A/N: This story came from a series of prompts on tumblr. Just getting around to posting it here for the first time.

She wasn't sure why she'd agreed to it in the first place. Lacey French did not do blind dates. In fact, Lacey French didn't do dates at all. If she wanted a little fun for an evening she knew how to find it. The prelude to it, sitting through dinner or a movie she didn't want to watch, just seemed ridiculous. It was all just a ritual, a way for people to have sex without feeling guilty about it. Lacey had never felt guilty about sex, so she certainly didn't need a disappointing evening out to preface it.

But here she was, sitting at a nice restaurant in Boston at 8:00 on a Friday night and waiting for a mysterious man named Jacob. Anna hadn't told her much about him other than that he was older and apparently loaded. Maybe that's why she'd agreed. Lacey could certainly use cash and she wasn't entirely averse to the idea of a sugar daddy, if she could find one. She just hoped he wasn't so old she couldn't pretend to be attracted to him.

She surreptitiously checked her watch, wondering if she was about to be stood up. Lacey certainly couldn't afford this place on her own and it had been his choice. If she was left sitting at a table all night, not able to order so much as a cocktail, she'd have some words for Anna Arendelle. A moment later though, someone was approaching her table.

Lacey shook out her curls, letting them cascade over her bare shoulders and glanced up from under her lashes in what she hoped was a sultry way. The effect was completely ruined when she caught sight of her dinner companion.

"Mr. Gold!" she exclaimed.

The man in question nearly stumbled over his feet.

"Belle?"

She hadn't expected to see someone from her hometown, someone she hadn't seen in almost a decade. And she certainly hadn't expected to see the very man she'd lost her virginity to in the back of a cadillac at the age of eighteen, the night before she left for college and never came back.

"Shit," she said frankly.

Gold just stood there, staring down at the girl, no, woman, that he hadn't seen in almost ten years. A woman who had barreled into his life one summer and then left just as quickly not bothering to ever return. She'd left his heart in pieces though he'd never admit to it.

The last time he'd seen her she'd been writhing underneath him, her blue eyes filled with some tender emotion he'd thought might have been love. Of course, he'd been wrong. He was always wrong about such things.

Now she looked horrified, her blue eyes wide and her cheeks flushing pink. The years had been kind to her, that was for certain. She was even more beautiful at twenty-eight than she had been at eighteen, her figure filled out and even more lush and perfect. Of course, that also could have been the barely there tube dress she was wearing, leaving little to the imagination.

Belle coughed and he realized his eyes had slid down from her face. He quickly brought them up to meet hers again.

"Um, I'll just go," she said, starting to get up from her seat.

And he couldn't let that happen, not after finding her for the first time in years. Not that he'd looked for her. He knew where she was and he knew she wasn't coming back to Storybrooke. It was one of the reasons he'd moved away. Too many memories.

But he couldn't let her leave now.

"No," he cried, springing into action. "Please, sit down."

When Belle still didn't seem convinced, he put on his most imperious Mr. Gold face that he hoped she remembered from their short time together.

"I insist."

Belle looked at him warily before scooting back in to her seat. She picked up her cloth napkin, fiddling with the edges nervously.

"It's been a long time," he said, finally finding his way into the seat across from her. The table was small, intimate, a flicker of candlelight and a single rose set in a silver vase making the whole thing rather more romantic than he thought this encounter warranted. This was uncomfortable enough without the low lighting and gentle violin music wafting through the air. What had he been thinking picking this ridiculous restaurant?

"Anna didn't give me a last name," she blurted out. "I didn't know it was you, I swear."

"I believe you," he said flatly. He could well believe his scatterbrained personal assistant hadn't bothered with last names when she set this whole thing up. The girl was well meaning but entirely too intrusive. He should have fired her months ago, but something always stayed his hand. She had reminded him of someone he knew long ago, a girl who was so different than the woman sitting before him now. When Anna told him she'd met the perfect woman for him, he'd begrudgingly gone along with the ordeal.

But he certainly hadn't expected Belle.

"I was told I was meeting a woman named Lacey," he prompted, wondering why she'd given a fake name.

"That's my name now," she said with a shrug.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Why?" he asked. There was nothing wrong with the name Lacey, but Belle had suited her so well. Well, it had suited the girl he used to know. He didn't know this Lacey at all.

Belle just sighed. "Long, long story."

They fell into an uncomfortable silence until the waiter approached their table bearing a wine list. He'd barely had a moment to glance over it before Belle grabbed it out of his hands, slamming it back on to the table.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

He motioned at the wine list as though it should be obvious. "Ordering wine."

Belle rolled her eyes. "This isn't a thing, okay?" she said. "We're not doing this. We're not going to sit here and pretend this is just a normal set of circumstances and order wine and appetizers and talk about what you do for a bloody living. This isn't a real date."

Gold clasped his hands together, leaning back in his seat.

"Would you rather we had this conversation sober?" he said finally.

"I'd rather we didn't have this conversation at all," she retorted.

It had been ten years. Belle clearly hated him for some reason or another or she wouldn't have left as abruptly as she had. But her words still managed to hurt.

"Yes, well, you can't always get what you want, can you dearie?"

Belle seemed to mull that over before grabbing the waiter as he passed the table again.

"Whiskey, neat," she ordered.

Gold arched a brow at her choice. The girl he'd known could barely choke down an appletini.

"Same," he told the waiter.

"I need to pee," Lacey announced with no thought to tact after the waiter had left with their drink order.

Gold leveled her with a look, one she remembered all too well. It said he didn't believe her for a second.

"Are you going to try to escape through the bathroom window?" he asked in a mocking voice.

Lacey gritted her teeth. "No," she said calmly. "I want that whiskey. I'll be back."

Gold just smirked at her, looking haughty and put together and perfect in his sharp suit and silk tie. He was just as handsome as she remembered. And just as much of a bastard.

She stood up as calmly as she could, grabbing her clutch from the table and walked to the bathroom at the other end of the restaurant. She could feel Gold's eyes on her, and picked up the pace. Once the bathroom door was shut behind her, she pulled out her phone and punched in Anna's number.

"What the hell have you done!" she barked into her cell phone as soon as the other end picked up.

"Lacey?" came Anna's voice from the other end of the line. "What's wrong? Aren't you out on that date I set up?"

Lacey had to restrain herself from throwing her phone to the ground and stomping on it. Anna was a sweet girl but she was completely clueless.

"Yes, I am," Lacey said in what she hoped was a patient voice. "But when you said you wanted to set me up with your boss, you neglected to mention he was Jacob Gold."

There was a beat of silence on the line before Anna spoke again. "Is that a problem?"

Lacey let out a frustrated squeal. "Yes it's a problem!" she exclaimed. "Anna, I know him, okay?"

"How do you know him?"

"He used to live in my hometown," she explained. "I worked for him briefly."

"Oh," Anna said in an understanding tone. "So is it awkward being on a date with your old boss? I'm sorry, I never would have set you guys up if I knew that. I just thought you'd be perfect for each other."

"Well, we're not," she clarified. "Definitely not. I think you need to hang up your matchmaker hat for good after this one."

There was a pause again and she almost thought Anna had hung up. "Or you could go back out there and see if maybe I'm right," she said finally.

"Anna!"

"No, Lacey, hear me out," her friend interrupted. "I know he seems kind of austere and everything, but there's a nice guy under all that I swear. And if his being your old boss is intimidating or weird or something, just give it a chance. He's not your boss anymore."

Lacey let her head fall back against the bathroom wall.

"It's not that he was my boss, okay?" she admitted. "We had a thing. It didn't end well."

Another pause. "So what you're saying is you guys are perfect for each other. Oh my God I'm getting so much better at this! I'm setting up people who already have history."

"No, Anna, that's not what I'm saying at all."

"What do you think about a June wedding…"

Lacey hung up on Anna before she could continue that thought.

She put her phone back in her clutch, going to stare at herself in the mirror above the sink. She fluffed her hair out, making sure her curls were in tact. She freshened up her lipstick. Then she pulled her dress down slightly, exposing a bit more cleavage.

If Gold was going to make her sit through this date, she was going to make it a nightmare for him.

He'd long fantasized about this encounter, of seeing Belle again after so many years. In his dreams he demanded to know why she'd left, why she'd found him so repulsive that she had to leave the moment their feelings for each other were consummated. She would fall in to his arms, telling him she'd made a terrible mistake and she'd always meant to come back to him.

Reality was startlingly different. He never thought he'd be sitting across from Belle under an assumed name, downing whiskey and wearing a dress so low cut he thought he might see her navel if she moved the wrong, or possibly right, way.

Of course, he didn't need Belle to answer his questions. He knew why she'd left. No woman could ever love him, ever choose to stay with him. He had been sad at first, when he woke up in his bed alone, sure that opening himself up to her had done nothing but drive her away. When she hadn't turned up for work that day, he'd been unsurprised. Even his brave little Belle didn't have the stomach to see him again. But when he found out she'd skipped town in the middle of the night, he'd been angry. His memory of their encounter was as one of the best nights of his life, but it was apparently so terrible for her that she couldn't even stay in the same town as him. She might have mentioned it after the first time. He wouldn't have subjected her to rounds two and three.

And now, with Belle sitting directly in front of him, so changed from the girl he'd once known, he felt resentment. He didn't think of her often these days. Not like he had after she'd first left, when every little thing reminded him of her and he drove himself mad going over every little thing he could have possibly done to make her hate him. No, once he'd had enough of Storybrooke, packed up and moved away, things had been easier. Now there were only certain things, triggers that would bring Belle to mind. And he'd studiously avoided those things for years. Until today.

The waiter approached, setting down another whiskey in front of Belle. Gold looked down at his own barely touched glass.

"Have you had a chance to look over the menu?" the well-meaning server asked.

"No," Belle answered, not bothering to look at him.

"Would you be interested in any recommendations?" he forged on bravely, completely oblivious to the storm he'd just walked into. "The chef has several specials…"

Belle leveled him with a smile so sharp that it could hardly qualify as a smile at all. "Just keep the whiskey coming, alright?"

The server nodded, rushing away toward the kitchen as Gold continued to watch Belle closely.

"What happened to you, Belle?" he asked. He wasn't even sure where the question came from, but it seemed to be the one burning in his mind most clearly. She had been sweet and good and everything light. But the woman sitting in front of him seemed Belle's polar opposite.

"Lacey," she corrected him, leaning forward on her elbows in a way that pushed her breasts together and drew his eyes down to her cleavage. When his eyes snapped back up to her face she was smirking. She knew exactly what she was doing. "And nothing happened to me. It's been ten years, Gold. Did you really expect I'd still be the same little bookworm I was in high school?"

He took a sip of his drink to buy himself a moment. He did think she'd be the same. His Belle. The one who had flirted with him and loved him and broken him. His memories of her were tainted by anger and sadness and bitter regret, but he was always the villain in them. She was goodness and she had fled his darkness. He couldn't blame her for that.

But this woman, Lacey, had her own darkness. The light that had been Belle was seemingly snuffed out anyway. So why did she leave him if it wasn't to preserve herself?

"So what have you been up to, Gold?" Lacey asked, reaching out a hand to trail it across Gold's fist, clenched against the pristine white tablecloth. "You're looking well."

It was a lie. He looked old and he knew it. He dressed well, still had a head full of hair, but there were lines around his eyes that hadn't been there the last time she saw him. There was a significant amount of silver shooting through his dark hair. His limp was more pronounced than it had been ten years ago. She was lying to him, flirting, but for what purpose?

"Spare me the bullshit, Belle," he said through clenched teeth.

"Lacey," she bit back, her façade cracking just a bit with her annoyance at his continued use of her real name. "And it's not bullshit. You were always a handsome man."

His mouth settled in to a grim line, his eyes darting away from her.

"You never thought I was handsome," he accused lightly.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said with a casual shrug of her shoulder. "I don't fuck men I don't think are handsome."

Gold sputtered, coughing on the whiskey he had just sipped. That sharp smile was back on Belle's face looking vaguely triumphant like she'd just won a point in whatever sparring match this dinner date had turned in to.

"So we're going to talk about that then, are we Belle?"

"Lacey!" she snapped, her voice rising so loudly that several other diners glanced their way. She looked down at her hands, looking suddenly angry with herself. "Can you respect me enough to call me by the name I prefer?"

He watched her closely, and for a moment he almost spotted the girl she'd once been beneath the tough exterior. But a moment later the flash of vulnerability was well covered once again.

"Fine," he agreed. "Lacey."

"Lacey," Gold said, with a sharp nod of his head. She tried to ignore how wrong the name sounded on his lips. For the first time in years it felt like a false name, but she shook it off.

"Thank you," she said, feeling like she could breathe now that Belle was out of the way. She couldn't stomach sitting here across from him, knowing he still thought of her as that helpless girl she'd once been. She couldn't be Belle anymore. She didn't want to be.

She couldn't help feeling like she'd lost any of the advantage she'd had in this conversation. He'd made her crack like he always could, expose more than she wanted to. Her goal was to catch him off guard, to keep him so unsettled that he cut this thing short, disappeared back in to the night and she never had to see him again. That wouldn't work if she exposed weakness to him. She needed the upper hand again.

"So, Gold," she continued. "In answer to your question, yes, we are going to talk about this now. There's no use pretending what happened didn't happen."

She took a measured sip of her whiskey, letting a little of the amber liquid dribble from her glass and down to her cleavage. She ran her index finger down between her breasts, catching the droplets and bringing the finger back to her mouth to give it a hearty suck. Across from her, Gold let out an audible gulp.

One more point to Lacey.

"No, I don't suppose there is," Gold agreed once he'd found his voice.

"I was a virgin, you know," she dropped casually and she didn't think she imagined the way he winced. "Sweet little Belle French, completely inexperienced in the ways of men."

"Yes the blood on the backseat of the Cadillac told me as much, though you didn't," he shot back.

Lacey swallowed but didn't look away, frozen in place by the angry look in his eyes. And what did he have to be angry about? That she hadn't told him she was a virgin? As if that would have made things turn out differently somehow?

"Well I apologize," she said nonchalantly. "If I'd known I'd have paid to have your upholstery cleaned. I know how much your things mean to you."

"Of course you didn't know," he tossed out. "How could you? You were miles away by the time I woke up and I never saw you again. You couldn't wait to get as far away from me as possible."

Lacey snorted. "Is that what this is about? I wounded your pride or something? You couldn't believe a woman could want to fuck you and not be interested in anything else? Sorry you didn't rock my world."

For a second, she thought she might have actually wounded him. A look of hurt passed over his eyes that was gone with a blink the next moment. But she couldn't have done. It was his pride that was hurt, not his heart. She had to believe that.

"Oh, no, Lacey," he spit her name out like a curse and for the first time she wished she wasn't Lacey, wasn't this hard and cruel person she'd somehow become. "Of everything you've done, your leaving is the one thing that actually makes sense."

She blinked, his words completely unexpected. One point to Gold, she assumed. He had managed to surprise her.

"You expected me to leave," she said, her words a statement more than a question.

"I expected you to regret what happened between us," he clarified, looking down at the empty glass in front of him. "Leaving town directly after and never coming back felt like overkill."

"You left town," she pointed out. She wasn't sure when, but Anna had been working for him for months. It couldn't have been that recent a change. "You wouldn't have been there had I gone back."

"There was nothing for me there," he said, his eyes meeting hers again. For the first time, it struck her that he'd aged. His eyes looked so world weary in a way they hadn't been ten years ago.

"Then we left for the same reasons," she said, looking away across the restaurant. She couldn't bear to see his eyes look so sad. She couldn't bear to think that she had been the one to make them that way. She couldn't care. Mr. Gold was untouchable and she'd been just a kid. She couldn't have honestly hurt him, not the way he could hurt her.

"I suppose we did," he said in a tired voice. And Lacey was tired too. She wanted this conversation to be over. She wanted him to get up and walk away. She wouldn't concede defeat. She couldn't be the one to break.

"And who would think that fate would bring us back together all these years later," she said, her voice dripping with false optimism. "Perhaps it's our second chance to do things right."

She reached her hand out again, laying it over Gold's on the tablecloth. Underneath the table her foot skimmed up the inside of his trouser leg. Gold flinched back from her touch, his chair practically tipping over backward in his haste to be away from her. Good. Maybe now he would leave. The man had always startled like a frightened rabbit at the slightest hint of human affection. It had taken all summer before the tension finally broke between them. She was sure she hadn't made things better by cutting and running the next day.

"Performance anxiety?" she said with mock concern.

"Oh don't pull that on me," he fairly growled back. "I know you Belle. I know what your cunt tastes like."

"So do a lot of men," she shot back. He had to know he wasn't special or unique. He may have been her first but he certainly wasn't her last. Maybe not even her best, but she was kidding herself if she made that argument.

Gold just nodded, the movement jerky and angry.

"Fine," he said. "Did any of them love you as well? What do you do with the hearts you collect? Is mine in pride of place for being the first?"

Lacey blanched. He'd never said anything about love. All those years ago when they'd gone at it like rabbits in the backseat of his car he hadn't said a word. Nor later when he'd taken her back to his house and laid her across his four-poster bed, laving her body with his tongue until she couldn't remember her own name. Nor after that when they'd lain in his bed together and she'd known she absolutely had to leave, even before circumstance conspired to truly drive that message home. Not once had he said the word love.

And would it have made a lick of difference? She honestly couldn't say.

Another point for Gold and one she couldn't answer with one of her own.

She stood up abruptly, her hip bumping against the table and sending the vase with its single rose toppling over so water stained the tablecloth.

"I can't do this," she muttered, picking up her clutch. "Drinks are on you, right?"

She didn't wait for him to answer before she hightailed it out of the restaurant.