Prompt: Guide Me Home Rumbelle get married.
Rumford surveyed the dress one last time, to convince himself it looked exactly like it ought to. All the missing beading had been replaced and the cap sleeves sewn into the bodice. He hadn’t been able to salvage the whole thing, time, water and moths hadn’t done the dress any favours, but he’d been able to preserve the general look of the dress, albeit with a more modern silhouette some new fabric.
He felt a bit guilty that Belle’s grandmother’s gown hadn’t fared well in the locked trunk were it had been stored for years. Belle had cried over it when she’d first seen it, marring what should’ve been a happy occasion. He’d jumped at the chance to offer to restore the dress, to make something new out of it. He loved to sew, had made several of his clothes as a child and had adapted a lot of hand me downs to fit him in his lifetime, and later Bae. He had been eager to see Belle in something he’d sewn, a creation of his.
But, more than that, he was ecstatic to be able to rescue Belle for a change, to be her hero like she had been his since the moment they met. Belle had given him everything, safety, a home, a job, a purpose. And the sort of emotional support and security he’d previously only been able to dream of. She was so strong, and so giving, that he was in awe of her. But as much as he knew Belle would never hold any of it against him, did not go around counting everything she did for him and expecting a reward later on, it still irked him that he could not contribute with much. And it had been the hardest part of proposing, knowing that the wedding and honeymoon would be paid for out of their joint bank account, to which Belle was the largest contributor. If he hadn’t been able to get his hands on his mother’s simple but tasteful engagement ring- he had pawned it years ago, but had somehow come across the only decent pawnshop owner, a Mr Prentice, who had promised to keep him for when he could get it back, and had kept his word- he would’ve never proposed.
The dress was his big contribution. And Belle shushed him when he said that, pointing to all the hard work he put on the antiques he restored and how great of a profit they sold for, the many hours he’d spent with her discussing the venue, the guest list, the menu and so on, and how many of the people who were contributing with the wedding- like Marco, who was building them a lovely wooden arch, or Leroy, who was helping with the flowers (a successful attempt at sobering up and a job as a handyman had led him to meeting his girlfriend Astrid, a florist)- were friends of his. But only the dress made him feel so exceedingly proud. Like he was worthy, something he never thought he’d feel again.
The day of the wedding he savoured the moment when Belle’s hair was done- butterfly pins firmly in place- and she needed to dress. He made her close her eyes as he slid the dress up her body, doing it up and draping it so that it showed to its best advantage. Placing her in front of the mirror he told her, finally, to open her eyes and look. She looked exactly like he’d imagined, only her smile was even brighter, the happiness in her eyes making them somehow bluer.
The awed, worshipful way she said his name made him tingle until he had to remind himself that Bae was right outside, waiting for them, and they had a wedding to get to. No time for carefully slipping the dress off her and taking her against the recently-restored Luis XV French walnut armoire that was waiting to be shipped to its buyer in three days- David had promised to see to it while they went to Scotland for their honeymoon.
