A/N: The story will be rated T, there will be no explict scenes beyond a make out session.
Each episode will contain several chapters, all written in third person but from Emma's perspective.
Be aware that english isn't my first language and even though queergirlwriting has done a wonderful job as my beta I probably will have missed quiet a lot of mistakes. Feel free to point them out. R&R will be greatly appreciated :)
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Emma shivers and pulls her beloved leather jacket tighter around her.
Even a nice spring night can only be so warm in Maine after the sun has set.
Most of the people involved in Henry and Archie's rescue packed up after Henry had been brought home. And more and more people are leaving the after-rescue celebration due to the late hour and plunging temperatures.
Even Graham excused himself a while ago to catch a minimum of sleep before his early shift.
Thank god Emma can sleep in late tomorrow.
After the adrenalin wore down, the exhaustion from the constant fear and worry about Henry crashes in.
Of course she was worried for Archie, too, but he's a grown man, it was his own decision to follow Henry into the mine shaft, he knew the risk.
Actually, she has hoped for a moment to speak with Archie about... well, everything that happened that day but it looks like it'll have to wait until the next morning.
Dr Hopper doesn't seem to be interested in calling it a night.
He is in the thick of the remaining crowd - talking, laughing, petting Pongo, drinking the beer someone conjured up; celebrating life.
In fact, the relief of getting out of the mines alive had him looking quiet a few years younger. Like a weight has been lifted of his shoulders.
So when Regina returns from having put Henry to bed and orders the still fragile mining area to be cleared, Archie invites everyone for a drink at the Rabbit Hole.
Which Emma declines politely. She just wants to go back to the apartment, catch some sleep and process this whole day. She's even too tired to be hungry.
"Miss Swan, have you seen the Sheriff?" Regina approaches her when she reaches the makeshift parking area, laughter, good nights and laters being shout around them. (Emma just prays that the drivers are somewhat sober.)
"He went home an hour ago. Morning shift, you know." she explains quickly, too tired and unwilling to get into another match with the mayor today.
"Oh, well then, goodnight, Miss Swan." Regina nods and turns to leave.
Backtracking is not a good look on Regina, Emma notes.
All though the blonde wants nothing more than to go home and collapse into bed, she stops the other woman.
"You know, I'm deputy now. I can take care of it for Graham."
Regina eyes the blonde suspiciously at her offer but even that lacks the usual vinegar.
While the brunette weighs her possibilities, Emma realizes how weird it is to see her like this; dust and dirt on her clothes, the dress pants wrinkled from scrunching on the ground without heels, her hair not perfect for once and arms hugging her coat tightly to fight off the cold.
But what disturbs her most, is the weariness on Regina's face. She isn't used to anything but fire and ice in those brown eyes.
Except when the blonde first came to Storybrook and Regina didn't even glance at the stranger in her driveway, too relieved to see her son alive and kicking.
Clearly, this day had its effects on everybody if even the mayor gets stripped of her usual mask.
"My car has a flat tire but really, I can just call a tow truck. Goodnight, Deputy." Regina eventually expounds, but again Emma holds her back.
"Gus left with Ruby, so I don't think you'll be seeing much of him tonight."
Regina just sighs.
No snappy remark about the towing service being 24/7 or Ruby's nightly activity keeping other people from work. Nothing. Just a defeated sigh.
But Emma knows Regina. She may be ready to drop but she's too proud to ask Emma - actually anyone, but especially Emma - for a ride home.
Looking how pretty much everyone has up and left on the mayor's command by now, she doesn't have much of a choice.
Well, Emma could just say karma is a bitch, go home and let Regina walk – it's not like the brunette would bother if the roles were reversed - or she could let the mayor squirm until the brunette finally gets over herself and asks for help...
But just when the deputy seriously starts considering the option she notices the hint of red in the corner of Regina's eyes.
It's been a long day and both are exhausted, physically as well as emotionally.
Maybe, just for once, they could both not be stubborn and proud and put their differences aside.
"I could drive you home." She shrugs like it's the most natural thing in the world.
Regina opens her mouth to reject, glancing skeptically at the VW beetle behind the deputy, but Emma will have none of it.
They both know that in the end Emma will drive Regina home because for whatever reason she doesn't quiet understand herself, the blonde is still trying to be the better person here when she has all the reasons in the world to be just a awful to the mayor as she has been to her.
So what's the point in having another argument when they don't have really have a lot of options- good options.
"Graham will fire me if he hears I've left someone all alone at this hour," she offers Regina a way out without having to swallow her pride.
"I wasn't aware how attached you already are to the job, Miss Swan." Regina taunts with a fatigue shadow of her usually taunting and sarcastic smile.
"There's a lotta things you don't know 'bout me, Madame Mayor. Now hop in." Emma orders as she climbs into the bug.
Regina follows her hesitantly, carefully shutting the car door as if the metal might give out under a strong grip.
It's weird to be in such a small space with the woman who drives her up the wall just for the sake of it, but Emma ignores it and starts the car, the engine spluttering to life.
"I'm not sure this... car is safer than waiting alone for a tow truck at night."
"Stop dissing my car. It works just fine." There's a rattle when Emma drives over a bump in the road, undermining her words. She huffs.
"I can see that." Regina scoffs sarcastically but it's a little less biting and a bit more amused than her common digs.
"Regina." the blonde warns her because, really, she has no energy left to come up with clever remarks for their usual fierce battle of words.
It's uncomfortable at first, sitting there in silence with a woman you have never had any nice words left for, but after a while it's almost refreshing to not be fighting.
But even in their exhausted state, they can only bear this awkward silence crawling underneath their skin for so long.
"Thank you, Regina." Emma blurs out of nowhere.
"What for?" Regina asks, puzzled.
It was Emma who found Henry. Emma who had the idea with Pongo. And Emma who was lowered into the shaft.
"You know, organizing everything. The firefighters, building workers, the tow truck... I wouldn't have known what to do, who to call." The blonde shrugs, almost regretting she said anything because it's just so hard to be honest, pocketing her pride, and trusting not to be burned.
She had felt so useless back at the scene. She couldn't get to Henry, she didn't know what to do. She had been close to digging her way through the collapsed shaft with her bare hands if Regina hadn't taken matters into her own hand.
"Well, you should know, Deputy." Regina accuses harshly. She isn't used to this, this openness and honesty between them. What is it that the blonde expects out of her nice words?
This truce is weird, too easy to fall into. The mayor struggles to keep up her safety walls.
"Well, now I know, Madame Mayor." Emma mocks her, pulling up into Mifflin Street.
"I call you," she adds coyly, catching how the other woman rolls her eyes.
"I am not 911, Miss Swan. That's your job. You wanted it that way."
It's a weak attempt of their common quarrels and arguments but it's familiar enough to forget the awkwardness.
"Please," Emma snorts, "as if you could bear to leave the control of the situation to anyone else. You're a controlist." she teases, parking the bug right in front of the mansion, and gets out.
"Controlist isn't a word, Miss Swan," Regina explains impatiently as she climbs out of the car.
The blonde shares a triumphant smirk over the yellow car roof and Regina huffs, shutting the door a little harshly.
"Whoa there, don't let it out on my car."
"It's not a car, it's a metal coffin on wheels," Regina sneers, walking around said car up to the gate.
"That got you home just fine," the deputy defends her beloved car as she holds the paled gate open for the other woman.
"Lucky coincidence." the brunette replies dryly as they walk up to the door with the golden number 108.
"I bet the Bug'll live longer than your fancy Benz," Emma dares her dialog partner.
"Be ready to loose that bet any time, Miss Swan," the mayor replies cockily, turning to give the blonde a smirk, confident of her victory.
Their conversation comes to an abrupt halt when they realize they're standing on Regina's porch.
As they stare at each other awkwardly, Emma realizes how small the larger than life woman actually is without heels.
"Well then..." the deputy mutters, embarrassed, hands in her jeans pockets. She hopes Regina lets her behavior slide because she has really no explanation as to why she basically walked the brunette home instead of just dropping her off.
"Thank you for the ride, Miss Swan." The words don't even sound too painful or forced.
"You're welcome, Madame Mayor." Emma shrugs but lingers. It'd be weird to just turn and leave, wouldn't it?
"You can go now, Deputy Swan. You've fulfilled your civic duty," the mayor offers her politely but it's too stiff and awkward to be either nice or snarky.
"Haven't you been taught to wait until the person is actually inside the house to make sure they haven't forgotten their keys or something?"
Really? Emma asked herself in annoyance and embarrassment. The exhaustion must've switched of her common sense, that was just about the most stupid thing she could've come up with.
But something inside her dreads going back to the apartment, back to a pre-school teacher who will heat her up some leftovers and ask about her day and then panic about the drama that is her love life instead when she realizes that her roommate doesn't want to relive the terror of almost losing her son today.
It feels suffocating, this worrying and carefully pushing and understanding but not really getting it, and Emma just wants to flee it. She wants to argue about cars and eating habits and avoid the terrifying and hurtful subject of today's events together in some unspoken agreement.
This time it's Regina who plays along and gives the other woman an out.
She takes her keys out of her pocket and holds them in front of the blonde for proof.
"Do you want to come inside and make sure there is not burglar or murderer waiting for me, too, Deputy?" she teases, unlocking her front door.
"Would be the right thing to do, wouldn't it?" Emma mumbles, dumbfounded at the absurd situation, but her feet carry her after Regina.
"I'll get us a drink while you check for any intruders." Regina's tone is almost too light to be stultify the deputy and she wonders what kind of game they're playing and why the brunette knows the rules and she doesn't as she closes the door behind her and follows Regina into the study, knowing that no one would actually dare to trespass the mayor's house.
"That was quick work, Deputy. Apple cider?" the brunette offers.
Maybe it's what tiredness does to Regina. Emma's sharp tongue fails her completely and Regina's suddenly becomes chatty.
To hell with it. It's been a long, exhausting day and Emma could really use a drink.
"Let's make it clear; any run over signs after this are on you," the blonde quips, taking the offered glass, and drops onto the couch.
"Maybe I'll cut your budget to repair the damage." Regina throws the joke right back at her as she sits down on the free armchair on the opposite site of the table. (Of course, a lot more gracefully.)
"If you cut any more money from the police department, we'll have to start chasing criminals on foot. The cruiser is a metal coffin."
"Oh, please. The only thing you'll be chasing in this town are hot beverages," Regina snickers, taking a sip of her apple cider.
"That's not true!" Emma protests.
"Oh really? Do enlighten me, deputy," the brunette challenges with an amused chuckle.
"Okay, so Storybrook might not have any classic criminals but I've searched for an amnesic coma patient and chased a pregnant teenager who's made a deal with the devil and that was even before I became deputy!" Emma lists just to wipe that amused grin of the mayor's face.
Storybrook was not that perfect and peaceful.
"And look at today! Maybe I'll resign, this is even crazier than bounty hunting."
Emma immediately regrets bringing up the mine incident, afraid she might have broken the ruler of their unspoken truce.
She expects to be thrown out any minute now. It's only a matter of time before Regina snaps out of this almost peaceful state and realizes she's invited the woman she loathes into her home.
But instead Regina ignores the tension and Emma thinks that maybe, perhaps, the mayor doesn't want to face what happened alone tonight either.
"Would you like another drink?" she changes the subject, reaching for the bottle of apple cider.
"Uh, yeah, sure. Just one. I still gotta drive."
...
Famous last words.
Of course it doesn't stop at just one other drink.
In fact, at some point they pick random bottles out of Regina's liquor stash and let the other guess what it is.
It amuses the hell out of the blonde that Regina owns the cheapest whiskey and wine that cost more than a car. No in between.
Which somehow leads to a heated discussion about taste. More specifically; clothing taste.
"Oh, please, you love my jacket!" Emma exclaims, hitting the table with her glass to emphasize her words.
Neither woman cares that liquor spills onto the table. And if they did care, they would've notice that there was quiet the pond around the brunette's glass on the table as well. Coasters long forgotten.
Neither cares that Emma has her still boot-clad feet tucked underneath her on the expensive couch and her jacked lies in a pile on the floor. Or that Regina's words are a little less perfectly pronounced and thought through than normally as her eyes are glued to the woman sitting next to her by this point who subconsciously licks the spilled alcohol of her fingers.
"It's cheap and the color is an eyesore. Like your car."
"What's it with you and my car? Should the Benz be jealous?"
Regina burst out laughing as if it was the most absurd and funny thing she's ever heard.
What's absurd, is that two woman who could never exchange two sentence without insults hidden (more or less) beneath hostile words, are now doing the exact opposite; talking and laughing about just anything. (Almost anything, never anything more than anything casual.)
Who would've though Regina's remarks come in funny, too?
Who would've thought it could be this easy and light and comfortable with her?
"Maybe, Madame Mayor, you really are jealous that I don't give a flying fuck," - Regina gasps comically at the cussword - "about looking proper and impressing everyone and just wear whatever the hell is comfortable." Emma somehow manages a straight sentence (even if less filtered and more profane than it should be), poking Regina's side.
Regina yelps. The mayor actually lets out a high pitched, girly yelp.
"Miss Swan."
Now someone's in trouble.
"Yes, Miss Mills?" Emma challenges with an innocent grin.
The big storm never comes. The brunette's scowl transforms into a giggle.
And that's when Emma realizes they've had too much to drink, but boy, she couldn't care less.
Regina has such a beautiful laugh.
"What?" Regina asks irritated when she feels Emma bluntly staring at her.
"Nothing." the blonde smiles and if she had been sober, she would've realize she has to look cross-eyed at Regina because they were so close to each other.
"Come on, Emma." the mayor almost whines.
"No."
"Miss Swan, why does everything have to be a struggle with you?" Regina sighs frustrated and this time Emma chokes out a laugh.
"I think you like it that way. You like a challenge. Someone who's a match for you."
Now it's Regina who is staring. Staring at the blonde like maybe she'll find the answer to the puzzle that is Emma Swan somewhere in those orbs that are not quite blue and not quite green.
Emma's mind flashes to earlier that day when Regina had been so raw and vulnerable in front of her and stepped so close that the blonde could smell the expensive, subtle perfume and discover the brunette's lip scar hidden beneath make up for the first time.
Just like earlier that day, the deputy's eyes glimpse at plump lips before flicking up again. Her breath catches.
Regina's eyes are like magnets. Magnetic, liquid chocolate.
Emma wonders for a brief moment why Regina hides behind a mask if she could be like this; warm and sweet and absolutely breathtaking.
There's a dark strand of hair falling in front of the eyes Emma recently discovered to be so fascinating and without any conscious decision, her hands picks it up to place it behind Regina's ear*dead*.
The blonde blushes and smiles in embarrassment when she realizes what she's done but she doesn't pull back.
Encouraged by enough liquor, she even lingers, slowly tracing over soft skin down a magnificent jawline.
The moment probably doesn't last longer than a few seconds but the blonde can see so many thoughts and emotions in brown eyes as they race through Regina's mind that it feels like minutes, leaving both breathless.
Thoughts and emotions Emma doesn't dare to interpret, scared that she might be wrong.
And maybe even more afraid to be right.
All what ifs are washed away as Regina abruptly dashes forward, grabbing a fistful of a dark tank top, and all she can feel are lips pressed together.
It's an awkward angle and for a moment Emma is completely shell shocked but then she melts, they both just melt into the kiss. A clumsy and fumbling kiss, but what a clumsy and fumbling kiss it is.
Emma's eyes flutter close as she wraps an arm around the brunette's midsection, the other cradling the mayor's face.
Regina softens her grip, her arms sneaking around Emma's neck and into blonde hair. Pulling her impossibly closer.
Emma almost can't breath and Regina's ring catches in her hair but god, she doesn't give a damn as their mouths move together.
All she cares about is expensive perfume and smooth skin under her fingertips and luscious curves and the faint taste of alcohol on dark pink lips.
Regina's tongue traces along the corner of the blonde's mouth, softly, almost playfully.
A groan escapes their kiss and Emma nibs teasingly at full lips, tasting the remains of red wine.
A picture of a different, far more intimate version of their little liquor-guessing game flashes through the blonde's mind and she giggles.
Emma is thrown harshly back into reality when the armrest of the couch knock the air out of her lounges and everything is cold and hard and hurting when she opens her eyes.
Regina is up and halfway across the room before the blonde can so much as regain her senses, one manicured hand pressed onto her lipstick-smeared mouth, the other clutched to a fist in front of her stomach as her eyes widen with the realization of what just happened.
The blonde should've seen it coming, should've expected it and god, it shouldn't hurt so much to see the horror in brown eyes.
Emma opens her mouth to say something, anything that'll ease the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, but nothing makes it out as she stares helplessly up to the brunette.
"See yourself out, Deputy." Regina presses out and flees out of the room before the other woman can so much as move an inch.
Maybe Emma should go after her, maybe she shouldn't, but when she hears hurried footsteps on the stairs leading to the bedrooms, she knows she won't.
Dazed, she stands up, taking ungainly footsteps out of the room.
She looks up the stairs and tears well up in her eyes.
It shouldn't hurt so much to have Regina so horrified and disgust from their kiss that she has to hide from having to look at Emma, to look at her terrible mistake.
The blonde finally turns to leave, feet heavy and mind numb.
She doesn't register a thing until her hand pulls on the locked car door and the cold takes her by surprise.
Her jacket still lies on the floor of Regina's study, keys and phone neatly tugged in the inside pocket.
Looking back, she sees only dark windows and a closed front door.
Emma swallows her tears of frustration, desperation and hurt and just starts walking. She walks and then she's walking faster and faster until she's jogging and then running and running and running. She lucky that there's not a soul outside in Storybrook at this time or she would've been hit by a car in her blind run, only stopping when she stands in front of the apartment door, sweating and panting.
She doesn't dare to think, doesn't dare to remember. She just concentrates on taking the spare key from its hiding place, unlocking, entering and closing the door behind her as quietly as possible.
Tiptoeing up the stairs, she realizes she hasn't been sneaking around like this since one of her last foster homes. But this is a whole new level of walk of shame.
She doesn't dwell on the thought.
She doesn't dwell on the dark pink color she wipes of her face along with the rest of her make up.
Her body is getting ready for bed on auto pilot and she's thankful that the exhaustion of the day knocks her out as soon as she hits the mattress, giving her no time to slip into unhealthy thinking patterns alone in the darkness.