Snow Trips

Nov. 26th, 2011 08:20 pm
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Title: Snow Trips
Author: Alsike
Fandom: Once Upon a Time
Paring: Uhhh... Emma/Mary Margaret, quick!  Look away!
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~700
Summary: So yeah, maybe it's just that Miss Swan has crazy chemistry with every single person she looks at, but these two are just so sweet and angsty!
Spoilers:  I watched episode 4 tonight... finally.  It was, uh, weird.  Honestly, what sort of person would give themselves a celibate happy ending?  I will not judge.  But omg, two bra shots?  What is up with the crazy eye candy on this show?  Also, when are we going to have a non-white recurring character who doesn't die horribly in the first three minutes?  Really show?  Really?

Mary Margaret looked worn out.  As she ought.  Traipsing through the forest, being blamed for a coma patient's miraculous recovery, believing, just for a moment, that there was something meant to be?  It would grind any sane person down to the bone.  But still she put away Emma's coat and started making tea.

"You all right?"

"Of course."  Mary Margaret looked at her, looking kind, and then turned away to pour the water.  “It’s just…" she sighed. "Sometimes it’s just so hard to believe in true love.”

Emma smiled, feeling the weakness in it, but knowing that it wouldn’t be challenged. “I know what you mean.” She didn’t really, though. She had never believed in true love, or if she had it was one of those beliefs she lost when she lost her belief in the utility of hope and in family.

Mary Margaret glanced up at her, through dark lashes, and looked amused, a half grin sort of thing quirking her lips. “Honestly, if I were looking for anyone, I’d want someone like you.”

Emma blinked. “What? Seriously?”

“You’re honest and honorable. You care about Henry enough to put your life on hold for him. You can’t say you’re not gorgeous.”

This was… so not what she needed right now. “Mary…”

But she was too close, and her hand was gentle as it cupped Emma’s cheek. There had been no one like her, no one who had so much automatic faith in her, who had so much trust and caring. She cared without ever pressing, ever being pushy. And when her lips brushed Emma’s, Emma forgot to push her away.

For a moment at least.

“Oh no, please.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.”

“No!” Emma looked at her, wishing she could say this, wishing it would make sense. “You’re- you’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met.”

“But…?” Mary Margaret’s face held the wry resignation of a woman who was used to being let down easily.

“Honestly? If I had met you, oh, a month ago, I would have been terrified, because there’s no way someone as… as perfect as you could be real.  And I would have fucked things up, because I was good at that.  I'm... still pretty good at that.  But I only met you now, after Henry. And I don’t- I don’t think I believe him, when he talks about fairytales and princesses and evil queens. I know I shouldn’t. But then something happens, something strange, like meeting you, like cinnamon on hot chocolate, like the way his mother looks at me like I’m some sort of threat, more than just a threat to her relationship with Henry...”

Mary Margaret was staring at her as if she wasn’t making a single ounce of sense, which she really wasn’t.  Emma stopped, and tried to find a more sensical place to begin.

“I lied to you.” Emma winced.  Sensical, yet somehow less than perfect.  “I know, a great revelation after someone just calls you honest and kisses you, but I did. I said I wasn’t in Henry's stories. It wasn’t true. I am in them, for the couple of pages at the end that he tore out.”

Mary Margaret’s eyes widened. “The end? But the end…”

“You read it, didn’t you? Of course you did. You gave it to him. But you know the ending, so you know who I am. I’m… I‘m Snow White and Prince Charming’s daughter.”

Mary Margaret stared. She gaped. “And I’m supposed to be Snow White.”

Emma flushed miserably, wishing that she didn’t sound completely and utterly insane. But it was too late for that now, really far far too late. “I don’t think he’s right. But I just can’t assume he’s not, not yet. And if he is, well, you’re fine. You’ll have your true love.” She smiled, hoping it would be taken in the vein it was meant. “And if he isn’t... If he isn’t, kiss me again, and I promise it won’t end like this.”

Mary Margaret covered her eyes with her hand and laughed. “Oh Emma.”

“I’m nuts, aren’t I? That’s all there is to it.”

“You’re not nuts. You’re… you’re being honorable again.” She took Emma’s hand and squeezed it. “If it turns out that all Henry’s ideas are just in his imagination, then I’ll happily give this a second try. And if they aren’t, I’ll be so proud to be your mother.”

Emma looked into her eyes. Either way, she wouldn’t lose her. That was all she could ask. “Thank you.”

“Of course, if I do turn out to be your mother, this is going to be the most embarrassing conversation we’ve ever had.”
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