It had all started because of a dream, which anyone with half a brain would know is not something a person can control. Of course, anyone with half a brain would also know that dreams don't directly represent reality either. If you dream of having a purple cat as a pet, that doesn't mean you want a purple cat as a pet. It probably means you have abandonment issues or something.
Whatever it meant, it definitely did not mean you wanted a purple cat, which is what Emma had been trying to explain until she was blue in the face to Killian.
It was just a dream. Yes, she would go so far as to admit that it was a wet dream, but that didn't mean anything. Dreams are weird, and so what if she was moaning someone else's name in her sleep? That didn't mean anything either because, as she reminded him for the hundredth time, dreams weren't reality. Aside from all of that, they were proven true loves, so he really had nothing to worry about.
Still, after three months of almost consistent arguments and his suddenly constant need to be reassured that she did, in fact, love him, it all became too much. She hated to do it. She knew the town, especially her parents and Regina, would probably kill her for it, but it had to be done. She was this close to whipping out the white hair, black leather, and sending him back to Hades herself.
For the sake of her sanity, she broke it off.
That had been a year ago, and he was still living sullenly in a boat at the docks. She'd cared for about a month when she'd found out where he'd went, but that all changed when she also found out about the constant stream of women, and a few men, that seemed to come and go. After she had to break up an illegal gambling operations and arrest him as the ringleader, her irritation had solidified, and she was completely done with him. If the only reason he'd ever been on the straight and narrow was to get into her pants, then he could keep going crooked all the way out of town for all she cared.
She was no one's reason to be the good guy nor was she a prize to be won.
Still, a year is a very long time. A year in Storybrooke is an eternity. Everything she did was under a microscope. She couldn't so much as sneeze without half the town saying bless you and the other half asking if she was running a fever. She once tripped over air, and people who weren't anywhere near where it happened had asked if she was hurt. The amount of attention the town paid to her and her family was insane, which meant she couldn't do anything that would cause even the littlest bit of controversy because that might cause Henry problems or give her mother more reasons to intrude.
With that kind of scrutiny on her day and night, she couldn't even do something as simple as scratch an itch, which was unfortunate because that itch had been growing for the past seven or eight months. She wasn't looking for locking it down forever with someone or anything of the sort. She just needed to find another consenting adult with whom she could quietly and discreetly scratch the itch without having the whole town start in on her love life again, or, worse, her mother start questioning where she went off to when she wasn't at home or at work.
Outside of Storybrooke in the before time when she got like this, she'd just go out and pick someone up. A little one-and-done was perfect. No strings. No fuss. No muss.
That wasn't happening now, and her agitation was getting bad enough that she had started wishing for another super powerful bad guy to come into town just so she had something to focus on because she was now to the point that her hand or a toy wasn't cutting it.
She needed human contact of the adult content kind.
Which is why, when she was sitting in the dinner absentmindedly staring into space and lamenting her lack of release, her brain completely checked out when Regina Mills walked in wearing a pants suit that Emma was certain she hadn't worn since the first year the blonde came to Storybrooke. It was one of those wonderfully tailored power suits the mayor was always so fond of back in the day. This one was a three piece number with a crisp white shirt, and, despite wearing a fully buttoned vest, the shirt was unbuttoned low enough that Emma's eyes caught the shine of a silky skin toned bra underneath.
It was the kind of outfit that had haunted her dreams in the first couple of years of her residence in the town. Her mind swam back to all the fantasies she used to have about over powering the uptight mayor and having her way with the fiery brunette. She could feel herself getting hot as her mind conjured up what Regina probably sounded like in the throes of passion and what her skin probably felt like underneath that curve hugging pants suit.
Her breathing quickened, and she knew she was staring, but she just couldn't stop herself. It was like looking back at a time capsule of her lust. Yes, Regina was most definitely a different person now, and, yes, they'd somehow become very close friends, but the most recent iteration of Regina Mills was not someone Emma would want to throw over a desk and fuck without mercy or someone she would want to beg to do the same to her. This Regina was the type of person you took your time with. You made sure she knew you wanted her for more than her body, and you cuddled afterward and maybe spent the night. She was the kind of person you took home to meet the parents, and, when you went back home with her for the night, you made sure she knew you loved her before you made her scream your name.
The last thought made Emma startle, causing a knife to clatter to the floor, which caught Regina's attention. She glanced over, raised a curious eyebrow, and headed for the corner table where Emma was sitting alone and silently cussing herself.
"Emma, is everything alright?"
No, everything was not alright. "Yeah, fine. I just," the blonde hastily reached down to retrieve the knife, "dropped my knife. " She gave a smile, more of a grimace really, and held the knife up for display as she sat back up in her seat.
"Yes, I see that." Cocking her head to the side, Regina gracefully slid into the chair on the other side of the table. "I hope you don't mind me saying this, but you've been on edge a lot recently. Are you sure everything's okay?"
What could she really say? 'No, everything is terrible because I haven't had sex in over a year, and, holy fuck, what you're wearing today isn't helping.' Yeah, that wasn't going to fly. "Well, you know, I just haven't been sleeping well lately." Between the horniness and the wet dreams, that wasn't a lie.
The brunette leaned forward, causing her shirt to dip down. "Are you sick?"
Emma internally groaned as she forced her eyes to move back to the brown ones intently watching her. "No, just… uh… well…" They were friends, right? They could have girl talk, right? No, no they could not. They didn't do girl talk. They did bro talk, and any conversation about her actual issue was going to lead straight to why she and Killian had split, which also wouldn't fly.
"No, not really sick." She sighed. When had she become bad at lying to the mayor? "I think maybe it's just too quiet around here lately, you know? Normally by now we'd be fighting some big bad guy or something, but everything is still pretty okay. I guess it has me jumpy."
Regina chuckled as she settled back down into her chair. "Don't jinx us."
Emma gave a small, tight smile. "So, what's the occasion?" She awkwardly gestured at the brunette's outfit. "I haven't seen you wear one of those numbers since around the time the first curse broke."
"In fact, this is the exact outfit I wore when you broke my curse." Regina ran a finger along the white outline of one of her lapels. "I thought about tossing it over the years because, you know, bad associations," she grinned at the other woman and gave just a very slight wink, "but, over time, it's sort of become more of a symbol of some very good things that came from some very bad." She dropped her hand back to the table to play with the knife. "I saw it in my closet today and wanted to wear it."
"I always thought you looked amazing in those suits." The younger woman's voice cracked at the end of the sentence, and she winced. Now she was apparently a teenaged boy.
Regina smirked. "I always suspected as much."
"So, what?" Emma ran her eyes over Regina, narrowing them in accusation. "You were messing with me that whole time?"
"Well," the mayor raised her eyebrows and shrugged again, "it worked. I mean, you must admit I distracted you more than once during staff meetings with a well-timed pen drop and pick up or a moment when I just had to get that file out of the bottom drawer."
Emma snorted. "I should've know." She rolled her eyes, wiping at her face. "God, was I really that obvious? That's so embarrassing."
"You were, and," Regina leaned in again, smirking as she watched Emma's eyes flicker to her cleavage once again, "you are now." She laughed at the raw shock and horror that danced across the blonde's face. "Emma, you need to find some… release before you blow a gasket."
"And how, exactly, am I supposed to that," the sheriff hissed under her breath to keep attention off of them. "When the whole town watches every single thing I do, it's not like I can just go randomly hookup with someone to blow off steam. Can you image how it would affect Henry if they thought I was a whore? God," she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, "this town is full of the most judgmental people I have ever known, and I've known Evangelical Republicans." She groaned. "What do you do?"
"You mean, besides eat a lot of chocolate and read questionable romance novels when no one is around?" Regina sighed heavily at Emma's earnest, pleading look for help. "Nothing."
"Nothing?" It was almost a screech, but the blonde somehow managed to hold it in check. "You mean to tell me you don't have some kind of magic fix for this or something?"
"Magical fixes, unless it involves taking someone's heart or placing them under a spell to direct them to do your bidding, are akin to buying a very good toy, so, no, not really." Regina shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Before you came here, Graham was a regular fixture in my bed, but I was a different person then, and that's not something I would ever do again. After you broke the curse, we were all too busy to really worry about it, and then Robin…" She trailed off, the pain evident in her eyes. "It's lonelier now."
"Yeah, I can understand that. I mean, I don't know, but, you know…" Emma frowned. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to stick my foot in it."
"I know. I'm not offended." Glancing around the diner, Regina took note of the afternoon lunch rush starting. "Why don't you come back to my place? Henry's at school, and I suddenly find that I don't want to be around people." She stood up and motioned with her head to go. "I'll cook you a grilled cheese sandwich."
"You know," Emma said as she stood to follow, throwing a couple of bills on the table on her way, "I am people."
"No, you're Emma." Regina replied as if that answer was obvious.
The blonde slow blinked. "Oh."