To be honest, I didn't expect you to approve of this verse so much; I'm glad you do, though! Thank you for each and every review/favourite/follow. I appreciate you giving this story a shot so much.
Due to popular demand, here's the next installment. I've got one more planned. However, this is an open-prompt verse — should you have any ideas or wishes as to how this story should continue — drop me a line, here or on tumblr (lilygarlands is my name there.)
This ficlet is rated T. Enjoy!
A few days after that step ladder fiasco, Mr Gold's ankle is still in an extremely bad shape. He can barely walk, even with the help of his cane — while Belle was certainly not heavy, it was enough for his lame leg to completely refuse to cooperate.
And God, is he angry about that.
That damn ankle reminds him with his every step — literally — that he cannot compete with younger men. Belle is, what, twenty five? Twenty six? And he is old, crippled, vile and hated by everyone in this stupid town.
It's best he gives up now, tries to get over this silly infatuation with the girl and goes on with his life.
Easier said than done, though.
Mr Gold groans when he hears the bell chim. It means he has to get up and deal with whoever came to visit and he wishes he had closed this place earlier today.
He is so not in the mood.
It changes when he sees who exactly just entered his pawnshop.
Yes, his mood gets even worse.
"Hello, Mr Gold!" Belle greets him, smiling. He raises his eyebrow and clears his throat.
"Miss French? Is there anything with which I can help you?"
"Well, you did save my life," she laughs, casting a look at her hands. Only then does Gold notice that Belle's holding two cups of coffee, most probably ones she bought at Granny's. It's true, she did say something about owning him some coffee, but he dismissed it. He did say it was alright.
So why is she here?
"I told you you didn't have to."
"I wanted to," Belle replies, smiling at him again. "Also, as I was entering your shop, the mayor was driving by. She almost crashed her car when she saw me with these cups. Thought you'd like to know."
"She's gonna go mad, wondering what's going on," Gold chuckles darkly. He does dislike Regina.
Well, and everyone else, actually.
That's not the point.
"Will you accept it or should I just drink both as you watch me?" Gold clears his throat and thanks her quietly, taking the cup from her hand. He takes a sip and sighs quietly; dark, bitter coffee. How did she know?
"I can't believe I've never visited your shop before, Mr Gold," Belle says, looking around. She seems to like what she sees as an even wider smile spreads across her face.
He can't look away.
If that's possible, she looks even more beautiful today. Her hair is straightened and she is wearing a white stripped shirt and one of her notorious skirts, this time black. And so very short.
"Well, Miss French, you probably know that people vist me either when they want to delay their payments or when they're desperate enough to deal with me. Not many of them are interested in antiques."
"That's a pity, I find older things maginificent."
Does it apply to men?, he thinks. Probably not.
"They have this kind of magic about them, you know?," Belle continues. "You look at an item that someone was holding many, many years ago and it's just so fascinating."
"I do agree," he nods.
"Do people really try to delay their payments?"
"You're exceptional, Miss French. Not everyone in this town pays their rent when it's due."
She hums at that, and they spend the next fifteen minutes just talking about various posessions found in Gold's shop. She is truly interested in antiques and as the time progresses, he gets more and more into this topic, as he's never had anyone to talk to about his one true passion.
"As much as I hate to say that, Mr Gold, I'm afraid I have to be leaving you now. I do need to open the library if I want to have the money to pay you," she giggles and despite how much he tries not to, Gold smiles at her.
As she opens the door, he suddenly asks her, "Miss French, may I know how old you are?"
"Why?" She chuckles.
"I don't know. Probably shouldn't have asked but I was wondering why I've never seen you here before— "
"I'm twenty three."
He coughs.
"I graduated last year and instead of staying in Boston, I decided a quiet life in a small town was my true destination. The position of a librarian in Storybrooke was like a gift from heaven, so I moved here in April and here I am."
Four months. She's been here for four months before he really noticed her. He would visit the library every two weeks to collect rent and never looked at her twice.
Perhaps because she could be his bloody daughter.
"Goodbye, Mr Gold."
"Goodbye Miss French. Thank you for the coffee."
She offers him one of her brilliant smiles once more and disappers behind the door. He glances down at the bulge in his trousers and sighs deeply. That was to be expcted. He really cannot pretend he is above wanking in the shower.
The problem must be got rid of.