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Regina’s no stranger to restless energy, pent-up emotions, and an untameable rage that has no release but out into the world. She knew the feeling well in the Enchanted Forest. The injustice of her childhood, her marriage, her damn stepdaughter. And once those feelings had boiled over and others had paid—with time, with servitude, with their life—that bubbling unease would recede, and life would continue as normal.
Now, it feels like life will never be normal. And Regina’s not really sure when that started. She could blame the Saviour—the day Henry dragged her back to Storybrooke and brought her whole world down. But that would be a lie, because Regina knows deep, deep, down that the answer isn’t so clean cut. One day, she was fine. Well, maybe not fine, but she got by. She had her town. She had her control. And even with Miss Swan’s appearance, Regina had her ways of handling the woman. Then, like a spell slowly wearing off, her acts of retaliation and revenge stopped being so satisfying.
She’d made the mistake of telling Henry—one afternoon, weeks ago— about these feelings as they sat across from each other at Granny’s. Her defences had been down, savouring the limited time she had with her son.
“You’re becoming good,” he explained behind a whipped cream moustache.
His hair had gotten longer since Neverland and wisps hung in front of his eyes. He pushed them out of the way with his sleeve and smiled wide back at her.
“Good?” she asked.
“Yeah. That’s why being evil doesn’t feel so good anymore.”
She huffed, readying a response—some way to explain that it was never about feeling good but relieving the uncomfortable pressure built up in her chest. Then again, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to disagree, considering how tentative their relationship was.
“But what do I do now?” she asked instead, seemingly forgetting this was an eleven-year-old she was talking to. “What do I do about this feeling?”
Henry paused mid-sip and took a moment to consider.
“Well, does it hurt?” he asked with complete sincerity.
“Hurt?” Did it?
Regina pressed her hand to her chest and tried to recall the last time the pressure had built.
The memory came to her easily. A disagreement with Emma about Henry’s school... or was it the T-ball team she’d wanted to sign him up for? Regina couldn’t recall the specifics, just the feeling that overwhelmed her as their argument had grown. The need to throttle the woman was strong—so much so, her fingers actually tingled. But when she’d put Emma in her place with a cold comment and decisive leer, the pressure inside her refused to dissipate. If anything, it had amassed even more until she had to turn away and leave, mid-fight.
But did it hurt?
“Yeah,” Henry confirmed. “Are you in pain?"
“No,” Regina decided.
It was nothing like the grief from loss, the burning from exhaustion, or the nausea from anxiety. It was a gnawing from within. A force clawing to get out.
“Then is it really so bad?” he replied.
The answer came to her in an instant.
“Yes,” she said. “It is.”
And it has been bad. For so many days, one bleeding into the next. She doesn’t know what is worse: the feeling itself or her inability to understand it.
Tonight is no different, though Henry’s presence does alleviate the feeling some. He’s a cute distraction, dressed in dark slacks and a white button-down shirt. He’d hated his tie, and after fighting with him on it all night, Regina had finally relented, letting him leave it behind in the Mercedes before heading to Granny’s for a late-night hot chocolate.
“Don’t you look nice,” Granny says skeptically as they push through the front door to the diner.
She’s directed her comment to Henry but glances up at Emma with an inquiring eye after he’s taken a seat.
“Thanks,” Henry comments, sitting a little taller in his chair.
Emma walks behind him, ruffling his hair as she passes, before taking a seat across from Regina. She’s in a cream-coloured dress this evening. At mid-thigh, it’s barely acceptable attire to wear to a children’s gala, but what does Regina expect? At least there are no leather jackets or tank tops in sight.
Ruby comes over to take their order when a loud crash emanates from outside.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Regina says.
She looks over at her son, already standing from his chair. She can almost imagine his ears at attention.
“Sit,” she says. She turns to Emma but finds the woman already moving around the table, her cell phone in hand as David’s name and contact photo illuminate the screen.
Out on the street, it’s clear where the loud bang had come from. All of the fire-hydrants down the main drag have burst, spewing water into the street. An old sedan has crashed into one, two blocks down.
While Emma races to assist the driver, Regina scans the intersection, following the slow path of destruction. The cause of the waterworks, blown manhole covers, and swaying electrical wires appears invisible, but all magic leaves a trace.
Regina waves her hand in front of her face as a thin, wiry-like magic spreads from her fingers, travelling out in looping patterns. It’s searching, looking. It travels high above her head, before changing directions, plummeting down until it skitters against the pavement.
“Where are you going?” Regina mutters to herself as she follows the magic down the street and over the curb.
It crosses the next intersection, headed back for Granny’s, then ducks into the side alley.
She knows she’s close. A streetlight just a few feet in front of her pops. Twin flames flicker to life in her palms. She raises them slowly in front of her, the fire flickering in front of her face.
Though the alley is dark, the fire, white hot and blue at the centre, gives her enough light to see the narrow space in front of her. She passes the side door where Ruby takes the trash out and notices the security camera has stopped blinking red.
It’s trying to go unnoticed, Regina surmises as she passes a larger overhead light, still flickering in the late night.
Finally, she reaches the end of the alley. A dead end. She must have the creature cornered. Her wiry, magic trail has stopped its pursuit, swirling in circles on the ground between herself and the large dumpster doors. Impatient and, surprisingly, missing the end of her night out with Henry and Emma, Regina throws two fireballs towards the metal doors, watching as they hit without interference.
“Huh,” Regina grunts.
She paces once to the left, then the right, listening for movement. The clink of something metallic grazing the asphalt catches her attention. Unfortunately, it’s at that moment that Emma decides to actually join the search, heeled boots clicking loudly down the alley.
“Damn it,” Regina grits out, losing the location of the sound.
“Regina!” she calls out, as if making more noise will help their case.
She bats Emma away—stifles her frustration with a flick of her head. Flames still aglow in her palms, she takes two deep breaths, willing that feeling to abate. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think Emma’s mere presence was to blame.
Her wiry magic has faded but she knows if she focuses hard enough, she won’t need it. Emma’s footsteps really aren’t helping, though. Regina can still hear her approach but blocks the sound of it out. She blocks everything else out.
To her left, an awning creaks. Metal scratches against something thick. Low. An echo reverberates like a heavy water-drop in a deep pool.
“Regina!”
Oomph.
The other woman comes out of nowhere, pushing Regina hard against the uneven bricks of the building. Behind Emma, a manhole cover shoots out of the ground, flying high into the air. Sparks fly out in all directions above them. A second later, a crash blares out, coming from the cover with a loud bang.
Regina has maybe five seconds to gather her bearings, before she sees it. The magical entity, obscuring the shadow of Emma’s hair against the building behind them. With one perfectly aimed shot, the fireball connects, and the creature burns to ash in mid-air.
“Phew,” Emma says a beat later as her eyes lower to watch the dust settle by their feet.
The sentiment is reciprocated, though all Regina can focus on is the uncomfortable brick poking through the slinky material of her black jumpsuit. While protecting Regina from the explosive metal grating, Emma has sandwiched Regina between herself and the side of the diner. Feeling safe to step back into the open, Regina shifts against the wall, preparing to push Emma off, when she notices Emma’s breathing has become irregular. She’s sweating too. The low neckline of her dress clings to her cleavage, just the slightest bit translucent. Regina goes to remove her gaze before she’s caught staring, when her eyes lift to Emma’s. It appears she’s too late for that. The woman is stock-still, jaw locked, and eyes wide.
Regina clears her throat, hoping to cut the tension, when she realizes the tension—at least within herself—has dissipated immensely. In its place she feels warm and slightly inebriated.
“Emma?” Her voice comes out hoarse and scratchy.
Emma nods, almost imperceptibly, and leans further into Regina. Her hip bone grazes Regina’s side and now they’re both breathing irregularly. Short exhales drift between them, smelling of cheap champagne and the sugary desserts served after the gala dinner. Regina can feel the warmth of Emma’s bare legs through the soft material of her pants. The front one slides even closer, pinning Regina’s centre against the building.
“Emma,” she repeats louder, trying to clear the fog from her brain.
The sound of a door banging shut forces both of their gazes away. Emma starts to step back, leaving a sliver of space between them.
It’s at the very moment that Ruby comes into view, barely visible in the lowlight of the alley, that Regina notices not all the pressure at her front has eased. There are two cold hands cupping her breasts through the thin material across her chest. Of all the outfits to choose for the gala, it had to be one she couldn’t hide a bra under.
Emma’s hands, motionless before, finally start to move. Instead of pulling away though, they clench, and Regina feels the remaining air leave her lungs in a heavy puff.
“What are you guys doing?” Ruby speaks up, her brow raised in curiosity.
“I–” Emma’s voice tapers away.
Her eyes flit from Regina’s chest to Ruby and back again. Never her own face, Regina realizes with mild amusement. Regina knows she should be furious, but a small—maybe not so small—part of her is intrigued.
“I was trying to help,” Emma eventually gets out.
“With what?” Ruby replies without missing a beat.
When her gaze falls to Regina’s chest as well, Emma finally pulls her hands away. She stares down at them like they’ve betrayed her—acted on their own volition.
“I... I couldn’t grab her arms. The fire. She needed them,” Emma struggles out.
Her face, previously stark white, has pinked across her cheeks and down her neck.
“And there wasn’t anywhere else...” Ruby teases.
“No! Yes. I mean... Look, Regina–”
For the first time in what feels like minutes, Emma looks up to meet Regina’s gaze, though it’s fleeting.
“It’s fine, Miss Swan,” she says, pushing down the confusion that wants to show its face.
She’s never seen the other woman so at a loss for words. If she weren’t so conflicted, she might even enjoy Emma’s distress.
“Let’s just get back to Henry,” she adds, before moving away.
Without turning back to see if Emma is willing to follow, Regina swings the side door open and heads back inside. It goes without saying that hot chocolate is served at home that night, without Emma Swan.
At first, the situation from that night feels like another memory Regina can shrug off and move on from. She’s ready to add it to the list of things that don’t deserve her attention. But then, two days later, Regina sees Emma walking by as she drops off mail at the post office, and she quickly realizes that plan is dead on arrival.
That pressure in her chest is suddenly three-dimensional, pressing steadily against her rib cage. It feels an awful lot like her heart.
After her weekly meeting with the town’s utility department heads, Regina nearly runs headfirst into Emma, exiting a conference room.
“Whoops,” Emma says, a ridiculous grin on her face.
It must be colder outside since she’d left for lunch earlier, because Emma’s cheeks are positively ruddy.
“Miss Swan,” Regina replies, trying to collect herself.
She straightens her suit jacket and clasps her hands in front of her belly. They’re clammy and warm, sticking uncomfortably as she rests one thumb over the other.
Regina tries hard not to let Emma’s response to barging into her bother her so much, but as Emma continues to just stand there, a goofy smile on her face, Regina can’t help the nervous energy that boils under her skin.
“Do you really think that’s the most appropriate thing to say to someone you’ve just run into?” Regina continues, narrowing her eyes.
Emma’s grin slides slowly off her face, but instead of fear or reciprocated anger, she appears confused.
“What?” Regina bites out, gripping the hems of her sleeves tight within her grasp.
Emma clears her throat—a pink tongue barely peeking out to run along her lower lip—before she replies, “Are you sure I ran into you?”
What kind of question is that?
“Of course!” Regina retorts. The words come out in a stammer, causing Regina’s breath to catch. “Of course,” she repeats, quieter and less assured.
Two city hall employees pass by, stalling briefly on Regina and Emma, and Regina diverts her gaze to the tasteful wall art hanging behind them. She cannot be doing this here. From the corner of her eye, she notices Emma moving toward her, and for a split-second, her mind flashes images from the night of the children’s gala. A leg brushing up against her own, a hand cupping her breast–
“Stop!” Regina yells out, pushing Emma away from her.
Her hand connects with Emma’s shoulder, but it spins her around more than shoving her away.
“Regina!” Emma says with a start.
As she manages to get her bearings, something behind Regina catches her attention, and she cast her eyes beyond her. There’s movement—the sound of a pair of footsteps before the closing of a door. Regina hears the clearing of the man’s throat before she sees him pass by in her periphery.
“I was just trying to hold the door open for him,” Emma says, gaze flicking over to one of the men in Regina’s meeting earlier.
By now, he, along with a hallway full of city workers, have turned to see what all the commotion is about. Regina feels all eyes on her. One set in particular look on in worry.
“Hey,” Emma says, reaching out to her.
Regina’s fists clench. Her chest tightens. She can’t be here. She can’t be seen here with her.
“Miss Swan.” She nods, not even managing to look up and meet her gaze again.
She suddenly has no words left—not even a biting comment about Emma’s ineptitude or lack of social graces. It’s not until she’s back in her office with the door closed that her breathing begins to even out.
What the hell was that? she wonders.
A small voice inside her head says she knows exactly what that was, but what does it know?
Instead of facing this dilemma head on, Regina does the mature thing and avoids Miss Swan at all costs. She memorizes the sheriff schedule, working from home when Emma is needed anywhere near City Hall. On Wednesday, when Emma drops Henry off at the mansion, she leaves the door unlocked and claims to be busy as she calls for Henry to come in.
After a whole five days of no contact, she gets a call while cooking dinner. Focused on stirring the béchamel for her lasagna, she doesn’t catch the caller ID before swiping to accept.
“Hello?” she says through the speaker phone.
Instead of Henry’s voice—the only one brave enough to call her after-hours—it’s Emma.
“Regina.”
“Emma?” The first name slips out, high pitched, as she drops her spoon in the sauce, causing the hot mixture of butter, flour, and milk to splash up from the pot, hitting her skin.
“Regina?” her voice repeats, slightly more panicked now. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Regina answers distantly, as she runs over to the sink to run her hand under cold water.
Regina misses the next words out of Emma’s mouth, masked by the water flowing out of the faucet. By the time she makes it back over to her phone, sitting on the counter beside the cooktop, the line is quiet but still ongoing. The seconds tick by, showing the call has been active for almost a minute.
Regina hears Emma breathe audibly, long and laborious.
“I know why you’re avoiding me, and I just want to say that I’m sorry.”
“You’re–”
“I promise I won’t cross that line again, okay?”
It’s exactly what Regina should want to hear, but then why does her body yearn to reach out for the device—cradle it to her face and tell Emma that it’s not okay. Tell her that none of this is okay.
After another few seconds of silence, Emma takes Regina’s unwillingness to reply as her sign to end the call. After a short goodbye, Regina’s phone screen goes black, leaving her to stare mournfully at her own reflection in the mirrored surface.
At the next All Hands meeting at town hall—the first time Regina cannot actively avoid Emma—Regina has nothing to say when the topic turns over to the Sheriff’s department. She doesn’t even bring up the reports she’s been waiting on Emma to turn in since last month or harp on her extra long lunch breaks whenever David’s on shift with her.
Regina doesn’t realize just how integrated Emma has become in her life until she narrowly avoids running into her at Granny’s during her mid-morning breakfast run. It seems that even her morning routine at Granny’s—one she’s come to rely on and enjoy—must go if it means never running into Emma during the week.
Though she knows avoiding Miss Swan will come as no challenge—she did rule an unsuspecting town for twenty-eight years—she can’t help but feel as if something is missing.
Thankfully, there are a couple days each week that she’s come to rely on to not be interrupted by Miss Swan and her stupidly happy face. The mornings after Emma’s late shifts are a blessing. Regina cracks her latest book, a new nonfiction by her favourite author, and settles back into her seat with a plate of eggs and toast and her second cup of coffee steaming in front of her.
She’s just started on the next chapter, when the bell above the front door sounds from behind her. She knows instantly the footsteps that approach are not Granny’s. Nearly jumping from her seat, Regina starts to turn as a woman clears her throat next to her. Regina sets her dog-eared book down on the seat beside her and looks up to find Ruby smiling at her.
“Don’t worry. It’s not Emma.”
“Excuse me?”
Ruby’s hand slides off the back of the booth, and she begins to retreat to the kitchen with a cryptic smile.
“Ms. Lucas,” Regina calls out, making a move to stand.
She’ll follow Ruby back through the kitchen. Regina doesn’t care.
“How did you know?” she grits through her teeth.
Ruby nods toward the man that had entered, now seated at the front counter.
“So?” Regina comments. She doesn’t want to spell out the words. There are always people listening. Always people happy to jump on the latest gossip around the reformed evil queen.
Doing a quick one-eighty, Ruby heads back to Regina’s table with her serving tray tucked under one arm.
“You’ve been avoiding her since the incident, haven’t you?” Ruby says, just quiet enough for only their ears to hear.
Regina scowls. It’s not an answer, yet Ruby ascertains how spot on she is when a second later, Regina shrugs the slightest fraction. Ruby’s ensuing smile is too pleased.
“So, what if I am?” Regina shoots back, turning quickly to face her.
Her elbow bumps into her coffee, sloshing over the side of the mug as she does so, and she jerks away quickly.
“Damn,” she mutters under her breath.
What had started out as a nice, quiet, Emma-free Sunday morning is suddenly… not. While Emma has been elusive since Regina left the mansion at eight, this new development has soured this morning’s nice and peaceful quality quite quickly.
“Look–” Regina stands, noticing the late hour. If she doesn’t leave now, she’s sure to run into the whole Charming party. “Why does it matter if I am avoiding her? It’s not like we were ever close.”
Ruby snorts, then taps the edge of her tray, eyes assessing Regina far more than she’s comfortable with.
“Maybe not,” she finally replies, “But I have faith you’ll figure it out.”
With that, she forces a wide grin and spins around to head off to serve another table. Regina stands silent for a moment, stunned. Huffing out a tired exhale, she grabs for her shoulder bag, then heads for the door.
Unfortunately, Sunday morning’s less than ideal start ends up not as an anomaly but the standard for how the following week plays out. On Monday, Randy’s assistant at The Regional Electric Board sends Regina back the wrong paperwork for the second week in a row. On Tuesday, her secretary orders the wrong sandwich from Granny’s, and she’s forced to scrape at the bread lest she actually consider combining the savoury taste of smoked turkey with overly processed strawberry jelly. Even her late start on Wednesday morning is foiled when she takes a seat at her booth in Granny’s, only to discover her book is missing from her shoulder bag.
She forces her way through her cup of coffee, staring out at the townspeople, before leaving early in a huff.
“Did something happen?” Henry asks that night at dinner.
She had a feeling he wanted to say something, for he’s been pushing around the last of his green beans on his plate like they’re doing laps on the world’s smallest racetrack. Regina resists the compulsion to clear their plates right then and there and puts on her most neutral, content face.
“Why would you think that?” she says instead.
Henry shrugs, eyes downcast to his plate.
“Did someone say something to you?”
His ears perk up at this and he shakes his head vehemently.
“No. Nothing like that. You’ve just…” His face scrunches as he stares off across the dining room, lost in thought.
“You’ve looked sad,” he eventually lands on.
“Oh.” Regina straightens in her chair. She hadn’t been expecting that. Out of all the ridiculous things the town has been through, this should be the least concerning. Yet the way his whole body seems to deflate at the realization makes Regina’s heart heavy.
“I promise I’m okay, Henry.”
“Are you really or are you just saying that because that’s what adults say when they don’t want to talk about something?”
Clever boy.
“I… Maybe I’m not totally fine. But sometimes that happens and it’s really okay. Adults get stressed about things out of their control all the time. That doesn’t mean something bad happened.”
He seems to consider this for a second, plate completely abandoned now. He’s far too insightful for his own good sometimes. Now is as good a time as any to bring out dessert. However, Henry isn’t done with this conversation and stops Regina short with one word alone.
“But Emma–”
“Emma?”
“Emma’s also been moody too. I just thought maybe–”
“I haven’t been moody,” she replies maybe a bit too defensively. “And whether Emma has or has not been is of no consequence to me.”
“But!”
“Henry,” she warns, hands gripping the back of the dining room chair.
“I just thought maybe you’ve been fighting again and Snow–”
“Snow said something?”
His eyes dart back and forth, and Regina sees him visibly swallow. It’s not his fault the adults in his life can’t seem to focus on themselves instead of everyone else.
Regina takes a deep breath and releases the tension built up in her shoulders.
“I’m sorry for reacting like that. It doesn’t matter what Snow has said. I am telling you that nothing is wrong. Emma and I are not fighting—we’re just not friends, okay?”
He opens his mouth to rebut, but Regina’s reserve of patience is suddenly hitting an all time low. She silences whatever he’s planned on saying next and diverts.
“Raspberry cobbler or last night’s brownies?”
Though Regina is less than thrilled to admit it, she does feel as though this slump is more of a constant than an oddity. She’s barely spoken a word to Emma in three weeks—most of which has been over text or during the short phone call when Regina first started avoiding her.
When Regina passes through the front doors of the high school gymnasium on Monday night for the biweekly town forum, she catches Snow eyeing her from the sign-in table. It’s clear she also believes Regina’s done something to upset Emma and glares at her as if she’s cast another curse upon their town.
Regina shrugs off the look and keeps going. It’s not a crime to avoid small chat every time she runs into Emma or hands Henry off.
Tonight’s turn out is decent, though the usual suspects are there nice and early. Mrs. Johnson sits front row with her little planner open and creased. Regina rolls her eyes and looks down to her phone in her lap as the rest of the community members filter in. Handing off this meeting to town volunteers has so far been her most ingenious idea since becoming mayor… again. Sometimes, she does wish she could be so detached as to not show up at all. If only most forums didn’t end in consequence-inducing drama.
The show kicks off five minutes after seven with the most frequent offenders. Snow is all bright eyes and warm smiles as she listens to each complaint no matter how inane. Another volunteer sits two seats down from Regina at the foldout table, diligently writing notes in a spiral notebook. Regina is pretty sure it’s the same kind Henry used for English back in the 2nd grade.
“And that’s when the knocking started again,” the woman currently at the mic continues. “I saw it on the security camera and saved the file if you need to see it.”
Regina’s eyes flick over to Snow who actually looks like she’s about to entertain the idea.
“That’s not necessary,” Regina comments. “But please, go on.”
As the lady happily jumps back into her riveting story, Regina’s gaze shifts to the rest of the people scattered about the rows of plastic chairs facing the small stage. A good majority have already zoned out—some on their phones while others lounge further back in their chairs, half-asleep.
After a moment, Regina’s eyes come to a stop on a head of blonde hair in the back row. Emma. When did she even come in? Regina didn’t notice her name on the sign-in sheet. Leave it to Emma to break even the most innocent of rules. Regina huffs quietly and tries her darnedest not to roll her eyes.
Before she can look away, Emma notices her staring and locks onto Regina’s gaze. She raises one eyebrow. Questioning or taunting, Regina isn’t too sure. Regardless, it’s impressive. She, herself, spent years honing that look and has never made it appear so effortless. It’d be commendable if she weren’t on the receiving end so often.
Regina chuckles internally but stops short when that eyebrow falls and in its place is the faintest of smiles, partially hidden by one of Emma’s curled fists. Not even a second later, Emma’s hand falls to her lap and there it is: a genuine grin—like there’s some shared secret between them that no one else in the room is privy to.
Regina can’t look away. She’d assume it was magic had she not known better.
In the background, someone new is complaining about the new bike lane, but Regina can’t discern any more than that, because Emma is smiling at her. Emma is smiling like Henry’s just shared a corny joke or David’s brought her a warm meal during a late shift at the station, or Granny’s just promised her the last bear claw of the day. It’s a smile Emma never shares with her, though.
If Regina could remember how to move her body, she’d pinch herself just to confirm she isn’t dreaming. She’s saved the pain when a second later, she’s elbowed by someone in the seat beside hers.
“Regina,” the woman—another mother with a son in Henry’s grade—whispers.
Regina’s attention returns to the town forum—to the room full of grumbling townspeople, the short woman at the mic now, and the eyes of every individual in attendance.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that,” Regina says, clearing her throat.
With her focus still divided, Regina catches Emma chuckling into her hand, eyes bright and cheeks pink. Regina finds she isn’t bothered this time.
Back at the mic, the question is repeated. An easily denied request to increase the frequency of town forums—over her dead body. Three more people step up to speak. It’s of little interest to Regina— not when there’s Emma’s odd behaviour to turn over in her head. Shortly after, Snow wraps up for the night, thanking all of those that attended, and directing everyone once again to the sad spread of refreshments along the back wall.
It isn’t until the gymnasium has cleared out and the volunteers have begun to fold up the tables and chairs that a true epiphany hits Regina.
I smiled first.
Though Regina continues to keep her distance—Emma even accommodating her decision by waiting in the Bug when dropping Henry off and stopping in at Granny’s later in the day, even when her work schedule changes (Regina had seen her hanging back until she’d left the Wednesday before)—her dilemma begins to shift once again.
It’s not that Regina’s suddenly banging down Emma’s door or sending her leading text messages at night. She is still adamantly avoiding her, okay? It’s just—it’s not Regina’s fault if it happens accidentally.
On Sunday, Henry wakes earlier than usual. On weeks when he’s not at Emma’s, he’d usually meander down shortly before lunch and prepare himself some cereal or a sandwich. Today, though, he’s up and dressed before nine.
“Can we get breakfast at Granny’s today?”
Regina, still shocked to see him so put together at this time, freezes in her response.
“Please,” Henry adds with a hangdog expression.
It’s not usually a morning she’d go to Granny’s, but it’s been so long since she got to treat him to the diner’s famous pancakes.
“Sure,” she eventually replies, forcing a smile to her face.
It’s not until after breakfast—after two orders of pancakes and two large hot chocolates, one with whipped cream and one without—that Regina catches a shock of blonde hair over Snow’s shoulder as they’re leaving the diner. The whole charming family is walking down the street to Granny’s.
So absorbed in his phone up ahead, Henry doesn’t notice the three of them headed their direction. Regina does, though. If possible, every one of her senses has become attuned to Emma’s presence: her low and soft voice, the scent of her soap and pleather jacket, the sensation of magic that seems to naturally flow through her.
Regina schools her expression into a look of neutrality, focused on the path ahead. But as the two groups pass, squeezed closer together thanks to the cluster of tables and chairs partially blocking the walkway, Emma looks up just as Regina does, and the resulting eye-contact is electric.
Maybe it’s the clear air of winter approaching or the bright, early morning sunlight. Maybe Regina’s somehow forgotten how unfairly gorgeous Emma Swan is in the few days since last seeing her. Regardless, Emma’s simple smile alone catches Regina off guard. She stalls on Emma’s approaching form, watching as her mouth curves up and her hand raises to point to her own lips.
Whaaa…
Emma taps her lips again.
Does she expect Regina to… kiss them?
From her other side, Henry yanks at her coat, causing her to break her gaze away.
“Mom?” he asks her as Emma fully passes, following Snow and David into the diner.
“Yes, Henry?”
She listens as he explains the latest release of his favourite comic on his phone. With her hand, she reaches up and touches her own lips, absentmindedly wondering what Emma had meant.
It’s not until Henry pauses, looking up at her with a silly expression on his face, that she forces her thoughts away from Emma Swan.
“Mom?”
“Yes, Henry?”
“Are you going to wipe the hot chocolate from your mouth?”
Oh.
The following Wednesday, Regina stops in at Granny’s at her usual time and starts for her normal table, when instead, Ruby has her sit closer to the front, claiming her booth is dirty.
“Can’t you just–”
Her complaint is cut off as she notices a steaming latte and croissant already placed in the centre of the table.
“Ruby,” she calls out, motioning to the place that’s clearly already taken.
Ruby just grins at her and walks away, leaving Regina to stare angrily at her back. She has a few choice words lined up for the imperious waitress, when Regina also spots the book she’d thought she lost weeks before.
After taking a seat in the booth, Regina picks up the book, quickly confirming from her own initials on the inside cover that it is indeed hers. As she leafs through, not holding out hope that it hasn’t been somehow damaged since she last had it in her possession, she reaches the chapter she’d left off at and notices a new bookmark has been inserted where her last dog-eared page is.
How Strange.
With Ruby nowhere in sight anymore, Regina tentatively reaches for the latte and takes a sip. She’s instantly hit with the strong and bold flavour of espresso. The milk has been perfectly frothed and not too sweet. Regina smiles over the rim of the mug, no longer too concerned that she’s taken someone else’s seat.
With her book spread open on the table, Regina settles against the backrest, finding the spot potentially more comfortable than her usual table.
“How is it?” Ruby asks, appearing from the back of the kitchen.
She points to the croissant that Regina’s enjoyed a time or two before, but what she’s really impressed with is the coffee. She didn’t even realize Granny’s made lattes.
“Acceptable,” she answers, tight-lipped.
Ruby eyes her curiously, and Regina adds, uncharacteristically, “The coffee is quite good, though.”
“Oh, yeah?“ Ruby says behind a wide smile.
Regina doesn’t trust her, yet she still nods her head slowly.
“I’ll pass that on then.”
There’s something more to Ruby’s cheeky smirk. Regina reaches out to stop her before moving on to the next table, and she doesn’t look surprised to have piqued Regina’s curiosity.
“Pass it on to who?” Regina levels her with a hard stare. “Granny?”
Ruby only winks, before spinning away.
Exactly a week later, while getting in a light evening jog on her treadmill, Regina hears the doorbell ring at a quarter ‘till eight. She hits the stop button and slows down her pace, all the while wondering who could possibly be at her door at this time at night. The only answer that makes sense is Henry, but surely if anything were wrong, she would have gotten a text already.
After wiping her forehead and chest with a rag slung over the treadmill’s side handle, Regina pads down the hall towards the stairs. Her earlier question is answered before she even reaches the tile of the front hall. Spotting the Bug idling on the street, Regina opens the front door, expecting to see Henry back for a missing comic or game.
She barely catches his puzzled face before he barrels past her into the house.
“Henry!” she shouts.
“Be right back,” he calls, not stopping and taking the stairs two at a time.
Regina turns back to her open front door and the cool evening air. She’s immediately surprised to find Emma is not hanging back in her car as has been the standard for the past few weeks. Instead, she’s just standing there on Regina’s porch in sweatpants and a hoodie. Her hands are jammed into the front pocket, and she shifts back and forth on her feet, restlessly.
“Emma,” Regina says, unable to hide her surprise.” Would you like to come in?”
Emma shakes her head, eyes focused on the empty hall behind Regina. “He should only be a minute.
Regina rolls her eyes and huffs, exasperated. The gesture forces Emma to finally acknowledge her presence. She narrows her gaze on Regina, indignation and exhaustion slipping away quickly. It’s not hard for Regina to follow her thoughts; she catches the way Emma’s eyes drop from her face, stalling on her cleavage, before averting to the ground.
“Don’t be silly; it’s late and cold out. Henry shouldn’t be long,” Regina says, sparing them both the impending awkwardness.
She reaches for Emma’s arm to pull her inside, when she stops a moment later, second-guessing the casual contact. Regina withdraws her hand, stiffly tucking it underneath her other arm. With her arms both crossed, Emma’s eyes flick back over to her chest, not even pretending to find the concrete of Regina’s front porch fascinating this time.
It feels like a small victory—that is until Henry comes bounding down the stairs, long pyjama bottoms nearly tripping him on the last step.
“Careful,” Emma says, before Regina can even open her mouth.
Henry rolls his eyes.
Focusing on her son is all Regina can do to not feel completely sated by Emma’s tender expression and concerned eyes.
“Did you get everything you need?” Emma asks.
Henry shuffles the schoolwork in his hands, not even stapled or paper clipped. The disorder reminds Regina of Emma—of all the police reports with missing pages, surely crumpled in the backseat of the cruiser or stuffed inside a desk drawer. Unbidden, a small smile slips onto her face. Emma shoots her a worried expression.
Fortunately, Henry is too preoccupied to notice the exchange and lets Emma guide him out their door a moment later.
“Goodnight Mom,” he calls out behind him.
“Good night, Henry,” Regina replies, raising one arm to wave.
Before the pair can reach the street where Emma’s yellow Bug is still idling, Emma turns back to look at Regina. It’s not even a full turn with the woman’s hand still slung over her son’s shoulders, but Regina can’t possibly miss it. Miss the way Emma’s eyes trail over Regina’s features. Miss the way she sucks her lower lip between her teeth. The way her cheeks appear a little too pink to just be a reaction to the cold.
With a noticeable sigh, Emma turns back to the street, and Regina feels her whole-body sag. She presses a hand to her chest, willing it to settle.
I really need to workout more often, Regina tells herself, before going back inside and closing the door.
At the next All Hands meeting at town hall, Regina barely makes it back in time from a meeting off site at the Electrical Board offices. She should’ve known it would run over the moment Randy’s assistant had come out of the back offices to inform her his current meeting had run over. Yeah, you’re current meeting with that cheeseburger and large fries, Regina had thought to herself.
She’s still grumbling about that waste of time, when she realizes today’s printed agendas are not inside her briefcase. She makes eye-contact with the representative from the Registrar’s office, an insufferable older woman who seems to take joy in every mistake Regina makes, before glancing back down. She already knows the stack of papers is not there—most likely left behind on the printer in the copy room. Though her hands start to shake, Regina keeps her outward façade calm and relaxed. She’ll just have to pull the agenda up on her laptop and hope she remembers how to share her screen with the new projector IT installed last spring. If she’s lucky, an intimidating glare and no-nonsense attitude will make the decision look purposeful. Going green and all.
As she opens up her laptop at the head of the meeting room table, her secretary slips in through the back door. Instead of going straight for Regina, she begins to pass out the agenda for the day.
Once she’s made it all around the table, she stops behind Regina, handing her the extras.
“You’re a lifesaver,” Regina whispers, possibly for the first time ever.
“Oh.” Her secretary looks from Regina to the small stack of agendas. “I didn’t–”
“Mayor Mills?”
Regina spins around to see the rest of the room waiting impatiently. She directs her line of sight to an empty seat, and her secretary takes the unspoken direction so the meeting can begin.
After the meeting has adjourned, Regina stays seated, jotting down notes in her calendar. She, once again, has the impossible task of fitting sixty hours of work into a forty-hour week. When her scan of her schedule reaches Friday, Regina freezes, noticing the already greyed out block of time later in the day.
Of course. Henry, she mouths, lowering her head into her hands. She runs her palm against her temple, willing the ensuing headache to turn around and go back to wherever it came from. Unfortunately, her magic doesn’t quite work like that. If all magic didn’t come with a price, she’d happily clone herself or slow down time so she could make her appointment with the school board, her rescheduled meeting with Randy, and take Henry to the new superhero movie premiering that week. Unlike other appointments that can be easily moved though, she cannot force herself to sacrifice either of these. They’re both quite essential and time sensitive.
She knows what she needs to do, but doesn’t want to do it.
Letting a sigh escape, she moves for her purse to retrieve her cell phone when she feels a warm hand against her own. Long, slim fingers wrap delicately over her own tight fist.
“Randy can wait ‘till next week,” Emma says, softly yet assertive.
Regina feels herself nod, eyes slipping closed as she inhales her familiar scent. It must be her own exhaustion, for she makes no move to pull her hand away. Even after Emma has left, leaving Regina to sit in the conference room alone, Emma’s presence still lingers, occupying all of Regina’s senses.
This must be akin to the thrill of playing hooky, Regina imagines late Friday afternoon as she skips her final meeting of the day. Her step nearly has a skip to it, and as her and Henry head to Granny’s for food before the movie, he actually shoots her an awed expression, as if she’s just informed him they’re having dessert for dinner.
They don’t, of course. She may be stepping outside the confines of her usual structure, but she’s not irresponsible. Henry has chicken tenders, fries, and a cup of fruit for dessert—her one caveat if he wants popcorn later, too—while she settles for a sandwich and a bowl of soup.
When Regina returns to their booth after paying for their bill at the counter, she finds Emma in her seat. A fry from Henry’s plate is pinched between her fingers, and as she leans forward, he laughs at something she’s said. It’s as Emma finally takes a bite of it, that she registers Regina’s looming presence. Her lips close slowly over the fry, before severing it in half. Regina watches her chew and swallow first, before opening her mouth to—kindly—ask her to stand from her seat.
Henry beats her to the punch, though, and scoots over in his own seat to let Regina in.
“Emma was just telling me about her latest police report,” Henry explains.
“I hope it was appropriate,” Regina says, not moving from her spot, standing in front of the table.
“Oh,” Henry begins, mouth split wide in a grin. “It’s hilarious. Tell Mom what Grumpy said. Tell her!”
Emma purses her lips and turns to Regina.
“Maybe another time, Henry.”
“Yes, another time,” Regina agrees. “We need to get going anyway.”
Henry slumps in his seat, before seeming to remember where they’re off to next. His grimace is quickly replaced by another excited smile. He turns from Regina to Emma, before reaching across the table to take Emma’s hand.
“Mom…” he begins, not turning to face Regina.
The way his smile has transformed into more of a smirk does not bode well for either of them.
“Yes?”
“You said we hadn’t bought tickets for the movie yet, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
They lived in Storybrooke. They never had to worry about shows selling out unless everyone in town suddenly felt compelled to watch grown-adults run around punching each other in colourful leotards and full-body spandex suits.
“Then, hypothetically, Emma could come to the movie with us.”
Hypothetically? If these were the lines he hit her with now, god bless her for when his teenage years hit.
Before Regina can answer him, Emma is already starting to pull away, a resigned but tight-lipped smile on her face.
“Wait,” Regina says, causing both of them to glance up at her. “I don’t know about hypothetically, but in this instance, I’d say it would be quite acceptable for Miss Swan to join us—if she wants to.”
“I’d like that,” Emma replies, gaze meeting Regina’s.
“Good. Then that’s settled.” She wraps her hands tight around her purse strap, unable to look away but afraid her chest might burst if she doesn’t.
With a small popcorn to share in Henry’s lap, Emma takes the seat on his right, while Regina takes the one on his left. Not long after the opening credits begin, both Henry and Emma are fully engrossed in the movie.
“It’s the prequel,” Emma had tried to explain to Regina on their way to the theatre.
Apparently the current film is the eighteenth in the whole series, but Henry, most likely scared Regina would insist on watching the first seventeen first, had assured her she wouldn’t need to, to enjoy this one.
Regardless, Regina finds her thoughts continuously straying from the film and over to the woman sitting a seat over from her. If she weren’t worried about getting caught, she’d never take her eyes off Emma. In a pair of black-rimmed reading glasses Regina has never seen her wear—the screen is so faraway, okay?—Emma is the epitome of adorable. Regina would be cursing at herself for the admission if she didn’t already feel completely strung out.
Part way through the film, Regina lays her arm over the back of Henry’s chair, not failing to notice how close her fingertips come to skimming Emma’s sweater-clad shoulder. She feels like a teenager in one of those cheesy teen rom-coms, wondering if the other will make the first move. But not once does Emma even take notice of her close proximity.
At one point, a famous cameo shows up in the movie, causing Henry and Emma to burst out laughing. Emma ruffles his hair as he snarks about the actor’s resemblance to Emma with her old man glasses. The moment Henry turns back to the screen, Emma’s gaze catches on Regina’s and Regina thinks, this is it; she must notice. But not even a solid ten seconds of intense eye-contact spurs her to make a move.
As the movie finishes, Regina can’t decide if she’s more embarrassed, angry, or sad by this lack of development.
It’s dark when they leave the theatre shortly after nine o’clock. Henry goes on ahead, while Emma hangs back.
“So you’re not mad at me anymore?” Emma asks, when she’s sure enough distance is between them and their son.
Regina looks back at her confused.
“You know… after the–” She glances down at her own well-covered chest, and that’s when Regina realizes just how misguided she’s been. Emma thought she’d been mad at her. Emma’s behaviour recently… she just thinks Regina’s upset with her.
Regina opens her mouth to start on how wrong the assumption is—how Regina had avoided Emma, not because she couldn’t stand to be around the other woman, but in fear of what she might do in Emma’s presence.
It’s just… Emma looks so happy and peaceful right now. The last thing Regina wants to do is throw a dynamic—one that’s been so off kilter, recently—back into a tailspin.
“No, I’m not mad,” Regina finally answers.
Emma’s smile widens as she nods, and Regina at least can’t be angry anymore about her incorrect assumptions.
When they part at their cars, Emma actually hugs her—firm and close—before retreating to her car.
“That was fun,” Henry says, absentmindedly from the backseat.
“Yeah,” Regina croaks, feeling as if her throat has permanently relocated to her throat.
While the past few weeks have felt so distinct—so much so, Regina could probably recount the events from each—the following one seems to pass in a blur. Every time she’s not one-hundred percent focused on what’s in front of her, her mind wanders to Emma.
How did she read their situation so wrong? To think all those moments with Emma had manifested from timid friendliness and not subtle flirting… It makes sense now. The Evil Queen and the Saviour. How laughable. How preposterous. How trite. What storyteller would ever write that ending? Surely no one of this world or her former one, either.
In the light of day, the truth is easy to digest—easy to understand. Even the hand touches, the smiles, the way Emma’s gaze seemed to find her own without trying. It all sounds completely plausible that all of it was simply a friendly gesture.
It’s at night, as she lay awake with the outline of her room barely visible under the moonlight, that the little voice in the back of her head sounds less crazy. For a few minutes, she lets herself imagine the gestures weren’t so platonic. She imagines sitting next to Emma in that theatre, slipping her hand beneath Emma’s as it sits on the armrest between them. Never taking her eyes off her side-profile until she turns to Regina and grins wickedly like she knows exactly what Regina is thinking.
The moment Regina feels the warmth suffusing her chest, she knows it’s time to stop. To quit her daydreaming. So what if the pressure in her chest never leaves her? She’d rather endure the feeling for the rest of her life than accept the pain of loss.
After one week of mourning something that never was, Regina starts to let Emma back into her life. It’s slow. A quick chat on the porch as Henry gathers his school bag from the Bug. An invitation to stay for coffee when she catches Emma trying to make a quick getaway the next morning.
The following Sunday, Emma shows up to Granny’s earlier, and without being asked, takes a seat across from Regina. They don’t talk—not really. It’s a peaceful morning; there’s no need to fill it with words. Regina reads her book, and Emma goes over new plans for the station.
When they part—Regina simply cannot be late for her ten o’clock meeting again—Emma pulls her into a hug, before motioning to Ruby for the bill.
Soon, they’re seeing each other more than they ever did before. It’s healthy for their son. It’s healthy for their own friendship. Though Regina’s nights are still hard, often waking before the sun from a dream that just won’t leave her alone, days with Emma are easier. Knowing Emma’s intentions—that she draws the line at friendship—makes it easier for Regina to resist temptation and let her guard down.
She’s grateful for their strong friendship. She’s never had a person like Emma in her corner before. Never had a person who could accept Regina as she is. A person who could care for her like family and not an iota less.
At breakfast one Wednesday morning in late November, Regina beats Emma to Granny’s. She takes a seat at their usual booth and flips open her new book while waiting. Less than a minute later, Ruby appears at her side and starts to set the table for two.
“I’m happy you figured it out,” Ruby says as she flips over two mugs and begins to pour coffee into both.
“Figured what out?” Regina asks, before she can reach for the cup of cream.
The bell above the door chimes, and Ruby nods at Emma as she walks over, a pleased smile on her face.
Before she reaches them, Regina stands quickly, then pulls Emma into a tight hug.
“‘Morning,” Regina says against the shell of Emma’s ear.
Emma reciprocates the hug, squeezing once as they both release the other. Before they take their seats across from each other, Emma places a quick and friendly kiss at the corner of Regina’s mouth.
“I can’t stay long this morning,” Emma explains with a frown on her face. “One of the Merry Men has been experimenting with fun mushrooms again, and David will need my help when he gets back to the station with him.”
“Oh, those again.” Regina sighs. “That’s okay. We can reschedule. Friday?”
“Friday,” Emma confirms.
Ruby, no doubt having eavesdropped on their conversation, returns from the counter with a to-go cup of coffee and slides it across the table to Emma.
“Thanks, Rubes,” she says.
After adding her usual cream and sugar, she lays a hand over Regina’s, then excuses herself with another wan expression. Regina turns from her retreating form to find Ruby staring at her with an almost predatory smile on her face.
“Looks like things are going well with you two,” Ruby comments.
“If you mean we’re not at each other’s throats every other day, then yes. I suppose.”
Regina is still bummed about Emma not being interested in more, but she can live with this. It’s a mild inconvenience in the whole scheme of things. What’s more important in this world than family and friends, after all?
When she returns to the present from her musings, Ruby is giving her a strange look. She doesn’t have a chance to question it, as Emma rushes back in, literally seconds after.
“Emma?” Her beaming smile fades when she notices the frantic look on her friend’s face. “What’s happened?”
“Do you remember that invisible creature that wreaked havoc on Main Street months ago?”
How could she forget? Regina nods, before asking, “Where’s Henry?”
“I dropped him off at school, Regina. He’s safe.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
She takes Emma’s hand, before rushing out onto the street.
Already knowing what they’re up against, there are thankfully no exploding manhole covers that catch them off guard this time. Unfortunately, this creature is smarter than the last and is impossible to corner. After burning multiple car doors to a crisp, Regina and Emma decide to take a different approach. Instead of being the hunter, they come to an agreement that they must lure the creature to them.
If it’s anything like its predecessor, the creature has a penchant for juvenile chaos. Dangerous—but no burning buildings or levelled houses at least.
“Have you been practicing your illusion spells?” Regina asks as they watch a fire hydrant spray water nearly twenty feet in the air from the front steps of the library.
Emma glances over at Regina and clears her throat. She’s taking too long to answer the question which does not instil confidence in Regina.
Finally, Emma draws her gaze away and replies, “yes,” as she rubs a hand over the back of her neck.
“Em-ma.”
”I have, now just tell me what the plan is. I assume you have a plan, right?”
There’s traces of a smirk lingering at the corners of her mouth, but it’s not just her expression there that gives Regina pause.
“Regina?” Emma all but shakes her. “You had a plan,” she baits, attention momentarily drawn to chorus of car alarms that blare out along the curb in front of them.
“Yes… I–” Regina forces her gaze away from Emma’s lips and points to a clearing a block away. “I need you to create an illusion—something enticing for this entity to… I don’t know–”
”Blow up?” Emma suggests.
Regina barks out a laugh. “Yes, actually. I’m hoping the energy it must consume to trigger an explosion will make it momentarily weak enough to trap. From there–”
”Fireball,” Emma finishes for her, this time looking quite pleased with herself.
“Yes, Dear. Fireball.”
For what starts as a brilliant, well-executed plan, quickly goes south the moment an actual ice cream cart explodes in the middle of street. Not only does the entity seem to harness more power from the explosion but it also appears to have caught onto their plan. Regina can barely see through the debris of twisted metal, rubber, and melted ice cream, but she knows the moment the dust fully settles that their creature is gone.
She knew she shouldn’t have trusted Emma. Of course, the woman would manifest an actual fucking ice cream cart. Of all the ways this could’ve gone wrong, couldn’t she have at least chosen something less messy? Something that wouldn’t take days to clean up?
Regina turns on the spot in the middle of the street, flame quickly receding in the palm of her hand. Speaking of Emma…
“Where’d she go?” Regina murmurs to herself.
She stalks closer to the cart. The ground around it is covered in melting ice cream with the remains of the cardboard containers tipping out of the half still intact. One whole wall of the cart is missing like it’d been blown out from the inside. Regina starts to track its fragments toward the side of the street, when she catches movement from behind a delivery van.
“Emma?”
Regina runs around to the other side to find her sitting down on the curb, wringing a slurry of white, brown, and bubblegum pink from her hair. Though the majority of her body is covered in the ice cream, Regina doesn’t fail to notice the tear in her sweater nor the discolouring blooming across the side of her cheek.
“What did you do?” Regina asks. The words come out less concerned, more resentful.
Even as Regina crouches down to assess her injuries with a gentle hand, Emma still backs away, shrugging off the attention.
“I’ll be fine,” Emma says.
“No,” Regina argues.
“No?” Emma looks back up at her, indignant.
“No, I–” Regina clenches her hand by her side and scowls up at the sky.
How to explain without misleading? How to put into words that Emma, in any state of unwell, could never be fine?
Regina clears her throat, trying to work past the lump forming somewhere down her windpipe, when she feels a warm—slightly damp—hand close over her own.
“Hey.” Emma tugs lightly on her hand so Regina will look down to face her. “I’m going to be fine. This is mostly dirt. No blood. I promise.”
Regina still cannot face Emma completely—still does not meet her eyes, for if there is just the smallest sliver of doubt there—
“Regina, please look at me,” Emma continues. This time, it’s her thumb, resting on the groove above Regina’s chin, that lowers her face the final few inches. “I’ll be all healed up soon enough. I am quite resilient, if you weren’t aware,” she jests.
Though she delivers the line with mirth, even Emma’s playful wink doesn’t seem to be able to settle Regina’s nerves. It does draw attention to Emma’s face and the faint lipstick stain that somehow still colours the edge of her mouth. Regina reaches out without thinking and wipes at it gently. When the pad of her thumb inadvertently skims against Emma’s lips, their mutual gasps make them both take pause.
“Regina?” Emma says.
Her voice seems faraway, like Regina’s watching their exchange from a distance.
A second later, Emma’s hand comes up to her face, this time brushing away long strands of hair that stick to the sweat and remnants of ice cream on her cheek.
“What?” Regina eventually breathes out.
“You have… you have some–” Emma swipes her finger across Regina’s temple, eyes never leaving her own. “–chocolate right–”
The Here never quite makes it to Emma’s lips. Instead, something instinctual takes over as Regina pulls Emma towards her, kissing her soundly. Emma is quick on the uptake and doesn’t waste a second, letting herself fall into Regina’s arms. The force of her body pushes Regina backwards, butt landing on the pavement below. Neither woman take concern with the position. The jeans covering Emma’s knees are quickly dirtied by grime and sludge, and yet, Regina happily pulls Emma into her lap, for once not concerned by appearances.
She is kissing Emma and Emma is kissing her back and if she could stop for a single second to actually assess anything beyond the feel of the woman’s tongue sliding against her bottom lip, Regina would probably be even more thrilled for realizing she hadn’t been wrong. These moments between them had not been all in her head. This feeling within herself now is good and right and so freeing.
As Emma’s hands slide up Regina’s sides and stop before reaching her breasts, Regina wastes no time in guiding them the rest of the way around to her front and holding them there.
“Here,” Regina instructs, before dipping her tongue past Emma’s lips once again.
Emma chuckles into her mouth, before squeezing through the soft material of Regina’s blouse.
“Like this?” Emma teases, stopping to rub lightly over the front with the pad of her finger.
In the cold, its more than obvious that Emma’s spotted the peaks of Regina’s nipples through the unpadded bra.
“Yes,” Regina groans out, “And don’t you ever think about stopping.”
Emma continues, probably planning on doing just that, when the sound of someone—clapping?—forces them to pull back.
From the walkway up to Granny’s, Ruby is standing at the gate, a wide, knowing smile on her face.
“Bravo,” she calls out as she saunters toward them. “That was so hot.”
While Emma seems to find the situation quite amusing, Regina does not.
“Ruby!” she yells.
“What?”
Emma stands, and with her hand held out, helps Regina up from the ground. As soon as they are on a level playing field, Regina crosses her arms over her chest and glares.
“What?” Ruby says again.
While dusting dirt off her butt, Regina replies,“There’s a magical creature on the loose, Ms. Lucas. Do you really think it’s wise to be strolling about?”
Both Ruby and Emma turn incredulous looks on Regina.
“Right,” Regina follows up. She lets out a long breath, before taking stock of the situation.
“Ms. Lucas, I need you get word out that there is an invisible magical entity loose on the town. It is dangerous and should not be approached.”
”We shouldn’t approach the invisible entity?”
Regina scowls, before running her had down her face and pinching and the bridge of her nose.
“Just make sure people know. Please.”
The polite requests seems to win Ruby over, though she does make sure to roll her eyes before heading back to the diner.
Then Emma turns to Regina, and asks, “And what about me?”
“You…” Regina lets her gaze rake down Emma’s body, before her clouded thoughts can clear. “You are coming with me.”
Regina can’t believe she’s here—on a Friday evening, no less. From the table set up in front of the stage, Regina’s eyes bore into the back of Snow’s head as she walks around the gymnasium, handing out her little post-attack pamphlets. This week’s impromptu town forum is busier than most, no thanks to the magical creature that spent almost twenty-four hours terrorizing the people of Storybrooke before electrocuting itself on a faulty electrical line Randy still hadn’t sent his people out to fix.
The moment the last poor soul is handed Snow’s sorry excuse for fun WordArt and copyrighted JPGs, Regina stands from her position and dismisses the crowd.
“Are you still holding the next town forum on Monday?” Mrs. Johnson asks.
“Wouldn’t dream of cancelling it,” Regina grumbles.
Her sarcasm is lost on most. One woman in particular catches on though, rolling her eyes with an affectionate gleam. As most attendees file towards the front doors, she lazily saunters over to Regina, gaze unwavering.
“Did you have a question you forgot to ask?” Regina says.
“Oh. About the town’s continued clean-up efforts?” Emma acts as if she’s actually pondering the thought, before adding, “No.”
“Hm. I see.”
“I did want to know whether you were available tomorrow evening, though.”
“Tomorrow evening…” Regina taps her chin, thoughtfully. “Yes, yes. If I remember correctly, tomorrow evening I have work to catch up on.”
“But it’s a Saturday,” Emma counters.
“Yes, it is Miss Swan. A fact that is not lost on me, don’t you worry. However, if I seem to remember correctly, you were the reason I didn’t finish my work yesterday. You had an emergency–” Regina air quotes, “–that simply had to be seen to.” In a quieter, gravelly tone, she adds, “an emergency that was thoroughly and satisfyingly dealt with.”
Emma’s eyes darken. There’s a line between playful banter and serious intentions, and it looks like Regina’s just crossed it. Her hands splay out over the table between them and she leans closer to Emma, making it very obvious what she’s replaying in her mind as her teeth bite at her lower lip.
She can sense Emma leaning towards her too—spots the moment when Emma’s jean-clad thigh presses into the edge of the table, only a couple feet away. Regina’s own eyes dart down to Emma’s lips, when a groan made by neither of them has her straightening.
“Regina.”
It’s like she’s been doused in sunshine, rainbows, and everlasting dreams; it’s quite frankly, terrible. Regina looks over Emma’s shoulder to find Snow watching them from two tables over, a perplexed frown on her face.
Emma, who apparently hasn’t heard her own mother yet, notices the sudden loss of desire in Regina’s eyes, and whips around.
“Mom?”
Emma visibly swallows. Snow starts to smile in that way that means she’s totally not following along but doesn’t want anyone to know. Regina just wants out of this, now.
Her exasperated sigh must provide Snow the fodder she’d been lacking before, because she crosses her arms over her chest and turns directly towards Regina.
“Can you let up just once, Regina? Everyone is doing their best to return the town to normal as soon as possible.”
“Excuse me?” Regina snaps.
“Mom!” Emma moves away to assuage Snow. “We weren’t–she wasn’t–”
“Hey, Snow?”
All three women turn to find Ruby hovering nearby. She’s leaning against a stack of chairs, expression innocent as can be.
“Where did these need to go?” she asks, patting one of the chair’s legs with her manicured hand.
Snow looks conflicted. However, the longer Ruby waits, gaze imploring and so, so lost, the faster Snow’s resolve crumbles. A few seconds later, she’s turning one last narrowed look on the both of them, before leaving to help Ruby.
Regina tries not to focus too hard on Ruby’s secretive wink, before she lets out a pitiful moan. Emma, too, looks physically pained by the whole interaction.
“It must reflect poorly on me to have a mortal enemy so obtuse, does it not?” Regina asks.
She watches Snow and Ruby push the last stacks of chairs towards the supply closet.
“Hey,” Emma replies, holding her hands up in surrender, “I didn’t say it.”
Regina huffs, shaking her head.
“I understood this ignorance when she was a child, but how does she not realize we’re together now? Was she not there yesterday afternoon during the town clean-up? Did she not notice how handsy you were? Hello? Emma?”
“We’re together?” Emma replies, instead.
“I should hope so,” Regina says behind a breathy laugh. “I don’t do what we did last night—or this morning—with just anyone.”
“I know. You’re just…” Emma scrunches her nose. “–hard to read sometimes.”
“Me?” Regina says with an air of incredulity.
“Yes. You.” Emma walks around the small fold-out table until she’s standing toe to toe with Regina. “Shall I recount the past few weeks or do you still remember how hot and cold you were?” Emma counts off on her fingers as she begins to list the ways. “One day we were friends, the next you were avoiding me like the plague, and then, after weeks of not even speaking to me, you’re suddenly flirting with me during a town forum.”
Regina raises one brow in amusement. “Excuse you, Miss Swan, but I was not flirting.”
Emma levels her with an unimpressed glare.
“Well, not overtly,” Regina adds.
“God, help us if it ever came to that.”
Emma smirks the moment Regina’s haughty glower appears. It’s all a farce, of course, and Emma knows it. After being on the receiving end of so many of Regina’s trademark sneers, she recognizes the difference now. It’s all in the slight quirk of Regina’s lips and the way she bores into Emma—less piercing, more appraising.
“You know,” Emma continues after way too much time has passed to be considered good and modest and decent. “I wouldn’t be opposed if it were more overt.”
For a moment, Regina doesn’t look as if she’s going to take the bait. She shoves her chair in and takes a step back to leave the table. At the last second though, she returns, invading Emma’s space and pinning her back against the stage.
The old floor boards beneath Regina’s fingers are grimy. Layers and layers of dirt as black as the dark one’s heart fill the gaps between, yet Regina grips them as best she can, using whatever leverage she can get to trap Emma between the waist-high stage and her own hips. As she leans in close, she can hear Emma’s heavy breathing and the little gasp she lets out when Regina presses even closer.
“What were you saying, Dear?”
Her lips make contact with the shell of Emma’s ear, leaving the faintest trace of lipstick. During the brief moment when Emma’s eyelids slide closed, Regina surprises her once more. Slipping one thumb over the pulse point on Emma’s wrist, she caresses the skin lightly, then drags Emma’s hand up until it’s resting against her ass. Regina can feel Emma’s resulting smile, pressed firmly against her skin.
“Is this overt enough for you?” she croons.
Emma nods into her neck, teeth nipping at Regina’s collarbone.
“If it’s too much, I can always keep my hands here.” She runs them down Emma’s arms, skirting over a smattering of goose bumps. “Or here.” Her hands abandon Emma’s arms, finding the soft wool of her sweater and circling them around to her back.
“Or…” Her hands stall as they crest Emma’s shoulders.“Or I could just feel you up. That is more your speed, is it not?”
Regina releases her hold on Emma, and leans away until she can gauge her reaction properly. It takes Emma a moment to catch up until her eyes finally snap open like she’s been startled out of a pleasant dream.
“Tease,” she mutters.
Regina can barely contain her chuckle at Emma’s sullen frown. Without hesitation, she starts to make her way towards the exit at the far side of the gym. Emma remains there however, slouching against the side of the stage.
“That was an accident!” she tries to explain.
Regina turns back and replies, “Then quit your whining and get moving. David has Henry tonight, and I’m feeling especially accident-prone myself.”