take that up with God one day.”

 

Grace's frown only deepened, “If we were put in charge of the animals… Why do we eat them?”

 

“Because God said it was okay.”

 

“Why would He do that?”

 

“Ask your father.”

 

Grace opened her mouth but quickly shut it. While the chances of them having a stupid kid were miniscule, he was still grateful Grace was as smart as she was. The charade wouldn't be possible if she wasn't as careful with the cover story as they were, and drilling it into her could only help so much. A less intelligent child would have blurted out how she was already asking her father, and then they'd have to gloss over the slip-up. Not his actually-perfect daughter, though.

 

He reached over and gently squeezed her knee, acknowledging how tough such lies were on her and how proud he was of her. She gently headbutted his arm in return.

 

“This is really good, Mr. MacAvoy.”

 

“Thank you Henry, I’m glad you're enjoying it.”

 

Regina notably did not add onto his praise, “I’m surprised to see Caleb didn't join us.”

 

“He made plans,” Hannah said.

 

“He’s with his girlfriend ,” Grace added.

 

Regina politely smiled, “Oh?”

 

“Yeah, her name’s Belle. She's very nice and pretty and doesn't throw things at others and hurt them. ” She hissed through her teeth.

 

“Grace, you don't like being reminded of your mistakes, don't remind Miss Mills of hers,” Hannah reprimanded. 

 

Grace glared at Francis, “Did she even say she was sorry ? You could've lost an eye!”

 

“Grace, enough,” he said firmly. As much as he was enjoying Regina getting ripped into, poor Henry looked miserably divided in his loyalties.

 

“I tried to,” Regina defended herself, “But he avoided me.”

 

“He was probably scared you were gonna hurt him again!”

 

“ Grace. ”

 

Her fingers jerked, trying to count but it was too late, “I’m going to the closet!” 

 

She pushed away from the table and ran towards the Calm Down Closet, Freddi quick on her heels. Henry stared after her and Francis winced at the muffled scream that came moments after the door slammed shut.

 

“She’ll be alright,” he comforted Henry, “She’s burdened with her mother’s temper, and sometimes needs to be alone to take a few deep breaths and work out her emotions. We have a special room called the Calm Down Closet for that.”

 

“Is that why she's seeing Dr. Hopper?” Regina asked casually.

 

It wasn't exactly a secret, but he still loathed the fact she was aware of Grace's appointments. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hannah's fingers curl around her steak knife.

 

“Yes,” he admitted, “She’s doing better but as you can see, sometimes her emotions are still a bit much for her to handle. Grace hasn't grown into her heart yet.”

 

“I assumed the sessions were about her family situation…but given some of the incidents it makes sense.”

 

There was a sharp clink as Hannah cut into her steak, cleaving off her next bite in one smooth motion, “It's not been easy on her, but she's doing her best. We all are.”

 

“Of course.” And Regina’s dark eyes were dancing with that same sadistic glimmer Zelena’s had.

 

…maybe Joseph wouldn't divorce them if Francis simply scooped one of those eyes out with a fork. Not even both of them, just the one, as a reminder that their child was not a pawn in whatever game the three of them were playing.

 

Regina could only pry so much with Henry right there, and Grace's outburst guaranteed a short night. Hannah cleared the table, artfully disguising the fact she was keeping their dishes separate. It was a worn-out joke, but he really did know what he wanted for dessert, as soon as Grace was in bed or Joseph was home to watch her.

 

Speaking of his angel, as the Mills were preparing to depart, she reemerged from her self-imposed time-out. Despite red puffy eyes and a hoarseness to her voice, she was markedly calmer.

 

“I'm sorry I ruined our playdate,” Grace murmured to Henry.

 

“You didn't ruin it,” he insisted.

 

The kids hugged it out and Francis was ready to push their guests out the door to let his baby recover from her upset. But Regina was looking expectantly at Grace, even when Grace's body language suggested she had no desire to speak to the woman.

 

“Aren't you forgetting something, Grace?” Regina prompted.

 

Grace looked levelly up at Regina, then turned back to Henry, “Thank you for coming over. We should do this again sometime… Without your mom.”

 

“Don't you think you owe someone else an apology for your behavior?” Regina tried again.

 

Grace considered, then turned to her parents, “Sorry Mommy, sorry Uncle Joe. I tried to hold it in, I really did.”

 

“It's alright, sweetheart,” Hannah opened her arms and Grace went to hug her. She then turned to Regina, “She's not supposed to offer apologies she doesn't mean,” she explained.

 

Regina crossed her arms, “Don't you think she crossed a line?”

 

Hannah considered, “...maybe a little, but I'm not going to get on her for being upset at someone who lashed out at her uncle.”

 

“And I tried to apologize.”

 

“That doesn’t mean she can’t still be upset. She’s entitled to her feelings.”

 

“But she isn't required to respect her elders?”

 

“Not if they don't respect her.”

 

“We’ll talk to her about her behavior,” Francis cut in.

 

Regina was forced to leave it at that, and her and Henry finally left. Hopefully Mother Nature would do them all a favor and take her out…or perhaps they could kidnap Henry. He was pretty sure the contract didn't have a kidnapping-to-forcibly-adopt clause.

 

“I think Henry's adopted,” Grace confided, “He’s too nice to be her kid.”

 

“Well then that means you're adopted too,” Hannah said, hoisting Grace up onto her hip, “Because you handled that much better than I would have at your age.”

 

“Hannah, we were supposed to tell her when she was older that she's adopted,” Francis scolded.

 

“Oh shoot.” She grinned at Grace, “Surprise! You're adopted!”

 

“I am nooooooooot,” Grace groaned, exasperated by the sheer stupidity of the joke.

 

“How would you know? You don't remember being born.”

 

“Because I have your hair and both daddies’ eyes.”

 

“Which one, Dad or Daddy's?”

 

“ Both of them.”

 

“Nah, pick one,” Francis chimed in.

 

She rolled her eyes at him, going floppy in Hannah's arms, “I am not going to pick one . You're both my daddies, so I got it from both of you.”

 

Hannah shrugged, “Well I’m convinced. Guess she is ours.”

 

Francis' chest clenched at the reminder; right now she didn't know how biology worked, and didn't care which of her fathers contributed. But one day she might… Even if it was out of curiosity, she might take a paternity test. And however subtle the change may be, he couldn't imagine how that information wouldn't at least slightly tinge how she saw him and Joseph.

 

But hopefully that was still a ways off. Right now he had to figure out how to explain to Joseph that Regina's quest for vengeance for her sister might have been sidelined for a more personal vendetta. Hannah and Francis had accounted for quite a few variables tonight, but neither had anticipated their daughter's grudge, or that she was starting to sharpen her own verbal claws against distasteful people.

Chapter 13: Boy-Girl Time

Summary:

Hannah's Recent Web Searches

"twin swapping porn"
"twins pretending to be each other porn"
"movies in theatres right now"
"tipadvisor storybook"
"tripadvisor storybrooke"
"what tf do girls do at sleepovers"
"do satanic rituals still happen at sleepovers"
"how to politely refuse to participate in satanic rituals at a sleepover"
"how to hide the fact you have a crush on your best friend"
"how to hide the fact you have a crush on your best female friend when you are also a female"
"seriously what do girls do at slumber parties"

Here Belle thought the cannibals would be her undoing, but all along it was going to be Joseph.

 

They had a nice dinner out, a stroll along the waterfront afterwards, before finally heading back to their neighborhood. Regina's car was gone but Joseph timidly pointed out Grace wouldn't be expecting him for bedtime tonight. Belle invited him in and put something on the television they both pretended to watch.

 

She felt like she was sitting beside a rabbit; one quick move, too much eye contact, and he’d dart off into the night. But he was trying, stroking her arm, her leg, even a brief foray across her stomach. He cuddled up to her, nuzzled her shoulder, gave shy kisses to her neck and jaw, and Belle did everything she could to signal she was receptive to his affection.

 

Joseph's G-possibly-PG-rated explorations were making her wetter than any of the rare times Gaston had dabbled in foreplay. And when he finally worked up the courage to initiate some making out, Belle wondered if anyone had ever climaxed just from first base. She didn't notice any lack of experience in the tender way his tongue explored her mouth, gentle and safe like she imagined a fairy tale prince would be.

 

But he’d reach a point where he’d pull away to go to the bathroom, or check his phone, or wondering if he heard Audrey cry. The last time, when he asked her if she wanted a drink, she finally let out a frustrated sigh.

 

“I’m fine,” she said.

 

The rabbit withdrew, shuffling back so now he wasn't even touching her. He watched her, hands folded, big brown eyes so mournful she wished she could go back and temper her reaction.

 

“I'm sorry,” he murmured.

 

“No, I am. I…I’m just really enjoying this.”

 

“So am I but if I’m frustrating you…”

 

“I’ll live.” Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, as he curled into himself, “I mean, it's…just uncomfortable, right? But better some temporary aches than pushing you past your limit.”

 

He was tearing up and Belle was regretting her entire approach. She reached out and took one of his hands.

 

“I'm sorry,” he whimpered, “I…I’m not ready for more…”

 

“And that's alright,” she promised, “It's a big step, and we haven't even been together very long.”

 

He gave a low bitter laugh, “I’m shite at being a man, eh? Men are supposed to always be trying to get it…”

 

“You're a very good man,” Belle protested, “Which is why you're waiting until the moment’s right, for both of us.”

 

“But you want to?”

 

Belle chewed on her lip, “I do, but only when you're ready. I want you eager, or I don't want you at all.”

 

He wiped at his eyes with his free hand, “...I’m just…really happy taking it slow for once…” he admitted, “It was such a whirlwind with them and you… It’s like a cool breeze. …that analogy was terrible.”

 

“I get it,” she assured him, “A cool breeze feels nice.”

 

“Exactly, especially when you just need…some fresh air.” She needed some damn fresh air right now, the way he was smiling at her now that she had convinced him she was alright. 

 

He left a bit later, and she went to relieve herself with JJ. Bastards they were, they had still clearly known what they were doing giving her that Valentine's gift. She hadn't anticipated how much lust he would inspire in her, though she supposed that was her mistake. She just…had not been aware she could feel like that towards a living person, not just a fictional, perfect book boyfriend. 

 

Belle was surprised but not alarmed when it was Hannah bringing Grace to story time the next day. Not as shocking as Grace's ensemble of a leopard print jacket, rainbow skirt, and red cowboy boots. Belle looked between her and her mother, and Hannah threw her hands up in defeat. She tried to hide her laugh, glad she didn't have to fight such battles yet.

 

Hannah took a seat at the counter after the story while Grace mingled with some of her school friends. Belle glanced around at the lingering guests; no spies that she was aware of.

 

“How was last night?” She asked.

 

Hannah shrugged, “Could have been better, could have been a helluva lot worse too, so a win in our book. How ‘bout you?”

 

“Roughly the same,” Belle admitted. Hannah squinted and Belle sighed, “Look, I’m sure you don't want to go into details because it's your ex…”

 

“Honey, I know all his details, Grace wasn't immaculately conceived,” she assured her dismissively.

 

Belle tapped her finger against the counter, trying to figure out the best way to vocalize the situation while in public and with kids milling about, “...we’re at different comfort levels right now. He’s trying to expand, but I'm open to more and he…senses my frustration.”

 

Hannah nodded, “Sounds about right. The man enjoys the journey far more than the destination.”

 

“And it's not even about arrival it's… We’ll get there when we get there. But I feel like I'm making things worse because I’m not masking my disappointment in time.”

 

“He’s sensitive; you might be masking just fine but he picks up on that.” Hannah rested her chin on her hand, “I’d tell you my solution but somehow I don't think “go bang his brother” is the advice you're seeking.”

 

Belle shook her head. Hannah gave an “oh well I tried” shrug.

 

“I don't envy you; you're in a much tougher position than I was. I’m the first girl that gave him that sort of attention, and boy was he pent up…” She smirked, briefly reminiscing on their early days, “But even that took a few weeks to get to, and that was before things got as complicated as they are now. I dunno, think of Gaston or something to cool your jets.”

 

No, that wouldn't work; it was impossible to think of Gaston when Joseph was being so tender and affectionate. Maybe she should think of Francis… Belle kept that idea to herself, sure that Hannah wouldn't appreciate it, or consider it as effective as Belle did.

 

“You're much more cavalier about these…potential trips than I thought you would be,” she admitted.

 

Hannah shrugged, “It’s how Joe and I are built. It’s an itch to scratch, doesn't need to be more complicated than that. We’re pretty, we’re charming, we’ve got a good success rate between the two of us. It's the…intimacy, the connection… That's much more rare.” She glanced towards Grace, who was being a goofball with her friends as their parents told them it was time to go, “...Caleb likes it, but he doesn't need it. The intimacy and connection’s what he needs, and once that's there… The rest follows.” She rolled her eyes, “ Eventually .”

 

“And how things started…with…the other?” She asked, knowing she was being incredibly vague.

 

Still Hannah picked up on it and smirked, “Oh hon, you are not ready to hear how that started if you can't handle a few unsolicited photos.”

 

The shop now emptied out, Grace crawled up on the stool beside her mother, “Boy howdy Belle, you and Daddy missed a fit .”

 

“Regina's?”

 

Grace giggled, “No…” The mirth faded from her face, “...I was not a happy camper.”

 

Hannah rubbed her back, “You did your best. I don't think any of us were happy campers last night…”

 

“I don't like Mayor Mills,” she said vehemently, “She hurt Dad and honestly, I don't think she's actually sorry.”

 

Belle looked at Hannah, alarmed. Hannah waved it off, “This was while Joseph and I were gone. He and Grace went over for dinner, she got a little tipsy while the kids were upstairs, and ended up throwing her wine glass at him.”

 

“He had cuts on his face,” Grace growled.

 

Belle's jaw had literally dropped. She didn't know Regina well, but well enough to be aware she could be an instigator. She had never pictured her as violent but then again, if she had been confronting who she thought (and who was) the reason for her sister's disappearance…

 

…and knowing Francis, he probably hadn't tried to deescalate. 

 

“If Joseph and I have to leave for any reason again, Francis is getting a sitter,” Hannah promised.

 

Grace's arm shot up in the air, “I can sit him!”

 

Hannah pursed her lips thoughtfully, “...you know you might be the one person he’d actually listen to if you were put in charge. What are your rates?”

 

“My whats?”

 

“How much you get paid as a babysitter,” Belle explained.

 

Grace gaped at the possibility, “...I would get paid ? For watching Dad ?” She whipped her head towards Hannah, “Okay, time for you and Daddy to have another honeymoon!”

 

Hannah snickered and tapped Grace on the nose, “ Not for awhile, kiddo. Next trip’s gonna be the four of us probably, for spring break.”

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“Still deciding. Where do you want to go?”

 

Grace stared up at the ceiling as she considered, “...where can we go pet lions, Africa?”

 

“Nowhere, that's how you lose limbs. Put a mane on Freddi and call her Simba.” She tucked a stray hair of Grace's behind her ear, “How long we hanging out here, princess?”

 

“Forever,” Grace concluded.

 

“That's not feasible.”

 

“What's feastable?”

 

“Feasible means, like, practical.”

 

Grace nodded her understanding, then raised herself up to look over at the teas and pastries, “Maybe not like forever, but a few days.”

 

“And how would Belle and your fathers feel about that?”

 

“We’ll just make boy-girl time last all weekend.”

 

Belle smiled, “Boy-girl time?”

 

Grace nodded emphatically, “Me and Mommy let the boys be boys and go do girl stuff for the day. I mean it doesn't have to be all girl stuff, but it's a good opportunity.”

 

“That sounds like a lot of fun.”

 

“It is ,” Grace agreed.

 

“We were thinking about maybe going ice skating again,” Hannah said, “After that we’ll have to play it by ear. Not a lot of kid movies out right now, and a little late for a spa day. Francis has this whole fancy dinner planned for the two of them so we’ll be out for a while… You have any suggestions?”

 

“Well I think Grace was on to something,” Belle mused, “There are few things as girly as a slumber party. Why don't you and Grace spend the night at my house, let the boys have some extra time to themselves?”

 

“YES!” She had barely gotten the offer out before Grace hollered.

 

The best way Belle could describe the look on Hannah's face was heartbreakingly hopeful, “...both of us?”

 

Belle laughed, “Maybe it's because I’m new to the concept of boy-girl time, but I’m pretty sure you as a girl qualify.”

 

“Can Freddi come?!?! I promise promise promise she’ll behave!” Grace hopped up and down in her seat.

 

“Of course,” she looked back at Hannah, “We’ll just skip the sleeping bags requirement, my back’s a bit old for that.”

 

Belle couldn't quite peg the emotion coming from the elder blonde, but the hesitation made her wonder if she was again being too bold in her attempts to connect. She shifted nervously. 

 

“As long as it's alright with you,” she backpedaled.

 

Hannah nodded, chin quivering briefly, “Yeah, I’ve… I’ve just never gone to a slumber party before.”

 

“Never?” Belle echoed in disbelief.

 

She shook her head, “Wasn't allowed, even if I would've been invited, and even if they were churchgoers.” Her voice lowered, as if even the idea of a sleepover was taboo, “Recipe for sin.”

 

Francis' face appeared in her mind, gaze focused on the road ahead as they drove back from dropping Grace off at Girl Scouts. How his smirk faded when he brought up Hannah's father and the utter distaste he spoke of him with. It just added another layer to the assassin-turned-wendigo-turned-mother, and Belle's heart ached for her.

 

If Hannah was this complex, she couldn't even fathom how much was beneath the surface of Francis MacAvoy Ives, former military colonel and literal American pioneer. 

 

Hannah and Grace went on their skating adventure and Belle finished up her work day before stocking up for the night. Her experiences were with less formal, more unstructured parties but she knew it had less to do with activities and more about the bonding. There was just something magical about staying up late, lights off, having deep conversations that might never be broached in the light of day.

 

Grace was her natural energetic self, pumped up for whatever was in store for her. Hannah was excited but a bit more reserved, cautiously optimistic. And Freddi, with her own little backpack of food, treats, and pajamas Grace hopefully wouldn't force her into, was only too happy to be reunited with Audrey and let the humans go about their rituals. Belle had converted the living room into a sea of blankets, cushions and pillows to set the mood, and went about properly educating them about sleepovers.

 

If she told her end-of-September self, or even end-of-December self, that it would not only be a drama-free slumber party with Hannah but that she would genuinely have a blast…Belle would not have believed herself. But they had fun , and not just for the sake of Grace. The three of them watched movies and ate junk food and did each other's nails and hair and played games until just before midnight. They glanced away from “Little Women” to see Grace out cold, Freddi curled up beside her and Audrey curled up on top of Freddi.

 

“There's always one who falls asleep early,” Belle said sagely, turning off the television. She stood up, offering her hand to Hannah, “Come on, we haven't gotten to the most important part.”

 

Hannah looked skeptically at her hand, “And what’s that?”

 

“Talking about boys, of course.”

 

Hannah grinned and let Belle help her up.

 

Admittedly the mix of whipped vodka and orange juice was not a standard sleepover beverage, but now that it was the two of them in her bedroom… A smidge of liquid courage couldn't hurt. 

 

“Glad you're enjoying your present,” Hannah purred as she came out of the bathroom.

 

Belle glanced up, “What?”

 

Grinning, Hannah jerked her thumb backwards, “Your dildo’s drying on the counter.”

 

Belle blushed and Hannah laughed softly, grabbing her glass and joining her on the bed. Yet again she was confronted with how effortlessly beautiful Hannah was; she was in cotton polka dot pajamas and her nails… Well her nails had been attacked by a rabid first grader who wanted to try ten different colors and every nail decal she could fit on. And yet the way she moved even just to get comfortable, as elegant as a member of the fae. Belle sipped at her drink, wondering why her heart was beating so fast when it was very clear Hannah had no intention of harming her. 

 

“Truth or dare’s a sleepover game, right?” Hannah mused, “Though I think we should cut the “dare” part, I’ll get myself in trouble with that one.”

 

“Alright,” Belle agreed, “Truth or truth?”

 

“Hmmm… Truth.”

 

“Who do you have a crush on?”

 

What Belle assumed would be a good icebreaker made Hannah hesitate, “...pass.”

 

“Pass?”

 

“Yeah. I might never have been to a slumber party but I do know a thing or two about Truth or Dare.” She smirked, “Trust me, you’re gonna want to have a pass option, especially if we get deep into these drinks.”

 

Belle smirked back, “Fair enough.”

 

“Truth or truth?”

 

“Truth.”

 

“Are you in love with Joseph?”

 

Belle mentally reeled from the question, not expecting Hannah to dig that deep so fast… The blonde watched her calmly, betraying nothing, and while the instinct to lie came up, so did the sense that if she lied Hannah would be able to tell.

 

“...I am,” she admitted softly.

 

Hannah grinned, “Correct answer,” she said approvingly, “Because everyone should be in love with him. But don’t worry, I won’t tell him, that’s between the two of you.”

 

“Is he in love with me?” Belle blurted out, foregoing the “truth or truth” format.

 

Hannah considered, which both reassured Belle and made her dread the answer, “...he loves you,” she said, “But I don’t know if he’s sorted everything out yet. Love’s a complicated jumble in the best of times and that priestly guilt’s a motherfucker. I do think it’s just a matter of time before he settles on the right words.”

 

Belle nodded and took a long drink. Before she could recover, Hannah was taking her turn.

 

“What does the future look like to you?”

 

Again, Hannah’s features were carefully composed, forced into neutrality. But this question seemed less intimidating, less laser focused.

 

“I want to travel,” Belle said, “To go and see the world, not just read about it. I want to be with Joseph, if he still wants to be with me, and I want to be your friend, Francis’ too if he ever stops being an asshole.” Hannah interrupted with a soft laugh. “I want to watch Grace grow into the woman I know she can be…and, eventually, I want a child or two of my own.”

 

Hannah looked her dead in the eye and Belle thought she was going to pounce on the “children” comment…but instead she focused on the one part Belle assumed she wouldn’t care about.

 

“You say the word, and I’ll give you whatever you need,” she promised, “Money, itineraries, documentation, you name it. I will literally give you the world, you just have to ask.”

 

Belle gave a startled laugh, “You want to get rid of me that bad?”

 

Hannah reached out, cupping her cheek, “Nah. Just one small town girl with big dreams helping another small town girl live those same big dreams. I know you’ll appreciate just how beautiful it all is… And if that’s what you want, then fucking go for it. Don't let anything get in your way.”

 

Belle could hardly hear her through the roar of blood in her ears. Hannah was just touching her cheek; she wasn’t going to rip her throat out. Belle had the odd impulse to move closer to Hannah, as if she were being compelled by some strange wendigo hypnosis. Hannah’s hand dropped away and Belle missed the contact immediately. 

 

“Also, like, vicarious wanderlust,” Hannah admitted, “Grace is still a bit young to appreciate traveling, and Joseph’s perfectly happy staying put. Think the last few years have been enough to satisfy him for a lifetime.”

 

Belle wasn’t sure she wanted to travel alone… Maybe Hannah would agree to go with her as long as they weren’t extensive trips. While they were on the subject of a future though…

 

“Francis, during that…confrontation… How serious was that? About the surrogacy?”

 

Hannah averted her gaze, picking at a rhinestone decal, “Look… There was a lot of sociopathic pillow talk in the beginning, before I really gave you a chance… And Francis was still stuck in that mindset. I’m not proud of some of the scenarios we came up with, and I was… Belle he wanted you dead so fucking bad, and I was trying to save you as best as I could. Bringing up those surrogacy ideas was the only thing he’d fucking understand, I mean you saw how he reacted when I finally put my foot down.” She wiped away a few stray tears, “Until Joseph I was the only one in a century and a half that didn't betray him; I’m the one who chose him over everything . Just it looking like I was betraying him for you… That's a fucking deep knife to plunge into his back. But if Joseph was going to be brave and face him well then so should I…and pick up the pieces afterwards.” She gave a dismissive shake of her head, “Sorry, getting off topic. Those fantasies were never gonna be feasible but I hope… If you and Joseph… Please don’t shut us out. If you won’t let us see them unsupervised fine but… But don’t keep them from us, because those are a part of him and they’d be Grace’s siblings and it would just tear us up not to share in that.” 

 

Hannah sniffled and Belle wondered if this was the greater fear; not that she would actually take Joseph and Grace away, as was so absurd by this point it felt outdated. Maybe the new, more tangible fear was that Belle would somehow put Joseph and Grace behind a metaphorical glass wall, force the wendigos to watch them be happy away from them and not be able to interact. Belle couldn’t fathom how that would be possible when she could barely keep them from breaking into her house without warning, but as the sleepover was demonstrating, there was a vast difference between being able to and being allowed and invited.

 

“...any child I carry will be mine,” Belle said firmly, “Maybe down the road we can discuss a surrogacy situation but first, I want children of my own. But they would be Grace’s siblings, and your… Nieces? Nephews? Stepchildren? I don’t know.” She sighed, “We’ve made a lot of progress but I think there needs to be more before we truly consider that step. It’s not that I’d want to keep them from you…but I’m not going to endanger them.”

 

Hannah nodded, “That’s smart. I…don’t think Francis or I would risk anything, if the kids really wouldn’t be safe around us, but that’s your call. And like you said, still a ways away, you two aren’t even fucking yet.”

 

“I just…thought it was worth clarifying, beforehand, and because we’re being honest right now.”

 

“Course.” They both nursed their drinks, as if waiting for the tension to dissipate on its own. Finally, Hannah smirked, “So… Who do you have a crush on?”

 

Belle blushed, “Oh, you know. There’s this guy I’ve been hooking up with, JJ.”

 

Hannah tilted her head, “JJ?”

 

“Joseph Junior.” Belle failed to keep a straight face, “You’ve met him a couple times. He can be a real dick but until Joseph’s ready… He keeps me satisfied.”

 

Hannah snickered, “Sounds like a real hard-on.”

 

“Oh yeah, but he’s a solid guy, never lets me down.”

 

“Well I’m happy for you.” Hannah set her empty glass aside, “I cannot say it often enough but Gaston was a fucking waste of oxygen, and I cannot wait until you get some actual decent silicone-free dick.”

 

They stayed up until the small hours of the morning, trading truths with each other. Apparently Hannah had an older sister, though she didn’t offer much more about her personal history. Belle found she rarely “passed” on any of Hannah’s questions, whether because the other woman had the general sense of which topics were off the table, or Belle trusted her enough to be honest with her, it was hard to say. It helped that the conversation kept looping back to one of Hannah’s favorite topics; sex, and especially sex in regards to her husbands. Belle couldn’t help her curiosity, especially when it seemed as though Hannah had tried just about everything and then made a few things up as well. Hannah offered to give her a tour of the dungeon and Belle…didn’t reject the offer, but still didn’t commit.

 

She fell asleep to Hannah describing the smell of the rainforest, and the way the light filtered through the canopy. She woke up to Hannah’s frantic hissing.

 

“Grace, gimme my phone back!”

 

Belle blearily opened her eyes to Grace at the foot of the bed, phone in hand aimed at them.

 

“Just a minute.”

 

“Grace Bethany I swear I will ship you off on the next plane to military school if you did what I think you did.”

 

“It was cuuuuuute.”

 

Belle’s head was not on a pillow; it was on Hannah’s chest, one of her arms underneath Belle. She sat up and rubbed at her eyes, the alcohol and late night making it difficult to fully wake up.

 

“Morning, Belle,” Grace said airily, moving around to the opposite side of the bed and offering her mother’s phone back to her. Hannah snatched it and looked at the screen.

 

“ Grace .”

 

“They deserve to know!” 

 

Hannah opened it to a text message thread where an off-kilter shot of her and Hannah in bed had been sent with the caption “mommeez”. Another photo had just been received, Francis taking a selfie of him with a still sound asleep Joseph snuggled up to him, captioned “daddeez”. 

 

“I hope you’re happy being a child of goddamn divorce,” Hannah grumbled.

 

Grace smirked, clearly proud of her photojournalistic expose, “Swear jar.”

 

“I just woke up, you can’t put these unrealistic expectations on me.” Hannah tapped out a message too quick for Belle to catch, a whole semester’s worth of curses being muttered under her breath.

 

Grace gave a happy little hum and crawled onto the bed, worming her way between them, “You should’ve left a note, I didn’t know where you two were for like…five minutes.”

 

“Sorry,” Belle stroked Grace’s hair absently, “We need to redo your braid, you look like you were fighting an army in your sleep.”

 

“Nah, I didn’t have any dreams,” Grace assured her, “Did you?”

 

“No. Hannah?”

 

“What?” She snapped, then frowned and softened her tone, “Sorry, what was that?”

 

“Did you have any dreams?”

 

“...nah.” She sent off whatever text she was drafting to Francis and set her phone aside, looking guiltily at Belle, “Sorry hon, I guess I’m just used to cuddling when I sleep.”

 

Belle smiled, “It’s fine. I mean, it’s just cuddling, right?”

 

Hannah wavered, and Belle couldn’t decipher what she was thinking, “Yeah, just cuddling.”

 

“Cuddling’s for everyone!” Grace declared, wiggling, “Cuddlecuddlecuddle.”

 

Belle couldn’t imagine Joseph holding it against either of them that they’d gotten a little close in their sleep… Maybe Francis would? It seemed like an odd thing for him to be upset over, but clearly Hannah had not wanted him to know. Probably the merciless teasing that would no doubt be waiting for her back home, Belle concluded. She personally wasn’t going to read too much into it, no matter how nice it had felt waking up in Hannah’s arms.

Chapter 14: Fourth Meeting

Summary:

Family Group Text Thread

H: iam goin tu fukkin murder u
H: ido not care how long it taks
H: i wil bleed u out over over over again eat evry ounce of ur flesh
F: Excuse me, I was texting Grace
H: u wil live inside me nevr in contrl again forcd tu watch me fuk jojo over over over agin for eternity
F: Where is all this hostility coming from?
H: i know u i know ur laughin its not funny 😭😭😭🥺🥺😭😭
H: dont u fukkin tell him plz i stg
F: *sent gif of Hans from Frozen saying "I'm gonna tell him"*
H: u r fukkin ded

As Joseph prepared for the weekly session, he was delighted to see another new face joining the group. 

 

Killian had actually managed to show up on time, no doubt because of the blonde accompanying him. She was a sharp featured woman with an unrivaled resting bitch face, eyeing the room with thinly veiled disgust. She took her coffee black and sat down next to Killian, who didn’t seem the least bit bothered by his companion’s dourness. Leroy and Victor both shifted uncomfortably, neither having a smart remark to greet her with.

 

“Hi, welcome,” Joseph said.

 

She glanced at him but didn’t bother to respond, rifling through her scale-patterned purse for something.

 

“That chatterbox is Mal,” Killian said, gesturing towards the blonde, “She doesn’t want to be here.”

 

“You can sign off on court papers, right?” She asked.

 

Joseph blinked, “I’m…pretty sure I can.” He would have to look it up. Worst case scenario, Francis or Hannah could help him fudge it. 

 

She unfolded a timesheet and passed it to him. He glanced at the header.

 

“You…do know this is AA, not NA, right?”

 

“Close enough,” she insisted, “Hook said you weren’t the most annoying person in the world.”

 

It took Joseph a moment to realize Hook was a (hopefully) affectionate nickname for Killian, “Oh… Thank you.”

 

He signed it and she snatched it back, tucking it away again. Victor leaned over and opened his mouth, presumably to introduce himself, but one cutting glare from her made him sit back in his seat.

 

“Afternoon, everyone,” Joseph greeted, “It’s a bit exciting to see nearly a month in how much this group is growing.”

 

“Is it?” Victor asked, “Shouldn’t you want the group to be shrinking?”

 

Joseph shook his head, “Maybe if addiction was a one-and-done sort of thing but from what I’ve lived, and from what I’ve read… It never truly goes away.”

 

Mal raised her hand and Joseph nodded towards her, “Is there like a handbook or something I could get a copy of?”

 

“Oh yes, of course!” Joseph quickly glanced around for the booklets. 

 

“Wait, were we s’posed to be doing homework this whole time?” Leroy wondered.

 

“Thanks a lot, Mal,” Killian grumbled.

 

“Look, if you chucklefucks want to sit around and jerk each other off go ahead, I won’t stop you,” she snapped, taking the 12 Steps handbook from Joseph, “But if I have to drag myself to this for the next six months, minimum, I’m not going to waste my time.”

 

“Well I’m not looking to waste your time,” Joseph assured her, “I’m just hoping that by having somewhere to meet and discuss things without shame, we can all help each other.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, save it for the press release,” she flipped the booklet open before asking Killian, “What step are we on?”

 

“...step?” He echoed.

 

Joseph felt warm under his collar. Right… He’d been so preoccupied with making the members feel welcome and hearing their stories he had basically ignored the entire premise of the program.

 

“We’re still in the preliminary stages,” Victor saved him from answering, “Establishing the group and whatnot.”

 

“Step 0 then.” Mal skimmed the table of contents, then pointed something out to Killian, “Fucking told you it was a religious thing.”

 

Killian looked accusingly at Joseph, “Is this a cult?”

 

“No it's not a cult.” He couldn't even lead a support group, how in the world could he trick people into forming a cult? “There are some…appeals to a higher power, in the materials, but it's vague. Substitute in whatever works for you.”

 

She didn't seem completely convinced.

 

“Can I get one of those too?” Leroy asked.

 

And so, the meeting turned into reading hour, and Joseph did the best he could to answer whatever questions came up. He could feel his authority fading by the minute though, and he wondered if anyone would show back up now that he made it clear he didn't have all the answers.

 

As if he ever claimed to, but still.

 

For once, Francis didn’t look twice at Killian… And didn’t look at all at Joseph. Tension was rolling off of him and Joseph feared the worst. He waited for the others to leave, fidgeting all the while.

 

“Joe?”

 

Francis looked at him briefly and the fear melted into a tightening in his gut. Francis wanted him, right now , and Joseph wasn’t sure how far they’d make it given the intensity behind his husband’s dark eyes. He quietly followed, focusing on his breathing and not on the variety of tension between them. Francis had been normal before the meeting, excited of course for their boy time, but not borderline feral. 

 

“Hannah working you up over texts again?” He asked once they were in the safety of the SUV. Sometimes it was a good thing that they wound each other up… sometimes . 

 

Francis wet his lips, “In a way. Apparently your girlfriend invited her and Grace over for a sleepover tonight.”

 

It took a minute for the realization to dawn on him, “...we’ll be alone. All night.”

 

Francis grinned wickedly, “Just you and me, lamb.”

 

No wonder he was so riled up. Joseph squirmed just thinking what they could do with a solid twelve hours or more of a guaranteed lack of interruptions. 

 

“And Belle suggested it?” He asked.

 

The grin dampened, “I believe so, why?”

 

“Just curious.” Francis didn't look satisfied with that answer so he admitted, “I’m starting to wonder if Belle might have a crush on Hannah.”

 

“Really?”

 

“She just seems…oddly fixated on how pretty Hannah looks all the time.” He studied Francis' face, “...what do you think?” 

 

Francis shrugged, “Perhaps. But I do know for a fact that Hannah does have a crush on Belle.” He shook his head, “You didn't hear that from me though.”

 

Joseph smiled, “Of course I didn't.”

 

“Aside from not being sure of where Belle stands, she doesn't want to overshadow your own budding romance.”

 

“That's sweet of her.” Francis finally started the vehicle and backed out of the parking space, heading towards home. “...I don't know if Belle even recognizes it, you know? Like how I didn't?”

 

Francis shrugged again, “It’s possible. Plenty of people don't question their sexuality until attraction to someone challenges it.”

 

God knew he hadn't… Joseph tried to keep a straight face, “Still a bit cold yet for Hannah to take a page out of Francis MacAvoy Ives’ playbook and just…go around shirtless for a few months.”

 

“It was effective… I think.”

 

“Yeah, I think, on a subconscious level.” He gingerly ran a hand up Francis' thigh, “Maybe Hannah could get into the habit of sunbathing in the backyard while Belle’s home.”

 

Francis rolled his hips, trying to encourage Joseph's hand to wander, “Now you're thinking like a proper pervert,” he said approvingly.

 

The lovely dinner Francis prepared for them, of course, was wonderful but Joseph personally enjoyed thanking him for it more. As much as he appreciated Francis' take-charge attitude, the nights when it was just the two of them, and he trusted Joseph enough to boss him around… It was a special treat for both men.

 

Joseph woke to Francis' jerky movements and he whined, rubbing his face into his chest.

 

“You really couldn't wait until I woke up to start wanking?”

 

“I’m not wanking, I was laughing.” He kissed the top of Joseph's head, “Sorry love, Hannah's having a meltdown.”

 

If he was laughing, it couldn't be too dire, “Over what?”

 

“Grace being a traitor to her gender.”

 

Francis scrolled up, then tapped on a picture with Grace's trademark tilt. Hannah and Belle were both curled up in Belle's bed, the brunette tucked into the blonde not unlike how Joseph was currently burrowed into Francis’ side.

 

“That's adorable.”

 

“Right? But she-”

 

There was a tap on the window and Joseph shrieked. Francis let out a low growl, slowly sliding out of bed and letting Hannah inside.

 

“He could have been sleeping.”

 

“Which is why I didn't just bust the fucking door down.”

 

“You left Grace with her?”

 

“Just long enough so I can calm the fuck down and shut you the hell up.”

 

“You’ll need to give me a moment, that chilly breeze did me no favors.”

 

“Oh fuck you .” Hannah stormed away from him and whirled back, pacing a tight circuit from one end of the room to the other.

 

“Hannah?” Joseph called out softly.

 

Her head whipped towards him and she looked…scared.

 

“Hannah, darling, it's alright,” he reassured her, “It was just a cuddle… It was just a cuddle, right?”

 

She wheeled around and smacked Francis on the chest, “You fucking told him ?!”

 

“Why would I hide that from him?” Francis asked, mystified. 

 

“Because!” She kept smacking and kicking him, “Bastard! Fucker!”

 

Francis tolerated a few shots before he grabbed her by the upper arms, pinning them to her sides. She thrashed, trying to shrug him off, but he held firm.

 

“You’re having a wee bit of a gay panic, dearest,” he murmured.

 

The fight went out of her like a blown candle, tears welling up. She turned to Joseph and his heart broke a little at how miserable she looked.

 

“I’m sorry, Jojo,” she mumbled, “I didn't mean to get a crush on your girl.”

 

“It’s fine. I mean we already share a husband,” he pointed out. She gave him a small smile, clearly relieved.

 

Did…Hannah really think he was going to get upset over that? As if he wasn’t thrilled by how much they were getting along, making the whole situation that much easier.

 

Francis relaxed his grip on her and she rewarded him with a gentle headbutt to his chest. He shoved her onto the bed and Hannah fell back with a sigh.

 

“Last night was so nice though…” She said wistfully, “Then I wake up and we’re snuggled close and Grace is immediately tattling to you two before I can even enjoy it.” Hannah pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes and what the hell happened to her nails? “...girls are so fucking hard to read.”

 

“Amen to that,” Francis teased and she kicked him.

 

“I think you two would be really cute together, personally,” Joseph said, earning him a glare from Francis.

 

“Is it worth the risk of fucking up the closest friendship I’ve had with a girl who isn't related to me though?” She wondered, “You don't come back from that kind of confession.”

 

“It worked for me,” Joseph pointed out.

 

“Yeah, because you're you, and who wouldn't want a piece of that?” 

 

“If we’re opening up our marriage again-”

 

“Just to Belle,” Hannah said at the same time Joseph said, “You're not fucking Killian.”

 

Francis scowled at him, “Just one incredibly inebriated night, he won't even know in the morning why his ass is sore.”

 

“There are…so many things wrong with that sentence,” Joseph muttered.

 

“Belle or nothing,” Hannah said firmly.

 

“Unbelievable,” Francis grumbled, “You two can have a full-blown relationship with another woman but I can't have a single night with another man.”

 

“Maybe if you were nicer to Belle, she’d shag you too.”

 

Joseph knew the moment the words left his mouth he was in trouble. He couldn't scramble away fast enough as Francis pounced, pinning him to the bed.

 

“Hannah!” He flailed underneath him, “Hannah help me!”

 

Hannah smirked, sliding off the bed, “Nah, you dug your grave, moron. I should get back to the girls.”

 

“Hannah! Han- ahhhhh,” Joseph arched up as Francis grinded against him, a thin sheet barely separating their bodies.

 

Hannah did hesitate, watching the show for a minute, before leaving him to his fate.

Chapter 15: Cautious Steps Forward

Summary:

Notes Jotted Down on Sheet Titled "Operation: Westward Ho"

-Male, Scottish/Caucasian/White, brown hair, brown eyes, mid-30's?
-California bound (most of American residency?)
-Turned 1840's (need to ask J what exact year was again)
-Possible military career (grain of salt despite H's claims)
-NOT part of Donner Party (allegedly) or aliased Alfred Packer
Possible leads
- Where is myth best known? (Algonquian tribe, but they were/are primarily in Atlantic/Great Lakes region) (post-New World, pre-California trip?)
- How prevalent was diet during the pioneer era? (doesn't seem very, at least documented) (deeply taboo and troubling ties to racism towards natives)

She had suspected it for a long time but to see it, in red ink and solid numbers, was as concrete as the lead feeling in her stomach. The Little Shop of Wonders would need a miracle to survive.

 

The bump from adding breakfast offerings wasn't enough, and Gaston's accounts were draining much quicker than she realized. Belle had maybe a year, and then she would have to shut the doors for good.

 

She could buy a little more time…if she sold her house. 

 

She locked up, ready to walk over to her car, when she spotted movement near the library. She fingered her keys until she felt the wood half heart, and rotated the blade out. The figure’s head turned and she recognized the profile…but kept the knife out as she crossed the street. Francis was almost cute as he tried to peer through the cracks in the newspapered windows to figure out what was inside. He glanced her way as Belle approached, and she inclined her head towards the alley before heading in that direction herself.

 

She was surprised he followed her so willingly; not because she was any sort of threat to him, but just his sheer stubbornness. She led him to the caretaker's entrance, demonstrating how to jiggle the door just so in order to get it open. There was an alertness to him as they went inside that had little to do with being on guard, his glancing around a very familiar emotion to Belle.

 

Curiosity.

 

“Watch your step,” she warned, taking her flashlight off the nearby shelf and turning it on, “Spiders love this place.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“Storybrooke’s old library.” She swept the beam in front of them, checking for pests more than anything, “Mayor Mills Senior shut it down due to lack of funding, supposedly. The local legend is she was using it for a drug operation, so if you see anything white and powdery, don't inhale.”

 

“Noted.”

 

Belle briefly pointed the light towards a staircase, “That goes up to the caretaker's apartment and a couple offices, as well as the clocktower.”

 

“What's this?” Of course, he was already looking in the opposite direction.

 

Belle illuminated the elaborate door, its mechanisms rusted in place, “Old mine shaft. Supposedly hasn't functioned in decades and anyway, the compartment is below, not on this level.”

 

Francis stared at the door, the gears in his head turning perfectly by comparison, “Why would there be a mine shaft in a clocktower building in the center of town?”

 

“You tell me,” Belle shrugged, “Easier access for transportation? Prohibition speakeasy? I haven’t found a lot of information on this building.”

 

“I’m still trying to piece together how a small town in Maine managed to find enough coal to build their industry around.” He stepped closer, studying the finer details for a few minutes. He then grinned, glancing over his shoulder at Belle, “Maybe someone had a lot of bodies to hide.”

 

She rolled her eyes and took the flashlight’s beam off of him, and he chuckled. She continued into what at one time had been a library; now it was dusty shelves and plastic totes upon plastic totes of books. It had been her best effort to protect the abandoned volumes from mold and mildew, but it wasn't where they belonged.

 

Francis walked amongst the barren shelves, occasionally touching the lid of a tote. Even in the low light, she could see his sadness, almost grief, at the disrepair.

 

“Nothing in this world lasts forever, but that doesn't mean an effort shouldn't be made to preserve parts of it,” he said. He glanced up at her, “Is this why you went into library science?”

 

Belle was taken aback; not just at the reminder he knew all her public details, but how quickly he connected the dots.

 

“Partially,” she admitted, “Thought maybe if there was someone willing to put in the time and effort, Storybrooke could have a library again.”

 

“It got a bookstore instead.” Belle thought he meant it kindly, but it still stung. He paused in his wandering, now studying her, “You don't like having a bookstore?”

 

“I don't not like it… The idea of letting people borrow books is just more appealing than making them pay for them,” she admitted.

 

He nodded, rounding the front counter, “Look at this dinosaur… Probably still uses DOS.”

 

“Isn't it a bit ironic, you calling a computer old?” Belle tried to make sure her tone and smile were conveying the joke.

 

Thankfully, he smiled back, “A bit.” He continued his exploration of the front desk area and Belle trained the light just ahead of where he was going. “Hannah said you’ve asked her all sorts of questions about her time as an assassin. I'm feeling a bit left out.”

 

“I thought I’d try a different approach with your history,” she explained, “Seeing how getting basic answers from you can be like pulling teeth, I figure I’d do my research, then confront you with the truth.”

 

Francis’ laugh echoed through the building, “Well I wish you the best with that. Digging up Joseph's past doesn’t take a genius, as evidenced by the late Mr. Glass. But I’ve spent the better part of my existence erasing any trace of myself from history. You're not going to find anything about me.”

 

That might very well be true, but his confidence was stoking her desire to prove him wrong.

 

“Are you telling me there was a secret member of the Donner party?”

 

Francis sighed in annoyance, “The Donner fucking party… You know that wasn't the only wagon train that got trapped in the mountains and resorted to cannibalism, hm? It's just the most documented one.”

 

Interesting. Belle made a note of that. 

 

“I am also not Alfred Packer,” he continued, “Do not believe Hannah if she tries to convince you otherwise, there is no resemblance.” He pursed his lips, “...I did a good job of framing him though, poor guy.”

 

“You did not frame Alfred Packer for murder and cannibalism,” Belle insisted.

 

Francis smirked, “Did I not?” He asked, and Belle realized with horror that she might never be able to believe him about any aspect of his past.

 

“Welcome to the fucking club,” Joseph muttered later that night as they walked their pets together, “He’s a bullshit machine, and Hannah will go along with just about anything he claims. It is the most harmless, most annoying version of gaslighting imaginable.”

 

Audrey had refused the harness Belle had gotten for her, but seemed perfectly happy to stick by Freddi's side… Literally, if it wasn't for the fact Freddi was so much taller than her and she had to move her legs in order to walk. 

 

“He’s got Grace convinced jackalopes used to roam the prairies until they were hunted to extinction and honestly, considering what he is, I half believe it myself.”

 

“There'd be evidence,” Belle insisted, “Remains, historical documentation, that sort of thing.”

 

“It was a very small subspecies of hare,” Joseph recounted, “The bones were often mistaken as such and the antlers were mostly cartilage, so broke down much faster and weren't well preserved.”

 

“...imagine if he put this much brain power into something productive,” Belle mused.

 

“I do.” Joseph assured her, “All the time.” He checked both ways before they crossed the street. “He was fine though, right? No threats, no intimidation, no cannibal references?”

 

“No threats, no intimidation, but I don't think he can help himself when it comes to the references,” Belle said, “It seems to me that's part of the wendigo deal. Craving for human flesh, unnatural abilities, the impulse to constantly make puns about their condition…”

 

He laughed, “You might have a point, they're both guilty of it.”

 

They took a short path to a green area that they had found early on; a good place for Freddi and Audrey to explore, with a bench for Belle and Joseph to make out on. It was her attempt to slow down to Joseph's pace; it being a public area and too cold to encourage taking off clothes, it made it easier to deescalate. Not nearly as comfortable as her couch though.

 

But what was a little discomfort compared to how he smiled at her? Or the way his eyes shone when he looked at her, or the dozens of soft quick touches as if he had to make sure she was real. Maybe she was technically aiding and abetting criminals, but it seemed a small price to pay for people who cared as much about her as Joseph and, yes, even Hannah. 

 

To finally get a taste of true love.

 

Joseph's hand brushed the side of her breast and she was prepared to ignore it…but the hand stayed there, tentative but deliberate in its sly slow exploration. Belle couldn't help it; she broke their kiss off, laughing. His hand dropped and he rocketed to the other side of the bench, looking as guilty as a puppy who had gotten into the trash.

 

“Are you trying to feel me up through a winter coat?” She teased.

 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I, I thought it might be…safer, you know?”

 

“Sure but can you even notice, with all the down in this jacket?”

 

He fidgeted indignantly, “Of course I know the difference between padding and, and that.”

 

“If you say so.”

 

Progress was progress; however many layers between them, he had actually made it to second base. And it was adorable how flushed he was at being called out, a schoolboy testing his own bravery. She could only hope it would continue to progress… Preferably indoors.

 

Later in the week, Belle engaged in the necessary evil of grocery shopping, getting distracted in the baking aisle. She had dabbled in the art with varying degrees of success but thought maybe she should pick up something to have on hand, as a potential sleepover activity, in the hopes they were going to be a regular thing. Then again she might be stepping on Francis' toes, since he apparently baked… But then again again, when wasn’t she stepping on his or Hannah’s toes when it came to Grace?

 

The image of the pre-Thanksgiving flour fight aftermath popped into her head and she smiled. Hopefully Hannah didn't fight too dirty…

 

“Look at you.” A familiar, unpleasant voice cooed, “Practically glowing.”

 

Belle turned towards it, the smile forced now, “Good evening, Mayor Mills.”

 

“Miss French.” She gave a small nod, smiling politely back, “An especially good deal I should know about?”

 

Belle shook her head, “No I was just…thinking about Caleb's little girl helping with Thanksgiving. I'm not sure with the way the kitchen looked how there was still enough flour for a couple pies.”

 

Regina didn't seem as amused by the mental image, “You know I think we're the only two who have ever been invited inside their home.”

 

“Probably, they can be very private,” she said, “I can't blame them though, given their situation.”

 

“And what situation is that?”

 

“You know…” Belle lowered her voice, “The mother leaving the father for the uncle. Perfectly gift-wrapped fodder for the rumor cannon.”

 

“Right.” Regina leaned forward on her cart’s handle, “Don't you find the entire situation…odd?”

 

“Of course I do. But honestly? I think it's very sweet how they’ve put aside their differences for Grace.” She shrugged, “Sometimes relationships don't work out… And really if you saw Helena and Joe together, surely you understand how they make a better fit.”

 

Regina didn't look convinced, and Belle wondered what version of themselves they put on for her. Clearly she didn't pick up on Francis' wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing act if she felt comfortable enough to assault him… Or she was like Belle, convinced she could handle whatever skeletons were in the closet. 

 

…no, Belle was sure Regina couldn't, and no matter how prominent she was, they would make her disappear.

 

“You’ve gotten rather close with them,” Regina remarked.

 

Belle ducked her head shyly, “You could say that… Caleb and I are dating.”

 

“Congratulations but…so soon?”

 

Belle sucked in a breath, “To tell the truth, Gaston and I weren't very happy together.”

 

“Really? He seemed to adore you.”

 

She did not have the strength to tackle the complexity of her own situation with someone like Regina, “There's more to a marriage than adoration.”

 

Regina pursed her lips, “It's all very coincidental, isn't it? Your husband having a tragic accident mere months after Caleb arrives?”

 

Belle shrugged, “Accidents happen. Ruby did warn me there was a rumor going around that I hired an assassin to take him out, but I think people vastly underestimate how expensive a hitman is.”

 

“Graham mentioned you were at the MacAvoys when you received the news.”

 

“I was watching Grace for them.”

 

“Where was Caleb?”

 

“I think he met up with Helena and Joe at a family cabin or something, I didn't ask too many questions.”

 

“Maybe you should have.”

 

“Why?”

 

There was a pause Regina refused to fill and Belle tried to piece together what she was implying.

 

…she couldn't be.

 

…could she?

 

Belle couldn't help it. She burst out laughing at the idea, “You cannot think Caleb is somehow responsible for Gaston's automobile accident, can you? I mean, you have actually met Caleb, right?”

 

“Appearances can be deceiving,” Regina countered, though she could tell the mayor's confidence in her conclusion was shaken.

 

She had to drive home the point.

 

“Not with him. He’s an open book for the most part and if he is trying to hide something… Well it's very easy to tell. I would have noticed if something was off about his trip.” The temptation to indirectly shift Regina's focus to Francis was there, but she ignored it. Better not to remind her of the much-more-likely-to-have-murdered-someone MacAvoy. She gripped her cart's handle, preparing to move on, “I appreciate your concern but sometimes…people just die, and there's no nefarious scheme behind it.”

 

Regina was not convinced, nor did she have a leg to stand on. Belle went to continue on her way, only to freeze at the sound of another familiar, usually pleasant voice.

 

“FOUND IT UNCLE JOE! THE VERY BEST ONE!”

 

Belle exchanged a look with Regina. Even she, who had no idea about the sensitive hearing, seemed alarmed at the idea he might be nearby. Belle would bet it all on the fact he very much was.

 

Grace waddled past the baking aisle, cradling a cantaloupe. She did a double-take when she spotted them and lit up.

 

“BELLE! BELLE'S HERE UNCLE JOE COME BE POLITE!”

 

There was a sigh from the next aisle over, and any doubt he had been listening was erased, “Inside voice, Grace.”

 

She waddled up to Belle, completely ignoring Regina, “I checked aaaall the cantaloupes by looking and smelling and feeling and knocking like you’re supposed to, and I found the very best one!” Grace's joyous smile wavered, “Were you gonna get a cantaloupe? Because then I can give you this one and go get the second best one, it was a close call.”

 

“I’m fine, Grace, thank you,” Belle assured her.

 

Francis turned into the aisle, pretending to be sheepish, “Guess I’ve been called out, eh? Difficult to eavesdrop when your niece is about as stealthy as a giraffe. You want to put that in the cart, Grace?”

 

“Nah, I’m gonna hold onto it for a bit, to keep me out of trouble.” She shot a glare towards Regina as if there was any doubt what she meant by that.

 

Francis glanced down around Regina, “No Henry?”

 

“No, this was supposed to be a short trip.” Regina straightened, “I should get going. It was nice running into you…both.”

 

“Bye Regina.”

 

“Take care.”

 

“Don't let the door-”

 

Francis' hand snaked out and clamped over Grace's mouth, “I’ll stop letting you out of the cage if you can't behave in public.”

 

Grace was unimpressed by the threat, rolling her eyes and sighing as the mayor retreated. He waited until Regina was out of sight before letting go of Grace.

 

“You want to put the cantaloupe in the cart now?”

 

“No, I kind of like holding him, like a fat little baby.” She patted the rind affectionately.

 

He looked at Belle, his baffled expression clearly conveying that even being alive since the early 19th century did not prepare him for such parenting moments as anthropomorphizing fruit. Belle giggled, even though part of her was stuck on how much he had heard and if she had said anything he’d take umbrage with. 

 

“I’ll let you two get back to your shopping,” she said, “Bye Joe, bye Grace.”

 

“Bye Belle! Give Audrey kisses for me!”

 

“I will.”

 

Belle met Francis' eye and for once didn't see animosity. She couldn't quite place what she saw, tolerance, begrudging respect… But she would take it as a good sign.

 

xXx

 

“She's not half bad at playing the game,” Francis reluctantly admitted, running his fingers through Hannah's curls, “She did a decent job handling Regina’s interrogation last night.”

 

Hannah set her phone down and twisted around to glare up at him, “I don't know what's fucking worse; when I’m wrong and you're right and you won't shut the fuck up, or when you're wrong and I'm right but you pretend I didn't fucking bring these exact points up. I told you she can fucking play ball but you were too busy being a whiny little bitch.”

 

“You're not right yet, just in this instance,” he pointed out.

 

And then he was on the floor, Hannah on top of him, knee pressing into his solar plexus.

 

“You're being an asshole past a reasonable doubt,” she informed him.

 

He should take her more seriously; she was quite lethal in her own right, and he was now in a vulnerable position. But he just loved how fiery his darling Hierophant was, and he grinned up at her like the fool he was, trying not to laugh. She was not in the mood, but she wasn't pissed off to the point of beating the shit out of him, so it was a delicious aggravated balance.

 

Thankfully, she was almost as enamored by him as he was by her, and huffed, easing up on the pressure.

 

“God fucking damn you.”

 

“He’ll damn you too, the way you blashpheee-” He wheezed as her knee grinded into that tender spot below his rib cage. She held it there, smirking as he struggled, before finally showing him mercy.

 

“Dick.”

 

“Can I at least get a “please” if you're making such demands?”

 

“No.” She was weighing the idea though. She leaned back to peer at the laptop on the coffee table, checking the progress bar, then shook her head, “We should save it for Joseph.”

 

“Because he loves it when we jump on him right after we get back from a snack break,” Francis muttered.

 

“That's his fault, making eye contact like the slut he is.” A fair point. By now he should realize the consequences of existing in the same space as them, especially after a special meal, especially if he had the audacity to greet them.

 

The scan was close to complete so he saw her point, even if they could get a quick fuck in. Being a murdering cannibal was a full time job, between the butchering and the destroying evidence and the constant check-ups of their digital footprint. He vainly hoped Grace would be like Joseph and not care about social media, but that seemed nigh impossible in this day and age.

 

Hannah promised to handle that area, at least. It was just another reminder they were hurtling towards the time when Grace would be more independent…and all the joyous struggles that would entail. 

 

“You do know you’re probably going to have to fuck her, right?”

 

Francis was yanked out of his thoughts, “Who?”

 

Hannah rolled her eyes, “ Belle . She wants kids, probably with Joseph, and she’s not even against us having a relationship with them. But you know what that means.”

 

Why did he have to keep reiterating this point? “I don’t want to fuck Belle.”

 

Hannah counted off her grievances on her fingers, “First, it’s your irrational goddamn fear, not mine. Second, I’ve seen the questionable things you’re willing to stick your dick into, so stop pretending you have any standards for getting off. Third, you seemed plenty on board when it was a nonconsensual breeding fantasy.”

 

“Counterpoints.” He curled each of her fingers as he made them, “Better an irrational fear than a dead child. Low standards do not equal automatic consent. It was never going to be more than a fantasy, the logistics were far too impractical.”

 

“...it was hot though,” Hannah pouted.

 

“It was.” He drew her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

 

“It’d be hot to watch you fuck her.” He nipped at her skin but she was unapologetic. “If her reading tastes are anything to go by, the two of you have some overlapping kinks.”

 

He bit her knuckle. She refused to pull away, or back off the subject. Ornery, vexing woman… He wasn't sure he was going to last until they were back home.

 

“I’d wager we’re still a ways off from this being a serious discussion.”

 

“Fuck, probably. They're technically on second base but just because he meant to touch her boob. Over her coat. He had gloves on.”

 

“Don't rush them,” he chastised.

 

“I'm not! It's just…the age gap between Grace and any siblings is getting wider and wider, and as the baby of a large age gap-”

 

The screen changed, and they were both distracted. It was clean; no new online footprint had been left, no inquiries or casual mentions. They remained as invisible as possible in the modern age. He tilted to the side until Hannah slid off his stomach, and they set about preparing to go to their actual house, and not the Hunting HQ that this one had become.

 

“First to make him smile gets Round One,” Hannah challenged.

 

Francis grinned, and immediately started planning his strategy.

Chapter 16: Trustfall

Summary:

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It was a tough pill to swallow, even if it made complete sense. Joseph’s heart sank and he did his best to hide his disappointment. Of course, Hannah still noticed, and rested her hand on his thigh.

 

“We’ll go back, sweetie,” she promised, “Just when she’s older.”

 

Joseph nodded, and Francis reluctantly crossed “Home” off the potential vacation spots list. Of course an abandoned animal shelter in the middle of nowhere wouldn’t be all that appealing to Grace, and after a day or two even running around the woods would lose its appeal. But he missed it… All of them missed it, as only Francis had been back since they left the U.S. to check on it and scatter Vlad’s ashes. 

 

But it would be better, all three of them concluded, to wait until she was old enough to appreciate it. And Joseph couldn’t wait to take her around the property and point out each special place that made up their love story. This is where I met your mother. This is where I met your father. This is the table we all ate together around the first time. This is where I found out about you. You were born in this house, delivered by your father, and I gave you your first bath in this sink.  

 

His stomach turned as he thought about all the things they were going to tell her when she turned eighteen. He didn’t want these memories soaked in blood, even if that was their authentic state. Let her see them first as the precious moments they were and then, if necessary, pencil in all the gruesome details. 

 

This is where your mother and father pretended they were human. This is where they ate white meats so even after I learned the truth I never had to question whether they had subjected me to cannibalism. This is the basement I lived in for three months as they debated whether I could be trusted enough to live. This is where I held you for the first time, just ignore the fact it is also where they have murdered and chopped up dozens of bodies over the course of decades. 

 

“Just because it’s spring break it doesn’t mean we have to go on a trip,” Francis insisted, drawing Joseph back into the conversation, “All of the popular destinations will be flooded anyway.” 

 

Even Hannah didn’t look completely sold on the idea of taking a break from Storybrooke.

 

“It will be good for us,” Joseph insisted, “Getting away from here for a bit, just us four…”

 

Francis met his eye and while he could tell the argument appealed to him, it did not fully convince him, “I’m not sure I like the idea of our house unguarded for a week, with a nosey neighbor and a suspicious mayor lurking about.”

 

“What the fuck is Belle going to find that's worse than what she already knows? Joseph's vibrating cock ring?” Joseph flinched at the unexpected call-out but Hannah continued, “As far as Regina goes there’s a few things we can do, number one being not to fucking announce our absence. We don’t even need to be gone a full week, just a few days to take a breather from all this drama.”

 

“All this drama? We’re taking half the drama with us,” Joseph teased, gesturing towards Francis. Francis glared at him and Hannah smirked.

 

“Okay, well, we’ll take some drama with us,” she amended.

 

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Francis muttered but clearly he and Hannah were wearing him down.

 

While he was distracted with the remaining trip options, Joseph glanced at their wife, then glanced in the direction of Belle’s house. Hannah nodded sympathetically and gave a small apologetic shrug. They would need to have a discussion later, because without words he couldn’t tell if she meant “yeah it sucks she can’t come with us” or “yeah you’re absolutely right she’ll make sure Regina doesn’t break in while we’re gone but good luck bringing that up to Francis”. 

 

It was a shame they weren’t at a place yet where inviting Belle would feel like a natural thing to do… But at the same time they did really need some time away from her. Hannah was right; he had gone from Belle’s position as the newcomer to their position as part of an established, committed relationship, and that meant checking in and nurturing his current partners alongside his new one. Francis especially could use a break to remind him his family would always be his family, and a new addition wasn’t going to change that. 

 

xXx

 

It started with Joseph timidly asking for a favor which, while an odd question when they were in the middle of making out, wasn’t too alarming. Especially when that favor was just dogsitting while they went on vacation.

 

“Of course,” Belle assured him, feeling guilty that her first reaction was excitement. Not at the MacAvoy Iveses going out of town for a bit, but for the opportunity that gave her. 

 

Just because she knew what they were (and was no longer interested in turning them over to the police), it didn’t mean she was not still extremely interested in snooping. She could learn plenty in a few days, and with the cover of watching Freddi and making sure the house looked active, she could easily handwave away any of Francis’ paranoid accusations. 

 

They had gone through her things and learned nearly everything about her. Now was her chance to turn the tables on them.

 

“There’s a list of emergency contacts on the fridge,” Joseph explained the night before they planned to leave, “She gets a morning, afternoon and evening walk, though sometimes she’s not up for it. Dry kibble for breakfast and lunch, wet food for dinner. She doesn’t like to eat alone so you might have to snack nearby if she’s not eating. She’ll sit by the back door if she needs to go out. There’s a shelf of her treats in the pantry if you turn to the left; the peanut butter biscuits are her favorite.”

 

“I think you gave me less instructions for looking after Grace,” Belle joked.

 

“Well Grace is tough, and can speak English.” He fidgeted with his ring of keys, “This is going to come off a little insane but…Freddi’s not very good at advocating for herself. She doesn’t even really beg at the dinner table. So I have to make sure she’s getting the love and attention she deserves.”

 

Joseph was too precious to exist, and she had no idea how Francis and Hannah could handle it.

 

He continued to fidget, and then showed her each key, “House, car, shop…” He hesitated, wavering but finally deciding to explain the other three keys, “...the other house…the bomb shelter, and inside the bomb shelter.”

 

“Bomb shelter?”

 

He nodded, “I guess it was a bunker in case of nuclear war or something. Now…” He trailed off. 

 

…ah. Belle grimaced.

 

“Keycode’s 1812,” he mumbled, “He’d fucking kill me if he knew I was giving this to you but… I don’t know. If things go tits up, maybe… Maybe you’ll need to know.”

 

She knew exactly what she had been given, and the cost of abusing such a gift. If there was any solid evidence, Joseph had basically just handed it to her. It was an extreme show of trust, one that was about to make her tear up. He looked on the verge of tears as well, trembling and pleading with her silently.

 

Belle hugged him, “Have fun on your trip.”

 

He hugged her back tightly, “Thanks… Maybe…one day…”

 

“Someone has to hold down the fort,” she said lightly.

 

He watched her for a moment after they broke apart, begging her. And she would not betray them…but she would take advantage of their absence.

 

She waited a few hours after they had left, not trusting that they wouldn't double back for innocent or paranoid reasons. She packed a few things for herself and Audrey, and then went over to the MacAvoy Iveses. Freddi hurried to greet her but slowed when she realized it was only Belle.

 

“Sorry, sweetheart, it's just me for now. But look who I brought!”

 

Audrey chirped, darting towards Freddi. But not even her girlfriend could cheer the poor confused pup. 

 

“He’ll be back soon,” she promised.

 

Had Freddi ever been kenneled since her adoption? And the fact she had been at the shelter in the first place meant someone had more than likely given her up. She wondered if that fear of abandonment ever eased for surrendered pets, or if that was just a part of them, a ghost in their crate. Joseph had never brought up how Freddi came to be at the shelter; she wondered if they even knew her history, or if she had been found as a stray unable to tell her story.

 

Belle wished she could make her understand this was temporary, that her family would be back in a few days.

 

She set up in the guest room before launching into her investigation of the house. Of course she’d seen a lot of it, but that was like taking a brisk walk through an art gallery. Now, alone, she had the time to take in each piece, to notice the thousands of details that illustrated their everyday life. Grace’s mostly A-filled report card pinned proudly to the fridge, with a note from her teacher saying how she was a natural born leader who needed to work on raising her hand instead of blurting out answers. The white board calendar with color-coded events and a tic-tac-toe game that had been extended out several times to break the initial tie, but now was impossible to tell whether X’s or O’s had won or if it was still ongoing. A Bible on the coffee table, bookmarked to death and well-worn.

 

She continued on to the second story, with rooms less familiar to her. Most were storage, possibly left behind by Mr. Gold or possibly Francis' junk, it was hard to say. She passed Grace's room and went into what looked like a home office. Belle’s attention was immediately drawn to the half-filled bookshelf, where there was a very obvious difference between Hannah's and Francis' reading preferences. 

 

…she found books she had read on both of their shelves though. Joseph didn't seem to have a designated shelf, though she did spot a copy of “Her Handsome Hero”. There was also a box set of journals labeled “birthday wishes/anytime gifts”, three colors of three journals each; red, blue and green. The journals also had stickers on their binding that correlated to the other colors; one of each, then one with both colors on it. Curiously, she pulled out a blue volume with the red and green stickers on the side, and flipped to a random page.

 

In Joseph's neat print, he carefully detailed a scenario in which Professor Ives was giving a lecture on… Oh. …and needed…a volunteer… And the other student kept…asking…questions…and needing…examples… Belle felt the heat from her cheeks to her groin. There was a checkmark on the page so she had to conclude his wish came true.

 

She shouldn't pry, no matter how curious she was. This was a private matter between the three of them… But she also desperately wanted to read all his naughty secrets. She compromised and read one more, the latest entry, short and…spicy.

 

I want to watch Hannah and Belle make out while Francis whispers dirty things in my ear and tries to convince me to touch myself to them.

 

Belle fought the impulse to hurl the journal away from her; not out of disgust, but out of shock at Joseph's candid desire. She could not imagine him stating that out loud without an excessive amount of stuttering, fidgeting, and apologizing. Maybe that was why these journals existed; a way to express their fantasies without having to say them to each other's faces.

 

…making out with Hannah wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. She had already kissed her, and Hannah had plenty of experience. She remembered waking up in her arms, her strong warm body close to Belle's… She put the journals away before she could think too much more about it.

 

She couldn't even begin to guess a password to the computer, so she continued on to the bedroom. This felt the most intrusive, and she was careful not to dig too deep into more personal items. Hannah took up the bulk of the bathroom and closet, followed by Francis, though it was harder to distinguish between what was definitely his and what was Joseph's. The trend of Joseph's much smaller material impact felt less like purposeful neglect and more a reflection of his nature. He did not need a lot to be happy; he was simple and basic, in the best ways.

 

Belle would definitely have to ask Hannah about borrowing some of her outfits though; she had some really cute clothes. More reds than Belle was accustomed to… She could tell Hannah's side of the bed by the nightstand, pink charging cords and a harlequin novel with two women on the cover. Grace had mentioned Hannah getting crushes on girls… Belle opened the drawer and found a small selection of toys neatly organized, not at all helpful in keeping whatever weird feelings she was having about Hannah’s sexuality at bay. 

 

The other nightstand was not devoid of its own toys, surprisingly, and an even wider array of lubes than Hannah's. There was also a bulk sized box of condoms that made Belle blush…and consider pilfering a few. On top of the boys’ nightstand was a pad of paper, half awake notes jotted down in Francis' handwriting about things to pick up at the store or things that needed to get done around the shop, as well as… The Storybrooke history book she’d given him. A bookmark announced he was three quarters of the way through it, which was three quarters farther than she ever expected him to read.

 

She was about to leave, curiosity sated for now, when she spotted something on the dresser. A small glass case housed what looked like a crystal, thin edges and grooves making it look like petals of a flower. A small paper card rested against the display, Francis helpfully labeling it “Joseph's Stupid Rock”. Joseph had crossed the second word out and written “Lovely, Perfect” underneath to replace it.

 

He had mentioned a crystal cave, as he tried to explain his feelings to her. Belle wondered if this was a memento from that trip with Hannah.

 

The videos started being sent to her phone around 9; the first was a jiggly nausea fest as Grace gave a tour of the hotel room, and then tried to do the whole hotel before Joseph snatched his phone back. The next few were taken poolside with a steadier hand, Grace adorable with her floaties and sparkly fluorescent pink swimsuit. She paced along the edge of the deep end while Francis beckoned her to jump in. She was only persuaded when Hannah offered to jump in with her and…damn. Belle was borderline fascinated at Hannah's physique. It was a fairly modest two piece but still showed off her toned body. She was model gorgeous…

 

…was Belle attracted to Hannah? The question made her nervous. Not because she was opposed to the idea of her sexuality being something more flexible than straight. Women were beautiful, and attractive, but was that just a natural appreciation, or was she bisexual? She'd never really found someone that made her question her status quo of heterosexuality. But Hannah… 

 

…no, they were just really good friends. No different than how she adored Ruby.

 

…but she had never kissed Ruby. Or thought of kissing her again…

 

…it was too messy. She and Joseph were still figuring things out, and to add that on top… And what if Hannah didn't feel the same?

 

That was the nail in the coffin; they already thought she was a tramp, no need to admit she might be having thoughts about their wife as well. And as Joseph zoomed in on Grace holding onto Francis' shoulders as he jetted around the pool… Even that bastard had his appeal.

 

…Belle needed to go visit JJ, she was losing her mind.

 

Grace would like to do goodnight check-in if you don't mind, if you're still up , Joseph texted a few hours later.

 

Embarrassed she’d been caught staying up trying to finish a book, she answered back, Of course 😊 Call okay?

 

The phone buzzed in response and she answered.

 

“Hi Belle,” Grace chirped.

 

Belle smiled, “Hi Grace, you sound tuckered out.”

 

“I am content ,” she said emphatically, and she heard Joseph chuckling beside her.

 

“That's good.”

 

“We went on a plane, but it wasn't as long as coming to the states, so it wasn't too bad and Dad didn't have to take calm-down meds this time. We’re in Las Vegas baybeeee, which is almost but not quite on the West Coast, and I have never seen so many lights in my life , not even at Christmas . There's not a lot of lights where we are because they give Mommy a headache but there's a pool and we swam forever , but not Daddy, I think he was just admiring the view, also Mommy says he has jetlag, which is kind of like when you get sleepy on a long car ride. We had snacks instead of a real dinner, which is okay because we're on vacation. How are you?”

 

“Oh I'm doing alright, me and the girls are cuddling on the bed.” She rubbed Freddi's ear.

 

“I miss you.”

 

“I miss you too.”

 

“Next time you should come with us.”

 

“But then who would watch Freddi and Audrey?”

 

“...Daddy who would watch Freddi and Audrey if Belle couldn't?”

 

“We’d have to leave you behind to watch them.” Came his muffled reply.

 

“I can't be left alone without an adult, I can't reach anything!”

 

“We’d give you some stools, I’m sure you can figure it out.”

 

“Freddi and Audrey can watch themselves, they're good girls.”

 

“They can reach even less stuff than you can, and don't have thumbs.”

 

“...good point. I’m gonna have to get back to you on this, Bellesy, but not right away. Dad says we're going to be out of range for most of the week, so you need to behave.”

 

Too late. “Alright, I’ll wait with bated breath for your answer.”

 

“Bait breath?”

 

“It's an expression, like I’m waiting so eagerly for your answer I can't breathe.”

 

“You shouldn't do that,” Grace said grimly, “You need to breathe.”

 

“If you say so, Grace. Goodnight sweetheart.”

 

“Night Belle, love you.”

 

“Love you too.”

 

There was some rustling, and then Joseph's voice more clearly, “Hey.”

 

“Hi. Las Vegas?”

 

“For now. We’re heading out to one of those vacation ranches, going to learn to live like real cowboys and cowgirls.”

 

A giggle slipped out, “Oh yes, that's exactly the sort of vacation I picture you on.”

 

“Nah, it wasn't my pick but ah, there are certain…aesthetics to enjoy,” he said.

 

“Denim-shaped aesthetics?” Belle guessed.

 

“Aye. And well, there's an appeal, the…rugged type of masculinity,” he mumbled.

 

“I’m sure there-” Belle cut off with a startled yelp.

 

“Belle?!”

 

“I'm alright, someone just nudged my cheek with her wet nose trying to say hello.” Belle held the phone out and Freddi sniffed at the receiver.

 

“Hi sweet girl,” Joseph crooned, “How's my little angel? Is she behaving herself while Daddy's gone?”

 

Audrey would not say so, Belle mused as Freddi's excited wiggles disturbed her sleep.

 

“Her tail’s wagging,” Belle informed Joseph.

 

“I’ll be home in a few days, sweetheart,” he reassured her, “Now you mind Belle, or there will be hell to pay when I get back, eh? I mean it, lakes of fire, devils with pitchforks, the whole nine yards.”

 

She started licking at the phone and Belle pulled it away from her, giggling, “I don't think she's taking you seriously.”

 

“Well that's her mistake.” There was a pause, then a sigh, “Grace is already out cold. What I would do for a tenth of her energy…”

 

“You should probably get some sleep,” Belle said, “Sounds like you have a big week ahead of you, cowboy.”

 

“Hopefully not, this is supposed to be a vacation,” he muttered, “Good night, Belle.”

 

“Good night Joseph.”

 

“Love you.”

 

At first she thought she imagined it; a delusion on par with hearing him call Freddi sweetheart and pretending he was saying it to her. But the tension of the silence reassured her she was not going crazy, and that she had heard exactly what she thought she had.

 

Chest aching, Belle laughed off the gaffe, “Oops, wrong accent,” she teased.

 

Joseph was silent and Belle cringed, wondering if she shouldn't have joked about it.

 

“...I wish I had done it more romantically, but I'm not taking it back,” he said decisively, “I love you Belle.”

 

“I-” But all his courage had been spent on the admission, the call ending abruptly. “...I love you too.”

 

She spent the night tossing and turning, and much of the morning trying to get through to him. But either they were already out of range or he wasn't ready to talk about the slip. Frankly, Belle couldn't blame him; she wasn't sure she was ready to talk either.

 

As exciting and wonderful and thrilling and beautiful it was to hear him say those words… There was also dread and fear and anxiety and anticipation. It had been a battle just to date him and as much as Hannah insisted she knew they were going to fall in love… That wouldn't make it easier. It was one thing to go out with their husband, even sleep with him… But loving him, and him loving her in return? She could not fathom what it would be like on their end.

 

She and Hannah had bonded to the point she felt they could talk it out but Francis? Even his tolerance was iffy. She could end up on a cutting board if this wasn't handled delicately. …and poor Joseph was now stuck with them for nearly a week, possibly having to come clean to them, all while Grace was there. She did not envy his position.

 

xXx

 

“So how long do you give him until he's telling the staff how to do their jobs?”

 

Joseph gave a weak smile, “End of day.”

 

“Really? That long?”

 

“Doesn't want to piss them off too early.”

 

He was helping Hannah carry their bags into their cabin for the four days they’d be staying at the Lonesome Dove. It had started as Grace eagerly informing them that Mayor Mills had a horse and Henry said she could meet him. They had already been trying to figure out an alternative vacation, and Hannah still wanted some riding lessons, and…Joseph appreciated his spouses in tight jeans. He wasn't sure how actively he’d participate (he was just about as skittish as the horses) but his family would be happy, and that was reason enough for him.

 

Hannah eyed the two bunkbeds and Joseph could immediately see how it would play out. The three of them would all want top bunk, there’d be squabbling, and then Francis would cave and let Grace have his spot while he and Hannah spent the rest of the visit bickering over it. One of them was guaranteed to knock the other one off king-of-the-hill style, and he could only hope nothing broke and that Grace wasn't present.

 

Joseph sighed and tossed his duffel onto one of the bottom bunks, “Either you and Francis share, or I’m going to force you onto a rotation schedule, because these beds are not strong enough for the two of you fighting.”

 

Hannah wrinkled her nose, “Spoilsport.” She tossed her bag on the bunk above his.

 

He loved her so much, his feisty, adventurous wife. And he loved his husband so much, the doting bastard who was currently keeping their rabid daughter in check around the “HORSIESHORSIESHORSIESHORSIES”. He would have to continue to break their hearts for his own selfish gain, because this news was never going to go over easily.

 

She turned towards him and waited, arms hugging herself as if she sensed and was bracing herself for the bad news. He was pretty sure they hadn't heard it, too busy scrubbing the scent of chlorine off each other, but she had always been able to read him like an open book.

 

“I told Belle I loved her last night.”

 

Hannah's nails dug into her arms, “Oh. Figured it’d be something big like that, how quiet you’ve been all morning…”

 

“It slipped out, you know, at the end of the call. Habit.”

 

“But you meant it, right?” He nodded. “Did she say it back?”

 

“I don't know, I hung up before she had the chance.”

 

“Rude.” Hannah's eyes filled with tears, words coming out garbled, “Well I guess I'm still the record holder, getting you in bed the fastest, getting you to say…” She trailed off.

 

He closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her. She stayed rigid but the fact she didn't shove him away was a good sign.

 

“Oh Hannah…” Joseph stroked her hair, feeling like crying himself, “Nothing can ever replace you. Every time I think I can't possibly love you more, something makes it so I do. You are my first.”

 

Hannah rested her forehead against his chest, squeezing her eyes tight, “This was always gonna hurt like a sonuvabitch, no matter how much I braced myself. I want you happy… Fucking hell I want you to be happy more than I want you to myself. But fuck me if this damn altruism isn't fucking me up.”

 

He kissed the top of her head, holding her tight. For a few minutes they stayed like that, processing, confronting the truth together that she was no longer the only woman he loved. Then, she gave a shaky sigh.

 

“He’s gonna be devastated.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Thank God she's a woman, I don't think he could handle seeing you with another man.”

 

“Honestly I would have said the same for you.”

 

“Yeah well it wasn't fucking easy, and I wouldn't fucking do it for anyone else. Progress and shit.”

 

He rubbed her back, “We grow together, yeah? Like cave crystals.”

 

She finally relaxed, reminded of her own words. She let go of herself and wrapped her arms around him.

 

“We grow together,” she agreed.

 

Finding the right time and place to tell Francis was more difficult, especially when all Joseph wanted to do was enjoy watching him in his element. As they picked “their” horse for the week, he requested the fastest, most challenging one. The three of them leaned against the railing of the ring as several ranch hands led Firecracker in for a test ride, a reddish brown stallion that did not want anything to do with humans. The ranch hands smirked at each other, clearly used to this sort of bravado from guests. 

 

Before they could offer to help him up, Francis had swung himself into the saddle as if he’d just ridden a horse yesterday. Firecracker was not having it, immediately trying to throw him. Calm, steady, firm but not harsh, Francis stayed glued to his seat, in control even as the much larger beast bucked and stalled. His stubbornness won out and Firecracker eventually relented to his authority, Francis stroking his neck and murmuring to him. Now that they had an accord, Francis wheeled him around and without asking whether it was alright, urged Firecracker out of the gate and onto the main grounds.

 

Joseph did not know how to classify the feelings he got watching Francis galloping across the flatlands, a wide grin on his face and as wild as the west he was from. But it had definitely awakened something in him and, glancing at Hannah, she was just as turned on.

 

“Dad’s a horse whisperer!” Grace announced gleefully.

 

Joseph would happily be his bronco if he was looking for something to buck up against him.

 

Hannah's chosen steed was a filly named Glitter, a white-and-gray horse that was lively, but not so lively a beginner couldn't handle her with some confidence. After a basic first lesson she got the hang of it, trotting around the arena with a smile on her face. 

 

Joseph requested the oldest, tamest, least spookable horse and received a yellow mare named Martha. Francis found the name hilarious for some unknown reason, and Joseph approached her with the same trepidation as he’d approach a rabid dog. It took several tries for him to get up into the saddle but Martha stayed still, only moving when he nudged her as directed. Hannah and Francis cheered him on as he tried not to panic; horses could sense fear, he was pretty sure he’d heard from somewhere. It was high up, and didn't feel particularly stable, but Martha was content to take him around in slow, unhurried circles, and he could even say he was having fun towards the end of his turn.

 

Grace was the biggest shock, asking to ride Martha instead of choosing her own horse. She’d been understandably shy about getting too close to them, given their size versus her own, but she froze up after she was lifted into the saddle. They cooed encouragement to her but she was still terrified, and eventually called out…for Daddy.

 

He was not often the one called upon to ease fears, so it was with some amount of pride he stepped up, entering the ring and reassuring her it would be alright. He rested his hand on her leg as they made tentative steps forward, and Grace rewarded Martha's patience with plenty of carrots afterwards.

 

They rode together over the next few days and while it wasn't exactly comfortable (he had no idea if riding could be comfortable), it was worth it to give Grace the confidence to ride. They meandered with Martha, taking their time, while Hannah and Glitter rode ahead, frequently doubling back to check on them. Francis and Firecracker… They were all over the place, barely minding the guides and trying to forge their own path.

 

The last night was a campout under the stars, with a lovely view of the surrounding area. Grace and Hannah were happily braiding Martha's mane (Glitter had shaken off Hannah's attempt with her mane), and Francis excused himself to visit the little cowboy’s room. 

 

“There's a bathroom way out here?” Grace wondered.

 

“He’s being sarcastic,” Hannah explained.

 

Joseph gave him a head start, then followed. He’d put this off as long as possible but he absolutely had to come clean before they went home. He probably should have brought a flashlight, the twilight fading faster than he imagined as he picked his way towards the sparse brush that was their toilet for the night.

 

“You could have just gone with me,” he called out as Joseph stumbled about, “I would have given you the bigger bush.”

 

“I don't have to go,” he insisted, facing the dark human-ish shape, “...we need to talk.”

 

The shape moved towards him, “About whatever happened that first day here?”

 

“Yeah. Kind of.”

 

Francis was hard to read at the best of times, but here in the near dark, Joseph could barely make out his face, let alone his expression. He balled his hands into fists.

 

“I told Belle I loved her.”

 

“...ah.”

 

“Ah?”

 

“What do you want me to say? Did she at least return the sentiment?”

 

“I don't know, I hung up.” He sighed, “I want… I want you to be open to me. I don't want you running off and hiding again, because I can't help you if you're bottling it all up.”

 

“I don't think I was necessarily being quiet about my feelings.”

 

“Some of them no, but others?” He shook his head, “...you don't need to have all the answers, or be perfect, or whatever nonsense you believe. I just need you to be honest and let me in.”

 

It seemed to be the right thing to say. Francis sighed softly but his posture relaxed.

 

“This was an inevitability,” he said, “From the moment you stepped between us. You're not courageous for the sake of it…and Hannah would not have contradicted my decision for the sake of it.” He tossed his hands up in defeat, “You love her, Hannah loves her, Grace loves her, the entire fucking world loves her… And I made my peace with that.”

 

“It's not you versus her,” Joseph reminded him, “You can love her too, you just won't let yourself.”

 

“...I can't,” Francis said softly, almost apologetic, “Someone needs to keep a clear head, in case she changes her mind about playing along.”

 

“And if she never does? Are you just going to keep her at arm’s length for the rest of her life?”

 

“If that's what it takes to protect my family, yes.”

 

Joseph considered laying into him about how ridiculous he was being, that Belle was getting closer and closer to becoming family, but he mentally took a step back. This was Francis' compromise; he’d let her get close to his family, but he would not let her get close to him. He was trying, in his twisted way, and Joseph had to respect that. He wasn't the one who spent so long on his own, after all. 

 

It was Francis who reached through the dark, knuckles brushing Joseph's cheek, “...I love you. So much.”

 

“I love you too,” Joseph assured him, “And no one's going to take that away.”

 

His lips were suddenly on Joseph's, a bit feverish, a bit hungry. Joseph let the kiss go on for a few seconds, feeling his own hunger rise, but forcibly broke it off.

 

“We are literally out in the open.”

 

“They can't see us. Well, Hannah can, but she's a pervert.” It was difficult to think of an argument with Francis pressed against him, voice low and inches from his ear, “Your back is to them; in the dark and this far out they're only going to see two daddies making out at best.”

 

“Francis.”

 

“Tell me.” He toyed with Joseph's belt, “When you walk Freddi with her, are you remembering the walks we used to take together?”

 

Bastard. It had crossed his mind a few times but he tried to just enjoy the time with Belle. And being reminded of going into the woods together, no dogs only intention… Francis gave a throaty chuckle, feeling Joseph's reaction and running his hand along the front of his pants. He nipped once at his throat, a light sting that would leave no mark, but the message that Joseph belonged to him was still clear.

 

As if Joseph needed the reminder, when Francis so easily seduced him even in the most absurd locations. 

xXx

 

Despite Belle’s best efforts, the absence of the MacAvoy Ives family was noted. She’d spotted Regina’s car a few times going down the street, a street Belle wasn't sure was on the way to anywhere she’d be going. Even more glaring was the antique shop being closed for several days in a row. It was only a matter of time, and an insane idea started to emerge. Life-threatening, even. But if it worked…

 

Day Four of their absence, Regina made her move. Belle glanced up from her book as her shop door opened and sure enough, Mayor Mills was gracing her with her presence.

 

“Well hello, Mayor Mills. Picking something up for Henry?”

 

She shook her head, giving a self-deprecating laugh, “I wouldn't know where to begin.”

 

“I could recommend something?”

 

“No that's alright.” She approached the counter, nodding towards the shared wall, “I’ve just noticed the lights haven't been on for a few days and was concerned.”

 

“Oh, well it is spring break,” she pointed out.

 

Regina hesitated, clearly realizing noticing one missing car and one unmoved car in their driveway might be slightly overboard. Belle smiled benevolently.

 

“They're out of town,” she explained, “They asked me to care for their dog.”

 

“Oh really? For the week?”

 

“Possibly longer, they weren't sure about a return date.” Which was bullshit; Joseph had very clearly communicated when to expect them back. 

 

Still, Regina's eyebrows raised, and Belle was set to begin her dubious plan.

 

She bit her lip, “I’ve been thinking about what you said, how…coincidental everything was… And well, I haven't been the best housesitter…” Regina leaned slightly forward, “I found…well I found something you do not want to know details about, long story short there's a sex dungeon in the shed. Otherwise…I haven't found anything too incriminating.”

 

Regina took a moment to recover from the “sex dungeon” comment, “I suppose I wouldn't have anything where a child could find it, if I were up to no good.”

 

Belle hesitated, as if she were considering, “...you know Helena and Joe never sold their house… They didn't ask me to check on it but Caleb did give me the keys in an emergency.”

 

Regina was smart; Belle could see she was eyeing the bait, weighing why she would be offering this when her loyalty was supposedly to her boyfriend. Belle did her best to appear innocent, just a concerned widow wondering if she was getting into bed with murderers.

 

“And you haven't been over there?” Regina asked tentatively.

 

Belle shook her head, “Not yet. The shed door almost closed on me, so I guess I'm a little spooked about being locked in.”

 

She wasn't biting, and Belle knew she had to be careful about overplaying her hand. But Regina wasn't walking away or changing the subject, so she still had a chance.

 

“How far out is it?” She asked.

 

“A half-hour or so, bit out of the way.” No way in hell she was giving Regina the address.

 

Regina wavered, “...well if you do plan on checking on their other house, and don't feel comfortable alone… We could meet there.”

 

She had taken the bait.

 

“Oh I wouldn't want to trouble you,” Belle insisted, “But if you're free… I can pick you up tonight? Driving’s the least I could do for dragging you along.”

 

xXx

 

Hannah was not taking anymore goddamn fucking trips this year. At least this one, instead of the Tallulah Falls Haunted House Tour, was mostly good with a little shittiness. There was a difference between knowing Joseph was going to fall in love, and hearing him admit he had told Belle he loved her. A pain she couldn't help but feel, no matter how much she knew it didn't take away his love for her.

 

Francis might have fucked far more women when they were open, but he had never loved them. It was a new sort of heartache that she had to promise herself was just because it was new. And well, it was difficult to feel too insecure when Joseph acted no different towards her. He seemed particularly interested in the physics when she was riding her horse at a trot, even though she had packed the good bras. 

 

He’d been right; the four of them needed this. A breather from all the complicated stuff, just to hang out and learn and explore and love on animals. Francis thrived, Joseph was content, and Grace seemed thrilled, even if the riding part scared her a bit. No boo-boos, no sudden purchases of large animals, not quite as much sex as Hannah would have liked but they could catch up on that once Grace was back in school. The big thing was, her family was happy.

 

Then, they hit cell range again.

 

Please call me ASAP , Belle had texted a couple days ago.

 

Hannah huffed and rolled her eyes, ignoring the text. She had a good idea what the emergency was, and she was not in the mood to talk it out yet.

 

“Belle's wondering why you haven't texted her back,” Joseph informed her as they searched for their terminal.

 

“Because I don't want to.”

 

“Hannah…”

 

“Look, I’ll face it tomorrow, just let me enjoy the last few hours of- Fuck, they're in the gift shop.”

 

Francis glanced back smugly as Grace perused the souvenirs. Hannah quickly emphasized with her hands and mouthing that it needed to be SMALL if he was going to spoil her. He just smirked and promptly ignored her.

 

“Fucking let him out of our sight for one fucking second…”

 

“Well whatever he gets her he has to carry around,” Joseph promised her, as if that would deter the simp.

 

Hannah folded her arms, holding herself together, “So you talked to Belle?”

 

“Briefly, let her know when to expect us.”

 

“She say she love you?”

 

“...yeah.”

 

“Good. It's the fucking worst when you say you love someone but they can't say it back.” She would've fucking gutted the bitch if she hadn't, crush or not.

 

There was the shame face again, of course, and if she had realized how much Catholic guilt they came with she might've reconsidered wanting a pet priest. She kissed his cheek, trying to turn that frown upside down. 

 

“She sounded like she really needed to talk to you,” Joseph insisted.

 

“Later.”

 

Of course, her avoiding Belle came back to bite her in the ass. 

 

They arrived home and as much as she and Francis wanted to relax with their squishies for the evening, more urgent matters needed to be attended to. The pair of them set off for the other house, the hunger clawing at her insides. It was getting down to the lower quality cuts, the potency fading as time went on. Almost time for another hunt.

 

It wasn't immediately obvious their wendigo nest had been disturbed. As they stepped down into the bunker, where the scents hadn't been carried away by wind or rain… That was when they both realized they had not been the last ones here. Belle's scent, more familiar, struck her first, followed by the lesser known less pleasant scent of Regina.

 

Francis moved in front of her, hurriedly unlocking the door.

 

“Don't panic.”

 

“I’m not panicking,” he insisted, even as he practically ran to the next door, tapping in the key code. She was right on his heels.

 

The scents continued clear to the butcher room, and it was hard to stay calm when her instincts were demanding damage control. It had been days since they were here and Regina could have- 

 

Francis nodded towards the cutting boards. Hannah forced herself to focus and saw… Tufts of fur. Scales. She smelled a mix of animals, spotted hunting gear she didn't remember putting down here. He went to the fridge and freezer. Their opaque containers were replaced by transparent ones, and even a non-cannibal could see it was primarily fish and venison.

 

Where were their leftovers?

 

They combed through the bunker, making sure they didn't miss a single detail, before going into the house. Belle and Regina had been here too; this fridge lacked their containers as well. Belle had touched up the house similar to how she had done the bunker, carefully staging a separate room for Joseph and erasing his presence in the master bedroom. A few items from the dungeon were strewn about as if to suggest the worst of what they were hiding was a little BDSM.

 

Hannah nor Francis uttered a word until they checked the security footage. There they were, Belle leading the way, snooping through their shit. 

 

The longer Belle went without hearing from Hannah, the more worried she became. And when she saw the SUV back but the Cadillac gone, she knew she was in trouble. She put the gun Lai Lai had given her and her phone on the table, keeping the whistle between her lips. She waited, terrified, until she heard her front door swing open.

 

She blew, but the only thing she heard was a long line of expletives and some growling. Hannah appeared in the dining room entryway and Belle blew again. 

 

The blonde gripped her ears, “OW FUCKING STOP!”

 

Belle did feel remorseful, letting the whistle drop from her lips, “I just wanted to make sure you’d hear me out.”

 

“Trust me bitch, I’m gonna hear out whatever fucking insane logic led you to play Russian fucking Roulette with a bolt gun.”

 

Belle's stomach clenched as she saw Francis right behind Hannah. This was why she wanted to talk to Hannah first, to make sure Hannah could make it clear to him that there had been no grand scheme against them , only Regina. Francis was glaring at her, more specifically her dog whistle, but this was not the same searing glare he’d given her when he was thwarted by Joseph and Hannah. 

 

She tried not to visibly sigh with relief, “She was poking about anyway, so I thought… Play into it. Let her look around, see that you're not hiding anything. Well, supposedly.”

 

“She has that address now.”

 

“I drove her there, I never gave her the address. Took a less direct route.”

 

“The house is in our names anyway,” Francis said, “Public record if she cared to look.”

 

Hannah's and Belle’s heads both snapped towards him, Hannah fixing him with an icy glare. He remained nonplussed, even through the pause in the conversation.

 

“...you're a real fucking piece of work sometimes, you know that?” Hannah seethed, “It's not gonna be your arrogance that does you in, it's gonna be your fucking boner for elaborate schemes and general shenanigans fetish.”

 

Francis sighed, “Be nice to Belle, don't be nice to Belle. Don't eat her on sight, don't go easy on her. Honestly what do you want from me?”

 

“At this point aim for something in the goddamn middle and we’ll refine from there.” She whirled back on Belle, “And you do not have the experience to be doing this shit unsupervised. Regina's an above-average conniving cunt and requires a skilled hand.”

 

“I was just trying to help.”

 

“That's not your job. As a squishy your only obligation is to observe, report, and collaborate with our stories. You don't do the big pawn-moving shit, understood?”

 

Belle sighed, “Understood.”

 

“Good. Now we gotta go chew his ass for giving you the fucking nuclear launch codes that enabled this shit.” She nodded to Francis who obediently turned and walked towards the door.

 

Hannah started to follow him but paused, biting her lip.

 

“...thanks for looking after everything while we were gone,” she mumbled, “And for…paying attention… If nothing happens in the next few weeks maybe I’ll admit this was okay.” She pointed her finger at Belle and narrowed her eyes, “Until then, you’re a fucking moron who absolutely cannot stop herself from diving headfirst into mortal peril.”

 

Belle managed to keep a straight face, “Noted. Also, before you go? Please make sure to grab all your containers out of my refrigerator.”

 

Hannah tried to hide a smirk, going to clear out their leftovers. At the very least Belle was going to have to bleach and sanitize several times over before she put any food in there, and that was if she decided not to just go out and buy a brand new appliance. The thought of asking them to foot the bill was tempting…

 

Hannah left, and Belle went to go put her handgun away. Maybe the other woman was right, and she had a death wish that rivaled a lemming. Worse, maybe she was so desperate to prove herself to them she was indeed only making things worse.

 

Either way, Belle was proud of how far they had come in terms of how they resolved their conflicts. There hadn't even been any threats to her life this time.

Chapter 17: An Unofficial Meeting

Summary:

The red-headed stepchild chapter of this story

Distance was said to make the heart grow fonder, but Belle didn't think that was all there was to her and Joseph's first date night in two weeks.

 

She was unaware that one could ground their spouse but she supposed there had to be consequences for her little stunt, and Joseph's unintentional help in it. For another week Joseph was separated from her, which would have been irritating if it wasn't so adorable. Occasionally she’d feel watched, at the shop or in her living room, and she’d glance up to see her own personal Gatsby watching her forlornly until one of his spouses dragged him away. Then there were the sneaked text messages that were too grammatically correct for Hannah or too kindly for Francis. And the adorable Cupid darting in to hurriedly tell her everything she could before her mother caught her and hauled her away, Hannah scolding her for skirting her father's “time out” and Grace screeching “BIGOT” at the top of her lungs as the harshest word she could get away with.

 

Maybe if it had gone on much longer, or if he’d been locked up unable to leave the house, Belle would have made a fuss. But she was also currently in time out despite her best intentions, and needed to be careful. She did not want to lose the progress she had made with Hannah and Francis, and she knew she had taken advantage of their trust to an extent.

 

Still, there was a noticeable decrease in loud startling noises coming from the other side of the shop wall since her insane stunt.

 

It was only a week though and then Joseph popped back in, excited and happy to see her and hoping she was free for dinner that evening. She was, and they ordered take-out, and while he was still his usual nervous self, he seemed less skittish, quicker to transition to physical affection. 

 

Joseph pulled away after the longest he had ever gone without interrupting the heat of the moment and Belle braced herself for the goodbye.

 

“Can I…?”

 

She blinked away the haze of lust that he brought on whenever they started necking like teenagers, “Can you what?”

 

He looked away and even in the glow of the unwatched television she could see how red he was getting. He licked his lips, opening his mouth but the words wouldn’t come. She could not even imagine him doing something she wouldn’t be comfortable with, though.

 

“Yeah,” she agreed.

 

Joseph continued to avoid eye contact as he reached up, cupping her breast. Belle filled her lungs, arching into his touch. He gently massaged the flesh, bending his head towards her neck, and Belle bared it to him invitingly. At first the kisses were soft, tender, but gradually they became firmer, more passionate. His hand trailed down from her breast, down her stomach…and then under her shirt. Her breathing hitched and she did her best not to make too much noise, not wanting anything to startle him out of his moment of bravery.

 

He paused, fingertips poised at her waistband, and glanced up at her. She gave him an enthusiastic nod, and he slid his hand into her panties. Her excited gasp was drowned out by a very gutteral “fuck” as he felt how damp she already was from their making out.

 

“Belle,” he rasped into her ear, stroking her folds. 

 

The thought occurred to her that she should reciprocate before she lost her senses completely. She reached for his belt.

 

“No thank you,” he said softly and Belle huffed out a laugh at his polite decline.

 

Unlike his other timid ventures, Joseph did not seem so easily off-put tonight. Instead of withdrawing at the laugh, his lips twitched into a smile, and he pressed closer to her, free arm draping around her shoulders to hold her close. He explored her and Belle relaxed into him, letting her soft gasps and moans out as he teased. She moaned louder as the first finger slid inside of her, followed by a second, curling and pressing in deliberate come-hither strokes. If the g-spot was actually a myth, Joseph still managed to will it into existence inside of her. 

 

The way she was squirming and whimpering might have been embarrassing, if it wasn’t for his own excited pants against her ear lobe, the soft strangled way her name kept slipping from his lips. Belle had never given much thought to the concept of licking non-sexual body parts, but when she felt his tongue on her neck, as if he just had to taste her…

 

…it was over humiliatingly quickly. She cried out and arched up into his grip, constricting around his fingers as if determined to keep them there even after her climax. She steadied her breathing as he eased her through it, back to gentle kisses and affectionate nuzzles. He withdrew his hand and then, in possibly his silliest move of the night, turned his head away as if she wouldn’t be able to tell he was licking her fluids off his fingers. She glanced down at his lap and despite his rejection, he had seemed to be physically enjoying himself as well.

 

“I should go,” he said in the same abrupt way that had ended many of these visits.

 

Belle relaxed into the couch, not sexually frustrated now, but still frustrated that he was unwilling to let her explore him as well, “Alright. …thank you for that,” she added awkwardly.

 

He blushed, “Pleasure was all mine.” He pulled his shirt down as he stood up in a poor effort to hide his arousal, “I love you, Belle.”

 

She wondered if those words would ever stop feeling like a miracle, “I love you too, Joseph.”

 

He beamed and then showed himself the door.

 

Belle closed her eyes, touching the dried saliva on her throat. Even the bitterness of knowing he was likely to just go home and sleep with one or both of his spouses passed quickly, because… They’d taken another step. And she felt a little less needy seeing how he did actually desire her physically as well as emotionally. 

 

“Well we’re almost there. Just need to slide across that home plate.”

 

Belle sighed, staring up at the ceiling. She should have known Hannah coincidentally popping in the next day when the shop was empty was a warning sign.

 

“What, did he run home and shout “guess what we just did” as soon as he spotted you two?” She grumbled.

 

“I mean in a way.”

 

She righted her head to look at Hannah, who tapped her nose. Belle felt the blood drain from her face as she realized the implication. 

 

“Yeah I wouldn’t recommend dwelling on that,” she advised, “There’s a lot of awkward information that comes with the enhanced senses territory. You just kind of get used to knowing way too much about people.”

 

“Like what?” Belle asked against Hannah’s advice.

 

She drummed her nails on the counter, clearly trying to think up a milder example than “I know my husband fingered you”, “Liiiiiiiike… Oh! When Joseph comes up in conversation, your heart gives this little flutter. Not like, straight up arrhythmia, but just this skip. Instead of lub dub, lub dub, lub dub,” she tapped out the pattern, “Yours goes like lublublub dub. See? That right there!” She grinned confidently, “You're thinking of him cuz I brought him up.”

 

Belle was not. She was thinking about Hannah, and worrying if there was something about Belle’s weird fascination with her that she had caught.

 

“Correlation doesn't equal causation,” Belle protested, “This doesn't seem like sound science.”

 

“Bitch I’ve been listening for months , I know it's a causation. It's not like Joseph where he's got the same patterns for all of us. His goes like lub…..dub, like it freezes halfway through. Kind of terrifying but we’ve run EKGs, he's healthy.”

 

“Us?” Belle echoed.

 

Hannah rolled her eyes, “Yes, us . You, me, Francis, Grace. His loved ones.”

 

Belle knew her heart must be fluttering now, “Should be careful not to all be in the same room, lest he go into cardiac arrest.”

 

Hannah smirked, then shrugged, “There are worse ways to go than dying from having too much love in your life.”

 

xXx

 

Joseph wasn't sure which had spooked him harder; his ringtone going off at 2 in the morning or the pissed-off snarling from the startled wendigos on either side of them. Hannah shoved her head under the pillow and Francis vaulted off the bed, grabbing for Joseph's phone.

 

“...hello?”

 

Joseph rubbed at his eyes, terrified it was Belle calling with an emergency. But then Francis wouldn't bother pretending to be him if it was, snapping an impatient “yes?” instead. 

 

“...it, it's alright, that's why I gave you my number… Do you want me to come out there? …nnno, it's no trouble at all… Alright just…I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

 

Joseph sat up, watching Francis’ face. The irritation had faded, replaced by a grimness that worried him. Francis hung up and turned his direction.

 

“That was Killian,” he said, “He’s three sheets to the wind and…doesn't sound like he's in a good place.”

 

“Alright,” Joseph slid out from under the covers and off the bed, expecting Francis to object.

 

“Do you want me to drive you?” He asked instead.

 

“No, go back to sleep. Where is he?”

 

“On his boat, at the docks. The…Jolly Roger.” He forced the words out as if they were distastefully basic, like naming a dog Spot.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Drive careful, yeah? It's late, and the last thing you need is to hit a moose.”

 

“I will be.” Were there even mooses in Maine…?

 

Joseph dressed, shaking himself more awake. Francis sat on the bed as if he’d change his mind, but there was no sense in them both checking on Killian. Joseph kissed him goodbye.

 

“Not even going to accuse me of cheating?” He teased.

 

“Maybe in the morning,” Francis mumbled, locking eyes with him.

 

Joseph worried what he was going to find, if a brief call was enough for Francis to take the matter so seriously.

 

He drove carefully to the marina, wondering how on earth he was going to figure out which boat Killian was on. He parked and got out, the waves lapping against the docks the only noise… Apart from a man singing.

 

It wasn't the obnoxious drunken caterwauling Joseph was used to from the pubs; it was equally indistinct but it was softer, closer to keening than singing. Joseph followed the song, and found Killian sitting on the railing of a ship, swaying back and forth as if to mimic the ripples of the water.

 

It took Joseph a couple minutes to figure out how to get up through the ship to him, but Killian stayed put, managing not to topple over the side. Joseph carefully approached, terrified of startling him. Killian continued to croon, a near empty bottle of Captain Morgan clenched in his fist. He tilted his head towards Joseph, cheeks glistening with fresh tears.

 

“Y’actually came,” he slurred.

 

“Aye. Wouldn't be a very good AA leader if I gave out my number for emergencies and then ignored said emergencies.”

 

“Y’wan’ me dead,” he insisted, “Y’don’ know it, but y’do.”

 

And now he desperately wished he had let Francis come with him.

 

Killian stared down at the water, loose and untethered and incredibly vulnerable. Joseph surreptitiously glanced around for rope; boats were supposed to have a ton of it, right? If Killian fell… Well Joseph had no wendigo speed or strength, and only mediocre swimming skills.

 

“She’d call me a coward,” he mused, “Coward’s way out… I s'pose but livin’ feels jus’ as cowardly. Should've died instead of her.” He tossed the bottle into the sea.

 

Fuckfuckfuckityfuck, what the fuck was he supposed to do? He was terrified of saying the wrong thing, but what if Killian took his silence as apathy? Thankfully the man didn't seem to need his input, lost in his thoughts.

 

“Can' give up the drink; the drink’s how I met her. Drink’s how I dealt with losing my brother. And I jus’… like drinkin’,” he explained. His lips twitched upward, a smile lacking his usual cockiness, “Milah…my Milah… My light. When she was in the room, it’d be like all compasses pointed straight to her. That laugh…that smile…” He looked back at Joseph, leering, “She was married . I was the other man , JUST like your brother!” He jutted his hook towards Joseph, balance wobbling.

 

Instinctively, Joseph grabbed his arm. Killian grinned maniacally at him, the rum on his breath nearly enough to give Joseph a contact high.

 

“Was righ’, wasn' I? Y’wan’ me dead . So do it!” His voice raised to a thunder, “Push me off! No one will know! Get your revenge!”

 

For a brief flicker, he considered it, but the intrusive thought disappeared as suddenly as it had formed. Instead, with Killian leaning towards him and caught off guard, Joseph used all his strength to pull him backwards. They both toppled gracelessly onto the deck and before his drunken mind caught up to what happened, Joseph dragged him towards a mast. Killian roared his objections as Joseph tied him up, using a knot too complex for him to get out of inebriated, but hopefully simple enough for his sober self to undo. He made sure Killian’s cell phone was still on his person, just in case, and then left.

 

He was too tired and confused and overwhelmed to properly act like a man who had been cheated on with his brother.

 

It wasn't a surprise that Francis had remained awake, sitting up reading by moonlight with Hannah fast asleep. He glanced up and searched Joseph's face for the conclusion of the incident, then pretended to be disappointed.

 

“You don't need me to take care of a body?”

 

“No, not tonight. His leather clad arse lives for you to stare at another day,” Joseph mumbled. Francis got up and helped him undress again, “Next suicidal incident though, you are definitely coming with.”

 

“I knew you could handle it.” He kissed Joseph's cheek, “Talking people off ledges is your specialty.”

 

Getting up in the morning, and going about the next few days, the entire incident felt like an odd fever dream. There was no follow-up and while Joseph thought maybe he should check on the man, he also felt maybe it was best to sweep it under the rug. Who knew if he even remembered what happened…

 

Another Saturday afternoon came, the group holding steady at four for now. Two members were on time, and two were late as usual, Mal griping about it while Killian told her if she didn't like it to get another ride. Joseph braced himself for the usual disruptions, but was unprepared for what was actually about to come out of his antagonizer’s mouth.

 

“Hello.” Everyone stared at him as if he had just set off a gun. “Name’s Killian. I have no intention of being completely sober but,” he met Joseph's eye ever so briefly, “A…near accident on my boat has me reconsidering the amount I partake in.”

 

It was a start, and it was difficult for Joseph to hide how happy even that small step forward made him.

Chapter 18: Coming Out

Summary:

Text thread between Mary Margaret and Ruby:

MM: Hey :) Girl's night at the Rabbit Hole on Friday :) Hope you can make it :)
R: HELL YEAH but since when r u the party planner
MM: Not me ;) :) Helena's organizing :)
R: helena lik baby bundys mom -.-
MM: Grace is just...spirited :) But yes, THAT Helena :) She's actually really nice :)
R: hm ill think about it is bell going
MM: Not sure, why?
R: just curious shes gotten real close w baby bundy mama for some weird reason
MM: You really need to stop calling her that.
R: probably to bang her ex

“You think you can get Grace fed and to Awana Tuesday?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Wait, where am I then?”

 

“With me, we’re going out with the Nolans.”

 

Belle much preferred the evolution of every-other-Friday doll-night dinners from awkward and tense to occasionally awkward but more relaxed. Most of the time she could sit quietly and observe the family in their natural state, camouflaged by the mundanity of her more and more frequent appearances. Watching the four of them was far more entertaining than any other type of show. 

 

Francis scowled, “No we are not.”

 

“Yes we are,” Hannah insisted, “They already have a sitter lined up.”

 

“I am not going out with David Nolan.”

 

“Why the heck not?”

 

“He is my arch rival.”

 

“I thought Regina was your arch rival,” Joseph said.

 

Francis shook his head, “She's my arch enemy . David Nolan’s my arch rival .” He pointed his fork at Belle, “Arch nemesis.”

 

Belle made sure Grace was distracted before she tucked her hair behind her ear with a single finger. Francis gave a delighted smirk. 

 

Hannah nodded towards Grace and Francis covered her ears, turning her head to prevent any lip reading. As if it were a common enough occurrence, Grace kept eating, despite having to blindly stab at her penne pasta.

 

“That's some especially gay villain shit right there, classifying your long ass list of enemies into subcategories.”

 

“Don't be a homophobe or I’ll have to put you on the list too.”

 

“I would not be married to your fruity ass if I was a homophobe.” She nodded again to finish the sidebar and Francis released Grace.

 

“I’m gonna go ahead and put you down for a dollar for the swear jar,” she told her mother.

 

“What grievances do you have against David?” Belle wondered.

 

Francis stared at her for the sheer audacity of wanting an explanation, “He's from the Midwest.”

 

“Really?” Joseph interjected, “He doesn't have an accent.”

 

“There's a twinge on some of his vowels,” Francis explained, “Even more apparent, he’s…Midwestern nice.”

 

“Midwestern nice?” Joseph asked as Belle exclaimed, “You have got to be kidding me.”

 

“No, he’s got a point,” Hannah said, “Midwesterners are suspiciously nice. Like, give the shirt off their back for a stranger and never expect anything in return nice.”

 

“Isn't that just being a good Christian?” Grace asked.

 

“Yes Grace, but no one’s that good and pure hearted.” Hannah then shrugged, “Maybe they're aliens.”

 

“They're not aliens.” Belle insisted, “Midwesterners just tend to be more neighborly than the coasts, and don't have the faux niceness of the south.”

 

“If Emma's half alien that explains a lot,” Grace murmured to herself. 

 

“Can't be trusted,” Francis concluded, “Anyways he keeps trying to show me up.”

 

“I sincerely doubt that,” Belle said.

 

“Just because Joseph typically does drop-offs and pick-ups it doesn't mean I need help figuring out what to do,” he said, “It's clearly labeled, and I can read. At the grocer's he was talking about how he was going to prepare the chuck roast that we were both getting, and another time casually mentioned Grace was welcome to come over and play on their t-r-a-m-p-o-l-i-n-e.”

 

Grace's brow furrowed, repeating t-r-a-m before giving up, “What’s that spell?”

 

“It spells “death trap”.”

 

“No it doesn’t, you didn’t say “d” at all!” 

 

“I think he's just trying to be your friend,” Joseph suggested timidly.

 

“I don't need friends, I have my family,” Francis declared.

 

Hannah and Joseph exchanged a glance, and Belle was glad at least they were aware how unhealthy that opinion was. She cleared her throat.

 

“So you and Mary Margaret are hitting it off,” she said to shift the subject.

 

“Oh yeah, she's a real cutie. Think she enjoys someone to whine about Regina to.”

 

Something hot and acidic curled in Belle's gut, “And you're not worried getting closer with Mary Margaret will needle Regina unnecessarily?”

 

Hannah smirked, “Well that's half the fun, isn't it?” She sipped her drink, “M&M's a real sweetheart though, honestly. I’m glad I met her.”

 

Belle felt like she could spit venom. And why? Because Hannah gave her a pet name? Why should she care? She should be glad Hannah was making friends on her own, especially ones of the Mary Margaret caliber. Why did the idea of Hannah fussing over someone else bother her so much ?

 

Joseph touched her leg as Hannah watched her, puzzled. But Francis… Francis was grinning, eyes glowing with malicious amusement.

 

“What was so damn funny last night?” Belle spat, entering the antiques store before even opening her own shop.

 

Francis smirked, continuing on his path of switching lights on, “Oh, you know. Just enjoying the shoe being on the other foot.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Her voice caught slightly.

 

She tensed as he approached. He reached around her to flip his sign to “open”, “I think you know.”

 

“I don’t ,” she lied, “So please explain .”

 

He stayed inside her personal space but his expression softened into something almost sympathetic, “You don't have to worry about her being…as close with other women. They can't hold a candle to you in her eyes.”

 

“I'm not jealous,” she protested, “Hannah should make more friends, and I’m happy for her. Truly.”

 

He gave a slight shake of his head, “You can admit it to me. I won’t breathe a word until you’re ready.”

 

“There's nothing to admit,” she said stubbornly, “We’re just friends.”

 

Francis winced and puckered his lips as if he had watched someone attempt a stunt and fall flat on their face.

 

“Belle, Belle, Belle.” He shook his head mournfully, “I know you’ve read too many novels to not recognize the egregious cliché you just spouted. And to me?”

 

The heat was rising into her face. He was right that it was a cliché… But that was all they were, friends, and Belle didn't know what to do about her…infatuation. Francis retreated a few steps, watching her with something too close to pity for her liking.

 

“Joseph wasn't my first attempt to soil a man of the cloth,” he said softly, “There was a reverend… We spent a lot of time together and…feelings developed on my end. I felt similar twinges before, difficult to be surrounded by soldiers and not notice one or two, but it was the first time I paused and wondered… Is this a part of me?” He shrugged, “As you can imagine I’d gone my entire human life under the assumption any deviation from heteronormativity was sinful and temptations from the Devil himself. But given I was well outside of polite society at that point, I no longer had to shun such thoughts and I found…no inherent evil behind them. Not all that more sinister than traditional attraction.”

 

“And the reverend?” Belle asked.

 

“I waited too late to make a move,” he said remorsefully, “And by then there was an irreconcilable difference between us.”

 

“His faith?”

 

“Oh I’d never begrudge a man his faith, if he can manage to keep it.” He grinned wolfishly, “It was the dietary restrictions on his end that really drove a wedge between us. Or rather a hatchet.”

 

Belle rolled her eyes at the not-so-surprising ending and he snickered, back to being the evil man-eating beast. But, for a moment, he had shared something with her. Had been a little softer, a little more human.

 

Was Francis right? Belle pondered it over the next few days. Were these feelings more than an odd obsession? She was not the sort to doubt what her heart told her. Even with Joseph there had just been a melancholy acceptance that they might never be, but she had no trouble when the emotions became more romantic and less friends-only. As fragile and serious as it had felt to commit to trying a relationship with him… It was even moreso with Hannah.

 

Firstly, because she had never been in a relationship with a woman, or in general been so drawn to someone of her own sex. Secondly, because there were still certain…aspects that were lacking. Logically she knew sexual orientation could be different from romantic orientation, but she… She didn't think she wanted to sleep with Hannah in any way other than they had during the sleepover… And maybe as Hannah had depicted in her doodle. But that was more cooperatively having sex with Joseph than having sex with each other and-

 

…was she really entertaining the idea she had feelings for Hannah? What if she just loved her as a “bestie”? But she had never felt this…intensely towards Ruby. Never wanted to kiss her like she wanted to kiss Hannah again. And she was tempted to ask for Joseph's advice but he was biased, and the only other man who was aware of the true dynamics was a huge prick that hated her.

 

Her mind was so scrambled she stared at Ruby coming in for lunch on Wednesday, dropping off an order she didn't remember putting in.

 

“Look on the bag,” she said, rolling her eyes and gagging…then giving a small smile. Belle did as she was told.

 

I hope the most beautiful bookseller in the world is having a morning as wonderful as she is (Belle French).

 

Belle laughed at the clarification, because it was just like Joseph to tack that on in case of confusion. Her entire body warmed as she went through the order.

 

“I didn't even have to help him out.” Ruby informed her, “He knew it by heart.”

 

Belle's fingertip ran along the words; Ruby’s handwriting but his sentiment. This was all she wanted, nothing grand or elaborate… Just simple, heartfelt, personal gestures.

 

“I love him,” she told Ruby.

 

“I think he might love you back,” she teased, then straightened as she remembered, “Oh and the psycho ex is organizing a girl's night at the Rabbit Hole. I don't know if I really want to hang out with her, but I guess she managed to convince Mary Margaret to leave the house.”

 

The warmth curdled in her stomach, “How did you hear about this before I did?”

 

“Mary Margaret texted me,” Ruby explained, frowning, “It sounded like an open invitation… Should I ask?”

 

“No, no that's alright. I’ll…clarify.”

 

Hannah wouldn't just exclude her…right? Not after everything? Surely they were past such high school antics?

 

“Let me know if you end up going,” Ruby said before taking off. 

 

Belle closed her shop for lunch, but didn't feel particularly hungry.

 

Heard from Ruby about the girl's night. Am I invited? She texted.

 

The response was close to instantaneous, coarse u r i waz gonna invit u in person.

 

Belle had scarcely finished reading before another text popped up, dam that got thru the grapevine real quik.

 

Then another, plz dont b mad I waz gonna invite u this aftnoon 🥺🥺🥺🫶💖🥰😘😮‍💨🥺🥺🍸🍹🥃😜🫶💖😘

 

It was difficult to argue with that many puppy pout emojis, I’m not mad just surprised.

 

again waz gonna invite u in person mm and i just came up wit it last nite and i guess she talked 2 rooby b4 i talked 2 u

 

Okay, makes sense.

 

u in wont bee same witout u 🥺🥺🥺

 

Belle smiled, Yeah, I’m in.

 

😁😁🥰🥃🍹🍸💖💖💖💖🫶🥳🥳

 

When Friday came around, Belle was surprised by Hannah's offer to get ready together, perhaps mostly because she suggested getting ready at their house. Neither of the wendigos had brought up her snooping through their Storybrooke home, most likely because her stunt with Regina overshadowed that simple invasion of privacy. Maybe they genuinely didn't care, now that the big secrets were out in the open.

 

Joseph politely greeted her but was clearly busy with setting something up with Francis in the dining area. Grace scrambled up the stairs behind her and Hannah, but split off once they passed her room. Belle didn't have a lot of flirty drinking night outfits, but she did have a cute black dress and a red pleather jacket she was instantly concerned Hannah was going to steal, the way she went off about how much she loved it.

 

Like the sleepover it was easy , this feminine bonding with her. What Belle forgot to bring Hannah was happy to share, her usual chatty self as they got dolled up for the night. Grace peeked at them every so often, disappearing wordlessly once she got whatever information she needed.

 

“Is she spying on us for the guys?” Belle wondered.

 

“Haven't heard any of them on the staircase.” Hannah said, “Think she's just being a goofball. Oh I love your hair all done up like that!”

 

Belle ducked her head shyly, and the messy bun swayed with the motion, “Thanks.”

 

Hannah reached over, tucking a stray lock back. More aware than ever, Belle willed her heart to calm down. 

 

“God I’m nervous.” Hannah confessed, “I’m so glad you're coming too.”

 

“Why are you nervous?” Belle asked, “Mary Margaret will be there.”

 

“Yeah well she's no you, is she?” Hannah sucked in a breath, “I mean, all she's gotten is Helena MacAvoy the PTA Mom. She hasn't seen anything I don't want her to see. But you… You’ve seen a lot more. The back of the cross stitch, while she’s only seen the front, you know what I mean?”

 

Belle nodded, “I suppose I just…envy her. It feels like she…found a shortcut compared to…me.” 

 

Hannah smiled sadly, “Yeah I get that. But at the same time… I kind of like that you got the shittiest parts first? There's been at least a dozen cases where it's gone from pretty to shitty… I think Joseph still ping-pongs along the spectrum depending on the day. But I don't know, you might be the only one stubborn enough to wade through the shitty to get to the pretty.” She held up a hand, “Okay, Joseph's not shitty, he’s worth wading through shit for, but still. You…you didn't have to be my friend.”

 

Between the slight voice crack and her sad eyes, Belle could sense the emotion behind her words. She reached forward and smoothed Hannah's own wayward curls.

 

“I think…I would have really missed out, if I wasn't your friend.”

 

Hannah's cheeks went pink as she hurriedly turned away, revealing just how little the metallic blue halter top covered her back. Between that and her skin-tight mini-skirt, it would be a miracle if they made it past her husbands.

 

Grace sprinted out when she saw they were leaving the master bathroom, revealing her own yellow sun dress and what had to be nearly all of the jewelry she owned. 

 

“Wow, you look beautiful!” Belle exclaimed.

 

“Soooo pretty,” Hannah agreed, “Now you remembered your fake i.d. right? They're definitely gonna card us if they see you.”

 

Grace giggled, twirling around, “Noooo, I’m too young for bars. The daddies and I are gonna have a sophisticated night in, with art and wine and a shark coochie board.”

 

“CHARCUTERIE!” Francis yelled from downstairs.

 

Too late. Hannah was already giggling, “Shark coochie…”

 

Grace led them back to the dining room where three table easels had been set up, along with canvases and watercolor paints. Joseph and Francis were in the kitchen, the former watching the latter swirl the contents of a wine glass, then sniff.

 

“Strong notes of cranberry,” Francis sipped, “...but is that hints of raspberry underneath I detect?”

 

Joseph gave a golfer’s clap, unable to keep a straight face, “Can you guess the year?”

 

“...hopefully not later than last fall,” Francis muttered.

 

“Well if it expired you would have spat it out, I imag-” Joseph cut himself off, staring at her and Hannah.

 

Shyly, Belle crossed her arms, unused to the less-than-innocent way Joseph's eyes roamed over her body.

 

“You look stunning , young lady,” Francis said, and Grace skipped towards him.

 

“We're all very pretty ladies, and you're lucky to be in our presence,” Grace informed him.

 

“Indeed,” Joseph more mouthed than said aloud.

 

“Would you ladies like to start the night off with us?” Francis offered, “We have the cranberry raspberry blend I was just sampling, a nice full bodied grape, or a light refreshing apple.”

 

Hannah rolled her eyes, taking a cracker from the charcuterie board and popping it in her mouth, “No thanks, I’m too old to pregame. What are you guys gonna paint?”

 

“We’re going to be doing a portrait of a lady at rest,” he said, gesturing to the dog bed.

 

Freddi did not look very sure of being the center of attention, but also seemed too comfortable to move away.

 

“I’ll take the full-bodied please,” Grace said.

 

“Right away ma’am,” Joseph obliged. He did his best to shield the bottle of grape juice from Grace's view as he poured some into a wine glass, “Careful now, yeah? Both hands.”

 

“I knooooow.”

 

“Well you guys enjoy your hoity toity night while we go paint the town red,” Hannah said before getting snagged and pulled into a kiss by Francis. She smacked his chest as his hands wandered and he smirked.

 

“Don't do anything I wouldn't do,” he said. Belle had to imagine that didn't leave much off the table.

 

Hannah moved on to Joseph, who had an oddly serious expression.

 

“Take care of her, yeah?” He said.

 

“Awww, but I was planning on just ditching her the moment we walked through the door,” Hannah drawled, “Of course I’ll take care of her.”

 

“You know what I mean.” They kissed, and Hannah went to hug her daughter goodbye.

 

Belle stepped up towards Joseph, who seemed to be making the most effort he ever had to keep his gaze above her collarbone.

 

“Be safe,” he said.

 

“Why do you tell me that but not Hannah?” She teased.

 

“You know why. Anyways she laughs at me if I do.” They kissed and oh it was so tempting to forget the night’s plan, try and convince him to come over to her place and explore whatever was behind the heat of his kiss.

 

But he pulled away, and Belle was reminded she had both his spouses and child watching them. Not the time to get handsy.

 

The Rabbit Hole wasn't the sort of place a group of young women typically went to party, but it was the only bar in town and the most convenient place for them all to meet up. Hannah did not act as nervous and shy as she insisted she was, a social butterfly flitting around the sizeable group of women who had ended up coming. Ashley was there, and Rory, and even some women Belle didn't recognize. And of course, even with most of them not single, the men turned up anyway once the word was out about their party.

 

Belle drank modestly at first, enjoying herself as she caught up with old friends and met potential new ones. She got buzzed enough that Hannah convinced her to play two-on-two against Ruby and Mary Margaret. Hannah seemed delighted that Belle was a pool shark, while she was clearly holding back from her full wendigo potential. They still won handily and the night spiraled from there as her vision narrowed.

 

Hannah lining up a shot, bent over the table. Hannah hugging her tightly at their victory. Hannah playfully tickling her and singing along to “Maneater”, lips almost touching her ear. Hannah and Ruby trying to show each other up with blow job shots, lips wrapped around the rim and thrusting their head back with their hands clasped behind them. Hannah probing Belle to join in as an impromptu karaoke night began, promising to do a duet. Hannah smiling. Hannah laughing. Hannah casually touching her. Hannah being the life of the party. Hannah always circling back to Belle, checking on her, being playful with her.

 

Hannah. Hannah, Hannah, Hannah, Hannah Hannah Hannah Hannah HANNAH.

 

…Hannah.

 

It had been a long time since Belle had been this drunk, having to use the wall for support as she went into the bathroom. She managed not to fall onto the filthy ground as she did her business, stumbling to the sink. She stared at herself in the mirror, and saw the woman she was falling for staring back at her. 

 

Belle wanted to break the mirror, not caring about the superstition. But she lacked the coordination and power, her punches nowhere near strong enough. Hannah could have done it no problem. Belle clawed weakly at the glass and started sobbing. She wasn't strong enough. She couldn't handle it.

 

“Sweetie, sweetie, hey.” She heard her tormentor coo, “It’s alright, you're o-”

 

Belle flung her arm towards Hannah in an attempt at a slap, or maybe a punch. Hannah caught her wrist effortlessly.

 

“Yeah, it's time to call it a night if you think assaulting me’s a good idea.”

 

“I can't… I can't STAND being AROUND YOU,” Belle blubbered.

 

Hannah was still for a moment, before replying, “I’m gonna pay our tab off, let Ruby know where we went, and I’m gonna take you home, alright? Then you don't have to deal with me after that.”

 

Belle stubbornly tried to fight Hannah off, prove that she could still walk on her own. Hannah half carried, half herded her to the Cadillac, sitting her down in the passenger's seat while she went back in “for a couple minutes”. In the brief quiet, Belle's actions caught up with her sluggish brain, and she started sobbing.

 

“I'm sorry.” She wept as Hannah returned, “I should not have tried to hit you, that was bad .”

 

“It's alright hon.”

 

“It's not .” Belle sobbed harder, “I’m sorry, it's too much, I can't stand it, any of it.”

 

“It’ll be alright, darling. We’ll getcha tucked in and you can forget all about tonight.”

 

“I don't want to forget. I just…want it to be less ! Something small and easy! Not this…spaghetti…” She gestured limply as if to help explain her inner turmoil.

 

“Life’s spaghetti, Bellesy,” she responded with the patience of a mother who had sat through countless barely coherent tantrums.

 

She leaned on Hannah as they made it to her house, and once the front door was shut she picked Belle up and carried her to her bed, and the tears that had briefly stopped picked back up.

 

“I can't,” she tried to explain again as Hannah took off her heels, “I can't STAND being-”

 

“Around me, yeah, heard you the first time.”

 

“You're so…you're so PRETTY.” Hannah's head jerked up. “All the time! I just, I can't deal with how pretty you are, and smart, and warm, and and…”

 

“Belle.” Hannah said firmly, sitting too close again, being too pretty again, “You are fucking wasted and you're gonna be real embarrassed tomorrow morning once you sober up.”

 

“In vino…in vino something fuck it.”

 

Belle lunged towards Hannah, and shockingly her lips actually connected with Hannah's. Hannah jerked away.

 

“Belle,” she whimpered, pleading.

 

But Belle wasn't listening, already following after her. This time when they made contact she didn't pull away.

 

She had no idea how long she spent kissing Hannah; it could have been days or just extended seconds. But the feeling , of relief, of ecstasy, of connection… It was perfect. She wouldn't even really recall how Hannah tasted, just that it felt right .

 

When Belle started to feel exhausted, she reluctantly pulled back, staring into Hannah’s shimmering blue eyes.

 

“Will you tell me about the rain forest again?” Belle asked.

 

She fell asleep in Hannah's arms, drifting off to her describing the calls of the birds, the smell of wet soil, and how many fucking bugs were all over the place.

 

And then… Belle woke up.

 

A blinding headache pierced her skull as she tried to gather what wits she had. She was no longer in last night's dress, instead a nightgown. She was propped up on her side by pillows and her bun had turned into a tight braid, keeping her hair away from her face.

 

She sat up, not sure if she'd make it to the sink, but an empty pot had been left by her bedside. She emptied her stomach into it and stayed hunched over, trying to remember. There were bits and pieces, then emotions. And-

 

…and…

 

…oh god what had she done.

 

Then something shifted near the foot of her bed.

 

Belle jerked up, then winced at the pain and nausea. She was never drinking, never ever again… She reopened her eyes to find Francis watching her with a mix of disgust and schadenfreude from a chair he had clearly dragged in there.

 

“Hannah told me to look after you,” he explained, “Make sure you didn't drown in your own vomit.”

 

“Where is she?” Belle rasped.

 

“Home, I’m assuming, so Joseph can mind the store.”

 

There was no way she was going to open her own shop today.

 

She eased back onto the bed and he set down the book he was reading, moving towards the pot.

 

“You don't…”

 

“Well you're certainly not up for it.” He waved his hand dismissively, “Far from the first time I’ve dealt with sick, far from the last.”

 

Francis left and Belle closed her eyes, trying to pull herself together. Why wasn't Hannah here with her? Why had she asked Francis to take her place? From the fragments she could piece together, the kiss was consensual…

 

“Here.”

 

Belle opened her eyes to a blended drink. She sized it up skeptically.

 

“Just some fruit and yogurt,” he promised, “Nothing you’d object to.”

 

“Is this supposed to be a hangover cure?”

 

Francis snickered, “I don't think you’d like it if I gave you my hangover cure. No, this is just to soothe your throat, get some fluids and nutrients in you.”

 

“Must be poison.” She took the glass from him anyway and drank. It was a struggle not to just gulp it down, as thirsty as she was.

 

He retreated back to the chair, and Belle recognized the cover as he picked his book up again. 

 

“Put that away,” she said, unable to gather the energy to scold him properly.

 

“What, this?” He held up “The Dragon Lord’s Maiden”, “But it was just getting to the raunchy bits.” He set it aside, “The prose is a bit flowery for my taste but the premise is intriguing, and I do like the leads. I see why Hannah's convinced we have…shared interests.”

 

Belle didn't have the strength to lay out all the arguments between her interests and his interests, starting with how hers were fictional.

 

“Why are you here instead of Hannah?”

 

His smug expression faded, “She didn't think you’d want to see her.”

 

“Of course I do.”

 

“It sounds like you were sending some pretty mixed signals last night.”

 

“I was drunk.”

 

“Yes, well, that's part of it too. She's heard my tales of woe at sober partners turning on me; probably concerned you’ll do the same.”

 

Then it hit Belle. Hannah had already told Francis everything. It would only be a matter of time before… She stared at him, horrified.

 

He chuckled, “Oh don't you worry about him, the sorest he’ll be is that he lost the bet on who would go for it first.” He shook his head, “Joseph doesn't know how shy Hannah is around her own sex.”

 

“You both…knew?”

 

“Oh it was blatant, if even Joseph picked up on your attraction to each other.” He crossed his legs, “You baby queers are adorable. So clueless, so obvious.”

 

“I should talk to her,” Belle brushed off his condescension.

 

He shook his head, “Give her time. Let her get the panic out of her system.” He looked her over, “...and give you a chance to recover.”

 

Francis stubbornly maintained his post through the morning, finding great entertainment in skimming her collection of erotic romance and watching her squirm. Belle mostly napped, figuring the sooner she was able to handle herself the sooner he’d leave. It was the longest time she had spent alone around him since before Thanksgiving and while she might never feel completely comfortable in his presence, she was fearing for her safety less and less.

 

xXx

 

Joseph wasn't a complete fool; he knew there was a fair chance of something happening between Belle and Hannah with alcohol in the mix. The tension towards Hannah's new friendship was uncharacteristic of Belle, and it was difficult to read it as anything other than jealousy. Francis was drinking it in and Joseph was…waiting. Not trying to force the two of them to figure out their mutual attraction. Letting it unfold naturally.

 

He woke up and felt a lack of warmth. He reached to his left and found empty space. He reached to his right and grabbed an ankle where a shoulder should be.

 

“Hey.”

 

Joseph rolled onto his side. Hannah was sitting up and looked…exhausted. And like she had been crying. Clumsily he moved to sit up too.

 

“What happened?”

 

Wrong question, as usual. Hannah sniffled.

 

“...we kissed,” she admitted. He cuddled up to her and Hannah’s face scrunched up, “I'm sorry, hon, it just happened so fast.”

 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” He wrapped his arm around her, “You know, Francis and I were placing bets on you two.”

 

A smile slipped out, “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah, so hopefully you kissed her so I’m twenty dollars richer.”

 

She shook her head, “Nah…she kissed me.” Hannah rested against him, “Oh Jojo, what the fuck am I going to do? I can't face her after that.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“She was completely shitfaced, like I had to send Francis over to watch her and make sure she didn't get alcohol poisoning or something. I don't know if she'll remember, or if…or if she’ll regret it.”

 

He kissed the top of her head and pulled her tighter. Wet hot tears splashed onto his shoulder.

 

“I just, I don't think I could take her rejection. I know how pathetic that sounds but… She's getting to be real special to me.”

 

“I know what you mea- Don't wipe your snotty nose on my shirt, Grace Senior.”

 

Hannah coughed out a laugh, “It's going in the wash anyway.”

 

“It's still gross.” He squeezed her arm, “I don't… I don't think she's going to regret it.”

 

“You're just being nice.”

 

“I'm being honest,” he corrected, “She just might need some time to wrap her head around it. I don't know if she knows , you know?”

 

“Apparently Francis tried to lead her to water, doesn't have any idea if she drank.” She sighed, “Bellesy's gonna be up my ass about me taking advantage of her, even though I wasn't stone sober myself.”

 

“The two of you act like she's some sort of Puritan because she prefers giving and receiving consent.”

 

“Booooooring.” She twisted to look up at him, “...and if she, you know, doesn't regret it… Do you mind sharing? I know she was just supposed to be your side piece so I get it if you want me to back off.”

 

He smiled, “I don't mind. If there's anything Storybrooke's taught me so far it's that… It's nice to have my own space, but most of the time I’d rather just share my life with my family.”

 

She smiled back, kissing his chest… Then squinted suspiciously at him, “You ain't gonna fool me with your sweet talk, mister. You're playing the long game, trying to encourage a two-girl three way.”

 

Joseph glanced away, squirming, “I can want both your happiness and, perhaps, a little happiness of my own.”

 

“Perv.”

 

Unfortunately nannying Belle meant Francis couldn't open the shop, and so Joseph had to take his place. There were more annoying parts to their theatre, like how he couldn't openly be too affectionate with either of them, but still. Seemed pretty fishy to be operating an antiques store hardly anyone stepped into… But “money laundering cover” was still a better explanation than the truth.

 

He passed the time texting his spouses; Hannah was apparently dealing with Grace's crusade to storm Belle's house and trying to explain how Dad had it handled. And Francis was getting more and more incensed with each fifteen minute reminder to not eat Belle, but he’d brought that onto himself. Joseph…didn't know if he should text Belle, both because he was all too familiar with hangovers and because, well, he didn't know how to go about bringing up last night. Safer for her to do it.

 

“Well good afternoon ladies.” He said cheerfully as his favorite blondes stepped through the door, “Can I help you with anything?”

 

“Help me get some sense into Mommy,” Grace grumbled, apparently her ballet class not enough of a distraction. Perhaps because it was usually followed up by story time with Belle.

 

Hannah looked at him, worn out from arguing with her miniature reflection for hours.

 

“Dad's already taking care of Belle, love, there's no need to swarm her,” he promised Grace.

 

“Yes there is ,” she insisted, “The more people fussing over her, the faster she’ll get better!”

 

“That's…not how that works, I’m afraid,” he said.

 

“Maybe we could make her a card so she knows that you were thinking about her,” Hannah offered.

 

“Hollow gestures,” she muttered, and Joseph wondered out of what context she had pulled that phrase of Francis’ from.

 

Think of the devil… The back door opened.

 

“Incoming!” Francis called, the curtains fluttering as he passed through, “Come on Gracie, ice cream time.”

 

“You're supposed to be watching Belle!” Grace scolded.

 

“Belle's feeling much better.” He looked purposefully at Joseph.

 

He wasn't sure if it was a “go along with this fib” look or a “there is meaning behind that statement” look. 

 

Hannah apparently caught on much quicker, “You know ice cream sounds real good to me too-”

 

“Nope, Gracie-Dad time only.” He took Grace’s hand, tugging her towards the back exit, “You three have fun with your grown-up discussion, text when you're done.”

 

“Three?” Grace echoed, “But if you're going with me-”

 

“Ice cream first, then explanation,” he promised.

 

Grace followed obediently. A minute passed of Hannah looking terrified and Joseph utterly confused… Before Belle came through the front. She still looked like death warmed over, but she also looked like she was on a mission Francis himself wasn't about to interfere with. 

 

“Hi, Belle,” Joseph called, quickly cutting Hannah off from retreating to the back. She glared at him, but the glare faded into a helpless panicked look.

 

“We need to talk.” Belle said, primarily looking at Hannah.

 

Joseph gestured to the door, “Could you flip the sign and lock it, please? Just in case.”

 

Belle nodded and did so. Hannah's hands were starting to shake; she clenched them into fists. He gently guided her to the back of the shop.

 

The transformation wasn't surprising, as Hannah put her armor on. Her spine straightened, shoulders going back. The fear in her eyes was replaced by a much more vacant look, a slight smirk on her face. There was a sway to her steps to complete the devil-may-care aura. She leaned against the desk, defiantly facing Belle when she came in.

 

Even for her, Belle was pale, walking as if each step sapped her energy. Her entire body sagged with the fatigue of the abuse she put it through last night. But her eyes… They were sharp and fiery as ever.

 

Hannah waved her hand dismissively, “Look, you were drunk, I get it. I was pretty damn buzzed myself. Let's just forget the whole thing, and definitely not drink that much again,” she laughed.

 

Belle didn't laugh. “I don't want to forget it happened.”

 

“Why, so you can rake me over the coals for getting a little carried away?”

 

“Because it meant something to me.”

 

Hannah's facade flickered; a little less cocky, a little more exposed. Belle looked towards Joseph, almost apologetic, but he nodded encouragingly to her. She took a deep breath and focused again on Hannah.

 

“It wasn't just the alcohol. These feelings… I’ve been trying to make sense of them for a while now. I still don't know what they mean but…” Belle shook her head, “I… enjoyed kissing you. I enjoyed waking up in your arms cuddling with you. I think you're beautiful, and smart, and charming. Is it a crush? I suppose so but…I’ve never felt this way about another woman before, so I have no idea what I’m going through.”

 

Word by word, Hannah's armor slipped off until she was back to her true naked, afraid self, “Well I have been attracted to women before so at least I can say that I know I have a crush on you. A really, really big one. But I just…” She looked up at the light fixture, blinking back tears, “...I couldn't take that risk, because your friendship… Fuck it's everything to me. And you and Joseph are still figuring it out-”

 

“You gave us space,” Joseph cut in, “I appreciate that but the tension was getting a bit ridiculous.” Both women gave hoarse, relieved laughs.

 

Belle shyly stepped closer and Hannah moved forward sheepishly. Timidly they met in the middle and shared a non-alcohol-induced, non-mistletoe-mandatory kiss.

Chapter 19: Belle and Francis Versus the Impromptu Escape Room

Summary:

Daily Mirror Front Page Article: "Out with a Bang! Storybrooke Mines' West Entrance Set for Demolition"

Excerpt: The site is set to be demolished this Wednesday at noon. Citizens are welcome to watch as long as they stay behind the corded-off viewing area. "It's bittersweet, saying goodbye to such a historical landmark," Mayor Regina Mills lamented, "But with the Storybrooke Mining Company disbanded and the entire network in disrepair, we need to put the safety of our townsfolk above all else. The western entrance is the first priority; we plan to fill in the existing shaft for now, down the road we can put to a vote what should be placed in the area." Mills does not have any firm future plans for the rest of the miles of underground mines but hopes that this will be the start of a much needed revitalization of the town's landscape.

“Alright, the floor is now open for discussion,” Joseph announced.

 

“Not to you,” Francis quickly clarified, pointing at Belle. Hannah threw her pen at him, smacking him square in the forehead, but he didn't react.

 

It had been a long session. Joseph had to argue with Francis to even let Belle sit at the table with them, and that was only after 1) a name card was placed in front of her labeled “PROBATIONARY” and 2) she promised not to interrupt during the Loyal Order of the Council of Grace's Guardians meeting. But…she was at the meeting. She’d tolerate whatever tantrum Francis wanted to throw, considering her consistent encroaching on what he deemed was his territory. 

 

Hannah thrust her hand into the air, “Grace asked if we could take her out of school early Wednesday to watch the demolition.”

 

“Demolition of what?” Joseph asked at the same time as Francis firmly stated, “No.”

 

“One of the old mine entrances for,” she air quoted, ““safety concerns”. AKA Mayor Killjoy found where the teens are sneaking off to for illicit fun.”

 

“And you're trying to Trojan Horse your way down there by claiming Grace wants to watch,” Francis stated.

 

“She does want to watch! …she just didn't come up with the idea on her own,” Hannah admitted.

 

Belle raised her hand. Joseph pointed to her, overruling any objection on Francis' behalf.

 

“Why do you want to go down in the mines?” She asked Hannah.

 

The blonde shrugged, “Because they're there, and because Francis is fucking weird about his paranoias so I wanna prove him wrong.”

 

“Prove me wrong about something that doesn’t require you traipsing through condemned underground tunnels,” he rebutted.

 

“I'm surprised the two of you haven't got it all mapped out already,” Belle admitted. A defunct mine system seemed perfect for their…extracurriculars. 

 

“ Condemned ,” Francis repeated, as if he obeyed every law to the letter.

 

“Motion denied,” Joseph concluded, “We’re not pulling Grace out of class for that, or giving Hannah a chance to face one of the few dangers the two of you don't throw yourselves headlong into.”

 

“Dick,” Hannah muttered.

 

Francis smirked, at least winning one small battle tonight.

 

Belle hadn't been down in the mines herself, since they had still been somewhat active during her teenage years. But the west entrance was a death trap, neglected far before the closure or even the slow down. With this being an election year she wondered if Regina was doing it for optics…or covering her mother's tracks, if rumors were to be believed. 

 

That mine shaft, as untouched as it was, could have any number of relics from its long history. There was still precious little she knew about Francis' interests outside of his family and bloodthirst. It was more a justification for exploring what was about to be destroyed, but it was still worth the small risk, as long as she was careful.

 

Wednesday morning, she made a backpack with water, a few granola bars, some first aid supplies, a notebook with pencils, a map of Storybrooke, and two flashlights in case one broke. A bit much, but it was better to be over prepared than under prepared. She put Papa’s wristwatch on and set a timer for thirty minutes before noon, to give her plenty of time to clear out before the wrecking crew. Then, she headed for the mines.

 

Wednesday morning, Francis put Joseph on wife duty. It irritated the hell out of Hannah but she was far less likely to be tempted with a little lamb following her every move and making other suggestions for how to spend their time. It left Francis to wonder about closing the shop long enough to view the demolition. He liked watching explosions as much as the next man, but was it worth Hannah's rage if he should go when he’d forbade her to?

 

There was also the matter of The Little Shop of Wonders being stone silent. It wasn't typically raucous but there was usually some sign of life; door opening and closing, the occasional conversation, Belle's endearing habit of humming to herself as she worked. Nothing. His curiosity finally got the better of him and he stepped out to investigate.

 

Closed. Odd.

 

Have you spoken to Belle today? Francis inquired.

 

A minute later, Joseph responded, Car’s gone. What the hell have you done now?

 

Francis scoffed at the insinuation. He had been downright cordial lately, all things considered, and yet he was the first to blame if anything went wrong. He hadn't finished his text before Joseph sent a follow up.

 

Hannah thinks maybe she went to go poke around the mines, but maybe she's just trying to find an excuhebxblcjfzlxn fuk this man iam NOT makin excuses now im worried bout my girl 🥺🕳️🚧🧨🧨💥🤯🪦💐😭😭😭

 

Hopefully Belle wasn't that stupid. I’ll go check on the site, make sure she's not there.

 

after that leav no fireworks wo me 😤

 

Of course love, just stay put with 🐑

 

🫡🙄🫶😘😘😘😘😩😩💦💦

 

He smirked. She was such a naughty little minx. He locked up the shop and made his way towards the mines.

 

Despite the half-collapsed-already entrance, getting down into the mines was just a rickety ladder away. Belle went one cautious step at a time, glad that she was up to date on her tetanus shot, and ignoring the occasional bit of C4 rigged to the wall. She didn’t know if a controlled cave-in was the best way to go about filling in the shaft, but it probably was the cheapest. 

 

When she finally felt solid ground, she took out a flashlight and did a sweep of the nearby area. No, this branch hadn’t been used in a long time; no mine carts, the rails in utter disrepair. Carefully, she explored, sketching a map to coincide with the main Storybrooke one to give her a sense of place. She didn’t dare go too far, despite her rabid curiosity.

 

Belle found a few items of note; old coins, a lunch pail she was terrified to open, an old pickaxe with the nickname “Dreamy” carved into it. Her favorite discovery was a half-melted candle, clearly homemade, and likely evidence of the coal-for-candle tradition. She checked her watch often and decided, out of an abundance of caution, she would head back earlier than planned. The crew was already set up for the explosion, after all, and she didn’t need to get on Regina’s bad side.

 

Belle was almost to the ladder when she heard men yelling to one another up above. She had a split second to wonder what they were saying before the cavern started folding in around her.

 

She was knocked off her feet, flung several yards back and fleetingly wondered what she should do, if there was anything she could do. Something had fallen on her, heavy but shielding as debris rained down around her. She coughed and sputtered but remained underneath the shield, waiting for the dust to settle. Her eyes stung and she squirmed, the cavern pitch black. The ringing in her ears went on and on but… The fallout seemed to be over. She’d been knocked away from being buried alive and, aside from some cuts and bruises and a potentially twisted ankle, she was fine. Just the one…soft…warm…heavy bit of debris, that was leaking something wet and heated onto her.

 

A scream caught in her throat as she realized a body was on top of her.

 

Belle clawed away, sputtering and gasping. She had to look… Looking was better than being in the literal and metaphorical dark. She knew she had to look no matter how much she didn’t want to. Trembling fingers unzipped her backpack to take a flashlight back out. One…two…three.

 

The light illuminated a man in a suit, with shaggy dark brown- No. Nononono. Anyone but him. Belle frantically pushed the body up enough to look at his face.

 

…she had never been so glad to see a mustache in all her life.

 

Belle checked his pulse. Alive, but out cold. He was bleeding profusely from his head and she wondered if a wayward bit of the ladder or a rock had cracked his skull. Carefully, she carded her fingers through his hair and screamed as a chunk came off in her hands, along with a skull fragment, and she flung it away as far as she could. She stared at the exposed section of brain, then turned away and vomited onto the ground. 

 

Logically, she knew that the hyperventilating and sobbing would be of no help to either of them, but that did not stop the panic. She had no idea what to do about this level of injury, how long it would take him to heal, if he would heal from something that critical… And if he did heal, how soon would he need to-

 

She raked through her backpack and pulled out her phone, hoping, praying, but there was absolutely no signal. Every instinct was warning her to run, to put as much distance as possible between herself and the wendigo she was trapped down here with no matter how pointless it was. But… He had saved her, at great personal risk to himself. The least…the least she could do was wait. See. Hope .

 

She had almost recovered from her panic when Papa’s wristwatch beeped at her, signaling a half hour until the explosion. That couldn’t be right, though. Surely they would have waited until noon as announced…

 

…right?

 

She turned off the alarm, then rifled through her backpack for the first aid kit. She imagined anything in there would be as effective as a tarp taped over a shattered window but it was something to do. She braced herself, moved back to his side…and there was pale bone where she had seen brains just fifteen minutes earlier. And now, instead of low shallow breathing, there were the snorts and sharp inhales of a bleeding out beast.

 

“Francis?”

 

He didn’t answer her. She took his shoulder and pushed him up onto his side, causing him to snarl. His head lulled to the side and a crazed, white-rimmed stare was fixed on her as he struggled to move. Belle gently reached up to stroke his bloodsoaked hair out of his eyes.

 

“You’re going to be alright,” she said softly, “I’ve got you.”

 

Belle was less sure if she would be alright, though.

 

xXx

 

“Look, we gave them an hour,” Hannah insisted, “We need to go check on them.”

 

Joseph had a difficult time arguing against her with the nervous feeling growing in his gut. Francis would have texted by now if everything was fine. Belle might have but Francis definitely would have.

 

Hannah drove out to the site, which was completely unremarkable now that the crew had packed up and left. The only sign there had been anything at all were a few rotted planks of wood sunken into the dirt. No lingering spectators, and only two vehicles parked nearby.

 

She was out of the Cadillac in a blink, scouring the area. Joseph followed slowly, the uneasy feeling getting worse and worse at the silence. Hannah was shaking her head, circling around the dip that had once been an entrance to the underground.

 

“Maybe they went for a walk?” He tried.

 

“No, no, no, the smell…” She sucked in a breath, “There's nothing, there's nothing after…” 

 

Hannah threw herself down onto the ground, spraying dirt everywhere as her arms were a blur of motion. Joseph quickly triple-checked that they were alone, even though their cover was the last thing on his mind. A minute passed before Hannah stilled, sitting in the barely dented earth, her bare hands like a teaspoon digging up a six-foot grave. 

 

Her head snapped up towards him and for the first time, Hannah looked truly terrified for Francis’ situation. 

 

xXx

 

“That hurts !”

 

“Well it wouldn't hurt so much if you’d hold still!”

 

“I sincerely doubt that.”

 

Belle was aware of the adage that a cornered animal was as dangerous as a wounded one, and Francis seemed to believe he was both. It hadn't been too bad when he was too injured to speak, his internal organs mending and his bones snapping back into place. Now that his healing had extended to more superficial, less life-threatening wounds, it was taking longer and he was shifting around restlessly instead of lying still.

 

She did her best to stay far away from the business end of the cannibal and was attempting to clean the wounds that remained. In case, somehow, that was actually doing any good.

 

“What are you even doing down here?” He hissed as she swept an alcohol wipe over the cuts on one of his legs, “If I don't want Hannah spelunking through abandoned tunnels, what makes you think it's safe for you ?”

 

“What are you doing down here if you're so against Hannah exploring the mines?” She challenged.

 

“You weren't at your shop, Hannah said you might have gone to watch the demolition.”

 

“I would think you’d be celebrating my absence for a day, or did you get too bored with no one to torment?”

 

He grit his teeth as she finished the last of her useless nursing tasks. He sank onto the ground, and Belle guessed it had to be physically demanding to heal.

 

“...I do not want you hurting them,” he muttered, “And that requires you not being hurt. Your pain is their pain, and I will not tolerate them being in pain.”

 

It was as close to an altruistic reason as she could expect from him. She bit her lip, “...thank you… For saving my life.”

 

“We’re not in the clear yet,” he said, stiffly glancing back towards the cave-in, “I’m in no condition to see if I can dig our way out. We’ll have to find another exit.”

 

“The library's our best bet,” Belle offered, “It’s the easiest entrance to locate, and we know there’s an elevator to street level.”

 

“An elevator more-than-likely out of service,” he pointed out pessimistically, “And I don't know if they'll think to station there.”

 

“One problem at a time.” Belle got up and offered her hand down to him, “I’ve got a start on a map. It's a decent hike back to town but not impossible.”

 

He stared at her hand as if it were a loaded gun. She held it there an obscenely long time, before he finally reached up and grabbed it.

 

xXx

 

It was perfectly possible that neither his husband nor his girlfriend had been buried alive in an explosion. Belle might have been further down the tunnels; Francis might have rescued her upon his arrival. But without evidence, right now Hannah and Joseph were coming apart at the seams.

 

She dropped him off at the diner before heading back to the other house; Joseph didn't ask exactly what she was prepping for as he figured he had a good idea. He entered the diner, still not sure how big of a deal he should make of this. Hannah had been unconcerned with his plan, but right now he doubted she was the impartial judge she needed to be.

 

Ruby spotted him instantly and smiled, “Hey Caleb, what's up?”

 

He shoved his shaking hands into his pockets, “I, I was hoping you'd heard from Belle today.”

 

“No I haven't. Saw her car at the mine blow-up but didn't…see…” Ruby's eyes widened, “...you don't think?”

 

“Not panicking yet,” he protested, shaking his head, “Not…no panicking…”

 

“Sit down, son,” Granny insisted, motioning to a booth. Joseph sank onto the cushioned bench and Ruby plopped down across from him, pulling out her phone.

 

“I basically know everyone she does, I’ll check in with them and then some,” she said, “It’s a small town, I’m sure someone will have spotted her or heard from her.”

 

He checked his own phone. No new messages.

 

“This is why you start things on time,” Granny groused, setting a cup of coffee in front of Caleb, “Mayor Mills knew this was going to be a spectacle, that of course since it was publicly announced there’d be a lot of bystanders. Did that stop her from telling the crew to go ahead? Course not.”

 

Joseph’s head jerked up towards Widow Lucas, “She…told them to blow it up early?”

 

“To be “conscientious of the worker’s time”,” Ruby added, rolling her eyes, “A lot of people missed seeing it since it was like, quarter after 11 and the thing was planned for noon.”

 

Joseph’s heart sank. He knew what conclusion Hannah would draw from that information; it was difficult for him not to assume the same. 45 minutes… If they assumed they had so much time to make it out before the demolition started…

 

“You want me to ask Mary Margaret to pick up Grace, or does Helena have that handled?” Ruby innocently asked. 

 

Picturing telling the news to Grace, who adored her father and her friend so much… Joseph broke down instantly. 

 

xXx

 

“Should we be concerned about the amount of oxygen down here?” Belle asked as she kept the cart steady.

 

“Nah. Network this large? Plenty of ventilation, even with the collapse.” He eased himself into it, making a face at the coal dust still lining the interior. She tossed her bag on top of his legs and he made a muted noise of outrage.

 

Despite the rapid improvement from his initial near-death state, he was nowhere near his full strength. The pick axe had worked as a shitty cane but as they were getting closer to the more modern rails (modern by 1950’s standards), the sight of a mine cart was a blessing. Francis had ominously stated that “the less energy he exerted, the better” and Belle was just…going to take his word for that and not reflect further on it.

 

It could easily be her imagination, or the minimal light playing tricks on her eyes, but his tailored suit seemed to hang off of him more than it had before his regeneration. His sharp features almost appeared gaunt, and he was far paler than usual.

 

Francis balanced the notebook and Storybrooke map on his knees, free to hold the flashlight and the pencil at the same time. He was a much better cartographer than she was already and while chalking everything up to his formative years was a bit lazy… It made sense that a pioneer would have strong map skills.

 

Belle gave an experimental push and thankfully the cart was not rusted to immobility. It was a little tough, like a grocery cart with only three working wheels, but it was manageable. 

 

“I’m sorry you’re having to do this.”

 

She was caught off guard by the sudden apology, “It’s not that difficult,” she insisted, “Besides, it’s the least I can do since you cracked your skull protecting me.”

 

“I suppose.”

 

The creaks of the wheels echoed down the mines, following the flashlight’s beam forward. Francis indicated which fork to take as they came up, talking her through how to switch the tracks.

 

“Bring back memories?” She asked.

 

He shook his head, “Wasn’t much for mining myself, not after hearing the way older miners coughed. Panning, fur trapping, those were more my style.”

 

“I assume you were there for the Gold Rush?”

 

“Naturally.”

 

“Did you ever strike gold?”

 

Francis chuckled, “In a sense.”

 

Belle sighed; she had walked right into that one. Suddenly the cart felt more like pushing an unruly stroller with a toddler past his naptime. But…he wasn’t being a complete jackass. Maybe because he didn’t have the strength but surely that was second nature to him… For a good stretch of track they were both quiet, lost in their own worlds. 

 

“The things you must have seen over the centuries,” she mused, “The events and cultural movements you’ve been a part of… I’m not sure I’d exactly kill for such an opportunity, but actually living long to finish my to-be-read list… That would be a difficult offer to turn down.”

 

“Let me tell you a secret about immortality,” he shook his head, “You’ve never going to finish your reading list, or your bucket list, no matter how long you live. Not the likes of you, or me. Because the world does not freeze when you stop aging; there’s always something new to try, always a slew of books going into production. These depictions of immortals bored to tears and anguished by their perpetual existence?” He waved his hand dismissively, “That’s just their lack of creativity…or depression.”

 

“And you’ve never been so drained of life, so… defeated … That you considered maybe it wasn’t worth continuing?”

 

“Well yes, but… I’ve never been very good at staying down long when I’ve been knocked to the ground.”

 

It was a fitting discussion, considering how philosophy had been their way to connect while playing dolls. Approaching delicate subjects with the protective shield of hypotheticals was a natural extension of that. But Belle, being Belle, wanted to probe deeper, now that it was the two of them, alone, and he was finally opening up even slightly. 

 

“...is that why you became a wendigo?”

 

She was met with silence, which she was supposed was better than him lunging for her throat or chewing her out for prying too deeply, or even tossing out a few cannibal references to make her uneasy. She mulled over other topics they could discuss before he finally responded.

 

“I suppose. My reasoning was as simple as it gets; I wanted to live.”

 

She paused as they came to a potential turn. After a brief consultation, Francis pointed the flashlight beam forward. 

 

“End stages of tuberculosis; there was a farflung hope a sanatorium would help me recover but I didn’t put much stock in that. A Native American scout told us the ghost story of the wendigo and… Well what did I have to lose?”

 

Despite herself, she felt sorry for young Francis. She’d thrown her own life away in the hopes of saving her father, and Papa had much better odds of survival than a TB patient in the mid-19th century. And, with bloodletting still a fairly common routine and germ theory decades away from gaining any real traction, she could see how a desperate man might see cannibalism as a viable option. Taking another’s strength…

 

“Was it…difficult at first?” She asked.

 

“Not really,” he said honestly, “I think my previous experience killing men on the battlefield really helped. Also the fact I had no family or close friends.”

 

That was her fault, being too hopeful that maybe the murder was a bit of a burden on him, even if just in the early days.

 

“Wendigos with a guilty conscious don’t last long,” he explained, “Even once I figured that out, it took me even longer to learn how to discern the borderline psychotics from the genuine psychotics. Difficult to find someone with a close enough shade of crazy to get you and get along with you.”

 

Belle smiled, “But finally, you did. She just had to, you know, be born and grow up first.”

 

For the first time in the conversation, Francis turned to look at her, a soft smile on his face, “Actually, I never did find someone. She found me .”

 

He turned back around and they came to another crossroads, “How far off do you think we are now?”

 

“Almost to town.” He examined the map, “I imagine it should be fairly straightforward after this lefthand turn.”

 

Belle wheeled that direction, figuring that was the end of it. Francis surprised her again.

 

“...I’ve waited lifetimes for them,” he said, his low voice almost drowned out by the screeching wheels.

 

Her heart clenched at the sincerity of his tone, the tinge of all his unspoken fears palpable. He was a brutal, arrogant, disastrous asshole…to the world. But not to them. 

 

“We’ll try not to have our family wait too much longer then,” she said, huffing at a particularly rough turn, “After all, Grace does not need another excuse to skip Girl Scouts.”

 

xXx

 

Grace was completely at odds with everyone around her, taking the news of the accident as calmly as if Joseph had announced they’d gone out for groceries and would be back in fifteen minutes.

 

“Okay,” she said, tearing into the fries Ruby had offered as a Francis-unfriendly after school snack.

 

“Sweetie, I don’t think you understand.” He said, forcing the words out again, “Belle and Uncle Joe… They’re missing. And if they were too close to the explosion they…might not have made it to safety.”

 

“They’re fine. Oops, sorry.” Her swinging legs had accidentally kicked him.

 

He didn’t know how hard he should press against Grace’s confidence. It was good she wasn’t breaking down but…wouldn’t that make it even worse if they didn’t survive?

 

“Grace, I’m serious.”

 

“I’m serious too.” She glanced around the diner but the other patrons and staff had given them a wide berth for their discussion, “Let me say it in a way you’ll understand; they’re in God’s hands, and He’s taking care of them.”

 

He sighed, “That’s all well and good but He… He might be taking care of them in heaven now, instead of here.”

 

Grace shook her head, “They’re fine.” There was such conviction behind her words that he wondered if she really had heard from Francis somehow. 

 

His lack of belief must have shown on his face, because she paused in dousing her fry with ketchup and sighed.

 

“Daddy… I’m going to tell you a secret I learned. There’s certain bits of fate that are already decided, even if it’s mostly up to us. It’s like the night sky. Belle’s a star. D- Uncle Joe’s a star. It’s going to be alright.” She bit into her fry.

 

He was not sure which parent was responsible for that one; maybe Grace was trying her hand at making up her own beliefs. 

 

Hannah stumbled into the diner, eyes bloodshot and half delirious. She honed in on them immediately, and Grace scooted over to let her mother sit beside her. Hannah wrapped her arm around her and kissed the top of her head several times, then looked hopefully at Joseph. He shook his head, and her shoulders sagged. 

 

“How long are we going to give him until we…?” Until they what? Formed a search party? Had Hannah go down into the condemned mines, against what were possibly his last wishes?

 

“Twenty four hours,” she said firmly, “If that fucker hasn’t surfaced by then, I’m going down after him.”

 

“But I can’t call him a right bastard,” Grace muttered.

 

A half-hearted laugh escaped Joseph and Hannah held her tighter.

 

“Then what’s our plan in the meantime?”

 

“I’m gonna hold up in the old library,” Hannah said, “There’s an elevator that goes right down into the mines that they both know about.”

 

“What? Why?”

 

“Who knows and, right now, who cares. You need to take the car and go home with Grace.”

 

“No!” He snapped, “I’ve done enough sitting on my arse today! My brother and girlfriend are missing!”

 

“It’s the easiest rendezvous point,” she insisted. She sighed, raking her fingers through her hair, “Who knows, maybe they did go on a random hike and they’ll show up at home.”

 

“Helena.”

 

She met his eye with her ice cold look and he knew that meant she would not budge from the plan.

 

After Grace hopped into the car, Hannah pulled Joseph aside, away from anyone overhearing her.

 

“Listen, I just gotta remind you that…that there’s a strong chance only one of them is coming out of this.” Her voice quivered, “And I need you to realize he might have to make some decisions you won’t fucking like. But if it’s between him and her, and he needs to get back to us… You know who he’s picking.”

 

Of course he knew. He was well aware Belle was far more fragile, and Francis far more ruthless. And a part of him he was ignoring knew how incredibly easy it would be for Belle to…disappear, and that he would never be able to call Francis out on it. Because whatever went on down in the mines was between the two of them.

 

He nodded, the tears slipping out, “...it can’t end like this,” he whimpered, “After everything we’ve done to keep her alive…”

 

Hannah teared up too, and pulled him in for a tight, quick embrace.

 

xXx

 

“You should take a break.”

 

“I’ll take a break when we’re out of here.”

 

“Five minutes, tops.”

 

Belle let the cart stop, pressing her forehead against the rim. She was exhausted, and her bad ankle was throbbing, but she didn’t want to admit it. Though she supposed her laboured breathing, uneven step and stench of sweat gave her away… Something poked the top of her head, and she looked up to see him prodding her with a granola bar. She snorted, and then took it from him.

 

“Were you a Girl Scout?” He asked.

 

“No, I just read too many books where disasters happen and the protagonist is woefully unprepared.” She opened the wrapper, “It’s not like I was taking a jog through a park…”

 

He shifted around in the cart to face her, pale and haggard as if he had been the one pushing, “Surely you weren’t just down here for the fun of it.”

 

Belle took a deep breath, “Not just … It’s silly now but I was hoping maybe if I found some souvenir… Maybe I could have shown it to you, bond a little.”

 

Francis snorted and Belle thought he was going to deride her idea, “Bit off slightly more than you can chew, eh? Even for me this,” he gestured to the mines, “is a little dramatic.”

 

Belle gave a tired laugh, “Well now that it’s almost in hindsight, maybe this was a bit much.” She nodded towards the backpack, “There’s another granola bar in there you can hav-.”

 

“Not hungry.” The answer was jarringly abrupt as if…

 

…well as if he was lying, or half-lying. And she was reminded this was not a wacky adventure bringing two enemies together to overcome a challenge… She was in very real danger if they lingered too long, or they couldn’t get the elevator to work.

 

He looked sharply up at her, “Why didn’t you kill me?”

 

Belle blinked, “What?”

 

“You had the chance,” he reasoned, “I was out cold. You had a pickaxe right there.”

 

“Normal people do not think like that!” She protested, “I don’t want you dead, I want you to stop eating people!”

 

“Same different.”

 

“I just feel like there’s a more ethical way to go about getting your pounds of flesh!”

 

“Well we did attempt to form an organization where people could donate their bodies after death to starving wendigos,” he said dryly, “For some reason, no one really volunteered.”

 

Belle made a slashing motion through the air, “Alright, alright, we’re never going to come to an agreement about the cannibalism. I just hope the two of you do try to keep from eating too many innocents.”

 

Francis straightened, offended, “Of course we try. Joseph told us he wants us to stick to bad people when possible.”

 

It was truly terrifying how flimsy their morals were if they had to rely on a third party to give them some. 

 

After she took a drink from her water bottle, they continued, the tunnel opening up to a large cavern.

 

“This should be it,” Francis announced.

 

Belle was dubious at first but he pointed to the far side, where a very old, very mechanical hunk of metal looked very much like it could be an elevator. He packed her things back up except for the flashlight and got out of the cart, both of them hurrying towards it.

 

“It’s electrical, but I don’t think the power’s on.”

 

“I’d imagine there’s a manual override, question is how rusted the pulley is.”

 

“I’m going to guess you’re not strong enough to scale the shaft?”

 

“Well maybe if you’d let me take a few bites out of your arm I could.”

 

“So that’s a no-”

 

The doors above opened and Belle had never been so glad to see phosphorescent light.

 

“...guys?” A gentle Southern voice called timidly.

 

They scrambled into the elevator, Francis hoisting her on top of it and she helped him follow as best as she could.

 

“Hannah?!”

 

“BELLE! THANK THE FUCKING LORD!”

 

“What the fuck am I, minced meat?!”

 

“You’re not a fucking squishy now are you?!?!?! God I’m so glad you both made it SO I CAN FUCKING MURDER YOU BOTH FOR THE HELL YOU’VE PUT THIS FAMILY THROUGH!!!!!!”

 

Hannah dropped down and Francis caught her, the two of them kissing a bit too passionately considering how crowded the area was. She kneed him in the stomach and he dropped her with a grunt. She slung a duffel bag around his neck.

 

“You motherfuckers scaring the ever-living shit out of me and Joseph,” she growled, then gave Belle a much more subdued kiss, “C’mon, ladies first.”

 

“But Fran-”

 

“He’ll be fine,” she insisted.

 

And Belle decided, for once, not to ask any follow-up questions.

 

Hannah wrapped her legs around Belle’s hips and in a mix of erotic and spectacular, used one of the suspension cables to climb back up as if they were in gym class on a climbing rope. Without losing her breath or even acting like it was a struggle, Hannah spent the entire ascent detailing how stupid of a bitch Belle was and all of the ways she was going to make her death as painful as possible. 

 

She supposed she really was in the family now, if Hannah was giving her death threats as a show of affection rather than intimidation.

 

Hannah swung her hips, tossing Belle across the small gap before hopping to solid ground herself. A camping lantern had been set up to illuminate Hannah’s R-rated doodle notebook that she had been occupying herself with, and the slivers of moonlight filtering through the newspapered windows suggested it was as late as Belle’s biological clock felt it was. And as if today was not jarring enough already, she was now trying to figure out what exactly had happened to the library. It had essentially been gutted; no shelving, no books, no ancient computer. It would have been alarming were it not for the clean brand new carpet that had been installed, and coats of new paint still fresh enough to smell for the walls. 

 

“What…happened?” Belle wondered.

 

“Cat’s out of the bag, I guess.” Hannah said casually, “Francis needed a new project, keep him out of trouble. You showed him this and he figured if we did all the expensive remodeling work, maybe it would have a better shot of getting funding.”

 

“That’s…wow.” She walked carefully across the carpet, running her hand along the brand new sturdy front desk,  “I had no idea he wanted to be a librarian.”

 

Hannah sighed and rolled her eyes, “Look, it’s been a long day for all of us, so I’ll forgive how slow you’re being.” She folded her arms, “It’s for you, Bellesy. He’s doing all this because he knows you want to be a librarian. He’ll swear up and down it’s to get you out of your shop so you stop bugging him, that you being happy makes us happy so it’s for his own happiness… But he’s just covering his tracks.” She rolled her eyes, “God forbid he do a single nice thing out of the goodness of his heart.”

Chapter 20: Fever

Summary:

Alexa, play "Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye

The end of Grace’s first year of public school was in sight, and with it a deluge of chaos. None of them had anticipated the amount of activities that would be crammed into May and early June; it was all hands on deck to compete with events large and small from every corner of Grace’s social life. With Hannah wrapped up in PTA business, Belle stepped in to help out with chauffeuring, quick shopping trips, or anything else to make sure Grace was ready for her spring recital, Bible trivia bowl, camp outs, field trips, spirit days, field day, and probably several other things Joseph was forgetting.

 

It had always warmed his heart, watching how well Grace got along with Belle. But now…it was warming other parts of him. As did watching Belle and Hannah’s blossoming romance. As did Francis finally starting to relax the slightest bit around her. And of course there was also their own deepening relationship. As that grew, so did his desire for her.

 

But he had not gathered the courage yet to ask his spouses if he could spend the night with Belle.

 

He finally felt ready to take The Big Step but he just…didn't like the idea of leaving afterwards as though it were another make out session. He wanted to savor their first time; wake up beside her, do his best with breakfast in bed even if it was just cereal and juice. After her patience and grace (and knowing that bastard probably hadn't put any effort into their first time), she deserved an evening to be treated like the precious jewel she was.

 

But…it was one of the few rules Hannah and Francis had enacted when they were dating others. No one in their marriage bed, and no spending the night with lovers. He had never questioned it, just respected the rule until they had invited him to share more than they ever had with anyone else. And it wasn't as if he could play spending the night off as anything other than what it was. He just…he didn't want to see the look in their eye when he asked. 

 

Francis had explained to him the concept of a monkey’s paw wish once when he used the phrase and confused the hell out of Joseph; to have a desire granted at great personal cost or with dire consequences. It was simple enough to understand, as his “fresh start in a new world” could easily be seen as a monkey's paw wish. He didn't realize Grace's lethargic shuffle to the car was a finger of such a paw curling, but within a few hours he’d recognize the trope.

 

Joseph frowned as she slid into the car, hoping he was just reading too much into her lack of energy, “Hey sweetie, how was school?”

 

“Alright.” There was a scratchiness to her voice that he did not like.

 

He turned around in his seat to see dull eyes, the sparkle behind them missing, “Bad day at school?”

 

Grace shook her head, “Just long. I’m tired.”

 

She crooked her arm, coughed into it, and his stomach sank.

 

“Oh sweetheart,” he murmured.

 

She looked up at him sadly, knowing exactly what was in store for them both.

 

“Can we go straight home?” She tried, “I just need to sleep it off.”

 

“Soon, love. You know your da’s going to want to check you over first.”

 

Her head dropped against the windowsill with a sigh, and he couldn’t help but sigh as well. It had been a good run honestly, well over a year since the last instance, but they were only human. He made his way to the shop, a list of things he would have to reschedule and what he wanted to pack running through his brain. Grace tried going through the back of the antique store instead of the front, and Joseph gave her a couple minute head start before following.

There was no sneaking past her wendigo parents though; Hannah was already at the door lazily barring his entry.

 

“I just need a nap,” Grace whined, too soft and crackly to be believed.

 

Francis was already kneeling in front of her, back of his hand to her forehead as he listened to her lungs, her heart, and even bloody likely her stomach. Hannah pressed her own hand to Joseph's forehead and he huffed.

 

“It's a darn two minute drive, I’m fine.”

 

“So was Grace when she left this morning.”

 

“A bloody cold is not going to kill me.”

 

“No sense in both of you getting sick.”

 

Hannah he might have been able to persuade but Francis… He’d have an easier time singlehandedly moving the Great Pyramids. His heart ached as Grace allowed herself to be tucked into her father's coat and laid out on the cot Joseph guessed Mr. Gold used for late nights when he was alive. Francis smoothed her hair back, eyes darting along her body as if to make sure he hadn't missed a symptom. He looked up at Joseph and most of his protestations fled in the face of such anxious concern on the elder wendigo’s face.

 

“I’m fine,” Joseph repeated, as if he’d been scratched by a zombie instead of around his daughter that was coming down with something.

 

Didn't matter. Sick squishies were a deadly serious matter. He sighed again.

 

“Keys are in the ignition,” he told them as Hannah pulled out her own keyring, “Am I going to the shed or the other house?”

 

Sex dungeon was closer, but he wouldn't get to have Freddi if that was where he was being exiled to, dog smells and hair and all. His husband and wife glanced at each other, engaging in a silent discussion. Joseph had gotten pretty good at non-verbal communication but they were on another level, nearly telepathic with how subtle each gesture was. He did recognize Francis' “fine if you really think that's the best course of action” dismissive turn of his head, then looked at Joseph briefly, firm but tender in turning him out.

 

“Come on, cutie, let's get you packed up,” Hannah said, “I’ll be right back, Gracie.”

 

Grace lifted her head, frowning at him, “Sorry Daddy.”

 

“Nothing to be sorry about, love,” he insisted, “I’ll see you in a few days.”

 

“Love you lots.”

 

“Love you lots more.” He blew her a kiss. Grace nudged Francis and he blew a kiss on her behalf.

 

Had to be careful of germs, after all.

 

Hannah took him over to the SUV since the Cadillac was now contaminated. She was smirking to herself and he grimaced.

 

“It's the sex dungeon, isn't it?”

 

“ So ungrateful. Your beautiful, sexy, brilliant wife has just saved you from 72 or more lonely hours,” she taunted, climbing into the driver's seat, “Better fucking remember who to thank when you come home, though.”

 

Belle was starting to understand the complexities of dating multiple people at once. In some ways, it was a lot easier to date Hannah. Not much had changed save for the fact there was more kissing and cuddling and their “girls nights out” had taken on a different context. Without the pressure of sex hovering over their heads, and no tension of feelings Belle didn’t know how to cope with, it just felt like a very intimate friendship. Maybe they were doing it wrong, not being “proper” bisexuals but…it was really really nice. 

 

In other ways…at least she could be physically affectionate with Joseph in public. She couldn’t kiss or even hug Hannah for too long, and sometimes Belle worried even looking at her would expose the truth to anyone paying too much attention. She had no idea how Joseph managed as well as he did, or how to hide the way she felt about Hannah when she was sure it was written all over her face. 

 

She could not wait for the day she woke up with Joseph the same way she woke up after a sleepover with Hannah; in his arms, legs entwined, warm and happy.

 

Oddly enough there had been no visit from any MacAvoy Ives member today, and it sounded as if they had cleared out early. No texts explaining the sudden departure and Belle did her best not to worry. That lasted until she pulled up to her house and saw Joseph sitting on her porch with a suitcase looking miserable.

 

Belle hurried over, “Did they kick you out?!”

 

He nodded glumly, “Staying with you’s a better option than staying at the other house, or the sex dungeon. Sorry there wasn't much warning.”

 

“What on earth happened?!”

 

“Grace got sick,” he explained, “Francis loses his mind whenever either of us has so much as a sniffle. I’m in quarantine until she’s no longer infectious.”

 

Trauma, she supposed, from his tuberculosis days, “Can they get sick?”

 

“No, but they worry they can pass it, so it’s usually just me and Freddi for a few days whenever Grace is ill, or me and one of them if I’m the sick human.” He frowned, “You…don’t mind, do you?”

 

Did she mind having Joseph all to herself for several days? She was having a difficult time not immediately cheering.

 

“Of course not.”

 

“Good, I didn’t want to impose but thought… I don’t know. Might be nice?” He avoided looking her in the eye.

 

The heat was already pooling in her lower belly. She felt downright predatory at the thought that this could be exactly the catalyst needed to consummate their relationship. Their progress had stalled at fingering and while she hadn’t dared to ask what the hold up was, she had a pretty good idea. He was overthinking it, putting too much emphasis on the perfect first time. Of course she’d like it to be nice and romantic if possible but her patience was wearing thin.

 

It was one thing to be respectful of his wishes when he was shy and tentative; it was much more difficult to be respectful of his wishes when his eyes were dark with lust and adoration, a bulge in his jeans she wasn’t allowed to touch and his fingers wet with her arousal. She patted herself on the back for taking him up to the guest room instead of her bedroom, and let him get settled before deciding on how tonight was going to go. 

 

Joseph took several deep breaths as Belle left him to get acquainted with the guest room. The way she had lit up at the idea of him staying with her for several days… Well there’d been a twinkle of lewdness he was all too familiar with in her eye. He wished he had been able to do more planning, make the evening more romantic than showing up unannounced on her porch. And it felt heartless to take advantage of Grace’s sickness but he didn’t know when he’d have the opportunity to spend the night alone with Belle again. Then again, he hadn’t been the one to make the suggestion… Remember who to thank when he got home indeed. He opened his suitcase to see what all Hannah had packed…

 

…unsurprising, there was a fresh box of condoms dead center of his belongings and he carefully checked over the packaging. A bit optimistic to send an entire box but maybe she just wanted to prove she didn’t tamper with the-

 

“Joseph?”

 

He dropped it like he’d been caught fondling himself, “Yeah?!”

 

He couldn’t tell by her face if she’d seen it or not, “I’m going to go…freshen up a bit before we figure out what to do for dinner?” A lovely shade of pink started spreading from her cheeks to her neck.

 

“Why don’t I figure out dinner?” He offered, “It’s the least I can do, intruding like this.”

 

“If you insist.” She glanced down briefly at his suitcase before walking down the hallway to her room.

 

He grabbed his phone and fired off a frantic text, Look I understand if you say no or are too busy with Grace but I could really really use some help setting the mood for tonight I will owe you so much.

 

Belle checked herself over once she was in the privacy of her room. Bra matched panties, areas that she preferred shaven were, she was clean and at least to a human smelled nice. Between her own texts to Hannah she hurriedly straightened up her bedroom, and then gave JJ a little kiss before hiding him in the depths of her underwear drawer.

 

In the MacAvoy Ives home, the wolves fretted over their sick pup. Hannah’s rational mind was well aware that kids were germ factories and that a cold or even the flu was nothing to get worked up over. But the way Grace got when she was sick… The fight just went right out of her. She was so quiet, and so still, and it reminded Hannah of those terrifying first days of her tiny life. They were helpless to do anything but coddle her and wait for their shining star to burn bright again. 

 

And Francis… Something about his loved ones getting sick tunneled under his skin. Like the flights over the Atlantic, she wondered if some buried parts of Reverend Ives were driving him to panic, no matter how silly the comparison to the family he lost and barely remembered. That was love though, accepting each other’s irrational triggers. She let him act like Joseph or Grace were in hospice, and he pretended Belle didn’t look exactly like a long lost du Bois sister.

 

They were all on Grace’s bed, one on each side of her, offering her tissues and cough drops and soothing her in any way they could. Francis had brought in a t.v. so they could watch movies together, even allowing a screening of the normally blacklisted “Lilo and Stitch”. A few years ago Grace had become obsessed and, like most children, took to doing her best Stitch impression. Francis finally had enough after three weeks of non-stop gurgly hissy alien speak, and Hannah had not seen him so close to losing his sanity since the “Baby Shark” phase. 

 

It was a good fucking movie though.

 

The texts came within seconds of each other. Francis glanced down at his phone and smirked.

 

“You would think he’d learn by now to be careful with his words,” he mused. He reached into the cocoon between them, stroking Grace’s curls, “You need anything, love? Daddy just asked me to be his wingman for his date with Belle.”

 

Grace gave a weak smile, “No thank you.”

 

Still, he hesitated. 

 

“I’ll be back quick as I can,” he promised, as if they couldn’t manage a half hour without his hovering.

 

Grace writhed, struggling to shed her cocoon as another hot flash came on. Hannah helped release her before her phone buzzed.

 

Saw what you packed for him. Just triple checking that this is all fine?

 

Hannah smirked and rolled her eyes at her sweetie, gurl just git it 🔥🔥🍆🍆💦💦😩 but not too quik think the boys are up to somethin

 

How’s Grace?

 

verry ungracelike, poor thing, dont think shell make it to nite checkin

 

Give her lots of love for me 🙁

 

Hannah considered not going with the first thing that popped into her head, but she couldn’t help herself, give him lots o luv for me 😚😚🥵🥵🦪👅😩💦💦🍆🍆🍆🍑💥💥🌋🔥🌠🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰😍😍🥰😘😘😘😘😘

 

She could just picture her face after reading that.

 

“Belle’s sending you lots of love and get well wishes,” she told Grace.

 

Grace sighed, “Being sick always sounds nice, staying in bed and eating ice cream and cuddling and watching movies… But then you actually feel sick and you remember it’s actually the worst.”

 

“Yeah, sugar, I know.”

 

“Can you send Daddy love from me?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

gracie sends her luv and also hopes u and bellzy have hawt totally bangin sex 👀👀🫦❗❗❗🦪👅🥰🥰

 

For some reason Joseph didn’t reply.

 

Back at the French household, Belle took Hannah's advice, giving Joseph the time he needed. She checked on him occasionally, peering from the staircase like a child at Christmas, but the first few times he had been bustling around, either hard at work or working off his nerves.

 

“Belle?” He finally called up.

 

She came out of the room, acting as if this was the first time she’d emerged since she left him, “Yeah?”

 

“I, uh, I have dinner ready.”

 

“Oh, thank you.”

 

She walked down and entered the darkened dining room. The only light came from a few candles set on the table and Joseph's phone, propped up to play some soft instrumental music. A vase with a couple fresh cut roses sat at the centerpiece, dinner set out and glasses-

 

“I wasn't sure what you wanted to drink,” he admitted.

 

“That's alright,” she assured him, “Do you mind if I have wine?”

 

“Not at all.” 

 

Good. Her nerves could use some alcohol. “I think I just have water as an alternative for you.”

 

“That's fine.”

 

She poured him a glass and set it down at his place setting, then got herself the wine. He went to pull out her chair and, charmed, she sat down and let him scoot her in.

 

“You must get tired of hearing this,” he said, his fingertips ghosting across her arm, “But you really do live up to your name, Beauty.”

 

She looked up at him and though he kept breaking eye contact, there was no disguising the lust in his gaze. She beamed up at him.

 

“If you keep looking at me like that, we’re never going to get through dinner,” she warned.

 

He blushed and quickly retreated to the other side of the dining table.

 

“Where did this come from?” She asked, noticing a lack of pans and spatulas in the sink.

 

“Wendi-Eats, made sure to pick the vegetarian option,” he teased.

 

Belle wrinkled her nose playfully, “Doesn't mean he didn't spit in it.”

 

“The dishes are identical, he wouldn't have risked it,” Joseph insisted.

 

Belle was quiet for a moment as he prayed over his dinner, picking at the alfredo pasta until he was finished.

 

“Do you think maybe there should be a gate put in the fence between our backyards?” She asked, “You know, so they don't have to climb over every time they break in?”

 

“They need the cardio,” he said unsympathetically, “Anyway, you install a gate, you’re practically inviting the blonde goblins to invade whenever they want.”

 

“Is that a bad thing?”

 

Joseph paused, looking up at her. She looked down at her plate, continuing to poke at her food.

 

“If Francis wants a conspiracy here’s one; maybe it's no longer about taking you away, now that it's clear you are happy with your circus. I’ve loved Grace practically since I met her, and I’ve loved you before I even dared call it love. And now I love Hannah and Francis is…well I’m growing on him. Might go so far as to say he sort of might like me more than the average person. This is probably too early but…I feel like this is my family now too. And maybe that's insane, or out of line, but… That's my diabolical plan. Infiltrate the MacAvoy Ives family and become a part of them.”

 

She dared to check for Joseph's reaction. He was smiling, eyes glossy with tears.

 

“Pack,” he said.

 

“What?”

 

“The technical term for a wendigo family is a pack. If you're going to be a part of one, you should know that.”

 

She giggled, trying not to get too emotional, “Thank you, famous wendigo expert Joseph MacAvoy Ives.”

 

He gave a small bow and she sipped at her wine, her stomach too full already.

 

They both tried to eat, him slightly more successful, and tried to talk as if they hadn't come to an unspoken agreement tonight was the night. Belle did her best to temper her expectations; this was still Joseph after all, and a major step. It was difficult not to get ahead of herself though.

 

Eventually they gave up. Belle finished off her wine and put the leftovers into the fridge. Joseph blew out the candles and turned the music off, checking his messages.

 

“Grace is asleep, and they're going to turn in for the night,” he said.

 

Belle smirked, “Well we both know what that mean-”

 

She had barely turned around before she was pinned against the fridge, his mouth crashing against hers. The surprised noise she made was muffled, but didn't escape his notice. He pulled back, frowning.

 

“Sorry, I thought it would be roman-”

 

She fisted her hand in his hair and forced his lips back onto hers.

 

At this rate, they would never make it to the bedroom. But oh did it feel fantastic , kissing like they didn't need air, hands exploring each other without reservations. Joseph did not shy away, or attempt to deescalate, or hide any part of himself from her. Feeling how hard he was for her, grinding against her so eagerly, was a sort of validation Belle didn't realize she had been missing.

 

Breathless, he finally pulled away, and she beamed up at him as she tried to catch her own breath.

 

“I can't carry you up the stairs,” he admitted apologetically.

 

“Then I’ll carry you up,” she decided.

 

She did pick him up, but only made two shaky steps before dropping him, both of them laughing. He picked her up and managed to carry her all the way to the foot of the staircase before having to set her back down.

 

“Still very romantic,” she promised him.

 

“It's not a comment on your weight,” he promised her.

 

They continued upstairs, Joseph ducking into the guest room to grab “something”. Belle laid down on the bed, trying to figure out the most seductive pose she could strike. It didn't matter though; when he walked into the room he gaped at her as if she were already naked.

 

“I think,” he rasped, “I am going to eat you alive.”

 

Belle laughed but he didn't laugh with her, distracted by her nightstand.

 

“You kept the broken cup?”

 

“Chip is not broken,” she said defensively, “He’s just…got an uneven rim.”

 

“You named it?”

 

“ Him and why not? He’s our baby.” She could tell he was charmed, he was just trying not to show it.

 

He set a few condoms on Gaston's long vacant bedside table and joined her on the bed. He gently kissed her, easing them both back into the mood before sliding her shirt up and over her head. She helped him toss it aside and whatever self-consciousness she might have had vanished as he immediately caressed one breast, kissing and licking at the other. She whimpered, reaching behind herself, but he noticed. With practiced fingers, he unhooked her bra and tossed it aside.

 

The way he looked at her… It was like viewing a kaleidoscope of emotions. Love, lust, happiness, gratitude, adoration, protectiveness, tenderness… Towards her . She reached for his shirt but he pulled back.

 

“Well that's not fair,” she protested.

 

“I just… Wanted to remind you first, what I said about Hannah's accident…”

 

Belle wasn't sure what he was talking about. Then, he lifted off his shirt and she remembered.

 

There was a scalloped oval divot below his collarbone, the scar tissue pale pink and jagged. She gently traced it; there was no mistaking it for any other injury. It was a bite mark.

 

“I’d ask if it hurt, but that would be a silly question, wouldn't it?”

 

He shook his head, “No. I mean it did hurt, but it was nothing compared to the fear, that she actually lost control of herself…” He rested his hand over hers, “Hannah keeps saying I should get it fixed, or cover it with a tattoo… But I’m attached to it now. It…it reminds me that I can be strong and have courage.”

 

She supposed she could understand that. If this was a bite from hunger… Belle could only imagine what a bite from anger would look like. And Joseph had stood between her and an enraged wendigo, refusing to back down.

 

He brought her wrist up to his lips and kissed it softly, then trailed kisses along the vein of her arm. He then reached for her hips and pulled her back down into a laying position. Finally, he worked her skirt and panties off, completely exposing her body to him for the first time. Beautifully frenzied, he kissed his way over her breasts, along her stomach, to her hips and-

 

Belle wasn't sure if she gasped first or he moaned first; maybe their noises happened at the same time. His hands slid under her buttocks, holding her up as he buried his face between her legs. She was beyond articulation, panting and whining as his tongue and lips seemed to be all over her sex. He would surface briefly, sucking in a deep gulp of air, before he went back to devouring her whole.

 

His technique became more targeted as her moaning became more desperate, writhing on top of him as his tongue probed her entrance, then went to circle her clit, and returned to enter her again. She tensed up, trying not to buck wildly against his poor face, and he finished her by sucking on her clit. Belle would not be surprised if her sensitive, perverted neighbors heard her cry out as she orgasmed, rocking in Joseph's hold as she rode out the last throes of her ecstasy. She went slack and he looked up at her, smiling with a grin slick from her juices.

 

“That was better than I fantasized,” he confessed and Belle barked out a laugh. 

 

“This was your fantasy too?” She said, disbelieving.

 

He shrugged, “One of them.”

 

He sat back on his heels and Belle shivered at the way he drank her in. Then she realized he was still half clothed and went to remedy it.

 

“No!” He blurted out, then winced, “Sorry, I just… Oh Belle, I think if you’d touch me I’d ruin myself and I want tonight to last.”

 

She nodded, “Alright…but just tonight.”

 

He smirked, and Belle already felt her body preparing for Round 2.

 

She played with one of her breasts, teasing the nipple as she looked over his body. There was something to be said for his softer physique, made for cuddling up to comfortably. He blushed as he noticed her watching him, but didn't try to cover up or ask her what she was doing. Trembling hands went to his belt, and she eagerly anticipated the reveal.

 

Poor JJ was a pale imitation; maybe not in size, but JJ was not living breathing flesh, and was not attached to the sweetest man alive. Joseph’s erection bobbed with each movement, a deep reddish purple and leaking at the tip. It was taking her scant amount of willpower not to reach out and stroke him, feel the real thing after handling the fake knockoff for so long. She spread her legs wider, canting her hips up invitingly.

 

“Oh Belle, you really don't want me to last, do you?” He murmured, going to grab a condom.

 

She was tempted to tell him to forget it; she was still on the pill and she badly wanted to feel him flesh-to-flesh this first time. But that was how accidents happened and while she was less and less scared of an accident occurring… The timing still wasn't ideal. He fumbled as he opened the packet but rolled it on with practiced ease.

 

“Are you up for ano-”

 

“ Yes .”

 

Joseph moved over top of Belle and she reached up to cup his cheek. He gazed down at her, their chests almost touching, and she felt as though she could fly.

 

“I love you, Belle,” he murmured.

 

“And I love you, Joseph,” she murmured back.

 

They kissed and he slid inside of her, tender and slow and passionate. And Belle finally understood what it was like to make love to someone.

 

xXx

 

Belle checked her reflection in the mirror, fixing her hair and taking a deep breath. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous; her and Joseph were closing in on their half-year anniversary, and she and Hannah had been going out for a few months at this point. Maybe it was the constant paranoia of Francis, or the sense that one wrong move and she would lose her odd fairy tale-esque life. But she’d made it this far; might as well continue to push her luck until it failed.

 

She opened the gate between her backyard and the MacAvoys Ives’ backyard, immediately met by the good-natured bump of Freddi against her legs. She freed one hand to pet her.

 

Joseph came up right behind the ineffective guard dog, grinning, “You made it.”

 

“Of course I did. I don’t think Francis would forgive me if I missed his first-day-of-summer barbeque.” They shared a chaste kiss, and Belle felt the tingle straight down to her toes, “Where should I set this?” She gestured towards the offering of potato salad in her hand.

 

“Anywhere on the table, I guess.”

 

“Next to the beans,” Francis called from his position on the grill, looking incredibly dad-like in his Hawaiian t-shirt, flip-flops and “Kiss the Cook” apron, wielding his tongs like a scepter. 

 

Joseph rolled his eyes, “You heard the meat tyrant.” He took her free hand and squeezed it, “I’m glad you came.”

 

“I require more wienies!” Francis declared, snapping the tongs like an impatient crab.

 

“Who doesn't need more wienies,” Helena muttered, squeezing Belle’s ass as she passed by, “Right, Bellesy?”

 

Belle blushed and Hannah smirked, taking the potato salad from her and putting it next to the beans.

 

“Coming, Your Majesty.”  Joseph muttered, giving Belle a parting smile, “I’ll be right back. Keep Hannah in line, she’s getting hungry.”

 

“Hungry for wienies ,” Hannah clarified and Belle sighed, shaking her head at her girlfriend.

 

She glanced around suddenly, feeling the sense someone was missing.

 

“Stop it!”

 

Belle wheeled around to find Joseph smacking Francis' tongs away. He smirked and went to use them to nip at his torso.

 

“What about ribs? That sounds good.”

 

“No ribs, no bratwurst, just cook your damn animal meats!”

 

Francis stared at him for a few long seconds, then went for his crotch with the tongs, “Okay one wienie for me then.”

 

“STOP IT you're cooking our daughter's food with that thing!”

 

Of course, that was who was missing. Belle turned to Hannah, “Where's Grace?”

 

Hannah shrugged, “Playing with her brother, I think.”

 

“Brother?” Belle frowned, “You mean Henry?”

 

She laughed, “Don't tell me you forgot your own kid.”

 

“What are you talking about? I don't have a son.”

 

“I mean not yet, but he’s coming.”

 

Belle turned to her boyfriend who had successfully fought off his husband, “Joseph, tell Hannah to stop being weird about any future children.”

 

Joseph frowned, “I mean, he is coming, as was promised. It's not an if, but a when.”

 

Belle shook her head, “You…you can't possibly know that…”

 

“He’s been foretold,” Francis said simply.

 

“Giddy no , you can't barge into other people's dreams, it's rude!”

 

Belle turned towards the sound of Grace's voice- And saw a half decayed fawn. It stood, staring at her with the eyesockets of its skull, a tiny set of antlers protruding from it. The dark brown pelt was patchy, falling off the skeleton in some places. It tilted its head, its tail seeming to wag at the sight of her. Belle did not know whether she should be revolted or charmed.

 

Grace sprinted out of the ether, catching up with the creature. She looked at Belle and winced.

 

“Is…is this your dream?” She asked.

 

“I think so.”

 

Grace grabbed onto one of the creature’s antlers and tugged, “Gideon, we can't be here! She can't know, it's too soon! We’ll get in trouble!”

 

The creature bleated, the sound part bugle, part foghorn. With a sinking feeling, Belle realized what the cry meant. He was calling to her… Calling to his mother.

 

A chill ran down her spine, every hair standing on end. The bright sunny day quickly faded to twilight. The rest of the imaginary family members fell still, puppets at rest. Grace stared at Belle, shaking as tears coursed down her cheeks. 

 

“Don't look at It,” she whispered.

 

There was something watching them. 

 

Gideon gave a different bleat and raced away, towards a dark figure that was on the edge of the pretend lawn. There was no noise as the jet black mass moved forward, closer and closer to Grace. It hovered, the wisps of its cloak pelt reaching out for her.

 

Belle grabbed for Grace, shielding her daughter figure, prepared to face the beast…

 

…or at least she thought she was.

 

A large skull peered down at her, closer to an elk but seemed somehow even larger. Its body held no distinct shape, as if made from the shadows itself, though the wisps seemed to maintain the texture of coarse animal fur. 

 

This, she realized with dead certainty… This was the true wendigo. Mother and father of the human vessels like Francis and Hannah, the spirit that demanded more and more sacrifices, never satisfied. It gazed at her serenely, something too powerful and immortal to feel threatened, as if sizing her up.

 

Gideon bleated for her again, prancing around the ghostly heels of the Ancient One. Belle did not know if she should take Gideon as a literal young spirit, or just a metaphor of a fresh vessel waiting to be born into the world. 

 

It didn't matter. Belle shook her head, clinging tighter to Grace.

 

“You will never have my children!”

 

Despite the skull staying as expressionless as it always was, she got the sense the being was laughing at her.

 

A boney claw emerged from its folds, reaching out and slicing into Belle's skull. Grace’s terrified wails echoed in her ears as it scooped part of Belle's brain out and absorbed it into its mass.

 

Belle woke up screaming.

 

“BELLE!”

 

She couldn't stop, even as whatever had forced her awake faded like morning mist. Joseph gripped her by the shoulders and she got the sense he had been restraining her; maybe she had been flailing. She heaved in air, struggling to calm down, and his grip relaxed.

 

“Are you alright?” He asked.

 

“Nightmare,” she gasped.

 

“Clearly.”

 

He pulled her to him and she closed her eyes, so relieved to have someone to comfort her, to feel safe and protected in someone's arms. He reached up to stroke her hair and she winced, her scalp stinging.

 

“You're bleeding,” he murmured.

 

Joseph ushered her into the bathroom and they both winced at the sudden brightness of the light. He wet a washcloth and gingerly dabbed at the wound.

 

“You must have cut yourself, your nails or something,” he guessed.

 

Somehow, that didn't feel like the right answer. “Is it bad, doc?”

 

“Well head wounds tend to bleed a lot, or so I learned in medical school, but I think you’ll live. Just need some magic kisses.” He pressed his lips to a spot near the cut, “... it's going to be a sad day when Grace learns magic kisses don't actually work and it's just the rapid wendigo healing that makes it appear that way.” He continued gently dabbing away the blood, “...what on earth were you dreaming about?”

 

“Cannibal cookout,” she explained, “Francis was making hot dogs out of your intestines and Hannah got so hungry she ate half of Grace's face.”

 

He grimaced, “Fuck, no wonder you were screaming.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her cheek, “Just a dream, love. There's only-” He cut himself off, blushing furiously.

 

Belle smirked, “There's only what?”

 

“...there's only one way he’s allowed to rearrange my guts,” he mumbled.

 

She laughed, “Oh I see, now the filthiness is going to come out. The true Joseph after all this time.”

 

“I am a tragic victim of my circumstances, nothing more,” he declared, “Bloody perverts.”

 

Belle kissed him and he deepened it, backing her up against the counter. She glanced down, making sure she wasn't about to sit in the sink, when Joseph's phone buzzed from the bedside table.

 

“This better not be them being them,” he grumbled, going to fetch it. Belle followed after him, not sure she wanted to continue this on her bathroom counter.

 

“What is it? …yeah she's fine… no we were already awake… I see. Yeah, hang on,” he moved to give the phone to Belle, “It's for you.”

 

“Me?” 

 

“Your phone's on silent. Grace had a nightmare, wants to hear your voice.”

 

Belle frowned and took the phone, “Hey sweetie.”

 

Her heart clenched as she heard Grace struggling to breathe, between the crying and her plugged-up nose, “You okay, Belle?”

 

“Yes, I’m completely fine.”

 

“Do you know what he took from you?”

 

Ice ran down her back, “Who?”

 

“Do you remember Gideon?”

 

Belle reminded herself that Grace was seven, sick, had woken up from her own nightmare, and did not mean to be so chillingly creepy with her out-of-the-blue questions.

 

“From “Her Handsome Hero”?”

 

Grace let out a low heartbroken whine, starting to cry again before abruptly cutting herself off.

 

“No, it's okay, it's better you don't know,” she blubbered, “I never should have told you about him, I’m sorry.”

 

“Grace darling, I think you need to go back to sleep,” Belle insisted gently, “We can talk more in the morning, alright?”

 

There was a pause. “My dreams are very lonely,” she whispered, before she handed the phone back to her parent.

 

“...I am definitely gonna double-check what cold medicine Francis gave her, make sure it's not some tonic from back when cocaine was in everything,” Hannah muttered, “Sorry ‘bout that, she was just… terrified . Nothing would calm her down except hearing that you were okay. Were you two really up already?”

 

“Yeah I…I had a really bad nightmare too.”

 

“Weird. Maybe Francis spiked the food for a laugh and Grace had a few bites. Oh well, you two have a nice……..… night .”

 

“You too.”

 

“Have fun. Lots of FUN .”

 

Belle smirked, “Yes Hannah.”

 

“Alright, talk to you in the morning.”

 

Belle hung up and passed the phone back to a perturbed Joseph.

 

“Is she alright?”

 

“I think so, just a bit out of it. Also Hannah wants us to have lots of fun .”

 

Joseph ducked his head and Belle giggled, coaxing him back onto the bed. Still, a part of her remained chilled by Grace's questions. It was very Danny Torrance, and she couldn't shake the feeling she had forgotten something important about her nightmare.

Chapter 21: Epilogue

Like everything in their lives, what should have been a fairly standard straightforward event had ballooned into something complicated and grandiose. Then again, what else could Joseph expect? It was Grace's first large-scale birthday party.

 

The bar had already been set high for complications; as a summer baby she couldn't just bring invitations to school, and her guest list was…extensive. Thankfully there was plenty of overlap between her entire class, her entire Girl Scouts troop, her entire ballet class (even Bridgette, as that was “the Christian thing to do”) and all of the Awana kids, but it was still far more than a simple backyard barbecue. They had rented out the marina's park and Joseph watched in awe as his spouses planned the event like professional consultants…or career murderers very used to thinking of every detail.

 

It was amusing to watch Belle as they “helped”, spooking as Hannah and Francis blipped in and out of existence, baffled as Hannah swiftly outpaced her in decorating and laying out. Several times she looked over at him as if to say “you live with this?”. He could only smirk, and pretend to help Francis with the heavy lifting when there were witnesses walking by.

 

There were several canopies set up over many picnic tables and a snack bar mostly comprised of fruits and veggies. Games and toys were spread out, as well as a designated “splash zone” on the beach with water guns and water balloons. The kids started pouring in and the chaos really kicked off.

 

Joseph's job was simple; he was assistant greeter, manning the gift table, handing out goody bags, answering questions and directing people as necessary. The head greeter took her job very seriously, getting up each time they were approached, wagging her tail, accepting pets, giving kisses and most importantly, keeping her party hat on.

 

“GRACE'S EIGHTH BIRTHDAY PARTY”, a sign written with fluorescent markers and doused in glitter declared to the world, “EVERYONE INVITED”. (He had whited out the small print that had said “even Regina”).

 

In the beginning it was mostly kids, the parents politely chatting for a few minutes before taking off. Archie was the first adult to stick around, dropping off a small gift that he promised “was unrelated to therapy”. Freddi and Pongo sniffed each other politely, and Belle coaxed him into staying for a while and enjoying some refreshments. She was the main go-for, darting around to grab more ice or pick up something from the store for Hannah. Francis was lording over his bounty, eager to start grilling once the time was right. Hannah mostly fussed; over the decorations, over the kids, over her ex and his new girlfriend. 

 

All of them kept a careful eye on the cacophony of children, making sure everyone was playing nice and not getting hurt. And Grace, with an attentiveness beyond her years, flitted between each group, spending time with everyone and excusing herself to go greet new guests. Given how very few (if any) parties they had hosted, he had to guess she had picked it up from all of her Storybrooke socializing.

 

Yet even as he convinced himself she didn't learn it from them, as more adults decided to hang out like the Nolans and the Lucases, Joseph saw Grace watching Hannah, mimicking her in perhaps the healthiest example to date of being her little parrot.

 

Lunch came, and even the great Colonel Ives knew this wasn't a battle he could wage alone. Granny Lucas and David Nolan stepped in to help feed the army, with only a few snide remarks from Granny and behind-their-back glares from Francis. Joseph would be hearing about it for weeks, he was sure.

 

Of course, Leroy and Killian showed up for the free food, the latter dragging Mal along with him. Surprisingly, Sister Astrid had accompanied Leroy, though the pair were making very sure to keep a friendly distance from each other.

 

“Ain't I supposed to get a chip or something?” Leroy asked, scratching Freddi under her chin.

 

“Of course, next meeting,” Joseph promised, “We’ll make a big deal of it, doughnuts and everything.”

 

Leroy scuffed the ground, “It's just thirty days, I guess.”

 

“That's a whole month,” Joseph insisted, “It's huge progress.”

 

Sister Astrid beamed proudly, and by the way she was looking at Leroy Joseph was pretty sure the convent would be down a nun soon.

 

Once Leroy knew about the “everyone welcome” part of the birthday, almost the entire town was at the marina, turning it into an impromptu block party. Grace's present table was overflowing with tributes, and Hannah had to hurriedly make dozens of more goody bags. Sneaky devil she was, Belle had also convinced her friend Ari to come by with her sisters for a pop-up concert, and Joseph worried Grace would scream herself hoarse from excitement.

 

Afternoon drifted into evening; Francis and his helpers served another round of hamburgers and hot dogs. Kids were picked up, and by twilight it was mostly adults milling about. Joseph watched from his perch, marveling at the feel of belonging, of being a part of a community. It was these very sorts of feelings he had hoped to find as a priest…but had only found them after he became a heathen.

 

He reached down to rub Freddi's side, “We’ve done pretty well for ourselves, haven't we, sweet girl?”

 

Freddi wagged her tail in agreement, staring up at him with all the love she was capable of.

 

Francis had never been comfortable with being in crowds; he was pretty sure even as a human that was the case. He mingled and communicated as necessary to keep the party lively, and even swallowed a bit of his pride in order to make sure there were no hungry kids waiting too long for their meal. But he didn't actively join in, as he had always been much more keen on watching and observing than participating.

 

Though she needed far more social interaction than him, he could also see Hannah beginning to use Belle as a shield, his darling rose wilting at the energy needed to keep her mask on around so many outsiders. A few times she slipped over to the grill just to take shelter beneath his wing, drawing strength from a few quiet moments holding onto him. It was a long day but absolutely worth it, as Joseph radiated contentment and Grace… Well that tiny cyclone was going to be out cold before they even packed everything up.

 

Finally, after a few volunteers finished helping them clean up, they were alone. Well, alone with Belle, which was as good as he was going to get lately.

 

He glanced around for the star of the day, and found her laying flat on her back in the grass, staring up at the night sky. He walked over to her, concern fading as he saw she was fine.

 

“Have you been murdered, angel?” He asked.

 

She shook her head, “I’m just drunk.” She patted the space next to her.

 

He laid down on his back, watching the night sky with her. How many nights had he spent doing the exact same thing, but only wishing he had company? Or dreading the company that he had would turn on him? But here he was, far-flung from either Scotland or California, with his beautiful daughter beside him, resting from her big day.

 

“I wish all Big Feelings were this nice,” she murmured, “I’m just…I’m so full of love I could explode.”

 

“Don't do that, love, we just cleaned up.”

 

“It's an expression.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, “It was like Thanksgiving but for my heart instead of my stomach, does that make sense?”

 

“I think I understand.”

 

Especially as he felt Hannah sprawl out on his other side, her head gently rubbing against his. Her hand slipped into his instinctively, fingers lacing together. His first true love, his soulmate, his partner in and out of crime. 

 

“Like aaaaaaaaall these people came together to celebrate the fact I was born!” Grace continued, “They could've done anything else today and yeah there was cake and ice cream, but they didn't have to come. But they did, and they were happy I was born, even just because it meant they got to party. And that's…a lot to digest.”

 

Less gracefully, Joseph plopped down beside Hannah, his scent as welcome as a fresh breeze. His second true love, a man he did not deserve but was so grateful to have anyway. 

 

Of course, his little harlot filled the gap between Joseph and Grace, completing the circle of starfish gazing up at the stars.

 

“I’ve never had so many people in my life before,” Grace pointed out, “And it's really, really nice, even if it's not like pack love. My pack’s gonna be huge, I’m gonna have like…a dozen wives and a dozen husbands and as many babies as we can carry!”

 

Francis smirked, “Sounds busy.”

 

“Yeah but think of all the love ,” she insisted. She paused for a moment, “...I love you guys, so much. Thanks for being my family.”

 

“Well thank you for being born,” he said, leaning over and kissing the top of her head.

 

And, well, if the old wendigo shed a tear or two because of the fullness of his own heart in that moment… Hopefully his pack would keep his secret.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 10 of Eden's Ark Saga