A/N: I posted this as two ficlets on Tumblr, and then decided to post them as a seamless oneshot here as well. I hope you enjoy!
In which Emma confronts the Mayor about her blatant attraction to Emma.
"Regina, just admit it," Emma says with a sigh. Her hands are on her hips and her pink lips are pursed in challenge, daring the Mayor to oppose her. "You're attracted to me."
"Miss Swan, that is preposterous and further, highly unprofessional," Regina scoffs, her chin lifting and her back straightening to an ever more rigid posture in her rolling office chair. Emma marvels at how the brunette always seemed to be able to make that ordinary office chair look unmistakably like a throne. Regina's deep brown eyes are narrowed in what she hopes looks like judgment. Emma knows her too well, though: Regina is contemplating the veiled offer.
"No, Regina, it isn't. You have called me to your office Every. Damned. Day. to do stupid, menial tasks that you could have done yourself or called someone much more qualified to do. You look at me like you want to…eat me and–"
Emma stops, moving to run her hand through her blonde curls before realizing that she was currently wearing her favorite grey beanie. The gesture looks and feels awkward because her hand has nowhere to go and it just makes her more frustrated than she already is.
"You like me. You look at me every time you think I'm not looking and you have Sidney follow me around on my shifts to make sure I don't get hurt and like I said, you call me in here to do stupid things like de-bug your computer and," Emma starts speeding up her words, trying to head off anything Regina is about to say as she watches the brunette's eyes flash and her red lips open in protest, "Don't deny it because I know that you do, okay?"
The final words come out in a heated rush, and when she stops, Emma feels much, much better–like a weight had been lifted off her chest. The Mayor had been relentless in her dogged attempts to corner Emma the past few weeks and it was, frankly, exhausting. Especially when she was almost certain that the Mayor had no plans to actually follow up on all of thefuck me and I want to have your babies and grow old with you signals she was throwing at Emma night and day.
But Regina's cold eyes reveal nothing, wiped blank of even their earlier anger. "I assumed that you, as our Sheriff, would know enough about cyber crimes to properly protect our city's digital infrastructure. But you have, once again, Miss Swan, proved your ineptitude."
"I SAW YOU STARING AT MY ASS, REGINA," Emma nearly shouts, hearkening back to the moment not ten minutes ago when she was bent over Regina's desk (and, conveniently, over the Mayor, who had refused to leave her throne) trying to download the latest version of free anti-virus software. One quick look to the side caught the mayor staring unabashedly down at Emma's ass, an appreciative, almost-there smile on the mayor's usually blank visage.
Before Emma has time to protest, Regina is pressing a button on her desk and barking for Sidney to enter the office.
"Sheriff, your services are not wanted or needed," the Mayor says primly once Sidney, quick as always for his master, has entered the room. Regina's eyes pass once over Emma, flicking pointedly downwards, appraising her once more.
God damn it. Emma curses inwardly, half at the Mayor's brazenness and half at her body for reacting so viscerally to it.
Sidney nods his head in agreement with his master, and Emma has half a mind to smack him on the back of the head for it. He, of course, could never approve of any rival for Regina's affections.
Emma (somehow) successfully fights down her anger toward the peon and the blush that is threatening to overtake her features at the blatant way the mayor had been checking her out in the presence of Sidney.
"Well you know where to find me," Emma says, inwardly praising herself for not letting her gaze drop below the Mayor's eye level.
Emma really, really hoped she would be found.
In which Emma confronts you about the attraction you apparently do not hide very well.
You have to tell yourself to breathe normally every time she walks into the room. She swaggers in like she owns it, in this calm yet commanding way that demands nothing of you but all your attention and undoubtedly your heart.
It's why you've asked her to do anything and everything for you the last few weeks. It started out with a ridiculously juvenile fantasy: you just wanted to watch her do some manual labor for you. So you call up the Sheriff's office, insisting that she come over immediately to remove a cat that had been howling on the roof of the office all day.
Never mind that you had to magic one onto the roof to substantiate your story. You feed the little furball enough (it comes mewling at your back door four and five times a week, so much so that Henry has been clamoring for them to keep it already) that it could do you this one little favor.
After Miss Swan rescues Cat, and you've gotten quite a tantalizing view of her ass as she ascends and descends the long ladder to the roof, you pet the disgruntled black beast absently in your office. You remind yourself to stop by the store on the way home to get it those salmon treats that it seems to enjoy so much. It drools a bit as you open the bag, and somehow you find it completely endearing.
—
You have to tell yourself to bring out the mask—the one that is second nature to you, that your mother beat into you—because somehow she is so perfect at putting you at ease. Leaving you unguarded. Vulnerable.
You find yourself smiling at her unwittingly; she has the audacity to smile back. And it's blinding and brilliant and you feel light like her magic, but you know that isn't what's causing this feeling inside you.
It's something much more basic and pure than even magic: it's her goodness. It is a totally different good than the holier-than-thou Snow, whose purported goodness blinds her rather than makes things a rich grey.
It's with this realization that you slash your own tire and phone the Sheriff's office, blustering about hooligans and under stimulated youth. She comes right over, even going as far as to change your tire to the donut she finds in the trunk. You can't resist making a snarky comment about Sheriffs and donuts and she has the grace to chuckle and then scoff a bit.
She even drives you to the auto shop. You pretend that you expected it, but really it only makes your heart hurt more in want of her.
—
You have to tell yourself Keep your eyes above the nose, Mills because her thin pink lips look so tempting and you know you want to stare so you can map out the manifold possibilities they can offer you. The long column of her neck begs to be worshipped, to be owned, and you've outright banned yourself from thinking about those Adonis arms. You have dedicated far too many taxpayer dollars to the contemplation of those sculpted masterpieces.
Those clear green eyes are your downfall, too, because they soften when she looks at you. And that's when you break—and you look anywhere else besides those caring eyes but anywhere else just so happen to be her shapely legs and toned stomach, which you can't help but admire. There is also that full ass and—
And that's when she catches you.
She's leaning over your desk trying to do some computer thing you aren't really sure about (computers are something you were never really able to pick up with much alacrity, but Henry, in that regard and in all regards really, he has been a gem) but you heard your son mention anti-virus software a few times along with the words virus and security and pop-ups.
So naturally you figure that Miss Swan knows a thing or two about these things, and know that she'll just have to lean over you if she does so…
"Regina, just admit it. You're attracted to me," Emma says, and you just about fall off of your office chair at the statement. Emma couldn't possibly know, could she? Could she possibly be attracted to you as well? No—that is simply out of the question. Emma could never find you more than aesthetically pleasing. You are cold and you are tainted and you stifle everything you hold dear.
Words spill from your lips as you try to smooth the situation over. You revert to your usual professional shield, grateful at how easy it is when you have a shred of anger to cling to.
She calls you out on your bullshit, though. It's something you admire so fiercely in her: she challenges you.
"You like me," Emma says. Your heart feels like it stops, but in reality you know it's beating twice as fast as usual. Your breath is coming in short bursts and you know you're about to have a panic attack to end all panic attacks. Emma Swan cannot know the depth of your feelings for her. It will destroy you to have this secret out in the open.
Because hiding it and pretending it doesn't exist is your last defense against Emma Swan.
You hit the button and call Sidney in. Once he is there, you feel calmer, more like yourself again.
"Sheriff, your services are no longer wanted or needed." The mask is back in its rightful place, and you slowly let your eyes drag sensuously up Emma's frame.
You can survive her thinking you want to bed her. You cannot survive her seeing into your heart, black with your misdeeds as it is. How can a heart so black love so much?, you wonder.
"Well, you know where to find me," Emma says, meaning lacing her tone. You don't know what to make of it, though. Is she implying she's attracted to you, too? Does she want the more that you crave?
Or, never one to back down from a challenge, is she just playing the game, too?
If only you knew where to look.