A/N: This fic has been nominated in the Angst: Why? and Best Golden Lace categories of The Espenson Awards over on tumblr! Thanks to everyone who nominated this fic! Please enjoy a slight break in the angst.
It comes as a shock to Lacey how naturally she falls into working for Gold. On her first day in the shop – her first time there since she sold him her mother's necklace and said goodbye to him forever – she is tense and wary. Gold sets her up in the back room transcribing his handwritten payment ledgers into a spreadsheet on a fairly ancient computer. It's slow busy work and the computer freezes every half hour or so, but at least it keeps her off her feet.
"You're richer than Midas," she calls out to him after the second reboot of the computer. "You can't afford a computer made in this century?"
Gold appears in the doorway to the back of the shop, his hand braced on his cane. He always seems most confident here in his domain. Perhaps that's why it was the scene of most of their trysts. The sight of him cutting a slim figure in his dark suit still causes a slight thrill to course through her. He's handsome and dangerous and she's lost her heart to him once before. She can't let it happen again.
"I don't believe in throwing things out just because they're a little damaged," he says, his eyes glinting in the low light of the shop.
"Admirable," Lacey snarks back, slamming her hand against the side of the bulky white monitor. "But if you want me to get any work done, this thing has got to go."
A few days later when she manages to hobble in to the shop on her crutches for work that morning, she finds a brand new iMac waiting for her at the desk she's claimed as her own. She doesn't say anything. Just sits down and begins working. But there's a smile on her face nonetheless and one of the walls she's built up around her heart seems to crumble ever so slightly.
Despite her promises to herself, Lacey finds herself growing comfortable in their arrangement. She tries to stay out of Gold's way as much as possible both in the shop and at his home, for her sake more than his. After letting slip that she's a fairly decent seamstress, Gold lets her work her way through a trunk of vintage dresses, fixing seams and sewing back on buttons and the like. It's more fun work than the spreadsheets and she enjoys it. When she finds a sequin mini dress that must be from the disco era, Gold tells her she can keep it and her heart beats a little faster at the gesture.
At home, she spends most of her time in her library room, working her way through the shelves of books to pass the time. Lacey has never been much of a reader, but there's not much else for entertainment at Gold's house. He doesn't have a television, she's realized. No home computer either. It's either books or seeking out the master of the house, so she mostly sticks with the books.
She sticks to lighter fare. There's a few old John Grisham novels that are quick enough reads, if a bit predictable. Next she moves on to the Stephen King shelf. There's even an entire collection of Harry Potter novels that she plans to move on to after she finishes "The Stand". She'd never have expected Gold to harbor so much pop fiction and yet here she is, curled up in pajamas at 10:00 at night, thoroughly engrossed in the apocalypse. She almost thinks Belle would be proud of her and, for once, thoughts of her sister fill her with warmth rather than pain.
Lacey never would have expected to find herself home with a book rather than out at a bar on a Saturday night, but nothing feels the same anymore. It's like the world is shifting, a lazy river suddenly turning rapid and pulling her along with it. She feels like the changes have been so slow and gradual that she didn't realize she was moving until it was too late and she's already halfway down the bank. Now she's here in Gold's house with Gold's books and in Gold's shop with Gold's computer. She is surrounded by him at all times and it almost feels right, like things were meant to be this way. When she starts thinking like that, Lacey shakes it off and loses herself in another novel.
In addition to working in the shop, she tries to earn her keep at home. She's determined not to inconvenience Gold in the slightest, going out of her way to make sure she cleans up after herself. She helps with dinner to the best of her limited abilities, even though that means spending even more time in Gold's company.
And that is her downfall in the end. She knows she loves him. She knows his smiles and his quips and his kindness will lure her in. And yet she goes willingly down that coursing river she can't seem to stop.
It is three weeks after she's moved in when she gets her cast removed, replaced with a more manageable boot. Her increased mobility means she'll be able to do more around the shop and perhaps even manage the stairs at Gold's house. Lacey leaves the hospital, maneuvering on her crutches with much more ease, feeling almost light hearted. It's a beautiful spring day, she's healing well, and Gold was wearing her favorite tie at the shop that morning, the blue paisley one. She wants to celebrate; the first time she's felt that urge in longer than she can remember. And so she takes her most recent paycheck down to the market and buys a mid priced bottle of sparkling wine. She's certain Gold has much better in his wine cellar at home, but she's tired of using Gold's things. Buying a bottle of wine for herself with money she earned feels good, like she's not totally dependent on someone else.
It's just a little splurge. The bulk of her paycheck is going directly into a shoebox on the shelf next to her bed. She hasn't forgotten her promise to leave town again as soon as she's back on her feet, physically and financially. Three weeks hasn't managed to give her much of a nest egg, but she's got a little cash to her name and Lacey is feeling almost optimistic for the first time in recent memory. It's all due to Gold and she finds that she wants to thank him for everything he's done.
When she makes it back to Gold's, she puts the wine on ice to chill and sets about sprucing herself up. She hasn't put much effort into her appearance since the accident, but today she drags out a bit of her drugstore makeup applying blush and highlighter and mascara. By the time she's done she thinks she looks reasonably decent. With her hair pulled up and clothed in one of the nicer skirts Gold bought her when she first arrived, she almost looks like her old self.
When Gold gets home from the shop a while later, Lacey is seated at the kitchen table, the wine bucket next to her elbow and a delivery pizza spread out before her.
"What's all this?" he asks as he enters the kitchen, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
Lacey responds by propping her newly booted foot up on the table.
"Can't a girl celebrate new shoes? I got a new boot today."
"Ah," Gold breathes. "So you're healing up well then?"
Lacey frowns at him. He almost sounds disappointed at her progress.
"Try not to be too thrilled," she deadpans.
"I am," he says unconvincingly. "Thrilled."
He turns his back on her and Lacey half expects him to leave the room. But he just crosses to the kitchen cabinets and pulls out two wineglasses, holding them by the stems in one hand.
"Does this mean you'll be moving out soon?" he asks, his back still to her.
Perhaps he does want her gone after all. Perhaps she is the nuisance she expects to be. Perhaps all Gold's kindness over the past few weeks has been nothing more than a sense of obligation, like he owes her something for the sex and the fact that she wears his dead wife's face and nothing more.
"I guess I could go back to my old apartment now," she says, her heart sinking in spite of herself. "Stairs aren't the issue they were."
She doesn't want to go, as sickening as it is to admit. She's enjoyed her time here and she shouldn't have. As soon as the awkwardness started to wear off she should have hightailed it out of this pink palace and slept rough rather than keep on feeling like she might actually belong somewhere. Any time Lacey has ever felt the least bit happy it has immediately been torn from her.
She sold all her furniture. Her pitiful little apartment will look even more pitiful without her second hand sofa and the card table she used for dining. She supposes she could find a mattress for cheap, something to sleep on at least. But that would cut in to her already small stack of cash. It would set her back on ever leaving Storybrooke and now that she knows where Gold stands it seems pertinent she keep that dream on track.
Gold returns to the table, setting the wineglasses down with a gentle clack. Lacey isn't sure if alcohol will make things better or worse now. Her celebratory mood has evaporated, but getting shit faced is an appealing idea. Maybe she should skip the wine and try for something stronger.
"You don't have to," he says, his voice so low she almost misses it. "Move out, I mean."
Lacey just stares at him her heart beating rapidly in her chest. It seems like something important might be about to happen and she's not sure what.
"You're already settled here," Gold continues as he pops the cork on the wine and pours them each a measure of it, sparkling and frothing in the glass. "Since you're only staying in Storybrooke on a temporary basis you might as well stay here rather than move only to move again a few months on."
Lacey lets out the breath she was holding, pulling the wineglass to her and taking a fortifying sip. "Okay," she agrees. "I'll stay."
Gold looks up at her in surprise. He was expecting her to leave. Lacey concedes that there's a good reason for that. Running away is what she does best after all.
"Good," he says after a long moment, his eyes drifting away from her again. There's a tension in the air, something Lacey doesn't want to inspect too closely at the moment, so she just drinks more of her wine and pops open the pizza box to offer Gold a slice.
After dinner they take their wine into the living room and sit on the sofa together. It's uncharted territory. Usually after dinner and the subsequent clean up, Lacey retires to her library and leaves Gold to his own devices. But something feels different tonight.
The bubbly wine has gone slightly to Lacey's head. She hasn't had anything to drink in a while and she thinks her tolerance might be shot. She knows she should probably just go to bed. But instead they talk, about the shop, about the town, about the fact that Mary Margaret Blanchard apparently up and murdered some poor woman. When Lacey asks Gold if he thinks she's guilty he just gives her an enigmatic smile.
"Of course not," he says. "And if she's smart enough to hire me as her attorney I'll prove it."
Lacey laughs, throwing her head back. It's not even that funny, but she's half drunk and it feels so damn good to just laugh about something. She thinks there was a time when she was fun and carefree but it feels so long ago she can hardly remember. It's like her life was separated into two halves, before Belle and after Belle. The Lacey after Belle has never been someone she particularly warmed to. But then again, the Lacey before Belle was probably pretty shite too.
She downs the rest of her wine, thunking the glass down on to the coffee table. They've almost killed the bottle and Lacey thinks it was money well spent just to feel this loose and happy for once. She's been miserable for so long and she just wants to feel good, for one night. What could it hurt other than her heart, her sense of self preservation and the tenuous grip she has on life as a whole?
With that in mind she leans back into the couch, scooting a little closer to Gold. She can feel the warmth of him through their layers of clothes, smell the scent of his expensive cologne. If she closes her eyes she can almost remember exactly how it felt to have his hands on her, his lips worshipping her, his cock thick and hard inside of her. It's been so damn long.
She trails a hand through his hair, pushing back the long strands from his forehead and Gold leans in to her touch almost as if on instinct.
"You're a good man," she says, tugging on his hair until he's forced to look at her. "I know I never say that, but it's true."
She's been so quick to cast him as the villain in her story because it's easier than admitting the truth: that she fucked up as badly as he did, that she's brought every ounce of misery on herself. But Gold has always been here trying his best to keep her head above water. Whether it's actual love or obligation or Belle that keeps him tied to her she's still not certain, but she's also not entirely sure it matters.
Gold's eyes are shadowed, pained as he watches her.
"I'm really not," he says, shaking his head and causing the rough five o'clock stubble on his jaw to scrape across her palm. She shivers at the friction, imagining that stubble scraping somewhere lower down. Lacey moves her hand from his hair, letting it drift down to cup against his cheek instead and Gold lets out a sigh at the contact, his eyes fluttering closed for just a moment. And she knows then and there what she wants more than anything. And she's had enough wine to silence the alarm bells in her head.
She leans forward, ever so slightly. They're already so close on the sofa that it takes little enough movement on her end to bring her lips up to his, brushing against them lightly.
Gold's eyes fly open in shock and he nearly flinches. Lacey pauses, waiting for him to tell her no or pull her closer or do anything at all.
"What are you doing?" he rasps out, his eyes a little wild. He looks skittish, frightened. She did this to him. She's the one who put that look of fear in his eyes, that she will love him and then leave just as everyone does. Just as Belle did.
"Kissing you," she says frankly.
Gold shakes his head.
"Kissing me breaks the promise, remember?"
She does remember. She told him things wouldn't go back to how they'd been. She knows that she will not survive losing him again, of giving in to this thing between them and watching it crumble under the weight of so many memories. But Lacey has always been the self-destructive sort. She will burn and she will take Gold down with her until they are nothing but ash, but they'll be ash together. She's tired of fighting it.
"I don't give a fuck."
She leans in to Gold again, and this time he doesn't push her away.
