Archive of Our Own

“Don’t tell them that,” Rumple said, when he parked the car.

“But you know I’m right,” Milah insisted.

“But don’t tell them that.”

“But you know I’m right. If Bae spent nearly as much time with decent people, this kind of thing wouldn’t happen.”

“They’re children. They’re bound to have a few spars now and then.”

“You didn’t,” Milah pointed out. “And you’re Scottish, which is a surprise on its own.”

That didn’t humor him. “Are the English the only civilized people in your opinion?”

She smirked. “I believe a case could be made the Canadians. But that is only because I’ve never met any.”

“I mean it, Milah,” he said, his tone more of a plea than a warning. “They’re Bae’s friends. And Belle’s father rents one of my properties. The last thing we need is to make enemies.”

“I don’t want to make enemies,” she said, surprised he was even suggesting something like that. “But I don’t like Bae hanging out with those kids. You’ll see I’m right. I’m sure he had nothing to do with this.”

The situation was indeed very strange. Bae was a sweet kid. All his teachers had nothing but nice things to say about him. But so were Graham and Belle, as far as he knew. Whenever they came over to their house, they never gave him any trouble – at least no more trouble than what was expected of children.

By the time they reached the Principal’s office, Colette and Maurice French were already waiting in front of her door, along with Ylva Humbert. The children were nowhere to be seen. The secretary got up as soon as she saw him and went into the office.

Rumple interacted with Colette and Ylva on a regular basis, since they usually took their children to the park on the weekends. He only dealt with Maurice when it was time to collect rent, and even though he was on a first name basis with his wife, Maurice always called him Mr. Gold. Much like the rest of town.

Today was no exception.

“Mr. Gold,” he greeted, shaking his hand.

“Mr. French. Did anybody tell you what is going on?”

Colette said, “We were hoping they would have told you.”

“Get here, your daughter was involved in a fight.” Maurice rolled his eyes, frustrated. “That’s all we got.”

“I was surprised to hear Belle was mixed up in it,” Rumple said, looking at Colette.

She shrugged with a little smile. “You know she’s a little troublemaker.”

Milah made a sound of agreement with the back of her throat that made him nervous. But she didn’t add anything after that.

The secretary returned bringing Principal Tremaine on her heels. The woman put on a big smile that lacked in sincerity. Even though Ylva was the closest to the door, and then Maurice, she bee-lined for Rumple and took his hand. “Mr. Gold! How nice to see you.”

The perks of owning the whole town.

The frustration on Maurice’s face turned to anger. Rumple couldn’t really blame him. There was a ten year gap between the two of them and, as far as Maurice was concerned, that should grant him seniority in this kind of situation. Instead, he was being pushed aside in favor of a young man who had barely turned 30. And who, coincidentally, owned the house he lived in and his business.

Eight years of being granted special treatment, and Rumple still wasn’t used to it. Especially in situations like that. Milah, however, seemed to beam at the attention.

She took the hand of the older woman herself. “Mrs. Tremaine. Thank you for seeing us.”

“It’s the least I could do. Such unpleasant circumstances, though. I was so surprise when Bae was brought to my office. He’s such a good child.”

“How about we see our children now?” Rumple cut in, avoiding the eyes of the other parents. Although, by what he could see in the corner of his eye, Maurice was the only one glaring at him. Colette and Ylva had their eyes fixed on Tremaine’s back, and they were not amused.

“Of course, please, come with me.”

Rumple held Milah back and signaled for Maurice to go first into the Principal’s office. Colette pulled her husband after her, because he looked ready to act like a stubborn child and not move one inch. Ylva granted him a shy nod and followed in.

The three children were seated in front of the Principal’s desk. Maurice and Colette were already around Belle. The girl was a tiny little thing, shrunk against the back of her chair, with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Her uniform was a mess and there were still sticks and leafs on her hair. Colette was unceremoniously picking them off and throwing them on the ground. Despite knowing she was in trouble, the expression on her face was one of defiance.

Ylva had knelt by Graham’s chair and was staring tearfully at his bruised eye.

“Don’t cry, mum,” he said, looking a little guilty. “It’s alright. It doesn’t hurt.”

Sitting between the two of them was Bae. Milah rushed to him and pulled his chin up. He had a bruise on his cheek and a split lip. Just like Graham’s, his uniform was ripped in several places and his shirt had been pulled out of his pants. He either didn’t have the opportunity, or didn’t care to tuck it back in.

Milah asked, “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Bae pulled away from her hand. “Yes,” he growled.

“Don’t be hostile, I’m your mother,” she said, much more mildly than she would have been had he been any other person.

She pulled his chin again.

He pulled away again. “I’m fine, mom.”

Milah gave Colette and Ylva a quick look. Belle looked like she was about to cry now that her parents had arrived, but didn’t mind her mother pulling things out of her hair, nor her father tending to her scratched knees and knuckles. Graham was more concerned about reassuring his mother than anything else.

“Teenagers,” Milah said, though no one paid attention to her. “We just embarrass them.”

She stepped aside and let Rumple closer.

“You alright, son?”

“I said I’m fine, dad,” he repeated, though with much less aggressiveness.

He tangled his fingers into Bae’s curls and tried to feel any bumps. Milah waited, but their son didn’t try to get away from his father’s hand, so she reached for a curl herself and twirled it around her finger.

Principal Tremaine took her seat and said, “Do any of you want to tell your parents why they had to be summoned here today?”

“Because Gaston is an idiot,” Belle said, angrily.

Bae and Graham chuckled behind closed lips.

Tremained did not think it was very funny. “Young lady, mind your language. You’re already in a lot of trouble. And I don’t want to hear another peep out of you.” Rumple thought she was addressing both boys, but her eyes were firmly locked on Graham’s when she spoke.

Belle ignored her and looked at her mother. “He took my book, mommy! And he threw it in the mud! And you know why?”

The Principal said, “Ms. French, did you hear what I-”

Colette ignored her as well. “Why is that, my dear?”

“Because it had no pictures!” she said, outraged.

“No!” Colette said, mimicking her tone.

“Yes!” Belle responded. “And he said books without pictures are useless! That is why I think he’s an idiot!”

Bae looked up at his father. “And we think she’s right.”

Milah said, “Don’t be rude, Baelfire.”

“Language, Ms. French,” Tremained repeated, looking very upset at the lack of support from Belle’s parents. “And even if he took your book, that was no reason to react with violence.”

Rumple looked at the little girl. He knew Gaston from Bae’s class. He was a fairly large boy, the kind that was involved with sports. Belle was petite ten-year-old, with delicate wrists who spent more time in the library than anywhere else. How much damage could she have caused?

“Could you please stop beating around the bush and tell me what my daughter did?” Maurice said.

Tremaine blushed. Cleared her throat. “She kicked him.”

“Kicked him where?” he demanded, thinking a kick from his little girl couldn’t even bruise a twelve-year-old, specially one who weighted twice as much as her.

To answer his question, Baelfire stole a glance at Graham. They dissolved into giggles immediately. Tremained turned a brighter shade of red.

The five parents understood right away, and Rumpel had to fight a little chuckle himself when he said, “Shush, Bae, that’s not funny.” Then he looked at Maurice, who looked ready to burst into laughter at any minute, and Colette, who was looking at her daughter full of pride.

The only ones who didn’t seem to find the situation funny were Tremaine, Ylva, who was growing more horrified by the minute, and Milah, who gave him a disapproving look that made any attempt of laughter die in his throat. And thank god for that, because the thought of tiny little Belle beating the bully who had terrified his own child for two years was the funniest thing he had heard all week.

“And how do the two of you feature in this story?” Maurice asked, in a better mood than Rumple had found him when they shook hands.

Baelfire and Graham glanced at each other again.

Then Baelfire said, “Gaston pushed her and she fell. I pushed him back.”

Now Milah was laughing, but the sound was sardonic and devoid of any sense of humor. “I don’t believe that for a second!”

“Milah, let him speak,” Rumple said, though he agreed with her. Bae could be very protective of Belle, but he wasn’t prone to violent reactions.

“It’s true, mom,” Bae insisted. “And then his friends came at us and they were four. Graham was just pulled into the fight.”

Milah’s eyes rolled to the ceiling and then to Graham, who had shriveled into his chair and wasn’t saying anything. His mother, still on her knees in front of him, had a little spark of hope in her eyes.

“And I suppose you did nothing, Graham,” Milah sneered.

Before Graham could say anything, Bae raised his voice. “I said he was only helping, mom! I started it!”

“Gaston started it!” Belle shrieked, jumping to the edge of her seat.

“Didn’t you throw the first punch, Ms. French?” said the Principal, turning to face her.

“He took my book!”

“And they said they were going to hurt her, Papa!” Baelfire turned to face Rumple. “She’s only ten!”

“Where are the other kids now?” Mrs. French asked, brushing hair away from her daughter’s face, trying to calm her down.

“Infirmary,” the three children answered in one muttered voice.

“Is that so? And where are their parents?”

Mrs. Tremaine frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“I don’t see them here. Weren’t four other children involved in this incident?”

“They will be sent home with notes, of course.”

“Of course,” Colette repeated. “But my daughter has to sit in your office with leafs on her hair and blood on her knees while we have this pointless meeting.”

“I would call it point-”

“Is this because Gaston’s father is a council member? Or because my daughter is on a scholarship?”

“As is my son,” Ylva said, in a much less confrontational way than Colette, a mere footnote to her observation.

“I didn’t- I don’t think-” Tremaine stammered. “Mr. Gold’s son is here as well.”

“I wanted to be here!” Bae said. “You wanted to send me home with a note!”

Rumple slipped a hand on his son’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

Milah, however, said, “You should have been sent home with a note! This is absurd! You did nothing!”

“Mom, I already told you-” Baelfire tried.

Milah wouldn’t hear of it. “You are not taking the blame for something hedid, Baelfire.”

Graham’s eyes shifted from his mother to Bae, then fixated on the floor.

Was this any other kid, Rumple would have agreed with Milah, but he could understand why Bae was so protective of Graham. Wasn’t the first time Graham had gotten into serious trouble; unlike Bae, he believed a good punch sent a better message than a shout. Unfortunately for him, Graham was usually bullied by the spoiled brats whose parents didn’t think he belonged in that school in the first place. He was from the wrong part of town, with a mother who worked in menial jobs for long shifts, and a father nowhere to be found. Not a good influence.

Graham’s scholarship was hanging by a thread as it was. Besides, Principal Tremaine had barely acknowledged Baelfire’s part in the whole ordeal, regardless of what he was saying. Clearly, she wasn’t planning on punishing Mr. Gold’s son.

None of that seemed to matter for Milah, though, because she turned her angry eyes to Ylva. “Is this what you teach your son? That it is acceptable to lie in order to save your own ass?”

“Milah,” Rumple begged, very quietly.

Ylva stood up, her hand still covering her son’s. Her voice was even quieter than Rumple’s. “Mrs. Gold, I can assure you, my Graham would never do anything like this. He’s an honest child.”

Rumple saw Graham look up at Baelfire. His son shook his head the fraction of an inch.

But Graham never had the chance to speak up, because Milah sneered, “Oh, lucky me then! I found an honest Irishman.”

Rumple closed his eyes, pained. There it was.

He could hear Maurice and Colette’s heads snapping in their direction.

Ylva’s silence went from intimidated to baffled, and he could hear the difference. Even Graham had raised his head.

In his chair, Bae started to shrivel.

“Alright,” Principal Tremaine said, over the uncomfortableness that settled in the room. “Why don’t we try to solve this, then?”

“You shouldn’t say that.”

Rumple looked up. Maurice was walking to Milah.

That didn’t seem to bother her. “So you’re glad your daughter is exposed to these kind of people?”

“Excuse me?” Ylva said. Her voice was louder than Rumple had ever heard before, and yet it was still barely above a whisper.

“If you people have a problem with where they came from, that is yourproblem,” Maurice said. “Don’t go rubbing that on people’s faces.”

“It’s called giving an opinion.”

“It’s a terrible opinion. There are children in the room.”

“I’m sorry,” Rumple said, frantically, trying to take the focus away from Milah, as well as state that he did not share his wife’s thoughts. “You’re right. We should focus on the situation at hand-”

“Don’t, Rumple, you know I’m right! This is exactly why he shouldn’t be mixing himself with these kind of people. This was bound to happen.”

Bae covered his face with his hands. Graham let out a little growl that his mother hurried to shush. In her chair, Belle was looking from one grown up to the other, very confused, as if she couldn’t grasp that strange concept of “these kind of people”.

Colette got up. “Excuse me, is that directed to us as well?”

Rumple tried, “Of course not-”

Milah didn’t let him, “If the glove fits.”

Colette stared at her. “I’m English too, you know?”

“Barely!” she scoffed.

Maurice’s face turned red. Even Ylva said, “This is absurd,” under her breath.

Milah’s head turned to face her. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“Leave her alone,” Colette said, not at all intimidated by Milah’s demeanor. “What did she do to you?”

“My son didn’t do a thing, and yet he’s here.”

Maurice exploded, “Do you people think you can just come here and say whatever you want because you own this town?”

Rumple started saying, “No, that’s not-”

“This isn’t how we do business in this town, mate!”

Milah shouted louder, “We don’t own the town, mate!” she said, mimicking his Australian accent very poorly. “Just your house!”

Maurice pulled Belle’s chair back, making the girl rock and almost lose her balance. “Honey, get up, we’re leaving.”

Principal Tremaine got up, “No, actually, we’re not done here.”

“I am not spending one more second in the same room as this…” he searched for a word that wouldn’t be completely inappropriate in front of children. “As this brat!”

“Oh, that is very classy!” Milah shouted back.

“Milah, please!” Rumple said, speaking louder this time. “Lets all calm down!”

“But did you hear what this pig called me?”

Colette, sensing the word “pig” would probably trigger another insult from her husband, took him by the hand and announced to the room, “We’ll be right back!” Then pulled him outside.

The silence that followed was a blessing.

Rumple looked at Belle, who seemed even smaller now that her parents were gone and couldn’t protect her from Baelfire’s scary mom. He gave her a little smile, letting her know everything was alright, even though he could see that Milah had already locked her sight on Ylva and was planning her next move.

Two down. One to go.

In his chair, Baelfire wasn’t emitting a sound, be Rumple could feel the soft vibration from the hand he had on his shoulder.

“I think we need a break ourselves,” Rumple said. “Ylva, could you please look after Belle and Bae while we-”

Milah snapped, “Are you kidding me?”

“Milah,” he said, between gritted teeth, “the children are upset, and that includes your son.”

“He should be upset, he-”

“Lets just step outside for a moment,” Rumple said, firmly, “and calm ourselves down.”

Tremaine said, “Mr. Gold, I will be here, you don’t have to-”

He turned to Ylva. “Would you mind? We won’t take long.”

Ylva looked at Milah, who was seething with anger. But nodded.

Rumple thanked her and pushed Milah by the hand, much like Colette had done with her husband. If Milah decided to be stubborn and not leave, there wasn’t much he could do with a cane and a bad leg. But she only resisted for a second before letting go of his hand and storming out on her own.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked, once they were out on the corridor. Thankfully, Colette had dragged Maurice much further and they were nowhere to be seen. “That boy just set up our son to take the blame for him and you ask his mother to babysit?”

Rumple tried to keep his voice as non-confrontational as he could. If Milah perceived him as an enemy, then there was no telling what she might do. “Don’t you see how upset Bae is?”

“And how is that my fault?”

“You are screaming at his friends’ parents.”

“Yes, thank you for your support, by the way.”

“What did you want me to say?” he asked, helpless.

“I wanted you to help me get our son out of there before he gets expelled! He’s too naive and these people are trying to take advantage of him.”

“Milah-”

“But no! You just want to play nice, regardless of the fact that they got our son into trouble in the first place.”

The clacking of heels made her stop talking. Colette was returning, alone. Milah was smart enough to hold her tongue and Rumple kept his eyes on the ground until the door closed behind her.

Milah continued, “I should be in there with my son, before they try anything else.”

Rumple put himself between her and the door before he could realize what he was doing.

Milah was taken aback from that. “Are you serious?”

He tried to sound reasonable. “I promise I’ll take care of everything. You’re upset and there is no reason for you to stress yourself anymore than you already have.”

“He’s my son.”

“Milah, I promise you nothing bad will happen to him. I’ll talk to the Principal and clear everything up. Can you please go wait in the car?”

She didn’t answer at first. He knew that, if she wanted to, she’d kick that cane away from him and just push him to the ground. Wouldn’t even be very hard. She had done it before.

But she said, “I’m not going anywhere without my son.”

A compromise. As good as anything else.

Rumple nodded. “Wait here.”

He opened the door to the Principal’s office. Colette and Ylva looked up. Both looked tired, but not angry at him.

“Bae,” he called, “come here, son.”

Baelfire didn’t even look at the Principal to ask for permission before getting up. Tremaine looked ready to protest, but didn’t.

Rumple smoothed his hair. Bae didn’t look up, but he could see the tears anyway.

“I need you to go with your mother now, alright?”

Bae protested, “But Graham-”

“I’ll take care of everything. Nothing will happen to your friends.”

“Promise?”

“Yes. Just go sit in the car with your mom.”

Bae walked up to his mother, but refused her open arms and walked straight past her.

When they were gone, Rumple closed the door and went to stand behind Bae’s empty chair.

“I’m sorry for my wife. It’s been a difficult day.”

“It’s alright, Mr. Gold,” Principal Tremaine reassured him, even though he was addressing the other two parents in the room. “We were just waiting for you.”

“We told Mrs. Tremaine we didn’t want to discuss things without you being present,” Colette said.

“Thank you.” He addressed the Principal. “I’m sorry I had to take him away, be she was very upset.”

Tremaine dismissed that with a shrug and another fake smile. “That is fine, Mr. Gold.”

“We’ve already determined none of them were to blame for this incident, Rumple,” Colette said, conversationally. “I don’t see why he should stay.”

“Excuse me?” Tremaine said, almost laughing at that statement. “I don’t believe we-”

“I’m sorry, didn’t we?” she asked, defiant. “As far as I remember, we already determined Gaston started this by damaging my daughter’s private property.”

Belle said, “Yeah!”

Brave little thing, Rumple thought to himself.

Tremaine said, “Well, I don’t think we determined-”

“I agree with Mrs. French.”

From the other side of her desk, Tremaine went quiet. Even Colette seemed a little surprised at seeing him agree with her. After what Milah had said, she wasn’t expecting him to do much more than just nod and try to get his son out of that situation. Agreeing with her could easily get him into the doghouse.

“I mean,” Rumple said, fidgeting with his cane. “As Mrs. French said, Belle shouldn’t have been bullied in the first place.”

“Well, no,” Tremaine said. “No, of course, but you have to understand, Mr. Gold, that the whole thing was, well, quite violent.”

“How violent?”

“What?”

“I asked, how violent?” Rumple repeated, throwing a glance at Colette. “Broken noses, internal bleeding?”

“No!” she answered, shocked at the suggestion. “Dear Lord, they are children!”

Rumple shrugged. The indifference didn’t feel natural on his shoulders, but he didn’t mind. “Then just children things. A few scratches and bruises.”

“Yes, I mean, young Mr. Lefou has a black eye.”

“Like Graham?”

“Yes, but you see, the thing is, it is not acceptable behavior. Of course, I wouldn’t dare say Baelfire was to blame for it, Mr. Gold.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Of course not.”

“Because he just stated he was, in fact, to blame for it.”

“Yes, but you see, what I, what I meant-”

“Are you calling his son a liar?” Colette cut in, making the Principal turn red.

Rumple glanced at her again. Smart move.

“No!” Tremaine said. “Of course not!”

“But Bae said he is to blame, and yet you insist he isn’t,” Rumple said, doing his best to sound offended.

“No, what I meant is-”

“Could it be that you simply meant that, even if he was involved in the situation, that his actions were excusable, giving the circumstances?”

“What I meant- Mr. Gold, I wasn’t-”

“And, thinking about it,” Rumple continued, giving the woman no time to explain herself, “wouldn’t you say that it was the school’s fault for not dealing with Gaston when the first offense was committed?”

Colette smiled. “I think this is a very good point, Mr. Gold. There were no monitors outside, I take it?”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“Monitors,” Rumple repeated. “To watch out for harassment and bullying?”

“I don’t think-”

“Which is a serious problem in this school,” Graham said.

Tremaine stopped rambling. Stared at him. Ylva didn’t bother to shush him.

“Young Mr. Humbert is right,” Rumple announced, with a little smile. “Wouldn’t you say so, Mrs. French?”

“I couldn’t agree more, Mr. Gold. Mrs. Humbert?”

Ylva dared to smile herself. “I believe he is, Mrs. French.”

The three of them turned to face the Principal and didn’t say another word.

Tremaine stared at them, feeling cornered by their sudden silence.

“I, I mean, I wouldn’t say, that is not the same as…”

She waited for them to interrupt or say anything else. They just waited.

“Yes,” Tremaine sighed. “Yes, I believe the school was somewhat to blame for this event.”

“And therefor,” Rumple continued, “I believe any punishment would be unfounded, yes?”

Tremaine looked very displeased, but she said, “I believe I can let them off with a warning.”

“Which will not be on Bae’s permanent records.”

“Of course not, Mr. Gold.”

“Nor theirs.” He indicated Belle and Graham.

“No,” Tremaine said, reluctantly. “No, not theirs.”

Colette asked, “How about the other four children?”

Tremaine glared at her. But noticing Mrs. French didn’t seem intimidated at all by her, added, “Yes. The other four children will also be warned.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Tremaine,” Colette said, bowing her head slightly. “This was not a pointless meeting after all. Are you ready to go, Belle darling?”

“Yes, mommy, quite,” Belle said, happily, jumping off her chair.

“Lets go home, Graham,” Ylva said, relaxing the tension on her shoulders.

“Okay, mum.”

Once they were outside, Ylva gave Colette a tight hug. “How do you even dothat?”

“Well, it was a double act,” Colette answered, looking at Rumple. “You should play the rich bastard who won’t take no for an answer more often. It pays off.”

“Don’t tempt me. I might get used to it.” He turned to Graham’s mother. “Ylva, about what Milah said-”

“It’s been a long day for everybody.” She placed a hand on his arm. “It’s fine. And thank you. If it was up to that horrible woman, my son would’ve been expelled.”

“She’s right, you know?” Colette told him, after Ylva and Graham walked away. “If Bae hadn’t insisted he stayed with them, things would probably have been much harder on us.”

“I’m sure you’d have found your way out of it.”

“Oh, no doubt about it,” she smiled. “Still, it was nice to have you on my side.”

“Likewise. And I’m sorry for Milah, she can be a little too much sometimes.”

“Moe is no Prince Charming himself,” Colette said. “Lets agree to leave our spouses out of it next time. It’s much easier to solve these things without them trying to kill each other.”

“Next time?” he looked at Belle. “Are you planning on kicking more boys, Lady Belle?”

“Only if they take my books.”

The grown ups laughed.

Colette and Rumple parted ways with a friendly “See you on the playground” and went to check on their spouses.

Milah had been patiently waiting inside the car with Bae. She was talking about something random that was making Bae very bored. When Rumple got in, Bae jumped from the backseat. “Are they alright?”

“Bae,” Milah said, “what was I just saying about bad influences?”

“It’s alright Milah. We determined that Gaston was to blame for the whole thing and that the school was neglectful in letting it happen in the first place.”

“But they’re alright?” Bae insisted.

“Yes. Everything is fine. You’re off with a warning, and so is everybody else. Put on your seat belt.”

“Why was he even given a warning?” Milah said.

“Everybody who was fighting got a warning,” Rumple explained, starting the car. “Won’t be in his record.”

“Is this how you take care of things?” she snapped. “By letting him take the blame for something he didn’t do?”

“He didn’t take the blame, Milah,” he tried again. “He was in the fight, and the warning is just a formality-”

“Right. I’m sorry I’m mad that you can’t even fight for your own son.”

“Milah-”

“I’ll walk home,” she pushed the door open and walked away.

Rumple knew the right thing to do would be to walk after her and convince her to get back into the car. But he was too tired. Instead, he turned off the car and decided to wait a few minutes to see if she wanted to come back on her own.

“I didn’t think she’d be this mad.”

Rumple looked at Baelfire through the rear mirror. “She’s not mad. She’s frustrated. She loves you very much.”

Bae didn’t say a word for a few seconds. Then, he asked, “Are they mad?”

“Who?”

“Belle and Graham. Because of what mom said.”

“No,” Rumple answered. “They’re happy you’re their friend. Specially Graham.”

Again, Bae was silent. Then, “Are you mad?”

Rumple gave himself a moment to think about that. “No. I’m not happy. But I’m not mad. You only wanted to protect your friends.”

“Am I grounded?”

Like your mother would even let me ground you for that.

Out loud, Rumple said, “No. Not this time. But no more fighting.”

“Yes, Papa.”

Rumple turned to look into his eyes. “And just between the two of us. For my peace of mind. Did you push Gaston?”

Bae looked at him as if he was evaluating the risks of telling Papa the truth. “No,” he decided. “But I think Graham was right to.”

“And which one of you gave Lefou a black eye?”

“Me,” he answered, trying not to smile too proudly. “He tried to punch Belle.”

“And did you tell him why you were punching him?”

“Because you’re not supposed to hit a lady.”

Rumpel nodded. “Good lad.”