Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time and make no profit from this work of fiction.
AN: I know that they're setting up Mary Margaret and David to mirror Snow/Charming's story but my heart hurt so much after The Shepherd that I had to write something.
He knows that he is a good man.
He knows.
He can't bring himself to sleep with his own wife, he's not sure if that makes him a coward or if that makes him overly cautious. It's freezing and none of his clothes seem to fit right so he wears sweat pants and a t-shirt down the stairs instead of the ridiculous pajama set Catherine laid out for him. His mouth is minty, his hair smells like that stuff from Aveda she special orders. It's very different than sleeping at the hospital with the monitors beeping and the smell of bleach.
Getting comfortable is another problem, the bed is too warm, too soft. He twists and turns and when he finally does fall asleep he has horrible nightmares about Mary Margaret dying. She's been in a car accident, drowning in front of the toll bridge, a fire at her house, a wild dog. Hundreds of millions of horrific scenes play before him and he can't help but watch as they unfold..His legs don't run fast enough, his hands are just a hairs-width away. Always seconds too late. She lays there, dead and pale, her beautiful eyes open and vacant looking off into the distance.
Screaming is what wakes him. The sound echoes in his ears, it's too loud and inhuman to possibly be his. It seeps into him, his lungs gasp desperately for air and his throat is raw from screaming. The world had not changed around him since he'd gone to sleep- the crickets were still chirping, their neighbors still had the TV on too loudly. He's pretty sure he's having a panic attack because his brain can't comprehend all the emotions he's feeling- he misses her, he loves his wife, he can't do this-
David runs.
He's barefoot and can't navigate this stupid town, and he ends up at the damn bridge. It's the last place he went, he reasons and he leans his feverish head against the cold metal. His whole body shakes, he feels like he needs to vomit or cry or something because he can't take it anymore.
He walks back to his house and wonders how he can face his wife like this. How cheaters can do it.
He knows.
Mary Margaret walks- no saunters- into the Diner, red lipstick and tight jeans on.
She's got headphones in her ears and high heels on her feet and she sashays and shimmys towards the counter like a woman with a mission. The internet is down in their house and he's got months of concerned emails from his mother and old friends to read, so he hoofed it to the diner and can't help but stare in awe at her.
She mouths the words to the song and if he didn't already know he was in love with her, he'd know it now. One good twirl and she's skidding over the freshly mopped floor and right into his lap.
"Oopsie!" She smiles at him before admiring her shoes, "Emma and I went shopping today and I feel like a brand new woman."
She holds her feet out so he can admire her peeptoe heels, "You like?"
Biting his lip is probably the wrong response. He can't tell her the truth- she's obviously drunk and the words would be more damaging than helpful to their already frail relationship. She's baiting him and while unexpected, it's not unwanted.
"Excuse me." Dr. Whale stumbles his way over to them and holds an arm out for Mary Margaret.
The absurdity of them being together makes him want to laugh. He's smarmy and arrogant and Mary Margaret is like chocolate chip cookies with hot cocoa on a cold winter's day. She would never be with someone like him.
But he feels her warmth leaving his lap and she leaves with him.
They will probably go back to his place, and he'll peel the jeans off her (assumedly fantastic) legs and talk her into having sex with him. He'll probably kick her out before the sun crept out and she'd walk home in tears and hungover.
But he doesn't want her to suffer and he's a horrible person so as he gathers his laptop to leave (and possibly beat his face in), he sees Mary Margaret shrug out of his embrace and puke on his shoes. He thanks fate or his fairy godmother but Dr. Asshole runs home alone, and he gently collects Mary Margaret and walks her home.
She's crying into his sleeve the second they hit the street, "I don't even like him."
"I know."
Her mascara's running, her face red and it starts snowing the moment they hit her street.
"Just draw a nice hot bath and drink some cocoa, you'll feel better in the morning."
"I wish you weren't married." She blurts suddenly, "I have this- hole in my heart that lets all of my goodness out and I'm here. Again. Alone. I've never been good alone, you know that James, better than anyone."
She presses her lips against his and he doesn't shove her away, but he ends the kiss quickly. Something changes after that kiss, he sees her differently, he sees everything differently. Mary Margaret no longer looks defeated, she seems stronger.
"You called me James, just now."
"I know." Her body moves away from his and she looks up at the snow with a new sense of pride, "It hasn't snowed in Storybrooke in over 20 years."
"What's going on with you?"
Next thing he knows, his lapels are being grabbed and she's really kissing him, the tips of his ears feel hot and there's tongue, it's a fantastic kiss. Probably the best kiss of his life. She's gotten a new persona in fifteen minutes and he has to admit that he likes this confident side of her.
"I've decided that I'm going to fight for you, James."
She skips up to the door and blows him a kiss.
The snow falls even harder then, and he can't help but picture the two of them running through the forest to have a snowball fight. Sitting up on the couch, pretending to watch football while she read a book, her bare feet cold against his leg. Sipping hot chocolate with cinnamon on top.
He knows.