Inspired by an edit made by belledearie on Tumblr.

Title taken from the WWII ad campaign by Community/Oneida.

All chapter titles taken from WWII propaganda/slogans (mostly American).

***Thank you, Angie, for all the work you do as a beta!***

Always walk when you can.

Dearest Step-mother,

I'm sorry to hear that my recent career endeavors are having a negative impact on the 'family name'. But I would also like to point out that this 'family name' is not yours. Father has been gone for nearly two years now, and while I appreciate all you have done for me in the wake of his passing, I think it is time that we amiably part ways. Our interests are no longer aligned and I believe it is in everyone's best interests.

No need to respond,

Mary Margaret.

October 10, 1941

PS: If you would kindly stop sending wealthy suitors to my door, it would be much appreciated.

Mary Margaret is decidedly not in the mood for chauvinistic pig-headery. No, not one bit. Her whole life has been spent enduring endless lectures regarding the do's and don'ts of being a lady (most of which amounted to 'do nothing and let the men handle it'). First her father, then her step-mother, and now every busy-body on the street who thought it their place to tell her what to do.

And so she's finally hit her limit when her best friend rolls her eyes and admits, "Bastard tried to feel me up."

Mary Margaret seethes. "Just out of the blue?"

"Not quite," Ruby amends, wiping a rag over the bar. "Followed me around for the first half of my shift, trying to buy me a drink. Apparently 'no, I'm working', 'not interested', and 'I'm engaged' weren't enough 'cause then his hands started wandering."

"And you didn't hit him?"

"Granny says we can't afford to lose any more business," says Ruby regretfully.

"The nerve. Wish I could give this idiot a piece of my mind."

"Well, he's right over there," Ruby jokes, indicating a group of friends on the opposite side of the restaurant, laughing over a few beers. "Birthday boy and everything. Name's Nolan, I think."

"Stay here. I'll handle this."

"Mary Mar-"

But it's too late, because Mary Margaret is already storming over to the raucous party with all the grace and deadliness of the lady she was raised to be. "Hey boys," she smiles, but her voice is anything but inviting as she plants her hands on her hips and stares them down. "Hear we've got a birthday boy over here?"

A few of the men, one or two beers past tipsy already, prod a handsome young man with blond hair and blue eyes. He shoves them away with a chuckle. Funny, he doesn't seem as drunk as the rest. Definitely not helping his case. He raises his hand with a grin. "Guilty as charged."

"Mary Margaret!" Ruby is behind her, and it neither surprises nor deters her.

Mary Margaret smiles sweetly. "Happy birthday then," she says, and clocks him across the face. The rest of the men look shocked at first, and as he looks at her, reeling, she notices that her grandmother's ring seems to have left a cut on his chin.

"What was that for?" he exclaims, pressing his fingertips to the cut and grimacing as they come back bloody.

"For getting handsy with my friend," she says, folding her arms across her chest.

"Mary Margaret, no-"

"What? That wasn't me."

"Then who was it?" she demands. "Your evil twin?"

"Well, actually-"

He doesn't get further than that, as she rolls her eyes and punches him again for being a smart-ass.

"Mary Margaret!" Ruby yells, loud enough to draw her attention this time, and as she turns, she looks past her friend to see a man almost identical to the one she'd just hit, talking up a pretty blonde at the bar.

"Oh …" she says dumbly.

"That would be my brother. James." She turns back to the man she just hit to see him rubbing at his jaw, his buddies falling over themselves with laughter. "I'm David. David Nolan."

Oops, she thinks. But honestly, what were the chances? Evil twins (or even twins at all) are few and far between, after all. She offers an apologetic smile first to Ruby and then to David. "Sorry, David. Are you okay?"

"Nothing a few shots won't fix."

She snorts. "Right," she says sarcastically. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

"Your name might be nice."

"Mary Margaret," she replies, then winces as she notices that the cut on his chin is bleeding more than she'd expected. It'll scar for sure. She hands him an extra napkin from the table to help stop the bleeding.

"Mm, that didn't seem to help as much as I'd hoped," he says, his confidence growing. "Maybe you should let me buy you a drink then."

His friends wait expectantly for a response.

"Maybe I shouldn't," she retorts, then turns to Ruby for a rescue, but it seems her friend has run off to fill some orders. Damn. She is on the clock after all. But still, damn.

"Even after you hit me on my birthday? I think it's the least you could do."

"I think it was the least I could do to aim for your face and not elsewhere."

One of the men guffaws and jabs the guy next to him in the ribs.

"Ouch!" he gasps in mock offense, pressing the hand not against his chin to his chest. "That hurts. Really, I think it's the least you could do. I could even ice your knuckles for you."

She rolls her eyes. "Aren't you a real Prince Charming?"

He grins. "So what'll it be?"

It looks like the blood is soaking through the first napkin and she really does feel bad now. As far as she knows, this David hasn't done anything wrong. As silly as it is, she's sure her conscience will nag her about this in days to come if she doesn't do what she can to apologize. She sighs in defeat. "Fine. But just one."

One drink turns into two and David's friends have already stumbled out the door, the buxom blonde from earlier on his brother's arm.

"So your father owns some big aircraft company and you work as a car mechanic?"

"Step-father," he corrects her, running a hand over his still-aching jaw. The waitress - Ruby - managed to come up with some dressings to bandage him up, and a glass of ice for Mary Margaret's reddening knuckles. "And he doesn't own it, he's just really important."

"But you work as a mechanic." Mary Margaret doesn't seem to be judging him. Quite the opposite. In fact, she seems more intrigued than anything, eyes never leaving his as he rambles nervously on and on about his life.

He wonders vaguely if it's worth telling her that he'd worked on his real father's farm until he just couldn't maintain it any longer, but settles for a simpler truth for now. "I want to be veterinarian. But I've got to save up money first."

He sees the wheels turning, the connections firing in her mind. "Because your step-father cut you off," she says slowly, looking to him for confirmation. "For not working for him."

He nods.

"Good for you."

Two drinks turn into three and they're the last patrons in the restaurant, watching as Ruby turns the empty chairs up onto the tables.

"Wait wait wait," he says, alcohol finally making his mind a little fuzzy. "You mean you're the 'Snow White'? From the radio?"

A light tinge of blush across her cheeks is all the confirmation he needs.

"I was a huge fan of yours!"

"Oh, come on." She's trying to shrug it off as if it's nothing when it is definitely something. "It was just a local radio show."

"But you were brilliant!"

She shrugs, drawing her finger in a ring over the condensation on her beer bottle. "I was okay."

"You were more than okay," he insists, remembering the way her voice would fill the garage as he worked. "Why did you quit?"

"Needed something to pay the bills," she says evasively, then looks up at him with a sad smile.

"And the radio didn't do that?"

"No it did, but - it was my father's dream. Not mine. After he passed, I realized I was a fool for thinking he wouldn't be happy if to hear I was only doing it for him. So I quit."

His heart aches at that, remembering the exact moment when he'd realized that same truth following his own father's passing. "Good for you," he says, echoing her words from earlier, but a tad more reverently. Their eyes meet, and his breath catches in his throat at how beautiful she is. Something in his expression must betray him, though, because she looks away shyly. He clears his throat, and tries to divert the conversation to a happier tone. "So what do you do now?"

"I'm a pilot."

The words come just as the cool beer hits his tongue and he almost spits it back out, having not expected that. "A pilot? But you're a girl!" He internally smacks himself for that, realizing his mistake a moment too late.

She bristles. "Woman," she corrects, a single eyebrow raised in challenge. "Is that a problem?"

"No no no, that's not what I meant. It's just-" He fumbles desperately for the right words, because the last ones he'd come up with were definitely the wrong ones. "That's a big change from radio singer."

"That's the point."

He lets that thought sink in for a moment. This girl - woman, he corrects himself - is certainly full of surprises. Though he supposes that should have been obvious when she marched right up to him and caught him with a mean right hook. "A pilot, huh? What do you fly?"

"Crop dusters," she says, as if it's the most normal thing in the world. "Like I said, pays the bills."

He can't say he isn't impressed, and it definitely reads on his face. "Maybe you'll have to take me for a ride sometime then."

And there's that blush again, spreading across her fair cheeks.

Three drinks turn into shots, and Ruby is taking last call and counting the cash from the night, just within eavesdropping distance.

"Now we get to the really important question," he says, the liquor numbing everything and making his tongue feel just a little thick. "Are you going steady with anyone?"

She splutters over her shot, but recovers with an easy comeback. "Oh, I see Prince Charming is rearing his ugly head again."

"Ugly?"

"Okay, maybe not so ugly," she amends, grinning at him. She's silent for a moment, just one measly, tiny, torturous, unending moment. "No, I'm not. But I don't think that whole 'true love' thing is for me."

He frowns. "Why not?"

"Doesn't exist. All that stuff we read about as kids? Love at first sight? The magical first kiss? It's all fantasy. Marriages are essentially business transactions."

He grimaces at that. Or at the whiskey. Probably the whiskey. (Good god could this woman drink. He couldn't let her show him up, but he's definitely going to be feeling this in the morning. Though on the bright side, the pain in his jaw is practically nonexistent at this point.) "Now you sound like my step-father."

She waits expectantly for him to elaborate.

"Kathryn Hicks," he groans. "Her father's the richest man in the state. They call him the 'Midas of the West'. And Albert - my step-father - needs investors. He's intent on one of us marrying her, and, well, you've seen James in action now. I'm sure you can guess who he really expects to go through with it."

She smirks. "See? You just proved me right. Business transactions."

"Hey now," he says, leaning close to her. "I didn't say I was actually going to do it."

"And why not?"

This is it, he thinks. All or nothing, Nolan. "I'm waiting for true love," he explains, putting on his most dashing smile.

She snorts.

"Sorry, kids." They look up to find Ruby standing on the other side of the bar in front of them, arms folded across her chest. "Bar's closed. Time to take this party elsewhere."

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Prince Charming," says Mary Margaret, holding out a hand for him to shake.

He accepts it, clasping it firmly, not delicately as he would with other women. There is nothing 'delicate' about this woman, and he loves it. "You don't want me to walk you home?"

She opens her mouth to say something, but Ruby cuts her off. "Don't wait for me, hon. I'm staying with Granny tonight."

There's a wordless exchange between the two friends, almost solemn, but full of understanding. Mary Margaret sighs, and finally turns back to him. "You still don't need to walk me home."

"I could argue that as a gentleman I should insist, but I doubt that will do much to convince you. However, it's still my birthday, and you did punch me twice-"

She glances to the clock. "Actually, I'm pretty sure it isn't your birthday anymore."

Damn. He was hoping she wouldn't bring that up. "Would it do me any good to insist my brother was born just before midnight and I just after?"

She gives him a look that he finds both frightening and maddeningly alluring all at once. Ruby snickers. "You're just going to keep trying until I cave, aren't you?"

"How'd you guess?"

"Fine," she relents, then leans over the bar to hug her friend. "Good night Ruby. And send Granny my love."

"You too, and I will," says Ruby, returning the embrace. "Be careful." She pulls away and eyes David warningly. "And you better not start channeling your brother's lecherous tendencies in the next hour or so."

"On my best behavior," he promises, then offers his arm to Mary Margaret. "M'lady?"

She rolls her eyes but accepts it regardless, leaning into him as he leads her out of the restaurant. He can smell the combination of her perfume and a long day's work lingering on her, and he relishes it just as he does the weight of her hand in the crook of his elbow.

He's falling hard and it has barely even been a few hours.

Good god.

Help.

They take the scenic route. As scenic as they can manage, at least, wandering through the park as they stumble over one another arm-in-arm, finding their footing amid the haze of alcohol. The sky is clear, revealing an infinite expanse of stars above them as Mary Margaret presses more firmly against David, drawing warmth from him.

"I really am sorry," she says, breaking the silence of their walk. "About your chin, I mean."

He uses his free hand to touch the bandage. "Not the worst I've had."

"At least you have a good story to go along with it?"

He laughs, a deep, joyful sound that rumbles through his arm and into her body. "Oh, yes. 'I was just out having drinks on my birthday, minding my own business, when out of nowhere this beautiful woman comes up and decks me. Twice.' " He grins mischievously at her. " 'And then she thought I was so charming that she fell madly in love with me.' "

Charming is right, she thinks as she scowls at him and punches him half-heartedly in the bicep.

"Ow! Why so violent?"

She looks up again to find his eyes alight with amusement. "You are insufferable, you know that?"

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Completely insufferable, and yet she's in no hurry to leave his presence. The majority of men sneer and scorn her for her empowered attitude and less-than-traditional ambitions. Some are threatened, though they refuse to admit it. The rest smile condescendingly and pat her hand, patronizing her with an 'oh how cute, she thinks she can do a man's job'. And then there's David. David who grins in amusement and listens enraptured as she describes the wind in her hair and the thrill of flying over open fields. Insufferable, yes, but also different, and that's certainly something.

Gazing up at the stars, she wonders how strange it is that here they are, two strangers on a moonlit stroll, kindling some small spark between them while halfway around the world blood and death run rampant, just waiting to take over their small corner of peace. It's unfair, she thinks, to stand by and do nothing while others lose their lives, and yet she dreads the inevitable day that the war finally finds them.

She wonders briefly if she should fake him out and have him drop her off at some random building instead of her own. He does seem rather smitten, and the last thing she needs is a lovesick puppy turning up on her doorstep every night. But her legs seem to have taken on a will of their own, and soon they're exiting the park, making their way up the road to her apartment. Their pace is easy, neither of them in much of a hurry for the night to end, but at last they come to a stop in front of her building.

She pulls her hand from his arm, and meets his eyes briefly as she searches in her purse for her keys. "I suppose this is goodbye, Prince Charming," she says with a teasing note in her voice.

"I told you," he says, folding his arms in an apparent attempt at sounding serious, though the gleam in his eyes betrays him. "My name's David."

She wrinkles her nose, finally pulling free her keys. "Nah, I think I like 'Charming' better." She hesitates a moment, glancing regretfully at his bandaged jaw. "Sorry again about the-" she gestures toward him. "But you really should keep that brother of yours on a leash."

He chuckles. "I'll work on it. And I'm sure I deserved it for something."

"Regardless, it wasn't a very nice birthday present. And I am sorry for that."

He raises his eyebrows. It's a challenge - she knows a challenge when she sees one. "Then what sort of present do you have in mind?"

She wants to blame it on the alcohol, but she's always held her liquor well, and the chilly night air on their walk home has all but sobered her up. Maybe she can blame it on his infuriatingly charming smile, she thinks as she rises up on her toes, cups his cheek in her palm (mindful of his tender jaw) and presses her lips to his.

He returns the kiss carefully, one hand ghosting over her waist.

Yes, definitely blaming it on the smile.

"Good night, Charming," she whispers as she pulls away.

"Good night, Snow," he says, an emphasis on her old stage name.

She fits the key easily into the lock and slips inside, pausing with the door cracked when he calls out to her.

"What if I want to see you again?"

"Then you'll find me," she replies, her smile bordering on a challenge.

He smiles back, eyes gleaming. "Always."