"You're mine." [Little Bae being happy that Rumple is his papa]
It had been a hell of a day. Between being ridiculed as they walked past the local watering hole - or in Rumple’s case, hobbling by - and not managing to sell all of the product he’d spun over the last week, he was feeling like something of a failure. It meant he hadn’t been able to buy as much food for the next few days as he would have liked, that firewood was in sparse supply. Of course, any food he’d bought would go on to Bae’s plate, and any scraps he could afford to have he would do. The blankets on his own bed would go on to Bae’s, perhaps they’d even huddle together for warmth.
It wouldn’t be the first time they’d had to do as such, but every time they had to do it, he hoped and wished desperately that it would be the last.
Still, as he sat by the small fire, brewing a pot of stew that he was crafting from the parts of the vegetables and meat that would otherwise be discarded, he knew that his son was sensing that something was wrong. He liked to treat the lad with respect, to talk to him almost like an adult so that he didn’t feel excluded from things. It did mean that as Bae asked him why he looked like he’d been crying - something he’d done briefly as Bae bathed in the little bath with a pot of water Rumple would use himself when he’d finished cooking for the lad - he was as honest as he felt he could afford to be.
He apologised that he wasn’t as able a Father as others were, unable to give him more than a simple stew for his supper. Bae, ever the light in his life had wrapped his little arms around him from behind, his cheek pressing to his Papa’s shoulder. “I don’t ever want another Papa. You’re mine. You’re the best Papa in the land.”
The sweet innocence in his voice, the sincerity of his words; it had another tear in Rumple’s eye, his hand softly resting on top of Bae’s little hands where they linked around his neck. “And you, my boy, are the best son in all the lands, and beyond.”
Money, wealth; that wasn’t what truly mattered, was it? Yes, it put more food in his belly, more wood on the fire but it would never, ever put more love in to the lad’s little heart. Not when it was already fit to burst, and left Rumple feeling as blessed as any man could possibly be.
