Aesop's is a lot different than the clubs David is used to. Classic rock blasts over the radio and people have casual discussions over beer. The most drama he's seen is a heated argument over a game of darts when he first came with Killian. In rehab, David learned about "safe zones". Places he could go without triggering his addiction. He attempted once to go to a club in Detroit with a few of the guys from the station, but between the loud music, heavy alcohol flowing and the cocaine he saw being done in the bathroom, he never went back. Aesop's is better. No one gives him a weird look when he orders a seltzer with lime and casually sips it. Killian's the only one who knows about his problem and he's not one to spread that around.
David watches as his father awkwardly mingles around the bar. He told him to go home, he'd be fine alone. But a part of him isn't surprised that Robin didn't listen to him. He's so stubborn, looking like a zombie as he slowly sips on his beer. And he has the nerve to get on David when the latter insists on doing something? They may not share blood, but after knowing one another for 23 years, they share too many traits.
"You wanna see if the pool table is open?" Killian asks, sipping his Coke. "If you know how to play that is."
David rolls his eyes. "You're the one from the sticks, my friend."
"Not from here, remember?"
"You've lived in the States longer than you did Ireland. Face it." David claps him on the shoulder. "You're one of us."
Killian shakes his head, poking out his tongue. "I'll never disgrace my homeland."
David laughs, keeping an arm around him as they walk through one of the archways to the games. He pauses when he sees Mary Margaret standing there. Her hair is loose tonight, her face heavy with makeup. Under an oversized black leather jacket, she's showing off her midriff under a red crop top. Her jean shorts have to leave her freezing in early autumn. She watches intently as a couple of taller men walk away from the dartboard and then claims a quarter under the chalkboard.
"Any takers?" She looks around the room, her eyes landing on David. "How about you, Charming?"
David drops his hand from Killian. "I do have a name, ya know?"
"I don't care. Charming suits you better." Mary Margaret gathers the darts from the board. "You know how to play?"
"A little." He sets his seltzer down on a nearby table. "What we gonna play?"
"Around the Clock. Loser buys next round."
David smiles and looks towards Killian. He nods and finds another friend to play pool with. David accepts one of the darts and aims, coming just a few shots away from the bullseye. Mary Margaret throws the next, hitting it dead in the center. She beams proudly and turns to the chalkboard, erasing the previous scores. She writes Charming on the left side, Snow White on the other. David laughs, handing over his dart.
"Ladies first, I guess."
Mary Margaret smirks. "Watch and learn, Charming." She takes a few steps back, adjusting her eyes at the board.
David leans forward, his hip resting against the table. "If I win, does that mean you call me by my real name?"
"You're distracting me," she says.
"No, if I wanted to distract you, I'd do a lot more."
She spares him a death glare, though keeps that smirk on her lips. "You don't even know my name."
"Mary Margaret."
Mary Margaret raises an eyebrow and then looks back at Killian. "Fucking snitch," she mumbles.
"So, I know yours."
"But what if I want to call you Charming?"
Heat rises to the tip of David's ears. He watches as her arrow collides in the single scoring ring. The second follows right where its supposed to go, as does the third. She happily marches over and deducts her points, grabbing the other set of darts and practically throwing them in David's direction.
"Your turn," she says, gleefully.
David steadies his eyes, trying to remember everything John taught him about the game. He arches back and aims, expecting it to be a miss…and then hits the one. Confidentially, he reaches his goal the next two times. Mary Margaret's smirk has slowly dissipated and an impressed look reaches her gorgeous eyes.
"Not bad," she says. "Guess they have this game wherever you came from."
"Detroit, and yeah. It's not like I grew up under a rock."
"Can never tell with you pretty boy types."
Mary Margaret smirks again and he laughs. She collects her darts and takes her spot once more. Dedication fills her face, her tongue slightly poking out of her mouth. Any sass or sultriness has vanished. She's focused completely on the board and has never looked as hot to David. Competitiveness has always seemed to be a turn-on. He hadn't realized he had feelings for Kathryn until he saw how much she wanted to beat the rival high school at a cheer competition.
The woman in front of him drowns out the music and perfects her stance. She moves onto the next set. First shot is a perfect hit. Second, she misses. A brief look of annoyance takes over but she gains composure and does better with the third. With confidence, she saunters back to the chalkboard. No one would ever guess that she had missed. She simply gestures for David to go next.
While he misses twice in the next round, he makes up for it in the following. They don't talk as they play, though she keeps smirking in his direction. David flashes her a grin in return. By the last round, they're back at a tie. Mary Margaret hits the bullseye and lets out a whoop of excitement. David stares at her in amazement, even as he takes hold of his own. First is a hit, second does the same. Come the third, Mary Margaret bends down to collect a sip of her drink and David gets a good look at her ass in those shorts. His grip on the dart tightens and when he lets go…it falls to the bottom of the board.
"Oh no," Mary Margaret fake pouts. "Guess someone was distracted."
David narrows his eyes, keeping a playful smile on his face. "You did that on purpose."
Mary Margaret's eyes grow wide, batting her eyelashes dramatically. "Oh, why ever would I use my body to distract a man? I'm just an innocent girl."
David chuckles, dropping the darts and walking closer to her. He runs his hand down her arm, feeling the leather beneath his fingertips. Standing closer to her, soft lavender and cream wavers up his nose. Not the scent he expected.
"You're something alright. Not sure if that's innocent."
Mary Margaret arches an eyebrow, looking him up and down. Her eyes linger on the numbers inked to his forearm, revealed with his flannel shirt rolled up. She snaps out of it after a minute and meets his eye. "I believe you owe me a drink."
"A deal's a deal."
"I only let guys buy me stuff if I know their name."
"I thought you didn't want to know," he teases.
She rolls her eyes. "Well, I could call you Charming forever but I'd like to know whose ass I kicked."
David chuckles. "David." He holds out his hand. "David Locksley."
Mary Margaret's smaller palm enters his own, shaking with him. "Mary Margaret Blanchard. Though I think you already knew that."
He leads her over to the bar, asking her drink of choice on the way. When she tells him the name of some craft beer he can't even pronounce, he allows her to order. She does so with a smile on her face, leaning against the bar. Her hair is thrown back as she takes the first sip, cascading down her back.
"You're in EMS, right?" he asks, accepting his second seltzer of the night from Keith.
Mary Margaret nods. "And you're with fire, right? Captain's son?"
"Yup." David's eyes travel down the bar and spots his dad talking to a shorter woman around Robin's age with dark hair. "Seems like he's made a friend."
Mary Margaret follows his glance, smiling. "That's Regina, she works with me. I've known her for years. A little sarcastic, but nice."
"The sarcastic comment from you? Really?"
Mary Margaret shrugs, taking another swig of her beer. "Who do you think I got it from?"
Killian slides into the stool besides Mary Margaret. David frowns. He has no right to feel jealous or to want Mary Margaret to have all his attention…but somehow the sexy Irishman isn't as happy of a sight as he normally would be. To David's delight, Mary Margaret scoffs.
"I thought you were playing pool," she says.
"I got bored. What about you two?" He wiggles his eyebrows. "How'd your darts game go?"
"Mary Margaret won," David says, matching her smile.
Killian laughs, shaking his head. "I'm not surprised. Where'd you learn those moves, Princess, that ritzy summer camp Daddy sent you to?"
Mary Margaret tightens the grip on her beer. Her smile slowly drops from her face. "Don't call me that." David frowns, looking between the two of them. Killian has nicknames for everyone, it's just his thing. What's so bad about princess?
"Is that also where you learned to ride a horse?" Killian asks. "I remember how you used to waltz into school with those blue ribbons proudly pinned to your chest for the world to see." He rolls his eyes. "Everyone has to pay attention to Daddy's little Princess. Tell me, is that new children's wing going to be in your name?"
Mary Margaret's hand trembles before the glass slams onto the bar. Killian laughs, sipping his soda. David reaches out to touch her arm, but she pulls away.
"Hey, Killian," Mary Margaret snaps, any playfulness gone. "Where's your dad these days?" The color drains from Killian's face. "Last I heard he was on what, wife number three? That nurse, they took off to the Catskills with their baby, right?"
Killian glowers at her. "You get nasty when you drink, love," he says, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
"Fair is fucking fair."
Mary Margaret rifles through her pocket and pulls out a few wrinkled bills, slapping on top of the bar. Her boots are louder than the music as she storms out of the bar. David looks at Killian, who just shrugs. His eyes drift to the door, curiosity filling him.
Putting down some of his own money, David follows her out into the cold. She leans against the brick wall, fiddling with her phone.
"Fuck," she curses under breath.
"Are you okay?"
Mary Margaret startles. For a moment, he can see a bit of vulnerability in those deep green eyes. She blinks a few times and the tough girl takes back over. "It's just stupid Swift. It's peak hour, so all the fares are jacked up." She sighs, shoving her phone back into her pocket. "I came with Regina."
David nods. He takes the spot next to her. She keeps her eyes forward, folding her arms over her chest. A chill runs down his spine but he doesn't complain. He looks down at Mary Margaret's muscly legs beneath her shorts. Under the harsh red lighting of the Aesop's sign, he spots the goosebumps starting to form.
"You're gonna get sick out here," he says, lamely.
Mary Margaret shrugs. "Oh well."
"Why don't we go back inside? Wait for the rates to go back down?"
"If I have to see Killian's stupid pretty face…well, it's not going to stay so pretty."
"Killian's an asshole," David offers. "Just ignore him."
Mary Margaret's head snaps up at him. Judging by the anger in her eyes, he realizes he might have just made it worse. "Do you realize how many times women are told to just ignore jerky guys? Why do we have to put up with that? Why can't he just maybe, hey, not be an asshole?"
That shuts David up for a bit. He ponders the question, no matter how rhetorical it may be. All throughout his life, he's just let idiots slide off him. Robin always told him it's not worth the stress or the fight. Looking back, he probably just didn't want another James, getting into a fight over every little thing. All that resentment and building stuff up…well maybe if he had let it out, he wouldn't have depended on pills to numb it all.
He can't imagine how much harder it is for women. Killian probably is just joking, but if no one is laughing, is it really funny?
"You're right," David says. "I'm sorry."
"I know everyone thinks I'm this spoiled princess," Mary Margaret says, digging her boot into the cement. "My dad's the chief of surgery. He's got more money than he'll ever know what to do with. Every single Blanchard is a doctor. They see me and get mad about the insane privilege they assume I have."
David nods. He doesn't know what it's like to have money or the pressure. Kathryn was upper middle class and that's the closest he got to seeing "rich people problems". "Even rich people have problems."
"That's the thing. I'm not rich. What Killian doesn't know is that 7 years ago, my dad cut me off."
David raises an eyebrow. He hasn't met Dr. Blanchard, but has heard overall complementary things. He's a huge philanthropist, won several awards. Looking back, though, he realizes he hasn't heard much about a daughter.
Mary Margaret sighs. "Like I said, every Blanchard is a doctor. Except me. I didn't want to go to medical school, put myself through all that pressure. My uncle nearly killed himself under all the pressure during his residency. It's just not worth it, ya know?"
"Yeah, I get it."
"So, I told my dad. I wanted to go into nursing. Which I know is still stressful but it'd be less schooling and I could actually work more with patients." She gnaws on her lip. "I wanted to go into pediatrics."
David doesn't say he couldn't say her working with kids. It's only the second time they've met. He knows through James that circumstances can change a person. His brother had once been a shy, quiet kid. Then their mom died and he turned into someone David barely recognized.
"Anyway," Mary Margaret continues. "I told my dad and he flipped out, saying I was "ruining the Blanchard legacy"." She rolls her eyes. "Told me if I wanted to do that, he wasn't footing the bill."
David furrows his brows. "But it's still in the medical field."
"Didn't matter, not to him. He had dreams of me becoming a surgeon, being just like him. When I said that's the last person I wanted to be, he kicked me out."
Another chill runs down David, this one having nothing to do with the weather. The vulnerability has returned to Mary Margaret's face as she hugs her jacket closer to her. When he moved to Storybrooke, Robin insisted that they live together. He wouldn't hear about David getting an apartment. Part of it was due to loss of trust, but the point was that his father cared. No matter how annoying it was to have to check in all the time, to feel like he was under a microscope…he knows it's because Robin's scared. He doesn't want to come that close to losing him again. David and James have done some pretty fucked up stuff in their lives. Their father has always kept his door open to them. He can't imagine not having a supportive father.
Mary Margaret clears her throat. "I'm no princess, David. I'm just a girl who lived in their car until Regina found out and took me in. I couldn't afford nursing school, but she loaned me the money to join the EMT training program."
"But no one else knows about all that," David says, softly.
"It's no one's business."
"It isn't. You don't owe anyone your story."
"But it still gets under my skin whenever Killian talks about it. I know the person I used to be, you know? I was a terrible spoiled brat but living on the streets really humbles you. I just wish people could see me for who I am now."
David understands that. A part of the reason he jumped to move out of Detroit was everyone who knew his story. It's a big city but the whole team was aware of his overdose. The few friends he managed not to squander looked at him differently. In Maine, he wasn't a junkie or the guy that OD'd after a bad breakup. He's just David.
"I get that," he says, softly.
Mary Margaret stares at him for a moment. Her eyes have grown wet, whether from the emotionally charged conversation or the weather. "I don't know why I just info dumped all over you," she mutters, ducking her head.
David puts a hand on her shoulder. "Because I'm a stranger who doesn't know your past. Less judgement."
She laughs a little, wiping at her face. "Yeah. I guess."
"Like I said, I get wanting to shake the past." He reaches over and wipes a stray tear from her cheek.
She exhales, a small smile poking up on her lips. "You can head back inside now. I'm sure you want to be with your friends. Maybe by now the rates have gone down."
"I'll give you a ride, you know, if you want?" David points across the parking lot. "That's my truck."
Mary Margaret shakes her head. "I don't want to pull you away from your friends."
"I'm done here, honest. If you're not comfortable, I get it, but…"
"No," she interrupts quickly. "Uh, yeah…a ride would be nice."
When David pulls up in front of the tall brick building, he doesn't expect Mary Margaret to invite him inside. He surprises himself further by agreeing.
They walk up a few flights of stairs that smell of the curry the family on the second floor made before reaching the last one. Mary Margaret stops in front of a green door with a gold 3, digging some keys out of her pocket. She unlocks and enters, throwing her jacket onto a coat rack.
The entire apartment is open concept, with brick walls. Half are painted white, with a bicycle leaning against some exposed bricks. An uncomfortable looking green couch is surrounded by two mismatched chairs. A tiny television sits near a globe on a wooden stand. The kitchen consists of an island made of wood with two metal chairs pushed against it. On the other side of the apartment, he spots a big bed covered in some of the ugliest quilts he's ever seen. Clothes are scattered nearby. The sink is half-full of dishes. Books are piled on the floor in the living room. That alone would give Belle a heart attack. She somehow managed to send two bookcases when Robin and David moved to Storybrooke.
"Excuse the mess," Mary Margaret says. "I'm barely home these days."
"Don't be." David kicks off his shoes when she does. "It took us a month to unpack the house."
She heads towards the kitchen and starts rifling through the freezer. "Where'd you guys move?"
"Sherwood Road, about 15 minutes from here."
"Oh, you're out near the woods." She emerges with a bottle of vodka.
David nods. "Um, I don't drink."
Mary Margaret isn't fazed. "Okay. I probably shouldn't have anymore tonight anyway." She puts it back and opens the fridge. "I have orange juice, probably expired lemonade and then some good old-fashioned water."
He smiles. "Sounds like my fridge when I lived alone. I'll take water."
Mary Margaret tosses him a bottle and grabs her own, pulling out a package of grapes as well. They settle at the island, their snack between them.
"I need to go shopping but all the apps these days make it so much easier to get takeout," she says. "Though with Granny's kitchen being burned, it's limited my option."
"I take it you're not much of a cook."
"My mom tried to teach me but I was a lost cause."
David's smile falters a bit. "I heard she passed. I'm sorry."
Mary Margaret shakes her head. "She was sick a long time, heart disease. It's not exactly a relief but I'm glad she's not in pain anymore."
"Yeah."
"I uh, heard your dad was widowed. How long's it been?"
"19 years, it'll be 20 this May."
"Oh wow, so you were…"
"6."
Mary Margaret's hand falls on top of his. He practically melts into her small embrace. "That had to be hard."
"It's weird. I try to remember that time…but I don't know. My dad says she had breast cancer but I can't remember her ever being sick, you know?" David plays with the cap to his water. "We went on this big trip before she died and she seemed fine. Maybe a little tired? But then one day…she was just…gone."
"They never told you?"
"Bits and pieces here and there, but James and I were so young. I don't think it really registered. I remember they got married quickly so Dad could adopt us but outside that, they worked so hard for it to be normal. And then when she died, I don't think it really hit me for a while. My brother started acting out, I clung a little more for my dad…but it took me years to really get that I lost my mom. All the other kids had one and I didn't."
"I can't imagine," she whispers.
He's never told anyone about that. The older he's gotten, the more he's found himself angry at his parents. They acted like everything was normal. In the movies, everyone gets a chance to say goodbye, have the perfect last words. The morning his mom died, he went to go play with some neighbors. He and James weren't called back until the funeral home had already picked up the body. Robin was so composed, despite the red eyes and puffy face. He acted as if nothing was wrong so David copied it.
Why didn't they just tell them the truth? Why did they take that away from them? Why didn't his mom fight harder?
There's so much he's just never going to know.
"I guess it really is easier to spill your guts to a stranger," he mumbles, sipping his water.
"Guess so." She swigs back her own. "I hate that I love my dad."
David nods. "It'd be easier if you could just hate him, huh?"
"Yup." Mary Margaret pops a grape into her mouth. "Your turn."
"I hate being a firefighter."
She tilts her head and he toys with a loose thread.
"I mean, maybe hate is a strong word, but…it was never the plan."
"What was the plan?"
"Become a physical therapist. I uh, had an accident in high school and got pretty hurt. My therapist got me through it and motivated me to get back in the gym. I wanted to be that hope for other people."
"Yet you became a firefighter."
David purses his lips. "My freshman year, I got caught doing oxy on the regular. I was getting high and blacking out often. My roommate found me one day and called my dad."
He looks over at Mary Margaret. Her eyes remain sincere, no judgement. Relief eases his stomach.
"He got me some therapy and I got clean…but I could see what it did to him. I struggled with my grades after that and I know it didn't help. I passed by the skin of my teeth and I could've gotten into school to complete my certification but I was scared I'd relapse. I felt I needed to prove I was a better person, that I could be brave and strong, like my dad. So…I started the training."
"But it's not what you wanted."
"It's not that I hate it really. I like helping people. I like the crews I've worked with. The pay is okay, I get great benefits."
"It's still not what you saw yourself doing."
He shrugs. "I made my choice. Too late to go back now."
"No, it's not. I started taking classes a few years back, I'll start nursing school next fall. I may be 25, but I'm changing my life. It's not too late for you."
David considers it. "Maybe…but it's just been so long. I'd probably sink in college."
"Or you'd do great."
"Earlier tonight you thought I was annoying, now you're encouraging me?"
"You've managed to win me over a bit." Mary Margaret smirks. "Say you'll think about it."
"Maybe." He pops a grape into his mouth and she continues to stare at him. David chews and then swallows. "What, I can't just make a life altering choice because…"
She cuts him off by connecting her lips with his. David instantly deepens it. He shuts his eyes, pulling her off of her stool and onto his lap. Her arms toss gently around his neck and he bites down on her lip. His lips travel down to her jaw, his hand slipping up her crop-top, grazing against the bra.
When his eyes open once more, she hops off his lap and extends her hand. He looks at her for a moment before digging out his phone and finding the text thread with his father. David's fingers clumsily send out a text.
Left Aesop's. Not coming home tonight.
It's barely been sent when he tosses his phone onto the counter and takes Mary Margaret's hand, following her back to the bed.