A/N: This short/fluffy story's idea is credited to "repeatinglitanies" on Tumblr. I own nothing. Please tell me what you think at the end? Enjoy!

Rumplestiltskin was not one to make mistakes, so when he did, his errors tended to reap extreme consequences. This time was no different. He'd been foolish—over-confident—and now he was in quite the predicament.

His problems had started earlier that morning when he'd realized he was out of wild celery. Of course, as luck would have it, he required the wild celery to complete a potion for a poor soul who had accidentally dropped a bag of gold into a lake while boating across it. The man had tried to swim to his gold, but had discovered that he couldn't hold his breath long enough. So, naturally, the bloody moron had called for Rumplestiltskin's help, and Rumplestiltskin had been all too willing to help, for the right price that is.

The potion he'd been in the process of concocting would allow the man to breathe under water for up to an hour, and in order to finish it, he needed three grass-like leaves from wild celery. The underwater plant grew in the shallow waters of his dark lake, and so he had immediately set out to take a little swim.

It had been a while since he'd visited the treacherous body of water he owned. Yet he'd felt fairly certain he could deal with the creatures that dwelt beneath the dark lake's deceivingly calm surface.

When he'd arrived at the lake, he'd magically checked to see if trespassers were in the vicinity and, finding none, had stripped to his breeches. He could have simply summoned the plant, but he'd been curious. And that turned out to be his downfall.

The water had been surprisingly warm when he'd first dipped his toes in. He'd waded out to his chest when he'd located the damned wild celery. But when he'd gone to pluck mature samples, he'd felt a fierce sting near his stomach, just to the lower-right of his navel. Cursing, he'd retrieved the wild-celery's leaves and looked around for the creature that had stung him.

And because the gods thought it funny to torment him, he'd found the creature. It was a jellyfish, but—oh no—not just any jellyfish. It was Pernicious Maiden Jellyfish, so named for its harmful tentacles and the cure to its poison: a maiden's saliva.

And now, he had an even bigger problem. Because the only maiden around for miles was none other than Belle, and she was clearly the answer to this inconvenient situation.

Rumplestiltskin had contemplated asking her outright for her saliva, but then the embarrassment of the entire case would needle him and he'd lose his nerve. He'd even thought of her...kissing the area of affliction or running her tongue along it. The sting was below his bellybutton, nearer to the sharp 'V' of his hips, and the thought of her pretty lips near his...well...the thought had certainly inspired a lot of other images to come to his mind.

Eventually, the sting started to itch and ache horribly. Rumplestiltskin knew it was only a matter of time before it began to spread to other regions nearby. In the end, he steeled himself and went in search of Belle. He found his little maid in the Great Room and, thinking up something on the spot, demanded tea. "I'm rather parched, dearie. Some tea shall do."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "A 'please' is not too difficult to say, is it?" she asked sweetly, and he gulped at the way her lips tugged into a smile. The girl was becoming a little too comfortable for his nerves to handle.

"Chop chop!" he giggled, ignoring her question.

Rolling her eyes, Belle left the Great Room to go to the kitchen.

Rumplestiltskin breathed a sigh of relief, and suddenly, a thought struck him. "And bring two cups if you don't mind!" he called after her. Oh yes... His plan would work out perfectly if done in a sly manner.

She returned ten minutes later with a steaming pot of tea and two teacups like he'd ordered. "What have you been up to in the tower all day?" she wondered when she set the tray down on the table. There was a tinkle as the glassware was slightly jarred.

"Nothing important," Rumplestiltskin lied as he eased down into his chair at the head of the table. Nothing important indeed, he thought wryly.

Belle watched him carefully as she poured them each a cup of tea. "Oh really?" she teased, not believing him.

"Really."

He sipped at his tea and waited for her to drink from hers. When she did, he cried indignantly, "You forgot the lemon! Shame on you, Belle."

"You don't take lemon with your tea," she deadpanned, and he saw that she was confused. He played that to his advantage.

"Occasionally I do," he answered her, twittering his fingers through the air. "Now run along and fetch it, little maid!" He shooed her with his fingers and, frowning, Belle scurried off.

Rumplestiltskin leaned over the table to watch her go. The second she was out of sight, he snatched her teacup from the table and flung its contents into the fireplace. There was a loud hiss as the tea evaporated in the flames, and he wasted no time tearing open his vest and untucking his dress shirt. Then, frantically, he rubbed the edge of the teacup over the red swelling that was the jellyfish sting.

A wave of relief washed over him and he let out a long sigh. It worked.

"What are you doing?"

Belle's voice came from the entrance to the Great Hall, and if Rumplestiltskin hadn't been the Dark One, he was sure he would have had a heart attack and died. "What? I'm doing nothing, dearie!" he answered in his high-pitched tone. He waved a hand over his clothes and they magically righted themselves.

"Rumplestilt—"

"—You're being silly, deari—"

"—skin. What is going on?" Belle spoke over him.

He giggled hysterically, and then realizing he was wasn't fooling her, snapped his fingers and reappeared in his tower. He slouched against a table littered with books, papers, and ingredients for potions. "Too close," he muttered softly, looking down at Belle's teacup and tracing the rim where her lips and—consequently—her saliva had been. He closed his eyes and pictured her lips once more. "That was too close..."