Prompt: Regina keeps getting cheesy Valentine's cards - even though it's November.
A/N: The lovely lightbluenymphadora sent me this prompt a while ago, and though it was intended for SQ, I felt it could work quite well for a fluffy little piece for my one and only DenDen. So, happy (now super belated) birthday to my bestie, adi_dion! I hope you like it :)
As for when this takes place... I'd say it's a nebulous AU of season 5A without Camelot but some canon aspects do creep in so... yeah, just go with it. It's a fluffy Regina-centric fic.
The first time it happens, she's just returning to her office from one dreadful town meeting. It's as she pulls out her chair to sit that she spots it. A little pink envelope. She picks it up as she sits. There's no name on it, no marking of any kind, really. She turns it over to find a simple red heart sticker keeping it shut. Curiosity gets the best of her as she gently peals it off. She opens the envelope and pulls out a small card. It's pink with little hearts surrounding a fat baby clad in nothing but a diaper. The bow and arrow in his chubby little hands tells her it's some cartoonized version of Cupid. She smirks at the sight, recalling how much amusement she had garnered every Valentine's during the curse.
Cupid is a fairy whose birth astounded the others of his kind - all of whom are female. As the tale goes, he grew into his powers quite quickly after being rejected by the others. Regina had made certain that he would fall into the curse, the idea of him bringing any more lovers together in the Enchanted Forest far too distressing to leave him behind. Throughout the curse, Cupid was known as Caleb Lockhart, a rather handsome young man with piercing brown eyes and thick black hair. He is also the man responsible for Singlebrook, Storybrooke's only dating service. Of course, having been stripped of his powers, all matches failed in those twenty-eight blissful years. And while the heart encrusted bow and arrow do indeed exist, he has never walked around in a small white diaper, though whether or not he wears one under his suit is a mystery to her. Imagining how he would react if he knew how he is seen in this world kept her well occupied during the days preceding the insipid holiday. That and a bout of lustful activities with a certain companion. She sighs as she opens the card.
I'VE BEEN HIT!
by your love.
Happy Valentine's
xoxo
She rolls her eyes as she reads the words. Whoever writes these things should be hung, she thinks. She moves to throw it in the trash, but for some reason foreign even to her, she decides not to and tosses it into her desk drawer instead. Perhaps it's because she hasn't received anything for Valentine's since Henry was little. Or perhaps it's quite simply due to the fact that she has no idea where it came from, nor why someone would be sending Valentine's cards in November.
The next time it happens, she's retaking her seat opposite Henry in Granny's Diner, having left briefly for the restroom. It's as she lifts her fork and knife, her dinner having arrived just before she returned, that a small white envelope is revealed where her napkin should be. She furrows her brow as she sets the utensils on the rim of her plate.
"Henry, is this yours?" she asks, lifting the envelope to show him. He simply shakes his head in response, knowing better than to speak with his mouth full. "Well, do you know where it came from?"
Reluctantly, he sets his burger down and wipes his face with a napkin before answering again. "No, I thought it was yours." He shrugs, his eyes roaming from the envelope to his burger and then to her.
"Very well then." She sighs, gesturing for him to continue eating his greasy burger. Although it's not her favourite thing to feed him, it is Saturday, and that means burgers or pizza or whatever else he chooses for the evening.
This time, as she turns the envelope over, above the red heart sticker she finds her name scribed in cursive. Her eyes glance above the envelope to watch Henry, and find that he has quickly engrossed himself in his burger again. She smiles at that, noting how much he's grown recently. The distinct memory of a six year old Henry eagerly eating his burger and fries in much the same way comes to mind. She shakes her head ever so slightly before returning her attention to the mysterious envelope. She opens it with as much delicacy as she had with the one from a few days prior. This time the card that slides out is red with a white, wide eyed kitten holding a little heart that reads Be Meown. She scoffs at the image before opening to reveal the note within.
You're purr-fect,
Won't you be meown?
She barely has time to react to the ridiculousness of the whole thing before her son pipes in, "What is it?"
She flinches, having forgotten momentarily that she isn't alone. She smiles at her not-so-little prince and turns it to show him.
"It seems someone has deluded themselves into believing it to be February and therefore time to prank the Evil Queen." She mocks, causing him to tilt his head curiously.
"You're not her anymore." He defends as he plucks the card from her hand. "It's kind of cute though," he adds as he examines it, "isn't it?"
"I suppose it is." She says, retrieving it from his hands to put it in her purse, "if you find terrible puns and kittens to be cute, that is."
He laughs before tossing a small fry in his mouth.
Over the next two weeks, her November Valentine, as she has come to call whomever has been sending these anonymous cards, continues to plant the mysterious gifts in varying places. Each card is unique, and yet, equally tacky. Despite her distaste for them, however, she keeps each and every one of them. All of them except the one she finds soaked on her windshield after a particularly stormy day, that is.
It's on a Wednesday afternoon that her November Valentine's antics escalate into something she finds to be on the verge of danger. This time it isn't a simple card that she finds. Instead, as she's packing her things to take home, she finds a red rose. It seems as strange and innocent as the previous gestures. That is, until she realizes it isn't just any rose. It's her rose. The invalid had cut the lone flower from her rose bush! And by the looks of it, they must have used a rather dull scissor, as the tip is cut so that the stem curls into thin strands at the end.
Immediately, she storms out of her office and into the garden. It doesn't take her long to find the violated section of the bushes. Her nostrils flare and her fists clench at her sides, crushing the lone rose in the process, as she takes in the tragedy.
"Regina, is something wrong?" the familiar sound of a certain outlaw asks from somewhere behind where she stands.
"What do you think, Thief?" She hisses.
She turns hastily to find Roland, peaking from behind a shocked Robin Hood, looking rather frightened. She lets out a slow breath at the sight in an attempt to temper her distress. She adores Roland and the last thing she wants is to alienate him through her anger. She relaxes her shoulders and releases her fists, the remainder of the rose drifting to the ground. She tries to offer Roland a reassuring smile, but the anger hasn't completely dissipated, so it turns into a lousy grimace.
"What happened?" Robin asks tentatively.
"Someone took it upon themselves to desecrate my rose bushes," she waves a hand towards the crime scene, "and then, as if in some disturbing jest, the miscreant returned it to me in the form of a gift!"
"What's des-ca-rate?" Roland asks in wide eyed wonder, moving from behind his father to take a closer look.
"Desecrate." She corrects. "Essentially, it means that someone hurt my roses."
"Oh." Roland pouts.
"You see how it's been cut, right here?" She gestures in her attempt to further explain the situation to the young boy.
"I'm sorry that someone descarated your flowers, Regina." He murmurs as he returns to embrace his father, burying his head slightly into Robin's side.
"It's nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart." She reassures, her voice softening. "I'll call Sheriff Swan and have her find whomever is responsible."
Roland simply nods as she finally manages to lift the corners of her lips into a smile. Robin, for his part, smiles brightly at her as he rubs Roland's back comfortingly.
"Anything I can do?" Robin offers.
She simply stares at him for a moment, the familiar sparkle in his eyes making her broken heart churn. It's as she observes the man who once promised her the world that she realizes for the first time why she has been keeping every one of those ridiculous cards. As usual, her heart has been betraying her, holding out hope that he still loves her as she does him.
"Regina?"
"Hm?" She startles slightly. "Oh." She clears her throat and steels her features, "No. I'm sure Emma can handle this. Thank you."
"Okay then, we should really get going." He squeezes Roland's shoulder slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. "Good day, Regina."
She nods curtly in response. But he makes no move to leave, instead they're stuck staring into one another's eyes. A desperate longing making her heart pound. It's moments like this that keeps that vile hope within her alive. She hates it. And yet, it thrills her.
"Bye, My Majesty!" Roland interjects animatedly as he tugs at Robin's sleeve, breaking them out of the moment. "Papa's taking me to the park!"
Robin smiles apologetically at her and next thing she knows, they're walking away. She sighs as she watches them leave.
It's only when she can no longer see their retreating figures that she recovers, pulling out her phone.
"Miss Swan."
"Regina." Of course, the Sheriff doesn't take the greeting very well.
"Emma." She huffs.
"What can I do for you, Regina?" Emma chimes at the other end.
"I have a situation that requires your attention."
"Okay, I'll get Dav-"
"Don't you dare bring that Obnoxious Buffoon into this," she warns.
Explaining the entire situation to Emma is terribly embarrassing. She knows she's made the right decision in bringing it to the blonde's attention. But she could certainly do without Emma's constant teasing over the ordeal. She doesn't find anything about this funny, neither the asinine little cards nor the damage to her precious garden. The Sheriff, however, wholeheartedly disagrees. And despite agreeing to work on solving the case, Emma isn't at all afraid to make a mockery of her November Valentine.
"Miss Swan!" She finally snaps amid one of Emma's foolish remarks. "Would you please be quiet and do your job? This could be the work of a sociopath!"
Silence surrounds them for all but a moment before the Sheriff falls victim to an ugly fit of laughter.
"I do not see how you can possibly find any of this amusing," she growls, "what if this were happening to you? Or worse, to Henry? Would it still amuse you then?"
"Oh my god, Regina!" the Sheriff exclaims, her hand rested on her chest as she tries to calm her laughter. "First of all, quit calling me 'Miss Swan'. We've talked about this before, remember?"
This causes her to roll her eyes, but still, she acquiesces, if only to find out what else the idiot has to say for herself. "Fine, Emma. I apologize. I tend to revert to formality when I find you particularly irritating."
Emma grins at this, clearly feeling victorious. "That's alright, Your Majesty." She mocks playfully. "Just try and get a handle on it, okay? I feel like I'm in grade school all over again when you call me that."
"Perhaps that's the point," she husks as she cocks her brow, "Miss Swan."
"I - uh - I -" Emma coughs to avoid stuttering any further, but it does nothing to hide the pink tint to her cheeks.
"Oh, Emma," she titters, "you are far too easily distracted. How you manage to get anything done is beyond me."
"Uh, yeah... right," Emma smiles coyly, "Where were we again?"
"I believe you were about to explain what it is you find so hilarious about this -" she waves her hands in the air, searching for the right words. "Whichever mentally ill person has been leaving me all these sinister gifts!"
"Sinister gifts!" Emma belts, "Seriously, Regina?"
She simply glares at the Sheriff in response.
"Relax," Emma says, rolling her eyes, "you have a secret admirer. There's nothing sinister about it. Someone just has a little crush on you."
"Well," she looks away briefly, allowing a strand of hair to fall over her face, hoping it helps to hide her embarrassment, "I find it highly inappropriate."
"You know what I think?" Emma implores cheekily, "You're scared. Not because you think this person is dangerous, but because someone out there likes you. Like, really, really likes you and isn't afraid of taking chances."
"Ridiculous," she dismisses, returning her gaze to the Sheriff, "I want you to put a stop to whomever is responsible immediately."
Dearest Valentine,
You're wickedly funny.
I long to laugh with you every day,
Won't you tell me another tale?
"What the hell kind of game do you think you're playing?" She fumes, marching into Zelena's home.
"Well," Zelena scoffs, "it's nice to see you too, little sis."
"I knew you were perverse," she grits, "but this is pathetic, even for you."
"I have absolutely no idea what you're so worked up about, Regina," Zelena says, rolling her eyes, "now, if you would lower your voice, I do not need the little munchkin waking up right now. The last thing I need is another hour of that girl's insufferable crying."
"It's truly admirable, the level of love you have for your own child," she deadpans.
"And who are you to judge?" Zelena defends, her head held high. "I happen to love my daughter very much!" Zelena then waves her hand dismissively, "But I am also very fond of my hearing, and would rather not lose it to her squealing."
"How delightful," she states blankly before returning to the reason she had come in the first place, "now, would you care to explain the purpose behind your little ruse?"
"Honestly, Regina, I have no idea what you're referring to. I've been far too busy caring for my daughter to pay attention to much else." Zelena shrugs her shoulders and curls her lips, "It's getting rather boring, actually. If only I could skip forward. Perhaps things would be more interesting if she weren't so dependent. If she were older, like my wonderful nephew. Or her big brother, Roland."
She's completely aware that the last part was crafted specifically to upset her, but she doesn't let that detract her. "Don't play coy with me, Zelena," she warns as she attempts to keep her voice at a moderate level. "Not only does it use your favourite word, it's green!" she snarls as she throws the card at her sister.
Curious, Zelena picks up the card from the floor where it lands. It takes but a moment before red lips form their infamously wicked grin. And then comes the laughter.
"Oh Regina, why oh why must you always think the worst of me?" Zelena asks through her laughter. "As much as I would love to take credit for this brilliant little ploy, it's quite clear you've been misled."
She glares at her older sister until the laughter subsides. She isn't certain why, but somehow she believes Zelena.
"May I keep this?" Zelena asks teasingly, holding it against her chest. "'You're wickedly funny' You!" she cackles. "It truly is a masterpiece."
"Shut up, Zelena," she chides, snatching it from her older sister's green-tipped fingernails before storming out.
"You did what?" Emma exclaims.
"You haven't been taking this seriously enough," she states coolly, "so I decided to try and find the person responsible for this harassment all by myself."
"I told you I'd look into it!" Emma responds in exasperation.
"Well, now you don't have to. Zelena didn't do it," she replies, pondering the mystery further, "which means that whoever this miscreant is, they're still out there. And they must believe we're close to catching them. Otherwise why would they attempt to frame Zelena?"
"Still, we should have gone together," Emma sighs, "that's why you asked me to investigate this so-called crime, isn't it?"
"Why should I, if you consider it so insignificant?"
"Because I'm your... friend, and I..." Emma trails off as she looks away, her voice reduced to a whisper, "well, I guess I kind of care about you."
"Emma..." she says softly, as a watery smile graces her crimson lips.
"From now on, we work together, okay?" Emma asks, returning her gaze.
"Alright." She agrees, placing her hand on the Sheriff's arm and squeezing gently.
A comfortable silence befalls them for a moment, and only when she retreats her hand from Emma's arm does she break it.
"This is all Cupid's fault," she mutters.
"Cupid?" Emma asks quizzically.
"Caleb Lockhart."
"Caleb is Cupid?" Emma's eyes grow wide with the new revelation, "Isn't he supposed to be, like, a fat little baby?"
A/N: This was originally meant to be a oneshot, but I haven't had the chance to finish it quite yet, so it'll be a 2-parter. Let me know what you think of it so far! I'll get the rest done and posted ASAP.
And Bestie, I inserted a number of Céline songs throughout the fic, did you find them all? :P