dreaming of tomorrow. [Peter Pan OUAT]

8- Nasty Habits

8: Nasty Habits 

Felix lead the old Lost Boys through the forest, "Feels like just yesterday I welcomed you to Neverland the first time, Baelfire." 

Neal kept his head down while he kept walking in front of the boy. 

"Gotta say, I hoped I'd never see you again." 

"Then maybe Pan shouldn't have taken my son," Neal answered unable to stop himself. 

Felix pushed his back making him walk faster, "Maybe you should've left well enough alone." 

Neal had a smirk on his face for a split second, "I'm gonna get him back." 

"You really believe that? You were a Lost Boy. You know Peter Pan's not to be trifled with. You know how long he's been searching for the heart of the truest believer. Do you really believe he'll just. . ." Neal moved his hands like all those time when he got caught by the cops. He freed himself from his bonds, "Give him up?" 

"Maybe if I asked nicely," Neal joked. 

Felix chuckled at the man, "You may have grown up, Baelfire, but it would appear you have grown up stupid." 

Neal wrapped the rope around his right hand, "I have grown up. I don't know if I'm stupid or not, but I do know how to tie an overhand knot." 

He turned on his heels and punched the boy in the face with his hand wrapped in rope for a little extra sting. 

Felix groaned as he fell to the ground. Neal began to pant taking his jacket off looking around to make sure there were no Lost Boys. 

"I'm not a boy anymore, Felix. I sure as hell ain't lost." 

He threw this jacket and bonds to the ground running in a different direction. 

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A boy sat at his desk drawing in coal. "Bae," Rumpelstiltskin called while opening the door. 

The boy looked up to his father, "A present. Something to sharpen your coal with." 

Bae put down his coal and looked at the knife his father placed on the table. 

"Where did you get it?" 

"Oh, from a man who no longer needed it," his father answered looking away from his sons gaze. 

The boy had his eyes fixed onto the knife, "You mean taken from a man who couldn't pay you." 

"Bae. . ." 

"Papa, I told you, I don't want anymore gifts from the people you terrorize," his voice now more stern as he had been through this before. 

Bae held the knife in his hand and slid it off the table, it dropping with a thud. 

Rumple stared at his son confused of why he didn't want it. 

"Then what do you want? Tell me, son. What would make you happy?" 

The young teenager stood up from his seat already knowing what he wanted, "Leaving this place. I'm tried of staying in this hovel all the time." 

He now was up walking around the tiny place he called home, "Well, that's easy to fix. How 'bout a castle? I could build you a palace so magnificent its shadow would blanket the countryside." 

The boy then turned to face his father, "That's not what I mean. I wanna go out, have friends, see the world beyond these four walls. Papa, why can't you just trust me to do that?"