Anxious stirrings coursed through Gold as he waited for Bailey to show. Two days he fitfully waited for Bae's first day of work at the pawnshop. Two days he resisted temptation to skulk near the floral shop to catch a glimpse of his boy. The idea of snatching Bae away crossed his mind, but the pesky law would not allow that. He had to play his hand right or he'd lose any privilege he had to even come one hundred feet near his son.
Besides, there was more at stake than just Bae. The curse could have placed his son in the care of anyone from the Enchanted Forest, but the curse chose to place him with Belle and Gold could not have planned it any better, unless he could have had Bae in his care from the start. Gold had to exude patience just as he had for 300 years. Knowing that his son was happy and safe and there would sustain him for now.
He was waiting in front of the glass counter, peering diligently through all the baubles that lined the shop's window. He jumped to attention when Bae materialized outside the glass. The boy pushed open the door briskly and paused when he caught sight of Gold standing stiffly in the middle of the room.
Bae's lips formed an awkward smile as he stuffed one hand in his jeans pocket. "So, where do you want me to start, Mr. Gold?"
Gold shook off the desperate need to hold his son, to hear Bae call him by Papa and not his Storybrooke name. He knew it would take a while to fight back his emotions, but until then he'd restrain that part of himself. He shifted to turn, getting better footing on his good leg, and pointed with his cane to all the objects lining the top shelf on the right side of the shop. "I want every item on that shelf dusted and polished."
Bae made a face, but shrugged and went to retrieve the cleaning supplies off the counter without Gold even instructing him to. He grabbed the tool belt, examined it, and finally gave a genuine smile. "This is like the one Grandpa uses when gardening. Cool."
It took Gold several seconds, but it finally registered who Bae was speaking of. Belle's father, Sir Maurice, Lord of the Marchlands, but in this world he was only Moe French, a barely-making-it-by floral shop owner. This situation was truly going to take time to get used to, and Gold secretly schemed on how to bring back his son's memory sooner than how long he'd have to wait for Miss Unbelieving Emma Swan to break the curse.
"Yes, I thought it might come in handy" he replied, and felt as if his heart would wrench at having to use such pointlessly casual words with the one person he yearned to ask for long overdue forgiveness.
Gold was impressed, though not surprised that Bae appeared to be a hard worker. Bae had eagerly helped his father from the time he could walk and never complained about the long hours of staying by his father's side as he spun their meager life earnings.
"This is a lot of stuff" Bae remarked about halfway down the shelf. He wiped his brow that was glistening with a line of sweat, pushing his unruly bangs off his forehead.
Gold sat behind the counter on a rather uncomfortable wooden stool, choosing to riffle through paper work there instead of in his office. This was the only way for him right now to spend time with his boy and Gold would take any opportunity that crossed his way. "Take a break, Bae. There's a refrigerator in my office with soft drinks." He wouldn't mention the fact he had visited the appliance store the day before to buy a small fridge just to stock drinks for his boy.
Bae nodded, seemingly impressed, and disappeared in the back. He emerged momentarily gulping down a Barq's root beer. He sighed, grinning slyly. "Mama doesn't allow soft drinks in our house."
"It'll be our secret" Gold replied, mirroring the boy's grin, feeling more at ease. He knew his son well in the old world, but what qualities the boy gained or lost from the curse was still unknown to him and he felt the need to keep reminding himself of that in case Bae did something out of the ordinary.
The thought reminded Gold of something Belle had asked him, though it didn't register at the time. "What is this business with you toilet papering a house?"
Bae sat awkwardly slumped over as he used the ladder for a makeshift seat. He loudly swallowed a gulp of his drink then snickered to himself as if the question triggered an inside joke that only he was in on. "Me and a friend TPed Dr. Whale's house a month ago."
So it was true. Gold looked curiously at the boy. "Why Dr. Whale?"
Bae sighed in exasperation. "My mom went out on a date with him, but at the end of the night, Whale got real – as Mama said – handsy." The last word sounded as if a question mark should have ended with it. "She actually had to slap him to make him stop."
It took effort for Gold not to snigger. He imagined Belle in a car with Whale getting frisky and her beating the snot out of him with her tiny but deadly fist, but an unexpected wave of anger hit him at the thought of Whale getting frisky with his true love.
"That's why we TPed his house," Bae continued and he made it sound like the most natural thing in the world. It wasn't in Bae's natural to seek revenge, if you could even call littering someone's house with clean rolls of toilet paper revenge, but Gold shook it away and reminded himself again that his Bae would be a bit different. "Anyone who messes with my mom has to deal with me."
"Is that why you made that deal with me?" Gold felt three feet high at the realization. All Bae knew of him was ruthless landlord Mr. Gold. "Protecting your mother."
Bae shrugged nonchalantly, seeming shy for being called out on the fact. "Someone has to protect her."
Gold bowed his head to hide a proud smile. "And why haven't you attacked my house yet?"
Bae snorted. "I promised Grandpa I wouldn't. He thinks you'll have the sheriff ship me off to juvy or something."
"Your mother isn't as worried?" All the times Mr. Gold threatened Isabelle French with bared teeth and steely eyes flooded guilt in him. "It didn't take much to convince her about giving you a job."
"Mama's not paranoid like Grandpa. She'd scratch out someone's eyes if they simply blinked wrong at me" Bae said, a hidden sense of pride in his voice.
"You better hide your drink" Gold informed out of nowhere, but the bell clanged an instant later and Bae scrambled to stuff his can of soda behind a wide-bottomed lamp nearby.
"Hi Mama" Bae greeted far too chipper as he tried to stand casually by the ladder without fidgeting. Gold chuckled inwardly at the display.
Isabelle wasn't buying it. "What on earth are you doing, Bailey?" she asked as him fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
"Taking a break."
"A break?" Isabelle turned to face Gold, crossing her arms over her chest. "I didn't figure you as a break kind of boss, Mr. Gold. You certainly don't give any breaks to your tenants when the rent is due and they can't pay."
Gold stepped around the counter, masking the indignation he felt at her cutting words with practiced ease. "That's a different situation all together, Ms. French."
"If you say so." Isabelle spun around, her biting tone brightening. "Bailey, will you go retrieve the cooler from the car for me, please?"
Bae's eyes lit up. "Turkey sandwiches with Swiss cheese and a gallon of mayo?"
Isabelle giggled. "Of course, silly goose!"
Bae bolted out the shop in a flurry of limbs, the door slamming in his wake.
Isabelle was still giggling when she faced Gold again. "That boy would live off turkey if I allowed it." Her cutting edge was gone, and her eyes were softer. "Do you like turkey sandwiches, Mr. Gold?"
"Am I allowed to eat from your lunch package as well?" he asked mimicking her sharpness from just a moment ago.
Isabelle pursed her lips, her gaze not leaving his. "It would be rude of me not to share. It's good to see Bailey in one piece. I had expected to find my son halfway out the door ready for me to save him."
"You assumed I'd be that awful to an employee?"
"I wouldn't put it pass you, but since Bailey isn't begging to leave, I'll take it that he is enjoying his work."
Gold finally broke eye contact as he made his way back to the wooden stool behind the counter. "I take it he is. And truly, Ms. French," he paused, carefully seating himself and hanging his cane on the glass case, "-don't worry about checking up on your son. I have no qualms with children."
Isabelle nodded, seeming reassured. "I'll take your word for it, Mr. Gold. Now what is taking Bailey so long to get back?"
Gold spied the boy munching down on a sandwich, leaning against the hood of his mother's car. "I say he is not willing to share his lunch" he informed, far too amused than he wished to sound.
Isabelle spun around, mouth gapping open. "That boy" she growled, storming out the door, fists curled tightly ready to whoop her son's tail. "Bailey!"