Emma Swan isn't one to idly sit around. Except for the last year-and-a-half she's spent sitting around, nursing a slowly-burgeoning attraction for one insanely irritating, infuriatingly gorgeous mayor. She supposes it would be easy to develop an attraction to someone that looks like Regina. All dark hair and dark eyes and full lips and a voice like molten chocolate... yeah. No advanced degrees required to figure out the attraction there.

But this level of attraction? This pathetic all-consuming ache in her chest whenever she's next to Regina? That's what she can't figure out.

She thinks the attraction changed somewhere around the breaking of the curse. When she and Regina were forced to work together to save their son. This weird bond just sort of came up out of nowhere. Especially when Regina proved herself to be trustworthy, and Gold, well... didn't. When Emma pushed herself up out of that elevator shaft to find Regina bound and gagged... her stomach lurched. The contact was easy as she grasped Regina's arm and untied her, trying to be as gentle but as quick as possible when she ripped the tape off her mouth.

Emma pauses the train of thought there, shifting at her desk and taking another sip of her coffee. Contact has always been easy between she and Regina, come to think of it. Whether they're wanting to kill each other or trying to help each other. Proximity and physical contact is never difficult.

When Henry was trapped in the mine, it was easy to rush up to Regina and just clasp her arm. It garnered a not-so-great reaction, sure, but it was easy. Then when she got Henry out of the mine and she rushed over to see him? Regina was already doting on him, and Emma found herself so happy at the sight of Regina's smile that she couldn't help the smile spreading on her own face. So she'd reached out to Henry at the same time she reached out to touch Regina. Just a simple hand resting in the middle of her back.

That hadn't ended so well, either. Neither had the time she pulled her out of the fire. Every time, Regina had rebuffed her. They were adversaries, then. Emma thinks that's what sparked the urge to touch. Regina was always so closed off, so put together, that at the slightest hint of her mask slipping, Emma wanted to reach out and touch her. It had always been so very pathetic.

She remembers once, she and Regina awkwardly standing outside the school, each of them awaiting Henry's dismissal but neither knowing the other would be there. There had been a few snide remarks from Regina and a roll of the eyes or two from Emma, and then Regina bowed out. It had been so unlike her.

Emma remembers the way she had made some comment about how Henry would prefer to see his 'real mother' instead. She remembers the way she ducked her head and the way her hair fell into her eyes. The mask slipped. And she remembers needing to fight so hard not to reach out and brush away those pieces of hair obstructing Regina's gaze.

Unbelievably pathetic.

Now, if possible, it's even more-so. They're no longer adversaries. She's not sure they can be called friends, but they're not actively trying to destroy each other anymore. Emma's been trying to reach out to Regina, trying to get her to see that she has people rooting for her as she tries to turn herself around.

And Regina no longer rejects physical contact. It's... nice. In a really lame way. She doesn't reciprocate the contact, but she doesn't respond with venom either. It's progress.

But the attraction. That damned attraction, that was there from the beginning, is not going away. And with this new... kinship, bond, whatever it is... it's only making the attraction worse. She finds herself anxiously awaiting the next time she and Regina will cross paths. She thinks of ways to get her out of her shell, to perhaps coax a smile from the brunette - a genuine full-tilt Regina smile. She's seen them directed at Henry, and they're a force to be reckoned with. Stupidly, she wonders if she'll ever see one meant just for her.

"Ugh," she huffs, disgusted with herself as she drops her head into her hands. Then, she scrubs them over her face - as if that will make this ridiculous lovelorn crap go away - and she stares at her computer monitor.

She wonders idly if she has a death wish as she pops a blank CD into the open disc drive. She listens to the whirring of her machine and her stomach churns, thinking of all the ways this next little 'advancement' she has planned will backfire right in her face.

"Screw it," Emma huffs, grabbing the CD from the drive when the disc has finished burning. She's sick of this. Sick of thinking about Regina, sick of thinking up ways to run into her, sick of the tightness in her chest when she's nearby or the urge to reach out and touch her. She's sick of all of it.

And sure, they've made quite a bit of progress already... progress that she could very well destroy with this next move. But she's past the point of caring. She's sick of walking on eggshells around the woman, sick of wanting to kiss her every time she purses her stupid full lips, she's just sick of it. Something has to give.

She rolls to a stop in front of 108 Mifflin Street and she leans across the passenger seat, trying to peer into the house. She doesn't see any movement, any sign that Regina's even around, and feels a little hopeful. She jumps out of the car and strides up the walkway. Maybe she can just drop the CD off at the door and leave it at that.

Then she stops on the front stoop. If Regina's not home, should she leave a note? Oh crap, what the hell would she even write?

Hey, these songs make me think of you.

Nope.

You should listen to these, because they remind me of how I feel about you. Sorta. Or, well... most of the lyrics do, anyway.

Again, no. Dammit. Why didn't she think of these things before she made the stupid CD?

She stands there fighting with herself for so long, she doesn't hear the footsteps inside the house, nearing the front door. Nor does she notice the front door opening until Regina's leaning out, staring at her quizzically.

"Emma! What are you doing here?"

She startles, her heart lurching at the sound of her first name. Dammit, that's another thing that annoys her about this stupid attraction. She'd gotten so used to hearing Regina refer to her as 'Miss Swan' or 'Sheriff' that hearing her first name actually gives her chills a little bit.

This is so pathetic and stupid. She should just leave.

"I, I uh..." Also, she never thought of what she would say when she dropped this thing off. God dammit.

A bemused expression takes over Regina's face. Her lips quirk - almost smirking, but not quite, and she leans against the doorway. "Are you alright, Sheriff?"

There we go. A little return to familiarity is all it takes to get Emma's breath back in her body. "Sorry. Yeah, I'm fine, I just..." She shoves the CD at her. "I wanted to drop this off."

"Oh." Regina looks down at the disc, turning the jewel case over in her hand. "Is this something of Henry's?"

"No. Um... I made it." She shifts on her feet uncomfortably and wonders how she could be any more awkward. "It's a CD."

Yep, there it is.

Regina nods, giving her a look. "Yes, I can see that." Lifting her head, she quirks an eyebrow and asks the inevitable. "What is this for?"

"It's for you." This is going well, she berates herself.

Regina just keeps staring at her. It's unnerving.

"It's music. I-I... made a mix CD... for you."

If possible, that arched brow crawls even higher. "You made me a mix CD?"

Emma sighs, hanging her head. "Y'know what?" She looks up and makes a face, sweeping her arms like a baseball umpire indicating 'safe.' "Just... forget I was here. This was so, so stupid. I should go."

She shoves her hands in her pockets and turns to go, side-eyeing Regina who's now staring in confusion at the disc in her hand.

She takes five steps from the house before she hears the heels of Regina's boots clicking after her. "Wait - Emma!"

Drawing in a breath and screwing her courage, she turns around again and plasters on an uncomfortable smile. It actually feels more like a grimace, but she hopes it passes for a smile. "Yeah?"

"Uh... thank you. For this." She holds up the CD. "I-I... don't know what else to say."

Emma nods and swallows. She knows the feeling. "Just... give it a listen whenever you feel like it. Or don't, doesn't matter. Up to you." Shaking her head at herself, she decides to turn tail then and make a beeline for her car before she can screw up any further.

The last thing she sees before she climbs in is Regina, running her fingers over the clear jewel case with a confused smirk.

Regina Mills has never enjoyed a slow burn. Instant gratification has always been her preference, which is precisely what confuses her about her attraction to Emma Swan.

The physical attraction had been instantaneous. When the young woman came strolling up her walk in riding boots and form-fitting jeans and that damned red leather jacket, Regina had given her a once-over and instantly approved. And, in that need for instant gratification, she invited her in for a drink.

It wasn't her fault things took a turn for the worse after that. If anything, it seemed the Swan woman's lot in life was to make hers as difficult as possible. She'd thrown a wrench into her life with Henry, and then into her curse, and now... she's not sure what Emma Swan is currently wrecking, but she has an inkling it's her sanity.

They're stuck in this slow burn and until now, there had been no end in sight. They'd made progress, certainly, but not as much as she would have liked before Emma had fallen into another realm.

But now...

Regina opens the case and plucks from it the CD, taking it to the stylish stereo tucked into one of her bookshelves.

Now it seems the slow burn may be drawing to a close. If Emma's behavior on her stoop had been any indication, this could very well be the turning point they've both been vying for.

So Regina inserts the CD and hits play before going to pour herself a glass of scotch.

Emma gulps back the last of her scotch, slamming the glass on the counter, hard.

Ruby ambles over to her, leaning an elbow on the counter as she takes away the empty glass. "You okay?"

"No," Emma chuckles, shaking her head and staring at the counter for no other reason than the fact that she thinks Ruby will somehow know what's in her head if she looks her in the eyes. "I'm, uh... I'm going insane."

Ruby makes a face, a sympathetic grimace. "Guy troubles?"

"Not really." She fishes some cash out of her wallet before the eagle-eyed barmaid can ask any more questions. "Here. Thanks." Then she slides off her stool and heads for the door, practically crashing into Mary Margaret and Henry.

Her mother skids to a halt just before the three of them collide, her hands on Henry's shoulders. "Emma, there you are! We were looking for you."

Henry beams up at her. "Wanna come in with us and have dinner?"

"Oh!" She breathes out a sigh of relief. She'd been hoping for some time to herself at the loft, to properly berate herself for the stupid way she fumbled around herself with Regina. "No, thanks you guys. I've got kind of a headache - gonna go home and lie down for a bit."

"Oh." Mary Margaret frowns, and Henry's looking at her like he doesn't quite buy it, but either way, her mother finally shrugs and says, "Alright. Well I'm sorry you're not feeling well."

Henry gives her a little smile as they brush past, and her mother tells her over her shoulder, "Aspirin's in the medicine cabinet."

"Thanks."

Only the third track has finished, and it appears Regina has five to go. Already her heart is thudding so loudly in her ears she can barely hear the music.

This is more than she'd ever expected. Certainly she knew as much as the next person that Emma Swan was attracted to her. She only hoped that she hid her attraction much better. But, this...

If the lyrics to these songs are really meant to tell her something, it's that Emma Swan is more than attracted to her. And that thought is both exhilarating and terrifying.

She knows that she, too, harbors more than an attraction for the blonde sheriff, and has for some time now.

The fourth track begins. According to Emma's distinctive scrawl on the placket inside the case, the song is simply called "Smitten."

And Regina knows then that she's going to need another drink to listen to the rest of this melodious love letter.

Emma's partway through her second scotch and she's not feeling any less dread about her situation. What in the hell possessed her to give Regina a damn mix CD?

"Idiot," she grumbles to herself, staring at the scotch in her glass as she swirls it around and then takes another gulp.

"You say something, Emma?" David comes out of the back room, dressed for an evening at the sheriff's office.

Since she's been back, he's been her unofficial 'deputy,' and a pretty handy one at that. She shakes her head at him. "No, just... talking to myself."

David frowns, looking her over, and leans on the other side of the breakfast bar. "Is everything okay? You seem a little... out of it."

Yeah, just thinking about Regina. I kinda have a thing for her, by the way - hope you guys don't mind. Right, that would go over well. She's made strides in her relationship with her parents, but there's no way in hell she'd tell either of them this.

"Yeah, sorry. I just have a headache."

Instantly, he nods toward her glass, strapping on his gun holster as he tells her, "Maybe ease up on the scotch, then. Might just make it worse."

Emma smiles tightly. "Good idea." And she slides the glass away, left to stare at it longingly until her father leaves.

Regina takes a breath and stares at the CD, back in its case after finishing its play. Her heart is thudding and it feels like her veins are going to burst in her ears. The two or three scotches hadn't helped, she knows, but they were needed.

It's quite obvious now - Emma Swan shares her feelings, convoluted and twisted as they may be. And the trepidation gnawing at her gut does nothing to slow her pace as she heads straight for the door, not even bothering with the Mercedes. Part of her is hoping she'll gather some sense halfway to her destination and turn around.

It's the other part, the stupid impetuous part of her that hasn't felt this way since Daniel, that keeps her moving.

Emma hangs up the phone, having just spoken with Mary Margaret, and stares at the clock. They'd be home within the hour and she still has to get the scent of scotch off her breath. Great. On top of that, she has to figure out a game-plan for what she'll say the next time she runs into Regina.

Should she bring up the CD? Because that has the potential to make her look desperate. And she's not; hell no, she is not desperate to know what Regina thinks of it. She'd be fine never knowing. It wouldn't be at the back of her mind, bugging the crap out of her or anything.

She decides to wait for Regina to bring it up. Then she'll respond accordingly. If Regina acts clueless, then so will Emma. She can just shrug it off and tell her that they were just songs she thought she might like.

"Emma?" A knock sounds on the door along with her name, in a voice that sounds a lot like Regina's. She hopes it's not her, though. "It's Regina."

Crap.

"Yeah, I'm here." She swears under her breath and then calls out again. "You looking for Henry?"

"Actually, I'm here to see you."

Emma's not sure if it's the words, or what sounds suspiciously like a smile in Regina's voice. One of those prompts her to drag her butt off the stool and head for the door, swinging it open. She gives her hair a toss, deciding to play it cool. "Yeah? What's going on?"

Regina stands there for a second, all buttoned up in her long peacoat with pink, wind-whipped cheeks. She's out of breath and is bracing a hand on each side of the door frame, one of them clutching the CD case between her gloved fingertips. She gestures with the CD hand, still braced on the door frame.

"These songs..." she breathes.

Emma shifts on her feet, trying not to sound as nervous as she feels. She really needed more time to prepare, here... "Uh, yeah?"

"They..." Regina swallows and takes another breath, and what did she do - run all the way over? She hopes not, because the idea of that doesn't make her feel any less nervous about this whole thing.

"They're very good," she finishes, and Emma lets out a breath.

"Oh. Yeah, they are. I-I like them." She gestures to her and tries for a friendly smile. "Thought you might, too."

Regina nods, and one hand leaves the door frame to slip the CD in the pocket of her coat. "Do they, um..."

Emma watches as Regina looks to her feet, her hair falling into her eyes. She looks nervous too, and she hopes that that's a good thing. She pushes the fallen hair behind her ears and the pointed toe of her boot nudges at a knot in the wood.

When Regina looks up again, her eyes are lit up with some emotion but her mouth is drawn and voice unusually timid as she asks, "Do they bear any significance?"

She thinks about all the songs she threw on that damn CD. The almost overly-girly ballad letting Regina know she'd be there for her. The Goo Goo Dolls track telling her to let love in and the Cat Power song that conveyed that she believed in her.

She thinks of the moment at the mine and the hat that came back to life when they touched and the song that's supposed to get across to Regina, just a little bit, how she feels. She thinks of the times they've needed each other and of Heart and how sick she is of the back and forth.

Then she takes in a slow breath and lets it out before she says quietly, "Yeah, Regina. They do."

And she hears Regina's breath hitch. She meets her eyes with her heart going wild and she sees something there that's never been there before. She swallows hard even though her mouth has dried up from the scotch and her brain is pinging back and forth between YAY! and Oh crap! as she watches Regina's gaze go to her lips.

Then Regina's leaning in and there's no more time for thinking. Their lips are connecting, and she finally has that full bottom lip between both of hers. It's one hell of a thrill - her stomach plummets straight past her feet and bounces up again.

Regina tastes like scotch and cinnamon. Her hands are still braced gently on the door frame as she leans partway into the loft, and Emma's hand is still holding open the door. Their lips are the only point of contact, and it's the most maddeningly wonderful sensation ever.

Maybe the mix CD wasn't such a stupid idea after all.

FIN