Nice and fluffy! Kinda like last nights episode!
Anyways! Enjoy!
Bridget didn't have dinner with Mr. Gold. Truth be told, they'd been too busy talking for the time and the need for food to have occurred to either of them.
The teacup was nearly finished now, and Bridget found herself reluctant to finish it. She had, of course, pointed out to him that fixing it was no longer her sole reason to visit him. But she wasn't sure how to keep seeing him once she had it complete. Would it suddenly seem awkward? Would he be busy with other things, now that that had been dealt with? With their deal complete, would he still want her?
Ridiculous thoughts, those were, especially on nights like this one, where he watched her as she talked with a small smile on his lips, looking completely absorbed with her silly rambles.
And she did do most of the talking; comfortable or no, Gold was a quiet man. It made his moments of dry humor a pleasant surprise. She had meant it when she told Henry she thought he was funny. He had the sort of quirky humor that came through in short quips and teasing smirks that Bridget found appealed most to her.
That evening he'd somehow got her talking about her memories, what few she had. She hadn't touched the teacup – that whole reluctant thing – and didn't appear to care. She tried to recite what she remembered from the cell but when he asked beyond that she gave an exasperated sigh, shaking her head.
"What would you like me to say?" She said, slightly teasing, "'Oh right, I remember living with my father. I went Storybrooke public school. My favorite subject is English. My favorite color was gold, and I'm allergic to roses'?"
"…Are you?"
She laughed. Of all the responses, she didn't expect that one. "I haven't smelt one since I've gotten here. I could be."
He shook his head, muttering something Bridget didn't bother catching. "Point is, I don't remember anything before I was in that ward – you can ask all you want. Personally, I think you just ask about me to avoid my asking about you."
"You are a nosy one, dearie," he replied dryly.
"Only because you refuse to tell me anything!"
Now he laughed, "Alright. I'll give you one question."
"Why is this cup special?" Bridget asked before she could help herself. Watching his grin fade she could have kicked herself. She'd said she wouldn't ask about it!
But he was already answering her. "It's a keepsake. A memory of someone, well, let's just say someone special."
"Who?"
His lips twitched, "One question, dearie."
She pouted, "Fine." A clock in the main room gave a loud clang, shattering the calm and quiet conversation. "It's… oh, it's 8:30! Oh, I was supposed to be at Mary-Margaret's ages ago." She stood, and Gold stood with her. She'd lost track of time before, but never this bad. "Henry's not gonna be happy."
He chuckled, handing her her bag. He never asked her to stay longer when she needed to go. Merely watched her frantic gathering of things with an affectionate grin. "Henry?" He asked. "So, you're leaving me for a younger man, then?"
Bridget burst into giggles. "You are absolutely ridiculous. I'm leaving you for dinner, unless of course you want to provide me some?"
Gold gave her a long look, absently. "Maybe some other night."
And Bridget couldn't help but hope he meant that.
"He's just upset because he likes you," Emma whispered to somewhat distraught Bridget upon seeing Henry sulking because of her lateness.
"I know," she said. "I still feel bad. I lost track of time."
Emma watched her shovel another spoonful of spaghetti into her mouth. "I see that." The girl flushed a little. Emma paused before adding, "He also doesn't like people messing with, well, how he views people. And your relationship with a guy who never had a friend in this town until you showed up… it's thrown him. I don't think he knows what to do with it."
"Honestly, neither do I," Bridget answered, biting her lip before returning to her food. Leaving Emma to study her subtly, still unable to tell if she was in love, if she didn't know it herself.
FLUFF. XD Also if you caught it; yes, I did quote The Music Man at the end.
Reviews = love. Always.
