NB. Hasn't been betaed, so I'm sure there are a few typos and stuff. Constructive criticism/pointing out the typos is always welcome! I hope you enjoy...
Chapter One
A thump was followed by an agitated groan.
"This is ridiculous! I have filled in that section. Look!"
Regina could hear the low, irate growl even through her office door and rolled her eyes. There was always one. One poor, stupid should who either couldn't read well enough to fill in the form, or couldn't think well well enough to fill it in correctly.
It was an everyday occurrence at the planning office, but at least she didn't have to deal with it personally - there were staff for that particular job. Regina had the distinct feeling that she might spontaneously combust if directly faced by so much stupidity on an hourly basis.
Instead her days were filled with compiling reports, authorising plans and various other important paperwork tasks. Tasks that meant she was the best paid, the most respected, most senior person in this particular department of the Mayor's Office.
The boss.
And of course Regina very much liked being the boss. She had a huge office, decked out in rich smelling wood and slate grey ornaments to match the floor. She attended business meetings at which her colleagues stared at her in simultaneous wonder, desire and fear. And she had ample funds to indulge her fondness for designer labels.
What could be better?
At this moment, though, her afternoon got a whole lot worse.
Stomping footsteps alerted her to what was going to happen mere seconds before it did, in fact, happen.
The door to her office was thrown violently open, banging against the wall behind it, the frosted glass pane sporting Regina's initials shaking ominously. And a woman, blonde haired and astonishingly red in the face stormed in, followed by one of the meek assistants.
"I'm so sorry, Ms. Mills. I tried to stop her."
Flaring her nostrils, she fixed the woman with a level glare.
"It would seem that you have failed in that particular endeavour, now, wouldn't it, Miss Pratt?"
The girl didn't seem to now whether to reply or not, and Regina let out an exasperated, "Get out."
She looked all to happy to oblige.
With that distraction out of the way, she turned her attention to the (presumably) angry woman standing in the middle of her office, and had to restrain herself from wrinkling her nose in distaste.
It was a blond woman, as she'd noticed before. And she was wearing a truly hideous red leather jacket. Was it leather? Regina wasn't sure, but if it was, she pitied the cow who'd died just for that jacket to come into existence. Beneath that was a white tank top, jeans and boots, covering a body that would be attractive, if its presence weren't quite so infuriating.
"Was there something you wanted?"
The blond opened and closed her mouth, seemingly lost for words now that she'd made her grand entrance.
"I do hope that you had some purpose for barging in, aside from to gape uselessly at me. It really does not quite me to have my work interrupted in so… brash a manner."
A frown wormed its way onto the woman's brown, and the sides of her mouth turned down.
"You rejected my application."
"The department rejected your application. And even then, how is that my problem. If it's been rejected then it obviously didn't meet the requirements. I fail to see how that merits such a reaction."
And she truly did fail to see how and why people never failed to blame other for their own incompetence. She had never once failed in an academic or official capacity and so Regina rather didn't comprehend the notion of failure in general. That others continued to astound her with their numerous failings only served to rile her.
But it seemed that this woman was equally riled by Regina's dismissive attitude.
"Are you kidding me? Your people won't even tell me why. I checked the guidelines before and it totally fits."
She thrust the paper in Regina's face, the form brushing against the seated woman's nose and fanning air into her eyes. Seething, she grasped it. A quick glance and she handed it back.
"The application is insufficient."
"What? Why?"
She'd already grown tired of this. Her legendarily short temper had run out.
"It is not my job to baby you through this process. The instructions are very clear and if you cannot follow them, it only shows a lack of effort or intellect on your part. Your form looks like it was completed as part of a school project. I suggest that you rectify this and bring it back when you've a real application for me to consider."
Hands clenched and a tendril of blond hair was wiped furiously behind an ear.
"Where'd you get off at speaking to people like that?" She pursed her lips. "And I'm not leaving until you approve my damn application."
She slammed the papers back on Regina's desk, pushing her nails against the lacquered surface and drawing an involuntary wince from the brunette when she saw the slight scratch now visible on her desk. She rose and cast an icy gaze at the green eyes in front of her. They flashed with a mix of indignation, frustration and just a shade of intimidation.
"Miss. I talk to people who enter, unannounced, into my office in any way that I see fit. Now, may I suggest that you remove your papers and yourself from my office before I alert security and have you thrown out."
She said the last bit with a certain cruel sneer in her voice, and pressed the pads of her finders hard against the desk, hard enough that her knuckles turned vaguely white. The blonde still maintained eye contact - a stunning feat in itself - with her for several long seconds.
Finally breaking it, the women let out an enraged breath, huffed through her teeth, and turned on her heel and left, leaving the door gaping open as she trudged away.
Regina glared on in undisguised distain.
That was the first time that day that Regina Mills encountered Emma Swan.
o
Later that day saw the same Emma Swan striding through the doors of her local coffee shop, still carrying the remnants of her earlier ire.
Mary Margaret, sitting at a table with a steaming cup of tea, looked up from her book on birdwatching only to see the downturned mouth and clomping footstep of her angry best friend. She definitely didn't look happy, and she wasn't even trying to hide it
Emma approached the table in a manner akin to a disgruntled grizzly bear, pulled a chair out with a horrific scraping noise, and plonked herself down on it. And then she waited, looking glum. Mary Margaret gently set down her book and leaned forward, already looking concerned.
"You look upset." She didn't receive a reply, only a stiff nod of the head, and reminded herself that dealing with Emma was sometimes like trying to coerce a sulking child into rejoining a class. "Did something happen at work?"
Heaving a great sigh the blond eventually turned to face her fully.
"No. It was this awful woman at the planning office. Mills or something like that." She ran a hand through her curls and gestured to the barista to bring her a coffee before resuming. "Anyway they wouldn't approve my application for the store, so I went into her office."
"Went in as in… you asked to go in?"
The way Emma's green eyes darted quickly to the left told her all she needed to know.
"That's probably not the best way to make a good impression."
"You don't understand. The woman was pure evil. She basically said that I was stupid for not filling in the forms properly and then threatened to call security on me. I spend ages trying to fill in that application and now it's been rejected. It's just… another roadblock. It's like Boston doesn't want people to have ideas or start their own businesses. Or maybe it's just that one woman who never wants anyone else to be happy. She looked like she'd swallowed a lemon or something."
Sensing that Emma wouldn't let the matter drop on her own, nor was she likely to be placated, Mary Margaret opted for the next best thing. Changing the subject.
"Hey. Have you sorted out something to wear for tonight? And it has to be smart. This is a formal function. And I mean real people's definition of formal. Not your weird concept of it."
Plastering on her most pathetic pout, Emma stared up at her brunette friend.
"I really don't feel up to it, M'n'M. That thing's ruined my entire day."
"Emma, you already said that you would. You're my plus one." Mary Margaret in turn opened her eyes wide and creased her brow, guilting her friend into keeping her promise. She knew Emma would cave if she kept it up long enough.
"Can't David go with you?"
"David's away visiting his brother. Please, Em. Don't make me go alone." She was on the cusp of breaking her. "There'll be free food."
And Emma was won over. Her friend could see it in the dip of her eyebrows and the quirk of her lips.
"Fine, fine. I'll come. Ruby's looking after Henry anyway." She rolled her eyes at Mary Margaret's grateful smile. "Free food, though? It's not even real food. It's like pet food."
Emma's newly arrived churros were swiftly dipped into her coffee, briefly pointed at the brunette before being squished into Emma's mouth, though she continued speaking through the sugary dough.
"That's how the socialites stay so thin. They live off canapés and cocktails."
Emma apparently didn't.
o
She felt so out of place. Here, in the huge, overly dressed room, complete with towering arches and gilded edges. And in her very person, too, she felt immensely uncomfortable. Dresses had never been her thing and although her current dress fitted her very well - she'd drawn a few appreciative glances, which she herself did not appreciate - wearing it still made her feel slightly vulnerable in some way.
The conversation, on top of all that, was so boring. Rich people were so boring, she couldn't help but think. Well some of them were alright, she conceded.
Mary Margaret, for instance, came from one of the richest families in Boston - proper landed money - but she was pretty normal. Sort of. She had decided to give up her life of ease and pleasure in order to teach middle school pupils, which, Emma thought, wasn't exactly normal. And she was exceptionally nice, almost painfully nice. That wasn't normal either.
But on the whole, Mary Margaret was a very decent, likeable human being.
She'd taken Emma under her wing during the blonde's wilder days, coaching her from a confused semi-delinquent bartender to the her current situation - a (mostly) responsible mother, valued (though volatile) friend and (sort-of) respected police officer.
Then, on the negative side, her best friend's family connections meant Emma had to spend her evening making smalltalk with some truly dull - or worse, pompous - people.
Like right now.
"Yes, Eleonora Hemmington-Smythe. Named after my late wife. A bit of an odd name for a boat. There's a funny story about that, actually…"
No. The story was not funny. It was just long.
Emma cast her eyes around the hall, nodding at what she hoped were appropriate points in the old man's story. Mary Margaret looked positively enthralled, but she had always been good at feigning interest; how else would she make it through seven hours a day teaching children?
A flash of perfectly coiffed brown hair caught her attention, and she stiffened, pushing herself up onto the balls of her feet to try and catch a better glance. It looked like… no, but why would she be here?
Actually… this party was some sort of official function, and that woman was a city official of some sort, a pretty high up one. It was very feasible that she should be here. Emma just hoped, oh how she hoped, that she was not here.
Merely ten minutes later - she had finally escaped from the deathly boring conversation under the pretence of needing the toilet - Emma found those hopes dashed.
Wandering around with her champagne glass idly cradled in one hand she suddenly found herself face to face with none other but the bad tempered city planner from earlier on in the day. And judging by the look on her face, she was no less pleased to see Emma than Emma was to see her. She had to concede, though, that the brunette was very easy on the eyes, encased in black silk and topped off with killer heels.
She looked… amazing in a word. And it just served to make Emma dislike her more. What right did she have looking so good when she was such an awful person?
Dark eyes, outlined in smoky makeup, stared at her from beneath long lashes, their look containing a sharp hint of the glare Emma had seen this morning. The look was returned with full force from the blonde, and they were just about to move off, pretend like they had never seen each other, when another figure drew up next to them.
Emma could see the slight cringe in the other woman's eyes, whether it was because of the the new arrival or at having been trapped in a conversation with her, she didn't know.
"Regina. I haven't seen you in quite some time. Still beavering away at that office, are we?"
It was a man, perhaps in his mid-forties and so full of his own self-importance that it almost oozed out of his skin. Emma was half tempted to try and slink away, but she'd been informed that she wasn't quite as stealthy as she imagined, so tamped down this urge.
"Duncan. A pleasure as always. And yes. I'm still at the planning department, beavering away, as you put it."
She smiled blithely, showing off stunningly white teeth, but the sentiment didn't reach her eyes.
"Not thinking about settling down yet? Having a couple of kids? A beautiful woman like you, Regina, I'm sure would have no problem. Leave it too long though…" Emma bit back a laugh with great difficulty at the masked look of resentment that passed over the newly-identified Regina's face, until she realised that the man's attention was now on her.
"And who's your lovely friend, here?"
Not wanting Regina to have any opportunity to insult her, she extended her hand.
"Emma Swan. I met Regina this morning. It was eventful."
She shot a smug grin in the darker woman's direction, and saw a roll of the eyes in return.
"Oh." Duncan raised his eyebrows. "Experienced a bit of the famous Regina Mills' charm, did we?"
Well, at least she now knew that it was just her Regina had a problem with.
"In a way. She rejected my application. Or oversaw the rejection of it. Either way, it was rejected."
She could see the woman out of the corner of her eye, drawing herself up in outrage, but continued to face the greying man, taking in his cleanly tailored suit that just reeked of money. She didn't particularly like him, but annoying the stuck-up official was just too amusing.
"I wouldn't take it personally, my girl. Regina never helps anybody. And a good-looking girl like you? Should be looking for a husband, not a planning permit!" He quirked the side of his lip upwards, and smiled disarmingly.
Emma's smile dropped. She was no longer amused.
In fact she was pretty darn annoyed at this guy's tone. Now she could understand the brunette's cringe upon his arrival, and now she was not so entertained by his playful dismissal of the other woman. While Emma was far from a radical feminist, she'd been through quite a lot in her life, and to hear such an outdated assertion just… made her see red.
She might have been thrown out on her ass for assault, if not for the unlikely intervention of one Regina Mills.
"Not everyone is looking for a husband, Duncan. And I can assure you, you are not going to find a trophy wife in me or Miss Swan." She shot him a pointed look, so cold that Emma thought she saw him shudder a little. And then in a split second, Regina was jovial and nonchalant once again, waving a hand carelessly next to her shoulder.
"Anyway, I'm all too happy to provide Miss Swan with any help she needs with the application. The planning department is here to help, not hinder, Duncan, no matter what misconceptions you hold." She looked back to a stupefied Emma, speaking with brisk efficiency and an attitude that brooked no argument. "You can drop in at my office any time tomorrow. Just let my secretary know. In advance, this time, please."
And with that, she was gone. Both Duncan and Emma watched her saunter off, her hips swinging in a delightfully restrained fashion, as she sought out someone else. A man, young and with short curls and a slight beard. A badge gleamed on his chest, as he held out his arm for the brunette's. But Emma didn't see much more, for she caught sight of Mary Margaret nearby and nigh darted away from her odious companion, back to the safety and relative sanity of her best friend.
"Where were you? You left me alone with that guy for ages!" She whispered out of the corner of her mouth as soon as Emma drew up.
"You looked like you were enjoying the conversation."
"Gosh, Emma." Mary Margaret looked bemused. "How could you ever think that I would find an hour conversation about boats interesting?"
"You were smiling and nodding."
"I was smi-" She sighed resignedly and minutely shrugged, before looking at Emma pityingly, though with a smile already creeping in at the corner of her mouth. "And this is why you only have two friends."
Yeah… two friends. And an open appointment with a woman she couldn't stand on the very next day.
Emma's shoulders slumped.
TBC...