The first time she meets Regina Mills is on a blustery day in April. It's Emma's turn to shut up shop, and she's just hunting down the key at 6.59 when the door to 'Game of Thorns' creaks open with the familiar tinkling of its bell. A woman with dark hair and olive skin, all suited and booted, eyes the small shop with a grimace and marches straight towards the counter.
"I require a bouquet of flowers." She states, slamming her purse down.
Her voice is cold and haughty, like an arctic wind. She stares Emma up and down, wearing the same unpleasant expression she wore when she was appraising the store. Emma stares back, looping her fingers into the straps of her dark blue apron. The apron is covered in 2 years' worth of dirt stains, and has a picture of a smiling sunflower with the writing 'A Game of Thorns- flowers are coming' embroidered on to it. What Moe had in mind with that particular fashion choice, she'd never know.
She shrugs. "No can do."
The woman, clearly on a mission, is more than a little terrifying, stalking towards Emma in high heels, and a pantsuit that's probably worth more than her entire wardrobe. She has the expression of someone used to getting exactly what they want. Emma is not an unreasonable person, and if the woman would have come in asking politely, she'd have arranged her some flowers no questions asked, but as it is, there's no way in hell Emma is giving this woman anything at all.
"What do you mean 'No can do'?" The woman hisses. She strides over to where the shelves are, grabs a single red rose, and tosses it onto the counter in front of Emma. "This is a florist, is it not?"
Emma picks up the flower and turns it over in a thumb and forefinger, and she's half tempted to throw it at the woman's face. Instead, she folds her arms and matches the expert sneer. "Can't you read? The sign says closed."
"Can't you tell the time?" The brunette snaps, jabbing a finger towards the clock at the back of the shop. "When I walked in here, that clock said 6.59, which is one minute within the opening hours."
With a huff, Emma runs a hand through her hair. Ignoring the other woman woman's murderous glare, she side steps her and makes her way to the shop door, where she grabs the stupid sign and slowly turns it around. When she turns around, she barely resists the urge to stick her tongue out. "See. Closed."
The brunette's chest swells and Emma can hear her muttering under her breath as she digs around in her handbag. For one absurd moment, Emma's convinced the woman is about to pull a gun on her, and she thinks about dying here on the cold shop floor in her dirt stained apron. At least dying while surrounded by roses and petunias would have a flair of the dramatic, she figures.
But it's not Emma's turn to die today. She jumps a little when the brunette thrusts something under her nose. "I require a bouquet of flowers, and so help me…" She leans forward, squinting at Emma's chest. "Miss Swan, you will provide them for me."
Emma looks down at the proffered hand. Several 20 dollar bills are grasped in the outstretched hand. She purses her lips, weighing up the options. On one hand, this woman is the type she loathes- all business suits and superior expressions- but on the other hand, Emma is poor. Down to her last box of cereal, sleeping in 3 jumpers because her heating has cut out poor. She snatches the cash from the brunette's hand, ignoring the slow smirk that spreads across her face.
In a flat voice, "What do you want?"
The woman smooths her pantsuit and sniffs. "I require a bouquet of orange lilies."
Emma lets out a low whistle. Orange lilies. Desire, passion and hatred. "You're either madly in lust or after blood with that choice."
The brunette remains silent as Emma clatters around in the back of the shop. She plucks out several of the flowers and deposits them on the counter. "Based on your lack of response, I'm guessing it's the latter. What's your name, anyway?"
Emma isn't one for idle small talk, but she figures anything is better than working under the woman's surmising glare for the next half hour. After all, she's just like any other rude, awkward customer she'd had. It's not like it's anything new. All part of the package and parcel when working in customer services.
The woman examines her fingernails for several long moments, then grits out, "Regina Mills. Not that it's any of your business."
Jesus, Emma thinks, it'd be easier to make conversation with a brick. She grabs a pair of scissors and starts snipping at the stems and removing the excess leaves. She tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear and flashes the brunette- Regina Mills- a lopsided smile.
"Don't worry," Emma drawls. "I'm not gonna use your name to curse you or anything."
Regina shoots her a black look, and taps her foot impatiently. "Having the misfortune to meet you has been curse enough for one day." She glares pointedly at the counter. "The flowers, Miss Swan."
Emma rolls her eyes, and continues to arrange the lilies. Truthfully, she could finish these up pretty fast, but hell if she isn't getting a kick out of winding this woman up. "You want a drink while you wait?"
"Do I want a drink?" Regina says slowly, her lips caressing each syllable as she eyes Emma suspiciously.
"Yeah, a drink- it's a liquid that you can swallow," Emma mimes picking up a glass and taking a sip. A delicious surge of glee strums through her at the woman's thunderous expression. Now Emma is over her initial bout of irritation, she's actually enjoying pushing this woman's buttons.
"I know what a drink is, you idiot!" Regina barks, "Why would you ask me if I wanted a drink?"
"Christ, I'm not asking for your hand in marriage."
A look of horror dawns on the brunette's face and she visibly steps backwards.
"You're turning me down?" Emma gasps in mock outrage, and she figures she would probably feel offended if she wasn't having so much fun. "So, do you want a drink? And not because I'm trying to woo you," she adds hastily, "I figured a cup of coffee would shut you up while I finish up the flowers."
She watches as Regina purses her lips and smooths out her pantsuit again. Emma wonders if it's a nervous habit.
"Coffee." She says after several beats.
The blonde nods and slips in to the back of the shop, where she boots up the coffee machine. The machine is older than the shop itself and Emma has to give it a hefty slap on the side before it creaks into life. Moe won't spend money on the good stuff, so she makes do with a cheap Walmart brand which she's sure Regina will spit straight back out. The other woman definitely strikes her as the type to be a coffee snob. She strikes her as an anything snob, for that matter. Still, there's no other choice.
She pops her head out, where she sees Regina pacing back and forth, her black heels clicking against the tiles. "Black to match your soul?"
An apple red hue floods the brunette's cheeks and she avoids Emma's eyes. "Milky," she whispers, as though confessing some great secret she's promised to take to the grave, "with 3 sugars."
A small grin spreads across Emma's face. "Milky with 3 sugars coming right up."
A few minutes later, Emma is pressing a piping hot mug of coffee into the woman's hands. She eyes the murky brown liquid dubiously before wrapping her fingers around the handle. Emma returns to the counter to continue prepping the flowers, watching Regina sniffing the mug, as though testing it out for signs of poison.
She takes a long sip and, as Emma predicted, scowls. "Disgusting."
"Yeah, sorry about that," Emma says, retrieving a tie to fasten the bottom of the bouquet with. "It's all we've got. The owner of this place is more of a tea drinker."
"That's quite alright, Miss Swan." Regina says primly.
"Well, your flowers are ready," Emma holds up the bunch to show Regina. "I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of mixing them with some yellow carnations to break up the colour a bit."
Regina paces forward and snatches the flowers from Emma, eyeing them critically. "Why carnations, Miss Swan?"
"Oh," Emma scratches her head with a nervous laugh. "In flower language, they represent disappointment. I thought they'd compliment your spiteful lilies."
Regina throws her head back and laughs a full, rich laugh. Like her hair, it's the colour of melted dark chocolate, and both chills and warms Emma all at once. "If only you knew, Miss Swan." She places the untouched coffee back on the counter and slides it towards Emma.
Then, she strides over to the door and points a finger at the sign. "Now you're closed," She pronounces regally.
The door slams shut, and she's gone.
Xxx
She doesn't see Regina Mills again for almost 2 months. In fact, Emma is so busy working overtime in a desperate attempt to hang on to her flat that she forgets all about the strange, cold woman she met back in April. The next time she meets her, it's a sleepy Sunday morning in 'A Game of Thorns'.
"I'm in love." Lacey declares across the room. She's Moe's daughter, and when she's not at university she spends her free time hanging around the shop and bugging Emma.
"Oh yeah?" Emma says sceptically. She's knelt on the floor, stocking the shelves with new flowers. "Who is it this week?"
Lacey kicks her playfully, and tucks her long dark hair behind her ears. "It's real deal this time, Em."
Emma rolls her eyes. "A few days ago, Will was the love of your life, before you decided he wasn't 'exciting' enough." She's known Lacey since she was 15, which was when Moe offered her the job in the shop. She's the only real friend Emma has ever had, and is notorious for her complicated love life. Emma swears she's spent half of her life consoling Lacey after each of disastrous break ups.
"Gold is different." Lacey insists.
Emma pauses over the flowers. "His name is Gold?" She asks incredulously.
A dreamy expression flits over Lacey's face, and Emma half expects her to burst into song. "He's a rapper." She informs Emma smugly.
"Whatever. Go and tell your dad we're out of the yellow roses, will you?"
A rapper called Gold. Seriously. And she'd thought Adam the contortionist had been bad enough. She's so focused on Lacey's ridiculous love life that she doesn't hear the door go.
"What are they?"
Emma's head whips around so fast she almost gives herself whiplash. She loses her footing and falls flat on her ass. When she looks up, she finds a concerned pair of brown eyes peeking out at her from underneath a mop of dark hair.
The eyes belong to a young boy of around 10. His eyes are as big as saucers, and he's wearing a blue shirt depicting some kind of dragon battle, and has a rucksack covered in badges slung over one shoulder. She can see the corner of some marvels comic books sticking out of the top.
"Are you okay, miss?" He asks.
A blush creeps up Emma's neck as she hauls herself to her feet and dusts herself off. She takes a quick look around the shop.
"I'm good. You here on your own kid?"
His head bobs from side to side like one of those nodding dogs people put in the back of their cars. "My mom is next door. She told me I could wait in here for her." He points at one of the flowers on the shelves. "What are they?"
She takes another look around the shop, but there are no customers, and she figures she should keep an eye on the kid until his mother turns up. She kneels down next to him. "They're called morning glories. They're a pretty hardy plant, so lots of people like them."
The boy looks at her and nods, considering the information. "And those?"
They continue in this manner for some time, the boy pointing out a flower and asking its name, occasionally asking its meaning and other tidbits of information. He tells her his name is Henry, and that his mom had bought him a book about flowers for Christmas. She tells him that her name is Emma, and 10 minutes later Emma is sure she's made a friend for life.
"Why don't you pick out a flower for your mom, kid, it's on me." Emma suggests.
Henry nods, bouncing up and down enthusiastically on his heels. Before Emma can make any suggestions, he's already pacing up and down the shop, eyeing each and every flower critically. Emma watches him as he picks some up, mutter something under his breath, and puts them back down again. Several minutes later, he bounds over to the counter and presses his choice into Emma's hand.
"This one, huh?" The flower in her hand is a bright pink Azalea. "A good choice. One of their meanings is to show gratitude."
The kid beams at her, a bright, full faced smile that has Emma grinning back at him.
The door tinkles, and Henry grabs the flower and sprints off. His face is red as he shyly grabs his mom's hand and curls her fingers around the Azalea. She brings it to her face and smells it, a gentle smile gracing her features. "It's beautiful, darling. Thank you." She bends down and presses a kiss on his forehead, which he wipes off with the back of his sleeve.
"You should thank Emma." He gestures towards where Emma is stood, gaping at them with a beet red face. She shuffles from foot to foot and toys with the strap of her apron.
The woman sneers a little at Emma's dishevelled appearance, and it's then that their eyes meet. A pair of chocolate eyes bore into Emma's green ones, and a flare of recognition scorches though the blonde.
Regina Mills.
The woman who barged into the flower shop all those months ago and had left without so much as a thank you. She'd been wearing such a tender, warm expression when she spoke to her son that Emma didn't recognise her at first. But it was her. Those high heels and black suit were unmistakable.
Regina Mills.
She pointedly ignores the way her heart starts to race.
"Y- you." She splutters.
A delicious smirk spreads across the brunette's face. "Me." She agrees.
"What are you doing here?"
"Why?" Regina sneers, "Are you closed?"
Henry is watching them curiously, his eyes swinging back and forth between them, as though watching a tennis match.
"Are you and Emma friends, mom?" He asks innocently.
"Over my dead body!"
"Like hell we are!"
They shout at the same time. Regina marks her with her usual dangerous glare, and Emma folds her arms across her chest and scowls.
"Language, Miss Swan." The brunette snaps at her.
Emma glances at Henry, and mutters a hasty sorry. She lets out a long sigh. "You wanting to send another symbol of hate to someone who's annoyed you?"
The brunette rolls her eyes, and marches towards the counter. "If you think I'd make another purchase from you after that poor arrangement, you must think me stupid."
"Then what do you want?" Emma demands. "Don't tell me it's another cup of coffee."
"Hardly," Regina wrinkles her nose at the memory. "I'd rather drink bleach."
"I wish you would drink bleach." Emma mutters darkly. "Just tell me what you want."
By this point, Henry has lost interest in the conversation and is back to kneeling on the floor looking at flowers. Regina's eyes follow him around the room with a pained expression, looking anywhere except Emma. She appears to be having an internal argument with herself, grappling with some difficulty Emma can't for the life of her figure out.
Finally, her eyes find Emma's again. Her hands have the counter in a death grip, and her face is bright scarlet. She might be a bitch, but hell if Regina Mills isn't beautiful. Heart stoppingly, absurdly beautiful. Emma must have a vacant expression on her face, because suddenly Regina's scowl is back in place, though she is still blushing.
"You will join me for dinner tomorrow."
Emma feels her heart stop.
"W- what?"
"Are you deaf?" The brunette growls. "You will join me for dinner tomorrow."
"Dinner." Emma repeats stupidly.
Regina looks as though she wants to punch her.
"Why?" Emma breathes. This woman, who'd she'd met only once before, who had given every impression she couldn't stand Emma, was asking her for dinner. She half expects someone to jump out and yell 'April fools!'
Regina flushes again and waves over at Henry. "Henry, we're leaving. Come on." She sweeps towards the door, Henry racing on ahead of her and throwing an apologetic smile at Emma.
"Yes." Emma calls after her.
The brunette stops in her tracks. Silence crackles in the air as Emma twists a lock of blonde hair around her finger.
"I'll join you for dinner."
Slowly, Regina turns around. An uncertain smile blossoms across her face and Emma's heart clenches painfully inside her chest.
"You will wear something nice." Regina commands.
Emma pretends to withdraw a pen and notebook from her apron, and mimes taking notes.
"And you will be ready for 8pm. I will meet you outside this shop."
"8pm. Shop. Wear something nice." Emma repeats back, causing Regina to glower at her.
"Until tomorrow, Miss Swan." Regina says as she sweeps out of the door. For the second time, it slams behind her and she's gone.
Emma stares at the door for a long time after she's left.
Tomorrow.