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Mazzy Star

In truth, Mary Margaret had rarely felt more self-conscious than as she did when stepping into Dr. Whale's perfect bachelor pad of a house. Not Dr. Whale, Connor. She couldn't keep calling him by his title now that she had agreed to go home with him for coffee. For sex, she mentally corrected. She was here to have sex with him and there was no use denying it. Meaningless, loveless sex. And why not? She was a grown woman, single, and, yes, lonely. Engaging in a consensual act with an attractive and equally unattached man. There was nothing wrong with that.

But it felt wrong. Worse than wrong, a betrayal. Why was that? She didn't have anyone to betray. As for David, he was probably in bed with his wife right now, doing exactly what she was about to do. Don't think about him, she commanded herself, shaking off the shiver of anguish that the thought elicited.

"Everything alright?"

Mary Margaret looked up to find Connor staring at her with a grin that could only be described as predatory. He stood in the middle of the living room, unmoving. Waiting.

"Of course," she replied with the best smile she could conjure up. Understanding he wanted her to make the first step, to come to him willingly, she took a few uncertain steps in his direction.

You don't have to do this, an inner voice shouted, it's not too late to run away. Annoyed with herself, Mary Margaret swiftly closed the distance between them.

"Good," he grinned harder and nodded, before bringing his mouth to her ear to trail kisses up and down her neck. "It's about time you loosened up, don't you think?" he whispered, sounding amused.

His mouth finally came to meet hers and the liquor on his breath reminded her that she was more than a little tipsy herself. Would they be here together if she wasn't? She'd never had a one night stand, had never even entertained the idea before. This was so unlike her.

She'd always been such a good girl.

But David had awakened something in her, a yearning not just for love or companionship, but for something rawer, deeper. She craved a true connection, emotional and physical. One she wouldn't find tonight, she knew.

"Come on," Connor said, grabbing her hand. "The bedroom's this way."

How long had it been since she'd last done this? She couldn't even remember. As clothes were shed and their slow kisses turned feverish, his warmth, the weight of his body over her gave her a genuine thrill of want. Mary Margaret shut her eyes in delight, only to be assaulted with visions of a sad smile and the bluest of eyes that twisted a blade within her chest.

Stop, she berated herself, forcing her eyes open, don't think about him. Don't think about him, don't think about him. As it turned out, there was no helping that.

Mary Margaret woke up with her arm wrapped around a warm male chest and a smile on her face. This is nice, she thought as she stirred, an instant before reality came crashing over her.

With the thrill of the moment gone and the alcohol buzz long faded, there was no escaping the fact that she was lying naked in a semi-stranger's bed and her heart was no less broken than it had been the night before. Suddenly self-conscious, Mary Margaret put some distance between herself and the man next to her, tugging on the sheet until it covered her chest.

"Who's James?" Connor yawned, before shifting to rest flat on his back.

"Who?" she asked, startled by the question.

"I don't know," he said, tucking a hand under his head. "You're the one who keeps calling him in your sleep."

"I... don't know anyone by that name," Mary Margaret replied, confused. It rang a distant bell, one she couldn't quite place and for some reason, it bothered her.

"Listen, I've got to get to work early this morning."

"Oh. Right." She couldn't help but feel an instant pang of shame at the tactless dismissal. "I'd better hurry anyway. Emma will wonder where I've gone."

"Do you need me to drive you home?"

His reluctance to follow through was so comically obvious that Mary Margaret couldn't refrain from chuckling. "It's okay," she said, scanning the room for her underwear, "I can walk."

"I'm not ditching you, you know," he offered, not unkindly. "I really do have an early morning lined up."

"Hospital hours, I get it," she replied with a forced smile. "Don't worry about it."

The flowers were unexpected, as were the phone calls. She'd thought that, after their night together, Connor had gotten what he'd wanted from her and would move on to other prey, but he seemed keen on seeing her again. Although she had to admit, she felt a little flattered to be pursued this way. However, Mary Margaret was wary to accept going on another date with him. She had yet to give him a definite 'no', though.

The reason she couldn't make up her mind was that it was still engrossed with thoughts of another man. Mary Margaret couldn't remember ever seeing David Nolan in Storybrooke before his accident. She would have noticed his eyes, she was quite sure. And she certainly wouldn't have forgotten that smile, had it ever been pointed in her direction. The town was too small for them to have never crossed paths before, wasn't it? But whenever she tried remembering, her mind grew foggy.

Nowadays, however, David was everywhere, always standing in her way. He was seemingly constantly out and about, shopping for groceries, dining out, dropping by the bookstore or just walking down the street, hand in hand with his wife, making Mary Margaret's life a living hell.

She'd hoped the scorching pain of the first days would quickly fade into more of a dull ache, but it hadn't happened yet. Every time she caught sight of him, the wound reopened and bled anew. There was nothing she could do about it, she had no choice but to soldier through the awkward hellos and the sideway glances.

When he looked at her, his eyes grew impossibly soft. She wanted to hate him for it. The last thing she wanted for him was compassion, or pity, or whatever that was. But his smile still sent goosebumps up her spine. It was so completely unfair.

None of this was lost on David's wife. As weeks passed and uncomfortable encounters started adding up, Kathryn's smiles grew tenser, her voice less friendly. Whenever she'd catch sight of Mary Margaret, she would automatically wrap a possessive hand around David's waist and move closer until they walked hip to hip.

The message was crystal clear. Mine.

As pleased as she was with her new living arrangements with Emma, Mary Margaret relished her solitude. She often went out for an early breakfast at Granny's for a little alone time and, unwilling as she was to admit it, a glimpse of David as he picked up his morning coffee to go.

One morning, she was so engrossed in the book she was her reading that she didn't notice the man standing next to her table until he cleared his throat, quite blatantly, in an effort to gather her attention.

"Connor, hi," she replied, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, you haven't answered my messages, so I thought I might as well make it impossible for you to ignore me," he replied with a grin. "Mind if I sit with you?"

"I, erm," she started, but Connor was already sitting opposite her, stretching his legs under the table until they touched hers. "Alright, then."

"So, what about that date? Or maybe you'd prefer something less...formal." The look he gave her made it abundantly clear that by 'formal', he meant 'clothed'. Mary Margaret frowned and made a face but in truth, she was amused. Perhaps she was getting used to his ridiculousness.

The doorbell chimed and a familiar figure appeared in her line of sight, crossing the room in a few easy strides to go order by the counter.

Oh no, not now. Mary Margaret hadn't been the least bit anxious to find herself in the same room with the both of them at the same time. She started unwittingly, shrinking in her seat, desperate as she was to remain unnoticed. But Connor was having none of it.

"So, tell me," he said, looming over the table until their faces were close enough to touch. "What do I need to do to get you out of that prim little dress again?" he whispered by her ear.

Mary Margaret felt herself blush. Don't look, she half-heartedly ordered herself, but her eyes were drawn to him as they always were. And what she saw then gave her a vibrant thrill.

David was standing still, as though frozen midway to the door, his jaw clenched tightly as he stared hard at the two of them, at their heads drawn close. It was all there – the hurt, the anger, the confusion. Join the club. As uncharitable as it was to rejoice at someone's misery, Mary Margaret allowed herself to enjoy it, just for a minute.

"I'm free tomorrow night," she said, suddenly determined. "For dinner!" she added promptly, which made Connor grin all the more.

"Perfect. I'll pick you up on my way back from work."

The bell chimed again but this time it was followed by the sound of a door slamming unnecessarily hard.

To be continued.