II

Three

II

I, David Nolan, take you, Mary Margaret Blanchard, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part.

I, Mary Margaret Blanchard, take you, David Nolan, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part.

II

Third time's the charm, they say. Third time's the Charmings too, as it turns out.

They get married on a sunny day in Storybrooke, not quite publicly and not quite privately. It seems fitting, Charming thinks. Their friends are there, and some that aren't exactly friends but share a history that ties them together as strongly as a friendship. Ruby. Whale, coming with Ruby. The dwarfs. Abigail and Fredrick. Cinderella and Thomas. Granny. Their family is there, all of it. Emma, of course. Henry. Regina, for Henry's sake and perhaps to show that she is slowly but surely changing. Rumpelstiltskin, looking wistful as he glances at Belle. Neal.

Even Hook is there, nearly earning himself a punch when he remarks that Charming has made a great catch, only saved by Snow joking that it was done with a net. He kisses her at that, because she is still so very much Snow and he is so very much Charming, even if they get married under the names David Nolan and Mary Margaret Blanchard.

They've come a long way, Charming thinks, and yet some things are very much the same.

He wonders sometimes if Lancelot knew that when he married them with a wish of their love being strong, true and eternal that they would need just that. They have been through so much, suffered so many losses, faced so many obstacles, and yet here they are. Snow, Charming and a wedding again, still loving each other as truly and strongly as the first time. (Just maybe with more perspective now, from all they've endured.)

What is 28 years when you have eternal love, after all? (An agony, he knows, but still one that can be endured.)

They have a small sort of reception at Granny's after. It's a merry affair, with drinking and eating and even dancing. He and Snow dance a complicated dance from the Enchanted Forest to Henry's delight and Emma's raised eyebrows, but mostly they just hold each other and watch their friends, family and those in-between be happy.

As the evening progresses, Emma finally walks over to them.

"I just want to say – while I'm not exactly an expert on marriage or successful relationships, what you guys have... That's love," she says awkwardly, gazing at the floor more than them.

"Thanks, Emma," Snow says softly.

"Yeah, I... You're welcome. Mom. Dad. And congrats on getting married. Again," Emma offers.

As Snow takes Emma's hand and squeezes it lightly, something passes between mother and daughter that makes him both jealous and happy for them both. And so he impulsively lets himself hug his daughter when her gaze shifts to him. She sighs almost happily as he holds her, and for a moment he feels truly like a father. He forgets that there is 28 years lost between them, 28 years that can never quite be mended even if they have 28 years together now.

Then his daughter slips out of his embrace with an awkward smile, and Snow takes his hand as they both watch Emma walk over to Henry (who is chatting amicably to Regina).

"Charming..." Snow murmurs.

"I know," he says. Sometimes he too feels the combination of pride and sadness at seeing who their daughter have grown into. Pride because she's done it all on her own, but sadness because they weren't there to see it happen.

Snow looks up at him, and he turns to face her and takes her other hand as well. He can feel Rumpelstiltskin watching them, but somehow he doesn't care.

"You did this for her, didn't you?" Snow says after a moment. "For Emma."

"Not just," he says softly. "If we end up staying in this land, I want there to be no doubt you are my wife. But..."

"You wanted to share this with her," Snow says and he nods before pressing his forehead against hers.

"In our land, she might have been a flower girl if we ever renewed our vows," he says and Snow's breath seems to catch at the image. "She would have loved it. I know we can't make up for the 28 years we lost, but we can be her parents and she can be the flower woman with her ring bearer son at a wedding."

"She was beautiful," Snow says wistfully.

"Yeah," he agrees. "As fair as her mother."

Snow looks almost lost for a moment, and he tilts his head to catch her gaze.

"My father once called me the fairest in the land," she says as way of explanation. "Before he died."

Murdered by Regina, Charming knows. Snow has told him the story and shared her grief over her father's death, just as he shared the grief of his father's passing. Their mothers too, they've lost, leaving them with only the family they created together.

"You are beautiful, Snow," he says gently. "To me you are the fairest in any land, especially at your wedding."

"Our wedding," Snow says, and he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and then caresses her ear gently.

"Our third wedding. Third time's the Charmings," he says and that finally lures a smile from her, one that lingers as he rubs his nose against hers.

"Who said we weren't taking my name?" she asks, a mock sternness to her voice.

"You named me Charming," he counters, and even the teasing tone they have adopted he can't not say that with love. "Therefore, that would be taking your name, Mrs. Charming."

She makes a low noise in her throat as if accepting the argument, or maybe it's just appreciation of his hands moving to her waist to press her closer.

"Mary Margaret Nolan," she says, as if tasting the name. "Mrs. Nolan."

"In this world," he points out. He did call her Mary Margaret for a time after the curse, but somehow, he slipped back to Snow the moment they were out of Storybrooke again. "Whatever name you choose to use, you'll always be the same to me. You'll always be my wife."

Snow smiles, then kisses him with what is meant to be a peck, but lingers. Her lips are soft as they brush his, again and again.

"This is a party. We should be sociable," Snow reminds him, but it's she who kisses him again.

"I should take your hand and drag you out of here right now," he murmurs in return, feel a slight shiver go through her body at his words.

"You should," Snow says softly, her breath caressing his lips as she leans closer. "Emma and Henry aren't coming home tonight."

He blinks. "What?"

"They've made other plans," Snow says, and he glances over to see that Emma and Henry have indeed slipped out while his attention was elsewhere. "Give me ten minutes, then follow."

"What?" he says again, and Snow cups his head in her hands. She smiles almost fondly at him, caressing his cheek with her thumb.

"Give me a ten minute head start, then find me. As you always do," she says, then tip-toes to kiss him, parting her lips against his just for a second before sauntering off and leaving him staring breathlessly after her.

Ten minutes, right. Ten minutes suddenly feels like an eternity.

He spends two listening to Archie, one staring Hook down as the pirate enquirers after Emma, a minute and a half awkwardly reassuring Granny he doesn't need pointers this time, half a minute accepting Belle's congratulations, a minute promising Rumpelstiltskin proposal advice tomorrow and two minutes wishing Red a good evening – which only adds up to eight, but still. Close enough, he figures.

Their home is dark as he enters. Quiet too, the only sound is his own breathing as he heads for their bedroom. Sure enough, he can see a faint sliver of light below the door.

"Snow?" he says as he pushes the door open, then just breathes as he sees the figure in the bed. Even with just the bedside lamp on, Snow seems to glow as she sits leaning back against the pillows. She's only wearing a silky red slip he hasn't seen before, but looks like it was made for her. It clings to her skin, and he swallows as he lets her gaze travel the length of her body.

"That wasn't ten minutes, Charming," she Snow says. She sounds amused.

"It wasn't," he agrees. Slowly, he sheds the suit jacket and tosses it onto the nearby chair. Snow watches him, parting her lips slightly as he moves to unbutton the shirt. "Did you expect it to be?"

"No," she says, still watching him as he tosses the white shirt aside also. "That's why I only needed five minutes."

He chuckles, slipping his shoes off. "Why didn't you tell me five minutes then?"

"Because then it would have been three," she points out, pushing herself off the pillows and moving over to him on her knees. He swallows as her fingers find the button and then the zipper of his pants, and then pushes his pants off his hips and lets them pool by his feet. He almost trips when he tries to step out of them though, as her hands have moved to the bulge now only covered by his underwear.

She bites down on her lip as she draws a finger up and down the length of him, and even with cloth between her fingers and his flesh, he still moans. Even more so when she lifts her head and kisses his navel, before moving upwards, peppering kisses as she goes. He lets himself simply enjoy it until she reaches his throat. Then he lowers his head and crashes his lips onto hers, and kisses her needily.

He's restrained himself for hours, after all. Their wedding kiss was perhaps not quite as restrained as it could have been given the look Emma gave them afterwards, and their lips did seem to find each other frequently during the reception, but still. He didn't push her against a wall and kisses her until her cheeks were blazing and they were both breathless, after all.

(Well, except once in the kitchen, but no one saw that so that doesn't count.)

He nips and sucks at her lips before she parts them, and her tongue brushes against his as he deepens the kiss. Her hands are still lowered, and he realizes why as he feels them pull at the waistline of his underwear.

She whimpers as he breaks the kiss, but it's only for as long as it takes him to help her yank his underwear off, then toss it without looking as he pulls her against him and resumes the kiss.

It's a task made harder by her fingers slipping down to touch him again, now without any cloth barrier. He scrapes his teeth over her lower lip in response before sucking on it, making sure her breath is becoming as shallow and rapid as his.

Sure enough, when he pulls away, her breath is labored as she looks at him through lowered eyelids.

"Charming," she exhales as he eases down on the bed next to her. She leans into him, and he moves his hand lightly up and down her arm. "Lie down."

He meets her gaze, seeing the desire in her eyes as she looks at him. The love is there too, and the mixture of the two makes him think an eternity of a marriage like this would still not feel long enough.

He nods, letting go of her as he scoots further into the bed and finally lies down with his head against the pillows. She watches him all the while, her gaze an intense caress as she kneels between his legs and lets her hands rest on his thighs.

He has a good idea what she has in mind – in fact, he's woken to her mouth and hands on him more mornings than he can count. More in the Enchanted Forest than here, granted, given their desire not to traumatized Emma further. Even so, they've managed – with a few close calls, of course.

He digs his fingers into the sheets as Snow lowers her head, but it still doesn't stop him from making a noise as she does as expected. Her tongue teases lightly against his flesh, while her fingers stroke him featherlightly. He peeks up at her as she continues, watching her enjoy the reactions she is drawing from him.

When she draws him as far into her mouth as she can though, he can't keep his head up and falls back against the pillows. He can't do much of anything, as just trying to breathe suddenly feels like a challenge.

He is panting as she sits up, and he feels her knees brush his hips as she straddles him. He imagines she can feel him hard against her buttocks despite her silky underwear, and he grinds gently against her to remind her in any case.

As she leans down to kiss him, he meets her on the way and eagerly tugs at her lips. She smiles against his lips as he puts his hands on her back and gently eases her back until he's sitting up. They remain like that for a while, content to kiss each other and be close, even if he's beginning to find the slip he's wearing an annoyance. A sexy annoyance to be sure, but an annoyance nevertheless. He moves his hands to the hemline of it, and her hands follow down to help him.

At least there is no corset, he thinks happily as they break the kiss and they peel the slip off her. Their gazes lock for a moment, and he can see a mirror of everything he is feeling in her eyes. Love. Lust. A hint of possessiveness, both claiming the other as theirs. Tenderness.

"Snow," he says, her name a term of affection on its own by now. "I love you."

He hears her murmured return of it as he lowers his head to her chest, cupping one breast with a hand and pressing kisses against the other before closing his mouth fully over it. She squirms slightly on his lap as he continues lightly, the silky material of her underwear brushing against his skin.

That piece of clothing is going to be an annoyance too, he is sure, but a minor one only as he lowers a hand between them and eases his fingers inside. Snow draws a sharp breath at that, digging her fingers into his back as her head falls back. He can hear her moan and sudden sharp inhale as he rubs two fingers against her, and he lifts his head to watch her while he continues the light touches.

His wife, he thinks, both affectionately and possessively. His.

He presses her against him as he flips her around, lowering her to the mattress and pulling the pillows down for her to rest her head on. She laces her fingers through his hair, touching his scalp lightly as he tears her underwear off and drops it by the side of the bed. He can tell she's already ready for him, but he still uses his fingers and thumb between her thighs as she moves her legs further apart.

"Charming," she says huskily, making it sound like a royal command and a plea at the same time. He smiles as he adjusts himself between her legs, lifting his head and kissing her at the same time as he slowly pushes into her. He keeps kissing her as he starts a slow rhythm, determined to take his time. They've done it quick and hard many times, but tonight, that's not what he wants. (At least on the first go.)

Her hands caress his neck and his shoulder, and her breasts brush against his chest every time he moves. She clenches her muscles around him every now and then too, drawing throaty moans from him. Not that she is quiet either, the sounds of her pleasure reverberating into the kiss and adding to his own.

As he continues his leisurely pace, she locks her legs around his hips to draw him in deeper every time. She arches up against him at every thrust, and he can tell she is close now, so close. This is their third wedding night, after all, not the first. He only had Granny's rough advice and his desire to give her pleasure to guide him then. Now he knows her body, knows her desires as he knows his own, a marriage in bed also.

He lifts himself up enough to let his thumb finds the bundle of nerves between their legs, and he draws a circle and then another. She whimpers, and then moves her mouth to his shoulder and bites as he feels her body shudder. Yes, he thinks in pleasure, and then thrusts sharply into her and lets pleasure claim him.

As he tries to steady his breath, Snow kisses his shoulder where he assumes she's left bite marks. Gently, he shifts a hand underneath her and then flips them again so she can sprawl across his body.

She tucks her head under his chin, and he listens to her breath become steadier and slower. For a moment he almost thinks she has fallen asleep, but then he feels her fingers lightly circle one of his nipples.

"There is some food in the fridge," she says suddenly. "Courtesy of Granny."

He chuckles. "Did she think we might need nourishment tonight?"

"We have all night," she points out, lifting her head and kissing him softly and leisurely as he caresses her neck and then her ear.

"No," he says as he pulls back slightly, and she looks quizzically at him. "We have eternity, remember?"

She smiles as he caresses her cheek. "I do."

His wife, he thinks, watching her as she kisses his fingers as they brush her lips. They've exchanged so many vows making it so, he remembers. Strong, true and eternal. For all eternity. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part. He's meant them all, and the unofficial vow they so frequently exchange of always finding each other too.

But for all the vows they've spoken, he knows they're bound together by something far stronger than words. It's their hearts that hold them together, that marry them, that make the strongest vow of all: love. Snow and Charming, three times married, love each other.

They do.

II

FIN