#deaf technology

“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.”