Slice of Life (Donovan and Margaret)
A cutesy little story about Donovan and Margaret waiting for the trolley.
Author's Notes
This story was written when I was trying to get into the hang of writing again and was overall kept pretty simple since I just wanted to get an idea out. It's long outdated and in need of a rewrite.
Donovan and Margaret stood waiting on a trolley platform in the early morning light. The two of them were headed back to the apartment after dropping off something at the nearby hospital for Sylvia. Margaret insisted on coming with Donnie when she heard him leaving despite the sun hardly being up. It was a terribly windy day, and the cold of an incoming holiday storm made for a biting chill. Donovan was in his usual charcoal gray trench coat paired with a beige scarf and black leather gloves, choosing to leave his coat open even as the heavy material billowed in the wind. Next to him, Margaret was wearing a vaguely purple suede jacket with a brown scarf and little brown gloves of her own.
Donovan noticed that Margaret had her arms folded tight across her chest, her gloved hands gripping her shoulders.
"Are you cold, honey?"
"No," she lied. She didn't want to admit to him that she actually was, so instead she tried to tough it out. A particularly tough gust then whipped by, rustling the fallen leaves and even shaking the nearby street signs. Margaret scrunched up her shoulders, shutting her eyes as she tried to suppress her shivering.
Donovan gave her a thoughtful glance, coming up with a quick idea. He rubbed his arms in a show of trying to make it look like he was freezing.
"Well, I am, you oughta be able to hear my teeth chattering, kiddo." He huffed a laugh. "D'ya think you could stand by me an' keep me warm while we wait?"
"I guess so," Margaret responded with the roll of her eyes, finding it silly that a big gruff detective like him seemed to be colder than she was.
He held the side of his trench coat open, making a little space for Margaret to step into next to him — which she did. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, the detective's heavy coat falling snug against her. She didn't even notice that Donovan wasn't actually shivering like she was.
The trolley was still several minutes away, and in that time, the cozy warmth of Donovan and his coat lulled Margaret into a sleepy haze, her cheek pressed against his side as the tiredness of being awake so early crept up on her. The telling bells of the incoming trolley car brought her out of it, but not by much.
Donovan stepped away from her slightly when the trolley slowed to the platform, his coat falling away as he knelt down. He took notice of how tired Margaret looked as he tried to catch her eye. She was having trouble staying awake to hold his gaze.
He chuckled, bringing his hand to her cheek to tuck away a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"It looks like your bed is callin' ya, sweetheart. Is it alright if I pick you up?"
Margaret mumbled a groggy affirmation, and Donovan gently scooped her into his arms, letting her rest her head against his shoulder as they stepped onto the trolley. He took a seat facing away from where the wind would blow in, leaning back so she was laid against him.
As the drowsiness started to claim her for the second time, Donovan began humming a lazy tune that sounded oddly far away to Margaret. Despite the crisp ringing of the trolley bell, the gentle swaying of the car, his humming, and the soothing vibrations of his chest caused her to drift off once again.
By the time the trolley car stopped near their apartment building, Margaret was fast asleep. She didn't wake when they left the trolley car, nor when they got back to the apartment. Not even when Donovan quietly struggled to fish out his keys and open the front door did she wake up. Donovan stepped inside — taking care not to stir Margaret — and pulled the door closed with a gentle click.