Work Text:
"Papa? Mulan wanted to meet- Whoa!“
Half of Storybrooke thunders into Mr Gold’s shop behind Rumplestiltskin’s son, heedless of Baelfire’s attempts to stop the people in their tracks.
Belle, naked from the waist up, drops out of sight behind the wooden counter she’d been perched on, her back facing the newcomers, and Rumplestiltskin, mussed and lipstick-marked, stands with his palms pressed flat against the counter-top, his shirt gaping.
"Haven’t been back an hour yet, and you’re all already up to your old tricks,” he tells the gathered crowd, resigned and breathless. “You work fast.”
Someone, sounding very much like Emma, pipes up from the back. “So do you!”
Belle laughs from behind the counter.