A/N: A...what-if moment between the ladies set between the end of 4A and the beginning of 4B.
Warnings: Very mild non-graphic sexual situations and cheating. Mentions of Hook and Robin, but they're not actually in the story.
"You know, you don't have to babysit me," Regina reminds her even as she opens up the front door a little bit wider and allows a smirking Emma and her two brown bags full of take-out from Granny's admittance into her warm and cozy house. Her dark eyes quickly sweep over Emma's lean frame, doing a quick inspection of the sheriff and her welfare. She tells herself that she's simply fulfilling her duties as Emma's employer, but she knows better; this glance-over is as much about reassuring herself as it is about anything else. She needs to know – has to know.
The question is…what?
Ah, but those are questions that she has no real interest in answering so she simply…doesn't.
Instead, after clearing her throat, she lifts an eyebrow at Emma, taking in her pink cheeks and her pale chapped lips. It's quite cold outside - dipping down well below freezing, and her typical beanie is pulled down tight over her ears, doing nothing at all to help her red nose. "Well?"
Emma grins in response, not buying her attitude for even a moment as she holds up the bags of take-out. "Freshly made right-out-of-the-pot French Onion soup for you, a bacon cheeseburger with the works for me, and a piece of fudge brownie cheesecake for the both of us."
"I might have eaten already," Regina tells her mildly.
"You might have, but Henry is hanging out with his new friends from the drama club tonight which means you were probably planning on a night of wine and that incredibly dull book of yours." She looks into the kitchen. "And unless I'm missing it, I don't see any dinner cooking."
"You think you know me so well."
"So what were you planning on having, then?"
"Shut up, Swan," Regina grumbles, stepping into the kitchen only long enough to grab the still completely full bottle of red wine (knowing Regina, it costs in the triple digits) that she'd taken out and two glasses that probably cost more than Emma makes in a full year – not that Regina mentions these things (that the Queen is surrounded in ridiculous finery is obvious, but sometimes Emma wonders just how much of this is real and just how much of it is the pomp and show of being who she is supposed to be to all of the people in this ridiculous town of theirs). "Well, come along - if you're going to feed me, I should be kind enough to provide alcohol."
"So thoughtful," Emma grins and follows her into the study.
"So why aren't you out and about with your pirate tonight?" Regina asks once they're inside and the warm flicker of the fire is warming Emma's cheeks (she doesn't tell Emma but even if she had already eaten dinner, she would have still accepted the food if for no other reason than to get Emma out of the icy cold). Her voice is mild when she speaks, almost disinterested. Because even if she thinks Hook is unworthy of just about…anyone, Emma doesn't. And that matters.
Emma shrugs her shoulders and starts unpacking the bags.
"Ah."
"Ah, what?"
"You had an argument with him."
Emma sighs. "Not really. We just…some nights he wants…to be everywhere."
Regina tilts her head, her eyes narrowing. "I don't understand."
"Some nights I just need to not be just Killian Jones' girlfriend."
"Have you ever been just anyone's girlfriend, Emma?"
"No, and that's not what I mean. This whole being in a real relationship thing…it's all so new to me, and he and I, we're new, and I really care about him and…there might be something, but I…I'm not used to being with someone." She fidgets in her seat, her fingers stealing out to grab a fry off the table in front of them before pulling back again. "I'm not used to someone wanting me around all the time. I'm not used to them needing me around and feeling like if I'm not –"
"Then they might make bad choices."
"Yeah."
"So you came to see the other person in your life you know who tends to make bad choices when they feel like they're out of control?" Regina queries, her back straightening into a perfect line.
Like she's on the defense and readying herself for a fight.
But she needn't be because Emma…well she's Emma. The blonde smiles at her, sheepish and uncertain, her fingers twisting. "I came to see the person in my life whom I trust the most."
"Emma -"
"You're my friend."
"You need better friends, dear."
Emma laughs at that – loud and real and Regina finds herself blushing (which is strange because there was a time when she would have responded angrily). "Maybe so, but you're who I have tonight, Madam Mayor so perhaps instead of arguing semantics with me, you'll eat the soup I brought you and I'll eat my hamburger and then we'll both see how we can do on the wine."
"If I didn't know better, I'd say that you were trying to lead me into dangerous acts of debauchery," Regina teases, an eyebrow lifted as she fills up both their glasses. The red spills in slowly, sloshing against the sides and both of them find themselves for a moment transfixed.
Watching the red as blood liquid, thinking about all the times they've spilt their own.
And all the times the other one has been there to help them back up again.
Emma snorts then, drawing them both back to the present, their eyes both lifting up to find each other's, thin smiles on both of their faces. "Like I would be the one of the two of us to do that."
"Fair point," Regina allows with a sharp nod of her head, but there's a strange sudden dullness to her eyes for just a moment. It's gone after a second and she's lifting her glass. "Cheers."
It's the third bottle of wine (somewhere halfway through the second one, Regina finally admits to the price tag and Emma almost spits up a very expensive mouthful of it) that does them in.
It's the third bottle of wine so good that Emma wants to steal herself some of it which gets Emma talking about how some days she doesn't know who she is or what everyone wants from her. How many people does she have to save before she is allowed to become just Emma Swan?
She finally turns and looks at Regina, narrowing her eyes. "I'm Emma to you, right?"
"Yes."
"Not Miss Swan."
"Only when I'm pissed at you."
"And Swan?"
"Only when I'm trying to annoy you." She smirks lazily at her.
"When am I Emma?"
"When you're babbling like an idiot like you are right now."
"I'm an idiot?" Emma asks, somewhat pouting. It occurs to her - just slightly - that she's moved very close to Regina now, practically sitting in her lap.
"An idiot I'm reluctantly rather fond of," Regina admits.
"How can you say that word as drunk as you are?"
Regina chuckles and lifts a haughty eyebrow. "I can do a lot as drunk as I am."
"Oh yeah? Like what?"
Regina doesn't respond – not with her words, anyway; instead, she just leans forward and kisses Emma, her painted lips soft but still commanding, demanding and insistent, her tongue pushing inwards. Emma doesn't resist, just leans in and weaves her hands through thick brown locks.
When they break apart, both panting, Emma says, "I can do that, too."
And then she's moving inwards again.
"Wait," Regina says, a hand settled on Emma's chest, fingers bent.
"Really? Now?" It's a whine and Emma's holding herself up high, her arm muscles quivering.
"Is this all me? Did I lead us to this?"
"To what?"
"Acts of debauchery? Is this happening because of me?"
"I'm way too drunk for that word; all I want to do is kiss you."
"That's all?"
"Oh no," Emma laughs in reply, and then she's dropping herself down, and pushing forward once again, grinning wildly and happily when she hears the way Regina moans in response.
Regina is definitely a power bottom in ever sense of the word. And it's a wonderful thing, Emma thinks as she leans in and nips her teeth against the older woman's sensitive neck; Emma has all of the upwards topping positioning that offers control but then there's strong hands and nimble experienced fingers gripping and pushing and pulling and it feels like the best of all worlds.
There's gasps and moans and then the feel of being touched and wanted and - oh.
Regina curses, her words spilling together as her head topples backwards.
She leans down, kisses the slope of Regina's chest, and then moves back up and whispers Regina's name into her ear; she hears her own repeated back, and it's perfect…perfect.
Sweat rolls down her breasts, and there are nail marks down her spine.
Emma falls against Regina, drunk and sober and so goddamned happy that it actually hurts.
She knows that it can't last, though - because this isn't their story.
This isn't how their stories are supposed to go; not for either of them.
Emma leaves before Regina wakes up. But not without a note left on the pillow beside her.
I know this is bad form (sorry), but this is going to be weird no matter what. And we obviously do need to talk about it, but we both know if we tried to do it this morning, it wouldn't go well; call me. I'm sorry about what happened, Regina. But I'm not. I hope we didn't ruin everything.
It's the most obnoxiously rambling incoherent say-nothing message ever.
Regina lights it on fire, throws a bottle against a wall and then curses.
A lot.
By the time Henry gets home, everything is cleaned up, nice and neat again.
She doesn't contact Emma for five days; Emma calls four times on day two and then keeps calling and leaving voicemails and text messages every day after that. Pleading. Begging.
Talk to me. Please.
But she doesn't respond, can't yet.
On day five, finally assured that she has herself together, she sends a text saying, "I think I found something that might help us with locating the Author; please meet me at my office at 11AM."
It's complete bullshit and the only breakthrough that book has given her was the one it had created when it had smashed through the window over the kitchen sink.
That had been the morning after waking up by herself in the bed.
But, well…she figures that it's time to deal with this.
Deal with Emma.
"Hey," she hears, just a few minutes later, the voice coming right after a soft tentative knock.
"Come in," Regina states, standing up to greet her; she brushes off her skirt, steadies herself.
Emma enters the room slowly, hands in her pockets, and then just stands there.
Regina huffs, "Oh for God's sake, Emma, stop it; it was just sex."
"Yeah, I…I know that."
"Then stop acting like you wounded my feelings."
"I'm sorry?"
"It happened and while it was…nice, it shouldn't have because you have a boyfriend."
"Yeah. Wait…nice?"
Regina rolls her eyes. "But who I am to judge, right? I slept with a married man."
"Regina -"
"So we'll just call it debauchery that I led you into and -"
"Stop."
"…never speak of it -"
"Regina, stop!"
Regina blinks. "What?"
"Maybe it was just nice for you, but I enjoyed the hell out of it. I mean what I can remember of it. And I'm not sorry it happened, okay? You didn't lead me into anything that I didn't want."
"Emma -"
"We worked too hard to get this friendship, Regina. Too hard to get here."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying you're my best friend. And I don't want to lose you over sex. Even…good sex." Her face contorts for a moment and she seems so young and lost. "Tell me…that I didn't."
Regina lets out a breath. "Of course you didn't, Emma; you better than just about anyone knows how difficult it is to get rid of me." She offers a small smile meant to reassure the Sheriff.
"Then next time maybe answer my calls."
"I have my own fears."
"Meaning what?"
"As you said, it wasn't you who led us down that path."
"But it was me who said yes. Two to tango, Regina."
"And now?"
Emma frowns in response, fidgeting again. "Now I have Hook and you have -"
"The book," Regina sighs. "And the search for the Author. And my Happy Ending." There's bitterness in her tone, a surge of frustration and anger, and Emma thinks she sees tears in Regina's eyes, likely the fall-out of so much time wondering if all of this is just a waste.
So Emma steps closer. "Which I'll be there with you every step of the way for."
Regina forces a smile. "I know."
"Hey, we're okay, right?"
"Yes, but…perhaps no more wine for us." Her voice trembles just a bit, and she looks away.
It takes everything Emma has not to reach for her.
But there's the book and there's a man who wants her and…
They both have their own stories.
Just not this one.
Right?
"Right," Emma agrees. "Maybe something like…root beer, instead."
Regina chuckles at that. "Such a child. Now go, I have work to do."
"So the breakthrough in the book -"
"We both know there was none." Quietly, defeated, blinking rapidly.
Emma lifts up her head in defiance. "There will be. You will be happy."
"You're so sure of that."
Emma strides completely forwarded then, and takes her hand and they absolutely shouldn't touch again considering what happened last time, but they are and Regina is staring down at Emma's hand clutching hers and trying so hard not to think about the things that they're not allowed to –
"If it's the last thing I do," Emma says suddenly, grinning through the words.
Regina laughs at that and lets all of the other fears and doubts and crazy thoughts about Emma just slide away into the back of her mind. "Very well. Now get back to work, Sheriff."
"And when you call me that, it means?"
"It means I'm your boss," Regina answers with a smirk. "And you should obey."
Emma snorts. "We'll see."
The door shuts behind her a moment later, and yeah, that was flirting.
Figures, Regina thinks with a loud groan of frustration and irritation.
And then she picks the storybook up and throws it again.
-Fin