Title: Drunk on You

Author: Robinsparkles14 ( , tumblr, fanpop)

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Pairing: Rumbelle, also some Red-Cricket, and EmmaxBaelfire is implied.

Rating: T for some language and some suggestive content. Nothing serious at the moment, though.

Summary: AU, set in modern day NYC. Belle French is the sexy new bartender at Pongo's bar. She's beautiful, amazing, and everything anyone would ever want. Well, except for her rather inappropriate crush on Mr. Gold...

Disclaimer: I definitely don't own "Once Upon a Time." All the character are property of ABC and Disney

A/N: This fic was incredibly fun to write, so I hope you all really enjoy it. Special thanks to everyone in the RMC, and my amazing fanpop friend, Raeraegirl, who always keeps me writing.

The bar in the story is loosely based off of MacLarens from "How I Met Your Mother", and there will be cameos of the characters.

I'm not really sure about how I structured this, please let me know if it doesn't make sense or something.

Warning: There is mild character hate in this. But don't worry, it's a minor character that I think many of you also hold a grudge against. But if I'm wrong and it upsets you, I'm sorry.

This is rated T for now, but a rating change is entirely possible, so keep that in mind.

CHAPTER 1

"I've been trying to do it right. I've been living a lonely life."-The Lumineers

Belle French knows Mr. Gold.

Not exactly as well as she might like to, but better than any of the other regulars at Pongo's. She knows he works at a bank, and that he's not very sociable due to a certain traumatic event that took place at an unidentifiable time in the past. Not that he's told her any of this. It's just stuff she's heard from people he works with, or people who claim to know him.

Gold seems to stop at nothing to avoid any real conversation with Belle, much to her utter disappointment. If she had it her way, he'd be talking to her nonstop, leaning over the bar whispering all the things she wanted him to in that irresistible Scottish accent. Everything about him made her want to leap right onto him, but as far as Belle could tell, Gold has no intention nor desire of letting her pounce on him. Still, she can't help but enjoy the fact that he comes in every day at exactly 8PM and sits at the bar. Not at some secluded table in back or some special booth like the other regulars. He took it upon himself to sit across from Belle. Which of course wasn't something that she thought meant anything. He probably just though that making smalltalk with her was better than no company at all. But, she thinks to herself, he doesn't like company. And there are empty tables everywhere. He didn't have to sit by her, so why does he ever bother? She wouldn't so much as entertain the idea that he likes her...it's just that...she thinks he likes her. Not just because she stands behind a counter serving him alcohol in low cut tops, tiny shorts, and an apron. Not to mention her 4-inch wedge sandals. No. Belle though he liked her for her. Not like the other womanizing idiots in the bar who are constantly trying to lure her out of her position behind the counter and back to their apartments. Belle could see that Gold wasn't one to fall for someone based on looks. And, okay, maybe that's all he has to work with at this points, because he outright refuses to engage in actual conversation with her, but it isn't like he talking to anyone else either.

But if he does like her, he does a damn good job of hiding it. Each day at 8PM, Belle finds herself waiting around by the glass that she kisses the rim of every day (the one she only gave to Gold, of course, just so that maybe he'd pick up on the fact that the cherry lipgloss he tasted every day was hers. But even though she uses it quite liberally around him, he hasn't caught onto it.) and fixing her hair and outfit. Then when he opens the door she'll turn around and let her brunette curls cascade down her shoulder and across her chest.

"Good evening, Mr. Gold," she calls in her Aussie accent, flashing him her dimpled smile.

And every day he'll do the same thing. Just give her the slightest hint of a smile and slide into a barstool.

And Belle will just swallow her frustration and lean over the bar, giving him the full view down her shirt. "So," she'll says, biting down on her lower lip, "what can I get you?"

And he'll say the same thing he always does. "Just the usual is fine, dearie."

And as great as it is to hear that immensely attractive Scottish accent, 'just the usual' is so not fine. Fine would be him bending her over the bar after she closed up and fucking her brains out.

This is why she doesn't understand why she's so attracted to Mr. Gold. All he ever does is tease and frustrate her. After all, she was Belle French, the hot bartender that men lined up for every time she got behind the counter. He should like her the way she liked him. But she has no way of truly knowing whether he does or not.

The only person who understands Belle's attraction to Mr. Gold less that she does is her boss, August. August is what Belle likes to call Sir Douche of the Royal Jackassery. Mostly due to the fact that he is obsessed with being oh-so-mysterious, and that he still thinks there's a market out there for his never-going-to-be-published book series about the tragic backstory of Pinocchio. You know, besides the actual backstory. Belle has only taken a look at the book once, but the only part that intrigued her was when Snow White and Prince Charming has asked for help from Rumpelstiltskin. Belle was always one to root for Rumpelstiltskin, much to the disappointment of her elementary school teachers.

Anyway, August is beyond sick of hearing about Mr. Gold, and even sicker of Belle giving him his drinks on the house.

"Honestly, French, does it look like this place is made of money?" he'd asked her last week.

"Just take it out of my paycheck," Belle said, blowing off his words entirely.

"You don't have a paycheck anymore as far as I'm concerned," August said, "good luck paying off daddy's debt now. You're going to be working here for quite some time, French."

Belle just glared at him. "Well then I guess it's a good thing I don't mind working here," she sneered and curtsied sarcastically. "Now if you don't mind, I have to get back to my job. It's almost 7:50."

August rolled his eyes and she spun around, walking back to the bar. "I'm not lying, French!" August called after her.

"Are you sure? I though I saw your nose grow a bit!" Belle said, and gave him a princessy wave.

She isn't worried about August firing her in the slightest. Besides her being the main source of male costumers at Pongo's, she's pretty sure he has a soul, and won't just let her drown in her father's debt.

Belle's father wasn't particularly happy when he learned that her latest gig was behind a bar, but after a long argument that ended in her saying: "It's either this or stripping, Papa! Don't blame me, it's your drug addict ass that got us into this!", he decided he might as well focus on the cash, and not was his daughter was doing to earn it. Not that she's doing much of anything wrong. Besides blowing all their money on drinks for Gold and giving him the full view down her shirt every day, anyway. Oh, and purposely sharing saliva with him through something that wasn't kissing (not that Gold knew about that.). But Belle assumes her father will understand, given that it's all in the name of true love. And it's definitely true love. She'd gathered that from the first time he came in.

"Uh, thanks," a super tall guy with light brown had said as he took a bunch of beers from her and handed them to his friends.

And Belle had just been in the middle of telling him "You're welcome," when Gold had walked in. He was wearing one of his many suits and leaning on his cane. Her bright blue eyes met with his brown ones for just a moment, and even though she swore he was going to take a seat on the other side of the bar, he came toward her and pulled out a barstool.

"Excuse me?" he'd said.

Belle blinked and tried to snap herself out of a trance. "Yeah?"

"Could I get a gin and tonic please, Miss?" He was polite, but the accent had thrown her into a daze.

"Um, yeah. Of course," she said.

She'd made his drink slowly before handing it over to him. He took it from her and their fingers clashed together. Belle had felt the pure electricity rush through her in that moment and she looked up to meet his eyes again. Unfortunately, the beautiful moment was cut short by a tall blond man in a suit.

"Hey," he said to Belle, lifting his chin in her direction.

She didn't even look at him. "Are you going to order a drink?" she asked, not taking her eyes off Gold.

"No," the guy had said, "I was actually just hoping you could help me with this space mission I'm working on."

Belle's eyes don't so much as dart toward him. "Well then, you should go. I was actually just talking to someone so I won't be able to help you."

She felt bad about laughing when he walked away in defeat.

"Do you know that man?" Gold had asked her.

"Sort of. I don't know his name, but he's a regular so..." she trailed off.

"Ah. I see. Well, I work with the man. He's not a bad person. You didn't have to send him off," Gold said to her.

"You work on a space mission?" Belle teased. Gold laughed and shook his head. Belle smiled. "No, uh...I would have sent him off anyway."

"Why is that I wonder?"

She winked at him. "Maybe one day I'll tell you," she teased.

He nodded. "Alright then. I'll hold you to that."

"So does that mean you'll come back?"

He smiled at her. "Yes. I'll most definitely be coming back."

And that was all it took. Belle French wasn't just hooked. She'd already been reeled in.