Hey guys! This is my first attempt at an 'In Plain Sight' fic, seeing as the show is back for its summer season. So excited!
Anyways, please review, reading all of your comments really does make my day! Hope you all enjoy! xx
When it happened the first time, Marshall chalked it up to residual feelings that just hadn't been resolved yet.
When it happened the second time, Marshall chalked it up to the impromptu undercover work that had taken place that day that involved a very revealing dress.
When it happened the third time, Marshall knew he was in big, big trouble.
It wasn't as if he had never had wet dreams about Mary Shannon before. He had had plenty, involving everything under the sun - even Stan's desk. But the past three times he had had very naughty images popping into his mind during his REM cycle had not been welcome. At all. And the reason why they weren't welcome was the red head sleeping next to him this very moment.
He looked over at Detective Abigail Chaffee lying peacefully beside him, with a look of contentedness on her sleeping features, and felt so awful that he almost woke her up and confessed. But he couldn't do that for two reasons.
One, he didn't want to lose his girlfriend, since he really did care about her. And two, Mary would somehow, someway get wind that they broke up and, more importantly, why they broke up, and would never let him hear the end of it.
Why couldn't he be like a normal man and have sex dreams about his girlfriend? Or at least someone like Jessica Alba or Marisa Miller, or someone completely and utterly unattainable. Not someone who he worked with, not someone who was his best friend, his only friend really.
He understood the past dreams involving Mary. He had long given up denying that he had been in love with his partner. Completely, utterly, crazily in love with the least lovable person in the world. And he was okay with that - or, he was now. It had taken three years to admit to himself his feelings for her and another year driving himself insane with knowing that he had admitted to himself his feelings for her. And then that vacation she took with Mr. FBI Bastard had woken him up to the cold, hard facts.
Mary Shannon would never love him back.
Now he had a pretty redhead girlfriend with a spitfire attitude and a fiery passion for everything she loved, and who was very, very good in bed. So why in the world was he still fantasizing about his beautiful blond partner with a pessimistic attitude and a reluctant attention for everything she loved (never mind the things she didn't love)?
The morning time aside, he was having a serious time controlling his physical reactions to these dreams. He could only imagine what his psychiatrist would say. She would no doubt love to delve more deeply into his "overprotective nature that Mary Shannon seems to bring out in him," or whatever psychobabble bullshit she managed to whip out of her ass.
Avoiding looking down at his slumbering girlfriend again, he had to acknowledge the hard (in all senses of the word), simple truth.
He was still in love with Mary Shannon.
Or just wanted very, very much to sleep with her.