A/N: I know I should be working on my other story, but this wouldn't leave me alone. Hope you enjoy!

~8~8~

He's not truly a beast as many claim he is, Belle thinks as she dusts off the vast collection of trinkets and curiosities her master has gathered throughout the years. It is an odd collection that has no specific rhyme or reason. It's as if he had been collecting simply to collect, as it were. His large gallery of odds and end suits his personality perfectly; strange, yet in an intriguing way that makes her want to take a closer look and reveal their hidden mysteries behind them. Rumpel is a lot like that; full of mysteries and conundrums she has yet to unlock, perhaps never to pry open.

She spares as quick glance his way as she continues dusting, hoping not to get caught in the process; he might accuse her of day dreaming at her chores again. He never scolds her too harshly, but she always feels as if she's disappointing him, and she hates disappointing the master.

This time he doesn't notice or lets it slide as he sits turning the wheel of his loom at a leisurely pace, conjuring flaxen straw into sheening stands of gold that glitter in the fireplace light. He doesn't look at her, but she likes to believe he thinks about her as much as she does him.

What was she thinking about again? That's right, him being named a beast. She scolds herself mildly for getting off track while she is already not concentrating on her work. Such has always been her way, but she forces herself to concentrate on her first wandering thought that had crept into her head.

She's comes to the conclusion that he is defiantly not a beast. Beasts are wicked things that like tormenting others for sport. He doesn't torment her, he's specific and many a day strict, but does not go out of his way to make her life hell. Beasts are cruel and pompous; he's never been cruel to her. Aloof, unresponsive, ignoring she even exists some days, sometimes a punishment when she leaves a chore undone, yet he can be a kind master when the mood strikes him.

She has met far worse men than him, and if they are not branded beasts, he certainly does not deserve the infamous title.

"What going on in that head of yours, Belle?" He asks her casually though doesn't look away from his work.

She suppresses the urge to flinch, though her face flushes with guilt; so he had seen her cast a glance in his direction. "I was thinking about names and titles, master." She admits simply enough with a half sincere smile that falls away as quickly as it comes as she turns back to her work.

From the corner of her eye she sees him nod slightly, thankfully letting her reply suffices for tonight. He's in a lenient mood, thankfully, or perhaps to given to his own thoughts to pay her much mind for the time being.

"More tea, if you please." He requests of her mildly. There is no giggle or snap in his voice, he sounds very normal, very human.

She nods once then gracefully strolls to the hearth where his favorite blue and white ceramic kettle sits near the fire to keep the brew from chilling. He loves tea, she knows as she pours the steaming brown brew into his favorite chipped cup. Beasts don't love anything save themselves, especially not tea with exactly three lumps of sugar.

The sudden thought of serving a huge grotesque beast tea from such a tiny fragile cup makes her giggle, and that in turn makes her master stop his spinning to look up to her.

She always tenses a bit when he looks at her, she doesn't know why, but it never fails when her eyes meet his.

"Does something strike you as funny?" He asks her. He doesn't sound irked or annoyed at her laughter, just curious as if he missed out on some joke.

She tilts her head down subserviently to break the eye contact as she hands him his tea. She doubts he would find her thought funny. "Just a small thing I remembered from today." She lies half-heartedly, she knows it doesn't do any good anyway, somehow he can always read her lies. Her only hope is that the master's lenient mood persists.

He flashes a soft thin smile as he takes his cup and their hands touch just for a moment making the hair prickle on the back of her neck. He doesn't press any further but lets her keep her thoughts tucked away to herself

As she breaths a quiet sigh of relief that he chooses not to pursue, Belle turns back to the cabinet preparing to finish her task.

"Enough work for today." He states before taking an appreciative sip of the hot tea.

He smacks his lips happily savoring the flavor before beckoning to the soft blue wool rug in front of the fire place where he knows she often sits to relax when chores had been completed. It's usually with a book, but he hasn't seen one lying on a shelf nearby with a dog ear in it. He knows she likes it there on the soft woolen rug because he often watches her there, lost in some enchanted tale until she curls up and nods off to sleep from her daily list of tasks.

He is in a very lax mood tonight Belle observes with a little surprise. But far be it from her to question the master's generosity. Okay it wasn't that far from her, but for tonight she too would let her usual nature slide and simply take his leniency at face value.

"Thank you, master." She dips a slight curtsey to him that make his lips twitch slightly upward.

He watches her as she sits upon the warm rug, her hands smoothing out the wrinkles in her blue skirt. Everything she does seems graceful even when it is the simplest motion. He catches himself from staring to long at her, and resumes to spin at an even slower pace, as he gazes upon the point where straw transforms into something more. Something fabulous and different.

"So, you were thinking about names, were you?" He attempts to prod the conversation to life once more.

He likes listening to her thoughts, even more often than not, they are simple fancies and whims that she day dreams of; maybe he just likes hearing her voice instead of silence. Whatever it is, he loves hearing her speak.

This time she cannot suppress a flinch, she should have known he would not let her day dreaming slide so easily. "I was thinking how names and titles don't match who people truly are."

"Ah, well, I think my name matches me decently." He replies. "An odd name for an odd creature." He winks at her roguishly.

She can't help but giggle at his all too true words.

He never laughs, but smiles warmly when Belle does.

"I also think Belle suits you nicely." He adds on, almost without thinking.

"Oh?" She looks curiously at him now. "How so, master?"

He shrugs as his spinning stops and the loom halts its hypnotic cycle. "Belle, a lovely name for a lovey girl." At least that's what he wants to say, but doesn't. He smirks instead. "Belle, it certainly does have a pleasant 'ring' to it."

Her face seems to glow as her bubbling laugher fills the room at his terrible humor; she does find a quip or two of his quite hilarious at times when he's not being sarcastic or mean.

"Well I think your name should be Gold, the way you weave so much of it." She chuckles at her master. There is no cruelty in her tease at his peculiar pastime and he allows himself another smile. He was being rather lenient this night.

"Gold." He tests the name as if tasting it on his lips. He smiles faintly at her words. He quite likes that name; it's simple, uncomplicated, and as lovely as Belle...