This will be a multi-chapter fic completely based on a list of Tumblr prompts. For a list of prompts or to submit a prompt for this fic, please visit my Tumblr blog. The first section of this chapter is set in May of 1967; the second section in June of 1967. This is going to a historical fanfic. There WILL be angst. I am sorry. Yes, I also know I have umpteen other fics to finish. I'm working on it. Talk to my muse - she hates me, maybe she'll listen to you. This is primarily a Rumbelle fic but will include a good amount of Swanfire and Papafire.

Feedback is appreciated. Thank you.

Chapter 1

"Why are you giving me such a hard time about this?" Bae asked as Gold poured himself a cup of coffee.

"Because this is, hopefully, the only wedding you'll have and I want it to be nice for you," Gold replied, then sat down at the table with his coffee.

"It'll be really nice, Papa – I love Emma and she loves me. We don't need some fancy country club wedding, that's just not our bag."

"Yes, I know what your 'bag' is – the two of you would prefer some barefooted outdoor wedding complete with one of those ridiculous hippie bands you like."

"Yeah – that'd be cool," Bae agreed as he smiled at his father.

"You know, if you'd have been more cautious you could have waited until you were a bit more settled in your job before you embarked on your little happily ever after," Gold reminded his son as Bae sat down at the table with his father.

"Hey – it's not my fault that it's so hard for girls to get the pill."

"How about keeping it in your trousers? That seemed to work well for me when I was a lad," Gold replied.

"Like it worked for you and mom?"

"Your mother was of age, for one thing."

"Emma's of age."

"She's barely nineteen years old, Bae. You're damn lucky her father didn't come after you with a shotgun. If she had been my daughter you'd be singing soprano right now."

"Papa – Emma and I are cool, okay? I've got a good teaching job lined up once school starts back, and Emma will be at home taking care of the baby. After the baby is born she might get a part-time job a couple nights a week if we need to. We'll manage. Now about the wedding."

"There is no 'about the wedding' – you're having it at the country club, Emma's parents agree about that and I'm paying for everything but the band. I'm the one who paid your way through school, you owe me this much. Plus, your mother will be there and she'll be blaming everything on me so I at least want this to look like it's a respectable occasion."

"See – that's the problem with your generation, Papa. You live in your little repressed boxes. Emma and I – we're happy with who we are. Maybe if you could say the same about yourself you wouldn't be so uptight all the time."

"I'm not uptight."

"Right. Sure you're not. Papa – we'll do your fancy country club wedding thing. But I'm not wearing a monkey suit. If you want to, that's cool with us, but Emma and I are wearing what we want, so you just need to stop freaking out about it." Gold sighed in disgust.

"Alright, fine. If you want to explain to your child when he or she is looking at your wedding photos someday why everyone else at your wedding is dressed in their best and you and his or her mother look like a couple of delinquents that's on you, son."

"Cool. I gotta go, Papa, I'm meeting Emma for lunch, we're gonna look at some stuff for the baby's room, see how much money we need to save the next few months."

"A lot more than you realize, Bae. You know – you can always come to me for help."

"I know – but we want to make our own way. You get that, right, Papa?"

"Of course. I'll see you later then." Gold took a sip of coffee as Bae left the room. He had always tried to do the best he could by his son. Bae may not have been born of love but he was very much loved. Gold met Bae's mother, Milah, at a pub in London in July of 1943. Gold was twenty-four years old, on a week's leave from the army. He had been promoted to Lieutenant and was celebrating with his friends before going off on their next assignment. Milah was young, and attractive, and American – Gold had never met an American girl before, and certainly didn't expect to meet one now, especially with all the turmoil and war, but he found out that apparently, those who had political clout and enough money to burn could arrange just about anything, even a vacation in war torn Europe. She was there with her family for the summer and they spent the week together. He expected to never see her again. Actually, he expected to never see anyone again. The war was taking a toll and he realized that the odds of him surviving his next assignment were fifty-fifty at best. Fortunately – or unfortunately, he often felt – he survived. He survived with a crippling injury that left him using a cane for the remainder of his life, a mind full of horrific memories of war that he'd rather repress and forget about – and a son.

Milah wrote to him with the news of his impending fatherhood. Her family was going to send her away to have the child and give the child up for adoption, but he would have no part of that. He promised her that as soon as the war was over, he would come for her – and their son. Milah's family, trusting him to be a man of his word, arranged for a marriage by proxy and took a train to Kansas, the nearest state where such a marriage was legal and binding. Milah sent him pictures of their son once he was born. Baden Gold was his name, born on the 24th of April in 1944. After his injury, Milah's letters and pictures of their boy were the only thing that got him through his recovery.

It wasn't until 1946 before Gold was well enough to travel to America to reunite with his bride and meet his son, a now rambunctious two-year-old boy. Gold loved his child at first sight. He knew the moment that he received his first hug from his son that he would do anything for the lad. His wife, however, was another story. He and Milah were not in love, and as they attempted to form a life together, it became clear that they never would be. Gold did everything he could to make them a family. He started his own business, and after a few struggles and some time learning the ropes in regard to business management in America, had a great deal of success. He applied for citizenship and was naturalized in 1953. He built a home for his wife and son, and was a faithful and good husband and father. But none of that mattered. He loved his son, but he wasn't truly happy. As time passed, he and Milah began to seek happiness elsewhere, both of them having affairs. Eventually the marriage simply crumbled. In 1959, when Bae was sixteen years old, they divorced, citing irreconcilable differences. Once Bae turned eighteen, Milah left town with one of her lovers, a man named Killian Jones. Bae went to Europe with some friends for a year, then he returned to the states and went off to college – and Gold was alone, aside from the times that his son would visit him. And the summers. The summers were always their time. Gold had given up his whole life for his son. Looking back, it was worth it. He regretted nothing. If a good life for his son meant that he had to spend the rest of his days alone, then so be it. He really didn't need anyone anyhow.

"Can I have a Scotch on the rocks, please?" Gold asked the bartender. Observing the crowd as he waited for his drink, he wasn't sure if he was happy, sad, or a combination of both. It was his son's wedding day – of course, he was supposed to be happy. He would have liked for his son to not parallel his life choices so closely but, as his boy had pointed out to him on multiple occasions – this was his life to live. They were happy, and Emma seemed to be a good fit for Bae despite their age difference. Once it was ready, Gold took his drink and walked toward the door, away from the joyful crowd. He didn't much care for crowds or noise and thought it best to keep to himself as much as possible for the evening. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass his son and his new daughter-in-law. As Gold stood at a distance to witness the festivities, someone clumsily bumped into him, causing his drink to spill all over his tuxedo.

"Oh – oh goodness, I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going," a soft, female voice said as Gold looked down at his sullied clothing.

"Obviously," Gold said dryly, then he looked up and found himself staring into the most beautiful set of blue eyes he'd ever seen.

"Here, let me see if I can clean it," the girl suggested. She had long brown hair and she was wearing a long yellow dress that was very stylish and just the right blend of formal and casual.

"It's alright, I'll – I'll take care of it." Gold limped away and headed toward the restroom. He looked over the damage to his suit, and realized that he would more than likely have to pay to have it professionally cleaned. He cleaned up the mess the best he could, then went back into the main hall. The girl in the yellow dress was standing near the guest book, signing her name. She looked up when she saw Gold returning.

"How bad is it?" she asked.

"It's no matter; I'll take care of it."

"I'm so sorry. I'll have it cleaned for you, it was completely my fault."

"No – I'll handle it. Thank you."

"Can I get you another drink?" she asked.

"I'll get it later; perhaps this was a sign for me that I've had enough." Gold leaned on his cane and smiled a bit at the girl – good lord, was he flirting with her? Who was she? "So – you're a friend of Emma's I presume?"

"Both of them, actually. I'm – kind of the reason we're here. I was running late, I was so upset to miss the ceremony but I just couldn't miss the reception."

"How are you responsible for all of this?"

"Well – Bae was my assistant last year."

"Your assistant? For what?" Gold asked, now intrigued.

"Teaching. I'm a high school history teacher, Emma was one of the students in my senior class."

"You look quite young to be a high school teacher. Wouldn't have guessed you were that far out of high school yourself."

"Good genetics, I guess. I promise you – I'm old enough," the girl said, smiling at him a bit.

"Belle, hey! You made it!" Bae shouted as he ran over to the brunette and gave her a hug. "Emma's taking some pictures with her friends, she'll be so glad you made it. I see you met my Papa."

"Your – this is your father?" Belle asked.

"Yeah, this is him. Papa, this is Belle – remember, the one I worked with last year, I told you about her," Bae said.

"You didn't tell me everything about her," Gold commented. When Bae told him he was working as a teacher assistant, he pictured a teacher more like the ones he had encountered as a lad – strict, sullen, and older than dirt.

"Come on, Belle, there's some friends I want you to meet." Bae looked at Gold, noticing the stain on his tux. "How'd you manage that, Papa?"

"Just clumsy, I guess," Gold replied.

"It was nice to meet you, Mr. Gold," Belle said as she headed out into the crowd with Bae. Gold leaned on his cane and watched her until she disappeared from view.