#deaf!gold

“Have you had the chance to explore town at all?”

“A small portion, however, Grace is determined to take me on an adventure and show me the entire town before school begins.” 

“Grace? Grace Madden?” Belle questioned. 

Gold nodded, his gaze slipping down to the books in front of him, restacking them from smallest to largest. “Yes, Jefferson’s daughter. Do you know her?”

“Yes, she comes to story time every now and then with -- “ 

“Hey, lassie!” a heavily accented voice called, cutting her response off. “Can you help me over here for a sec?” 

Belle sighed in annoyance. Really, Merida should know to keep their voice down to a reasonable level. “Excuse me Mr. Gold, I’ll just be a minute.” She turned to walk around the circulation desk, brushing past him on her way. 

Marcus shook his head as he looked back up to her. “N-no, please, go ahead. I apologize for taking up your time,” he managed to mutter, though he was certain half of it wasn’t heard. 

“What can I do for you Mer?” Belle questioned. 

The conversation drifted into background noise the farther the librarian walked away to help the young redhead, leaving Marcus to gather up his books and quietly heading back home for the day.

xxxxx

Marcus sighed as the door swung open, stepping into Jefferson’s rather eclectic home. While he wouldn’t call it his style, he felt fortunate that he was invited and encouraged to call the space home. 

He took a step to the side, setting the library books down on the hall table and tossing his keys into the bowl before depositing his coat on the rack — which inevitably only stood to support Jeff’s favorite top hat.

The house’s silence hugged him as he made his way up to his bedroom, flicking on the lights as he went, confirming that both Jeff and his daughter were out. Marcus ran his hands through his hair, gathering the length together to tie off in a ponytail. It wasn’t an intended look - he more so used it for convenience, but it didn’t stop his family from pointing out the longer it got, the closer he was to having a man bun. He shook his head at the idea. Clearly he did not have the looks for such a style. Carefully, he reached back to each of his ears, clicking the off button and pulling out his hearing aids, setting them aside on the dresser. 

Going from a world of sound, music, and chatter to one of near void-like silence had not been an easy transition. However, it was something he simply had to deal with at the time. There had been no time nor reason to wallow in self pity. After a while, one became accustomed to their inner monolog being a constant companion. There certainly would never be a day he wasn’t alone with his thoughts. 

Marcus hummed ‘A Whole New World’ to himself as he made his way back downstairs. The song had been incessantly playing in his mind from Grace’s last rewatch of Aladdin. He only stopped for a moment to pick up the stack of borrowed cookbooks on his way to the kitchen.

Jefferson certainly had not skimped on the budget when he renovated the house. The kitchen had just about every element any chef, or in this case, a home cook could dream of. Large farmhouse sink, marble countertops, soft-close drawers, double ovens, a gas range, along with all other top quality appliances. Such a kitchen deserved a proper chef, but instead today it would have him for company again. 

He settled one of the cookbooks into a nesting stand, flipping through the pages before settling on a vegetarian casserole. The kitchen was well stocked and easily had all of the ingredients he would need without making a run to the grocery store for any last minute items. 

Marcus pulled out a colander to place in the sink before gathering his vegetables, taking a moment to make sure his shirt sleeves were well rolled, pulling on an apron, and starting to wash them up in cool water. Even though it was still summer it was a bit late in the season to plant anything in Jefferson’s garden. Perhaps if he was still living with the Maddens coming next year it could be his and Grace’s project.  

Moving to the cutting board with the zucchini and heirloom tomatoes, he picked out a suitably sharp knife and began slicing everything to the appropriate size, glancing back up and checking the recipe book for any details. Marcus enjoyed cooking, but even at his age he could admit he was still learning quite a few things. The fact that he was cooking for others and not just himself made the effort worthwhile and that much more enjoyable. 

As careful as he would be as if restoring an antique, he layered a baking dish with the vegetables along with fresh basil, garlic, salt and pepper, finishing off the top layer with a blend of cheeses. Sliding the dish into the oven and setting a timer, he washed up his tools and hands, moving on to pull out a small baguette. Quickly slicing it in half, he spread a garlic butter mixture on either side and set it to the side to be finished off at the last minute with the casserole.  

Yet another benefit of living with the Madden’s was Jefferson’s intention on keeping up with the latest technology. If it was released, he was most likely to have already ordered it before it came on the market. 

“Alexa,” Marcus called out, the small speaker unit hanging on the wall activating, “play Ludovico Einaudi.” 

Faintly he could hear the computer respond to his request and with a few beeps it began to play one of his albums. The soft piano music twined beautifully with the string instruments, filling the kitchen with a gentle ambiance. It would probably be easier to use a device and place a pair of headphones into his ears to get the best sound without wearing his hearing aids. However, he much preferred for the drifting music to fill the space around him, pushing the wall of near silence back just a few feet. 

xxxxx

Marcus had just slipped the garlic bread into the oven as he heard the high-pitched sound of the doorbell ring. Glancing up from his cookbook where he was leaning on the counter, he saw the LED light on the doorway flashing brightly. He set the book aside as he stepped into the hall when a small body with open arms crashed into his midsection without warning. 

“Uncle Gold, we’re home!” Grace announced happily, resting her chin on his belly as she grinned up at him. 

Marcus chuckled as he squeezed her back. “Yes, I can see that.” 

Jefferson frowned as he closed the door behind him with his foot, shaking his head. “Grace, we’ve talked about this before.” He sighed as he set the shopping bags down on the hall table. “You have to give him a chance to get to the door before barrelling in like that.”

“It’s fine, Jeff,” Gold brushed off, his eyes having been glued to his friend’s lips to read them. “I saw the kitchen doorbell, it's not like she gave me a heart attack.” 

“No, she knows the rules better than that. Grace, you owe Marcus an apology.”

Grace glanced to her father before back up to Marcus, biting her lip as she released him from her arms. “I’m sorry.” 

He took a knee down next to his niece as he bopped her nose with his finger, offering her a smile. “That’s quite alright, I get excited to see you, too. Why don’t you wash up, dinner will be ready in a few minutes.” 

“Okay.” 

Jeff shook his head again as he watched his daughter take off up the stairs before. “You spoil her you know that?” he questioned, though there wasn’t much mirth to his voice. 

“Not that much. She just has a lot of energy,” Marcus responded, pushing up off the ground. He picked up one of the bags to carry it through to dining room off the kitchen. “Alexa, pause music.”

“Still, she knows the rules. We went over them half a dozen times before you moved in. I don’t need nor want my child to give you a heart attack because you didn’t hear her.” Jefferson sighed, crossing his arms as he leaned in the doorway between the two spaces.

“Jeff, you’ve done more than enough to accommodate me. More than someone could reasonably ask. If I’m not paying attention to my surroundings and my heart is really that weak, then a heart attack is my own damn fault,” Marcus lectured. Really, the man had done more than enough to assist him with his transition into Storybrooke, let alone his business start up. Compared to what he had seen… Well, a young girl would hardly be the death of him. 

Jefferson adjusted his weight against the door frame, his face holding a curious expression though it dropped with another sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”

The crowd of kids started to dissipate, her attention being snatched away from Mr. Gold as one of the kids requested the story book to check out. She happily agreed, following them to the circulation desk to take care of the task.

Only after she was finished did she take the chance to look back. Mr. Gold hadn’t moved. His shaggy hair fell around his collar, longer than what most would deem fashionably acceptable. It suited him. His hair was well kept and the rich color only helped to frame his character filled face, not to mention the most intense pair of whiskey brown eyes she had ever seen. They were so focused and keen to take in every detail.  

Overall, he wasn’t much taller than herself, maybe only a few inches. Similarly, he was also lean and compact in his frame. Not that she would mention it to anyone, she just happened to notice the muscle flex in his forearm where his cardigan and shirt sleeves were pushed up.

“Hello? Earth to Belle?”

Belle blinked, shaking her head to come back to herself, finding a very confused looking Ruby standing at the circulation desk. She accepted the cup of coffee that was outstretched to her with a nod of thanks.

“You doing alright there, champ? You were miles away,” Ruby noted. She set her own coffee along with the mini box of doughnuts between them.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m alright. Just got lost in my thoughts,” Belle answered.

Ruby nodded, taking a sip of her coffee. “Thoughts. Right,” she commented, glancing around the library. “Has nothing to do with a certain someone in here at the moment I’m sure.”

“Ruby!” Belle scolded, her cheeks flushing a light pink.

“I knew that look wasn’t for nothing!”

“Will you be quiet? This is a library.” Belle huffed, taking a drink of her coffee as she watched her friend from the corner of her eye. “What has you in such a good mood this morning?”

“I thought I was told to stay quiet,” Ruby countered, another grin stretching across her lips. “Promise you’ll let me know who it is on girls night, yeah?”

She tipped her cup of coffee in cheers to Belle as she spun around on foot to head back to the diner now that her delivery was done.

Belle rolled her eyes as Ruby left, waving her goodbye. Her friend always wanted all the details of everything even when they didn’t exist yet.

Her gaze wandered back up to where Mr. Gold had been standing, finding him now missing, wondering where he wandered off too. Belle shook her head to clear it.

She turned her attention instead to the return drop behind her to collect the books that had accumulated there. Once they were removed she loaded them onto a small metal cart, needing to finish reshelving the books before the library closed.

She had just turned the corner with the cart as she spotted Mr. Gold at the end of the isle, his eyes studying an open book balanced in one hand. He was leaned up against the bookcase with one shoulder, his opposite hand tucked into the front pocket of his jeans, and seemed to be completely at ease.

His hair fell around his eyes, shielding them from the light that poured in from the window, catching the highlights of the brown strands. Belle felt her fingers twitch around the spine of the book she placed back on the shelf, catching the sight from the corner of her eyes. She wondered if it was as soft as it looked.

“Excuse me, Mr. Gold?” She tilted her head as he didn’t seem to react, taking a few steps forward to try again. “Mr. Gold?”

Mr. Gold seemed to startle as he lifted his head, causing his hair to flick out of his face, eyes landing on her. “Hello, Miss French, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.” Mr. Gold closed the book he had been reading on his finger to keep his page as he stood up straight.

“That’s alright,” Belle replied, offering a smile. “I tend to get lost in the books I’m reading, too. So many layers to discover, yeah?”

Marcus felt his cheeks burn lightly in his embarrassment as he held up his book. “Well, I’m afraid the only layers in this book are onions,” he pointed out, showing her the cover of the cook book he had.

Belle giggled, her smile cracking into a grin. “They certainly have layers, too. Were there any certain recipes or anything you were looking for?”

“Actually, I was trying to find some ideas for more springtime dishes other than fish. I’m afraid most of mine tend to be heavier, more suited for winter than anything,” Marcus answered. He enjoyed cooking a great deal but was far more versed in stews and meat pies than anything else.

“Oh! I know just the thing!” She quickly stepped past him, rounding the corner of the bookcase to where the section overflowed to the other side. She snagged a book off the shelf before coming back around, stepping in front of him to lean up on the tiptoes of her heels, reaching for the shelf that was nearly out of her reach.

“And… this… one!” Belle announced, managing to pull the book from its spot, settling back on her heels. She quickly turned around to hand him off the two books, finding herself standing much closer than she had anticipated.

“T-thank you,” Marcus said. He took the books from her hands to add to his other selection, his fingers just brushing her smooth warm skin, leaving behind a tingling sensation. Her floral scent lingered in the space as they watched each other carefully.

Belle smiled again, letting out a nervous laugh as she took half a step back. “I’ve found some great recipes in them along with a killer sangria, as well. You should give it a try sometime.”

Marcus nodded. “I will.” He glanced down to the books in his hands, wondering for just a brief moment if there was a chance Belle would ever let him cook for her.

“Right! I didn’t even think about it. We need to set you up with a library card, won't we, Mr. Gold?”

“Oh, yes. I don’t have one of those yet,” he answered, looking back up to her smile.

“I’m sure that is something we can take care of,” Belle mentioned, heading off towards the circulation desk. She paused, turning to look behind her, her curls cascading over her shoulder. “Aren't you coming?”

The library was still one place in Storybrooke he had yet to see. With how bright and energetic their librarian, Belle French, was when he meet her, he could only imagine just how the space must feel. Perhaps after he finished his book it would be a option to see what it had to offer… And if he ran into Ms. French again it would simply be all the more pleasant.

The pair fell into quiet companionship once again now that his thoughts had settled, his focus only breaking ten minutes later with Grace yawning loudly into her hand.

“Sounds like someone is ready for bed,” Jefferson noted, walking into the den as he dried his hands on a kitchen towel.

“But I’m not done with Sir Bunnyhops’ portrait yet,” she complained, trying as most kids did to stay up past their bedtime.

Jefferson shook his head with an affectionate smile. “I’m sure that he will be happy pose for you again tomorrow. But for now, Nugget, it's bedtime. Tell Marcus goodnight.”

Grace set aside her art supplies, grabbing her rabbit from his spot before making her way over to kiss Marcus’ cheek and wish him goodnight, making sure that Sir Bunnyhops also got a kiss from her Uncle.

“Sleep well,” he wished her as she headed off to her bedroom.

Jefferson flipped the towel over his shoulder, sitting down with a sigh. “I know she’s a good kid, but like any father I dread the oncoming hormone war that is to come… I already have one teenager in the house. I don’t need two.”

Marcus’ eyebrow popped up in question. He placed his bookmark between the pages and closed it. “What do you mean?”

“You of course.”

“Me,” Marcus deadpanned.  

Jefferson nodded, folding his arms across his chest, giving him a knowing stare. “Yes, you,” he answered, making sure that he was facing him enough for his friend to read his lips. This time, there was no pun intended.

“As soon as your hearing aids died at lunch today you started giving Grace and I attitude, let alone a cold shoulder when we were trying to talk to you.”

Marcus adjust himself in his seat again, setting his book aside next to his tea cup. “I heard everything the two of you said.”

“Right, you ‘heard’ us. Yet you couldn’t be bothered to respond? I know my sign language isn’t as fluent as yours but I know how to get around well enough,” Jefferson bit back.

He deflated at that, his shoulders slumping at Jeff’s point. “It wasn’t about that… Your signing is fine.”

“Then what is it about? Because you nearly shut us completely out this afternoon.”

Marcus reached up to massage his temple with his thumb, looking to his lap instead of his friend's face. “Because… it's embarrassing.”  

“What’s embarrassing?”

“Showing the fact that I am a broken man,” he answered, standing up and pacing away from the couch. What was it that Jeff expected him to say? Did he really think he enjoyed having to flaunt the very thing that made him different in public.

Jeff’s shoulders dropped as he watched him, a frown developing on his lips. “You are not a broken man, Marcus. Far from it.”

“Yes, I am. Having to sign in public is as clear of a statement as if I had to walk with a cane! It's a handicap, but the worst part of it is that it's invisible, so instead of someone seeing it and turning away, they stare.”

“People are people,” Jeff explained, pushing himself off the couch to come stand in front of Marcus to keep the man from pacing a hole into the carpet. “They are going to be curious. Storybrooke is a small town and you are probably the only deaf person in residence that actually uses sign language. It’s new and different - of course they are going to be curious.”

He sighed heavily, knowing the look that was written across Marcus’ face. “I’m not saying that gives them an excuse, but you have to give them a chance to grow accustomed to seeing it. You’re putting thoughts into their heads that you don’t even know if they are true or not.”

He reached out to wrap his arms around Marcus’ neck, offering a lopsided smile to try and break his sour mood. “I know this isn’t easy on you, but that is what you have Grace and I for, isn’t it? The more you sign in public the more people will get used to it. And if we have to teach the whole town to sign so you can understand everyone, so be it.”

Marcus snickered before letting out a laugh, the image of Jefferson attempting to teach anyone a language that wasn’t swear words and innuendos was far fetched.

“Alright?” Jefferson asked.

There were one or two instances that stood out to him. The first was with a older man named Marco. He was very pleasant company, clearly a staple member of the community as he owned one of the few restaurants around town. Marcus had to keep his eyes on the man’s lips the entire conversation. His speaking speed was good, but his faded Italian accent tripped him up from time to time, having to piece together what words he missed to gain the context of what was being said.

The second instance had been when Doctor Archie Hopper visited later in the week. Doctor Hopper was very polite as he browsed the shop, spending most of his focus on the selection of books. He chose three of them, however, when it had come time to pay, Marcus found the Doctor exceedingly soft spoken. Even with his hearing aids set at their highest sensitivity, it was still a whisper to him.

With the week now over, Marcus was glad to enjoy a Sunday off with his family to simply relax and enjoy themselves. The two of them had been intent in taking him around Storybrooke to better introduce him to the town he now called home.

xxxxx

Grace giggled, squirming on her dad’s back as she tried to escape her uncle’s tickling fingers on the back of her knees. “No!” she protested, releasing another giggle as Jeff hoisted her higher and more securely on his back.

“Not fair unless I can enact my revenge!”

“Is that so?” Marcus questioned, his eyebrow raised in doubt.

Jefferson nodded in agreement. “I’m afraid she is right.”

“No, no, I’m afraid she’s not,” he pointed out. “I recall in section a, paragraph twelve that there is a clear clause that states an exceptions for uncles. As seeing that I am your only uncle, I claim and reserve my right to that exception.”

“No fair!” “Yes fair,” Marcus replied, grinning at his adoptive niece.

Jefferson released his daughter, letting her slide off his back to land on her feet. “Now children,” he scolded in amusement, his smirk expression fondness.

“She started it.” “Did not!” Grace crossed her arms over her chest in a mock-pout, but there was clearly no animosity behind it.  

Marcus smiled brightly, wondering for a moment if this is the life he would have had, had he not chosen the path he did. A wife, a child of their own, living in some quiet town to make sure their little one had the best chance in life…

It was a pretty dream and one he could have had achieved if his life wasn’t such a mess, but he had chosen what was right for him at the time. If he hadn’t, there was no telling where he would have ended up, however; he was pretty sure he was where he was meant to be.

The three of them took a sharp turn as they headed into the town’s bed and breakfast known as “Granny’s” for lunch, Marcus surprised that not only was Granny a real person, yet that she insisted that everyone call such.

They sat at a table at the front of the diner, Marcus’ eyes focused out the bay window it faced to take in the pedestrians walking past. The idea of living in a town where everyone knew everyone was a new concept to him compared to where he had lived previously in Boston. There you were lucky if you knew your next door neighbor or the local barista at the coffee shop, where he lived before that was quite the same, such was big city life.

Soon enough a plump older woman greeted them with a notepad in hand, her glasses sitting low on the bridge of her nose as she studied them.

“What can I get for you today?”

“Ooh! Granny, can I have cola and a grilled cheese please?” Grace asked, leaning her head backwards over the chair to look at her.

“Of course,” she answered, poking Grace’s nose before the girl sat up properly. “Jeff?” she asked, taking on his order as well. “And yourself?”

Marcus’ eyes were focused on the menu in front of him, scanning over each item with consideration, startling when a hand grabbed his elbow. He jerked back in surprise only to catch that it was Jefferson touching him.

“Did you decide?” Jeff questioned gently, releasing his hold.

“Um…just... the same as yours.”

Granny nodded decisively. “Two ice teas, one cola, two burgers and one grilled cheese.” She wrote a strike on the pad before heading off to the kitchens.

“You alright?” Jefferson questioned.

Marcus nodded, more so to reassure Jefferson than himself. It was just yet another slip up of his condition; it wasn’t the first time it had happened and certainly not the last.

The food was actually quite good. Grace only stole two of his pickle spears when she thought he was distracted, claiming innocent when he attempted to find them. The mock-investigation had sent both her and Jefferson into a fit of laughter.

As their meal came to an end he found himself losing more and more words. He thought he simply didn’t catch what Granny had said when she came for the dishes and left the bill, as she was turned away from him. However, when Jefferson started to speak it was harder to understand him. Marcus caught the general idea of what he was saying, though his eyes focused more and more on reading his lips. Static built up in both of his ears before nearly everything around him silent.

“Uncle Gold?” Grace questioned, pulling on his sleeve when he didn’t offer her eye contact.

His attention snapped to her. Grace gestured to her Father, spotting a confused looking Jefferson.

He pointed to Marcus before his own ear, placing his hands in front of himself, his right hand palm up while the left was palm down, rotating them so they flipped their positions before pointing back to Marcus.

Marcus nodded, slumping back in the booth with a heavy sigh. He didn’t have any spare batteries with him or at the shop, so he would have to wait until they got home to address it.

“Papa, can we go get ice cream?” Grace asked, hopeful eyes turning on Jefferson.

He chuckled, reaching over to ruffle his daughter’s hair. “Only if I can have a double scoop pistachio, and a bite of yours.”

Jefferson looked back to a subdued looking Marcus, quickly signing to ask about ice cream before heading to the park. While he knew he wasn’t fluent, he could still hold his own in a conversation, even when he had to finger spell longer words he didn't have a sign for. Even so the idea of ice cream didn’t seem to grab his friend’s interest, merely getting a nod in response.  

“Looks like its a go!” he announced.

Grace smiled as the three of them headed out of the diner, off to Any Given Sundae, stopping to walk backwards in front of her two guardians. She was still learning sign language from Marcus, having short lessons each week, but she was getting along quite well.

With a small girl walking backwards and attempting to sign at the same time it was easy for the three of them to gain others attention. Marcus felt his cheeks flush as a group of three young women walked past with their eyes on them. Catching a glance across the street only gave way to more audience.

Typically he was more than happy to help Grace or correct her when she struggled, but with what felt like too many eyes on them, he wasn’t interested in becoming a show. He only stopped for a moment to kneel down to allow his niece to climb onto his back to make the rest of the trip as quickly and as unnoticed as possible.

Chapter Notes:

Jefferson’s first sign asks if Marcus’ hearing aid batteries are dead.

The gesturing to the ear denotes the subject matter (the hearing aids), the hands rolling for the sign “dead” (think of ‘rolling over in one’s grave’), and pointing back to Marcus establishes the noun.

In ASL, nouns are often stated twice, especially when asking a question. If you do not interpret this into English, the ASL breaks down to: “Your hearing aid dead you?”

Author Note:

Marcus’ eyes darted over to Jefferson once again, his breathing picking up in speed, his thumb and forefingers rubbing together as he tired to calm his rising anxiety.

“Bless you!” Jefferson called, walking over to stand at Marcus’ side. He grinned as he leaned his forearm on his shorter friend casually. “Maybe you should talk to Dr. Whale about that, hmm?”

Mr. Clark tucked away his handkerchief as he nodded. “Yes well -- “

“Oh! Are you snagging up this piece?” Jefferson questioned, pulling away from Marcus. “ I had a friend with his eye on it for a while when it was listed online. He’s going to be disappointed to hear someone beat him to it!”

Jefferson reached out to snag the tag off the antique, gesturing towards the other counter. “Let me get you rung up.”

Mr. Clark nodded wordlessly and followed him over to the register without a word of protest, leaving Mr. Gold to his own devices.

xxxxx

The rest of the morning had gone fairly smoothly after that. The customers had adored Grace along with her baked goods. It really had added to the ‘small town’ atmosphere in just the right way.

While he wouldn’t consider it a booming success, he wouldn’t call it a failure either. The traffic of the town folk was steady throughout the day, all curious about the new shop and to see its wears. By the end of the day the shop had done fairly well with sales, as Marcus predicted, the smaller items were in larger demand. However, a first time customer could turn into a long-term customer, and with items being added on a weekly basis they would return.

With Jefferson and Grace at his side he was able to navigate the trickier tricker parts of communication with customers. Although Jeff shot him a look when he refused to sign while one was in the room. He had a feeling they would have a discussion about that later on.

Grace had even offered up helpful hints as to what each person had hobbies and interests in. When asked why she knew such details, she simply chalked it up to being a spy. The idea of little Grace dressed all in black being lowered from the ceiling of the National Museum of Natural History in order to steal the Hope Diamond only added to the humor of the idea.

The pair of them had been a dream team and Marcus couldn’t complain when it came time to get Grace home and fed dinner. He gave them both a tight hug before waving them off, promising that he would be home after the shop closed for the night.  

Marcus had sat down in the back for a short break after making a cup of tea when the high-pitched ringing of the bell above the door caught his attention. The sound was within his hearing rage, even without his hearing aids, so he had opted not to get an alert and notification system.

With a sigh he set his cup aside on the desk knowing it would end up ice cold and untouched, quickly heading out to the sales floor to greet the customer.

“Good —”

Marcus stopped short of his greeting as his eyes landed on the petite brunette that was currently browsing the shop. She didn’t seem to have heard him as she was absorbed in studying the objects and art throughout the shop.

Her chestnut brown curls framed her face as they cascaded over her shoulders, standing out in contrast against the light gray cardigan, layered over a floral blouse. The top was tucked neatly into a pleated black box skirt and while tights hid her shapely legs they lead down to a pair of tall stilettos.  

He opened his mouth again to speak just as her focus shifted, her gaze landing on him, finally picking up on the fact someone else was in the room.

“Hello!” she greeted, her smile large and warm.

Marcus was hopeless in doing anything but returning it in kind, his cheeks burning in embarrassment as he glanced away for a moment. He hadn’t meant to stare, but nodded in reply to her greeting.

“I saw your hours posted outside but I didn’t have a chance to come by earlier. You just opened today, right?”

He moved a tad closer to the woman, standing behind the counter as he lowered his gaze to her lips. She had a warm and rich accent with vowels that were just a bit to wide and open to catch everything she said clearly.

A nod seemed to satisfy her when he caught on to a few words, reaching behind his right ear to turn up the volume on the hearing aid, careful not to expose it from under his shaggy hair.

“I’ve only been here a couple minutes and it's already like I’ve taken a trip around the world! You have so many things here, there must be so many stories behind all if it.” Her lips spread into a smile with a light giggle following them.

“I’m Belle, by the way. Belle French.” She offered out her hand across the counter for him to accept, shaking his in turn. “You must be Mr. Gold. I run the library across the street.”

Marcus looked up to her eyes to make contact, finding the various shades and hues of glittering blue in them impossible to describe. He only had a moment to take them in before his attention dropped back to her lips, doing his best to read them; trying and failing not to notice how soft they looked.

“Do you collect all of this yourself? How far do you travel for your work?” Belle questioned, walking down the length of the counter, her fingers lightly ghosting over a few items on display. “Must have taken you a lifetime to bring all of this together…”

Belle stopped to observe a rather intricately detailed gold-metal clock that sat on the counter, steadily ticking as it tracked the minutes and hours across its face. With the hands reading downwards to display that it was five thirty-seven, it offered the appearance of a mustache.

“This is French, is it not?” she questioned, looking over her shoulder.

Marcus’ brows furrowed together until he caught onto the word ‘French’ and offered a nod of confirmation. Her warm voice was enjoyable to listen to yet her Australian accent threw not only his hearing off, but his lip-reading as well.

All accents caused people to have unique vocalizations but also different mouth positions when speaking… and reading an Australian accent was not something he had much practice with.

“France is on my list of places to travel,” Belle explained, “considering its my namesake it seemed an obvious country to visit.” She looked back to the timepiece, reading the hands once again.

“Oh shoot! I am so sorry, Mr. Gold! I wasn’t paying attention to the time at all, I’ve kept you past closing time.” Belle adjusted the strap of her purse where it was hanging on her shoulder before offering him another smile, heading towards the door.

His eyes flicked up across her face to read her expression only to be drawn back to her mouth, finding that it shared the same delighted look as the rest her.

“Looks like I’ll have to add your shop to my travel plans as well,” she noted with a chuckle. “It’s a great deal closer than France. Have a good evening, Mr. Gold.” Belle waved before she stepped out of the shop, the door closing behind her.

Marcus released a long breath that he hadn’t known he was holding, allowing himself to be in the moment to decompress the whirlwind that was Belle French.

Out of everything that Marcus had predicted to happen that day, one or two of them had come true; being left breathless and dumbfounded had not been one of them.

Chapter Notes:

“Oh! Right.”

He looked back up to the door of the pawn shop just as the blinds flipped upwards, the door opening to a very confused looking Marcus. His eyebrow drawing up in question, quietly stepping aside to allow them inside.

“Uncle Gold, there you are!” Grace perked up immediately, finding the nearest counter to place her package on only to run back and toss her arms around his middle. “We came early to help with the shop! I baked muffins and everything!”

Marcus patted her back and returned her smile. “So I see,” he spoke softly, “I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

“I had Papa bring me early so we can get everything ready for your big day!”

“Is that so?” he questioned, eyes drifting to his friend where he was unloading his arms.

Jefferson smirked but didn’t say anything, considering the fact that his daughter had really planned out everything. Grace had baked three batches of blueberry muffins, raspberry scones, and a bought an air pot, full of fresh coffee from Granny’s Diner. She concluded she would pay for with her allowance to make sure the store opening went off well.

“Yeah!” She released him, running over to steal one of the containers, opening it for his perusal. “I baked pastries so we can welcome everyone who stops by today!”

“We?” Marcus questioned. Today was turning out to have more surprises than he thought.

Jefferson snagged up the goods from his daughter in order to set up a refreshment station, making sure it was easily accessible but not in the way of customers.

“Uncle Gold!” Grace grumbled, “Do you really think we’d let you do this alone?”

With that she took off to the back of the shop to gather the rest of her supplies.

It didn’t take long for Grace and Jefferson to finish with their endeavor, leaving Marcus to stare anxiously at the clock as he pulled at the cuff of his cardigan over top his button up and tie.

How many people would actually show up? Would he actually sell anything face to face with someone? It was a small town to start with, who knew if anyone would actually want to buy an antique. What if he wasn’t able to communicate with them properly, his hearing aids only did so much in that capacity - -

A finger poking the tip of his nose gained his attention, his eyes focusing on Jefferson who was standing in front of him.

Jefferson pointed at his eye with one hand before bringing it down to point at his chest, he laid both hands flat against himself, taking a deep breath as he lifted them away a few inches, releasing his breath slowly as they laid flat again. He repeated the process again until Marcus followed his actions, taking deep soothing breaths to relax.

He pointed at Marcus, drawing his hand back to his chest, his thumb making contact while the rest of his fingers where splayed out.

Marcus nodded at the gesture. Jeff was right, he would be fine as long as he remembered to breath. He was nervous and it was alright to be, his family was there to support him regardless if today turned out good or bad.

The clock ticked over to ten and there was nothing left to do except open the shop for the first time.

Chapter Notes:

In interpretation of American Sign Language (ASL)  to English, there isn’t a sign for every single word. A series of signs, gestures, and facial expression blend together to create context.

For example: Jefferson’s first sign states: “Watch me - Breath”. He’s second sign states: “You’re fine”.