Now, Ian was no idiot. Something was different with Nat. Something Ian couldn't put his finger on.

Ian remembered very well the first two years of this relationship, where Nat didn't like Ian touching him. Kissing was occasionally allowed, but certainly not in public. It wasn't until they'd reached the 3-year mark that Ian had gathered up the courage to hold Nat's hand in public and it was the first time Nat had allowed it. Since then it had been a steady journey for the better.

Which was why Ian didn't understand he wasn't allowed to hold Nat tonight. Usually Ian was the big spoon and cuddled like crazy and Nat would only huff at him. But tonight he'd actually pushed him off in his sleep. And hogged the blankets, but Nat always did that.

The sun began rising, hitting the window and Ian straight in the eyes. He felt Nat shift.

"Are you awake?" he asked. It didn't sound any less stupid as you got older, Ian decided.

Nat grumbled something under his breath, shifted again and breathed out heavily.

Not awake then.

Ian almost wanted to laugh. He shot a glance at the clock and frowned. Nat hadn't set the clock. Nat had overslept. What? "Nat?" he tried, a little louder.

"Hm?" Nat grunted, not moving a muscle.

"Did you turn off the alarm?"

Nat paused, "What?"

"I think you overslept," Ian said with a smirk.

Nat paused again before shrugging, "The shop'll survive."

"Having a lie in then?" Ian asked, shifting closer.

Nat breathed in, "I think having a lie in refers to sleeping. Yet I am awake."

Ian chuckled, "Alright, ten more minutes?"

Nat didn't respond, just pulled the covers up to his chin and sighed. Ian smiled at the display. It was rare for Ian to wake before his partner. Nat was an early riser, his internal clock scarily accurate when it came to waking two and a half minute before the alarm. Ian grinned like an idiot and rolled towards him, reaching an arm across and resting a hand on Nat's stomach.

Nat tensed.

"What are you doing?"

Ian's smile faltered, "I'm cudling."

"Oh. Does it have to involve my stomach?" Nat's question was on the verge of snapping Ian quickly removed his hand and settled it on Nat's hip instead. It seemed to be acceptable, and Nat rested back against the pillow. Ian really wished he could see Nat's face. Know why he was suddenly so upset by the idea of cuddling.

Ian had always been the sappy one, but even though he may deny it to his grave, Nat craved touch like crazy. One day Ian had run his fingers through the man's hair because it looked soft – and it was – and Nat had damn near purred. Not if you asked him, of course.

Ian breathed out, feeling the silk beneath his hand and his mind wandered a bit farther.

"Who's that?" Ian asked, his eyes tracking the man currently limping across the street.

The Mayor followed his line of sight and her lips briefly curled into something disdainful, "That is Mr. Gold. He owns the antiques shop down the road and he's landlord of most the properties around here."

"Oh," Ian said and then winced internally at how stupid he sounded. "Is there a Mrs. Gold also?" he asked. If he'd been referred as Mr., then surely there must be a-

"No, I'm afraid Mr. Gold has always had… issues," the mayor settled for. She coughed, "I think you may ask anyone in town, and you'll find he's not exactly well liked."

"Why not?" Ian asked.

The Mayor looked like she'd never been asked before, "With him, everything has a price. Half the town thinks he doesn't have a heart." She ended with a short laugh, like she'd just aired a private joke.

"Sounds lonely," Ian mumbled under his breath. He caught the mayor's eye, "Maybe I should introduce myself."

"I'm afraid Mr. Gold's not the type to have friends," the mayor said, again looking like she'd said something incredibly amusing and trying to hide it.

"Oh, well I was only thinking of a drink," Ian said aloud, instantly regretting it when he saw the mayor nearly snorting out a laugh. It seemed she'd seen through him.

"Mr. Rawlings, I wouldn't think Gold would be interested," she said firmly, putting pressure on the last word and he could have sworn her eyebrows were raised, just a fraction of an inch.

"Only one way to find out," he replied, voice echoing more confidence than he actually felt.

The mayor shot him a look of surprise, but gave him a sharp smile and let him go without more words. Ian walked towards the direction of the shop she had mentioned.

Mr. Gold Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer.

Did this guy not have a first name?

He looked at the displays in the windows. Everything looked clean and tidied, despite containing hundreds upon hundreds of items. He could see a sword, a globe, glass unicorns, several clocks, assorted pieces of jewelry and bits and pieces of fine china. He couldn't possibly account for every item even if he had a month to do it in.

"May I help you?"

Ian almost jumped, and he turned on his heel.

Mr. Gold was more handsome up close.

And that accent should be illegal.

"No, I'm just looking," Ian spat out and Gold shot him a doubting look. One raised eyebrow was all it took for Ian to know that Gold thought he was an idiot.

"In that case; please?" Gold gestured and for a moment Ian was frozen. Before he finally realized he was standing almost directly in front of the door to the shop and awkwardly shuffled out of the way. Gold limped past him without a glance and Ian swallowed.

Well. That went well.

He breathed out, looking back towards the diner he'd initially been pointed towards. He started walking, only once turning to look back at Mr. Gold's shop. He then noticed a nice car parked down the alley beside the shop and secretly envied Gold's apparently decent paycheck. He was so busy looking he bumped straight into a redhead and the man's Dalmatian.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ian instantly said, reaching out to steady the wobbling man. The dog's tail wagged and it inched closer. Ian let the dog lick his hand before the owner began speaking.

"Please, I wasn't looking either," he said, voice soft. The redhead looked Ian up and down, "Are you new in town?"

"Is it that obvious?" Ian sighed.

The man laughed, "Sorry. The town is pretty close to one another. My name's Archie Hopper."

Ian stuck his hand out and they shook, "Ian Rawlings."

"May I ask where you're headed?" Hopper asked, a gentle smile on his lips. This man somehow had the ability to calm anyone within a radius of three feet.

"Um. Granny's B&B? I'm looking at a place to stay for the night," Ian said.

"Well, Granny's is just when you come into town. How did you miss it?" Hopper asked.

Ian coughed, "Well, I became distracted by Gold's… shop."

"Ah, that man does have very interesting items," Hopper nodded. This time the smile was more forced and Ian was dying to know why everyone seemed so disdainful of Gold. And if he should abandon this pursuit now, and leave for England. "Very lonely though, I should think," Hopper continued.

"Oh?" Ian played dumb.

It worked, and Hopper elaborated, "Well, he pretty much owns the town, so everyone's afraid of him."

"You too?" Ian asked.

Hopper snorted, "Well… he isn't the kind to spit insults and harmful words in people's face. But he can be very blunt, and he's highly unlikely to give second chances without some sort of price. Everything has a price in his world."

"Even plain kindness?"

"I don't think the word 'kind' is something he's too familiar with," Hopper said.

"Well, I shall introduce it to him over a drink," Ian said quickly. If he spoke this with a witness there'd be no turning back. Now he'd made an informal promise, both to himself and to Hopper.

Hopper's eyes widened, somewhat admiring, "I must say, I don't think anyone in town can brag about buying Gold a drink."

"I like to stand out from the crowd," Ian smirked and once again his words were more confident than his heart.

"Good luck with that. I'm afraid I must be going now," Hopper said.

"Of course," Ian stepped aside and Hopper nodded as a parting gesture, walking down the street with the happy Dalmatian. Ian let out a sharp breath and began to walk towards Granny's with determined steps. Tomorrow or the day after that, he would ask Mr. Gold out. For a drink. Strictly innocent.

Ian was suddenly returned from memory lane by Nat shifting under his hand. "Ready to get up now?" he asked, voice only slurring a little and he rubbed his eyes. The sun was really sharp at this time in the morning.

Nat didn't say anything as he began sitting up and Ian quickly withdrew his hand, pulling himself up on his elbows. Nat had already swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his back entirely to Ian.

"Are you alright, Nat?" Ian had to ask.

"I'm fine," Nat said slowly. Ian rolled his eyes.

"Did I do something?"

"No. No, it's nothing," Nat insisted, getting out of the bed and used the bedpost as support while limping to the bathroom. Nat didn't look angry or sad. Just tired. Ian pressed his lips together, debating whether he should forget it or ask again. "Where are my painkillers?" Nat called.

Oh. It was one of those days.

"You put them under the sink," Ian called back.

"Right."

Ian sighed, "Shall I drive you to the shop?"

"No."

Great. Single syllables ahoy.

This was going to be a great day.