Love will Keep us Together
One-shot
Author: ScarletBloodDoll
Editor: WinterBlazes
Dates written: November 11th, 2012
Status: Complete
Series: Once Upon a Time
Rating: PG-13
Relationships: Regina Mills | Emma Swan (Swan Queen)
Warnings: Post curse
Distribution: Do not archive without author's permission.
Disclaimer: The characters and premise of Once Upon a Time belong to ABC Studios, Adam Horowitz, and Edward Kitsis, Mr. and Mrs. Smith belong to 20th Century Fox, and Simon Kinberg. Any and all other copyrighted material mentioned belong to their respective owners. This work is a non-profit effort and no infringement is intended.
Author's note: Reviews are greatly appreciated.
Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
The clock sitting on the wall directly before them seemed content to loudly announce the passing of time in the otherwise quiet room. Sea green eyes glanced nervously about the room, absentmindedly studying the various degrees on the wall and the many books that lined the shelves. Her fingers rapped an unheard rhythm against her thigh.
Dark chocolate eyes focused dead center at the wall in front of her, legs crossed at the ankle, and hands folded daintily on her lap. With her back taught, the woman mentally rolled her eyes as a loud clearing of the throat drew both of their attentions to the man that sat on the leather chair across the way.
"Okay," the nervous woman drew out. "I guess I will go first."
Not hearing a response, she nervously twiddled her thumbs. "Let me start off by saying that we really do not need to be here."
That was the understatement of the year, the brunette mentally snarled. If her partner could not understand her subtle tones of voice and her exact words, then damn it, that was her fault.
"We have been married five years."
"Six."
"Five or six years," the blonde amended nodding her head, although the rest of her body physically cringed.
"This is a checkup for us, a chance to poke around the edging." The speak woman shudder when out of the corner of her eye, she caught the woman who sat next to her giving her the dirtiest look to date. If looks could kill. "Change the oil, replace a seal or two," she continued, albeit a bit pleased at her metaphors.
"Very well then, let's pop the hood." The green cricket, who wore a monocle and a well fitted blazer, folded in his wings and picked up his leaf pad.
"On a scale of one to two, how happy are you as a couple?"
"Eight," came the firm reply from the former mayor.
"Wait!" the savior's hands shot up. "Is ten being perfect and one being totally miserable?"
"Answer instinctively." The cricket assured the young woman.
"Okay," the blonde took a deep breath. "Ready?"
The blonde looked over to the brunette for guidance, knowing that this spot tended to be a sore spot for her.
Only this time, the older woman visibly rolled her eyes. "Ready."
"Eight," the couple answered simultaneously.
"How often do you have sex?"
This question was met with a domino effect of motions; if possible the former Queen sat up straighter, her ankles uncrossing, and her fingers beginning to pluck at imaginary lint on her skirt. "I don't understand the question."
"Yeah, I'm lost." The blonde's lips twitched. "Is this a one to ten thing?"
"Is one very little or is one nothing because technically speaking zero would be nothing."
A silence fell over the room as both woman shifted uncomfortably.
"How about this week?"
"Including the weekend?" the reply was quick, now stormy sea green eyes catching scarlet nails beginning tap away at the leather arm of the couch.
"Sure." The cricket nervously rubbed his wings together.
The room fell into a thoughtful silence as one woman sat deep in thought and the other pursed her lips and looked out the window.
"Describe how you first met," the cricket decided to try a different approach, seeing as answers were either vague or not forthcoming.
"You know how we met," the older woman snapped.
"Oh, just answer the question."
"Fine, here."
"Storybrooke," the younger woman clarified.
"Maine." The former Queen added.
Now she is just being a brat.
"Five years ago," was spoken in an assured tone, proud that she knew the date.
"Six," a growl.
"Right, five or six years ago," the savior shrugged, avoiding the scowling gaze of her partner.
"Did you forget to mention the fact that we had sex next to the fireplace that night?" The night was young and the game had only just begun.
Once the couple had been assured that their only son was safely stowed away at his grandparent's home, not a word was spoken in the interior of the Mercedes. It was only that the moment the engine had ceased its rumblings that Regina knew she had effectively become they prey.
The brunette was stalked up the garden pathway and through the foyer, the sheriff allowing each step to be punctuated but the heavy thud of her boots. The moment the door closed the older woman was quickly thrown against a mirror and roughly sat upon a side table, thighs forced apart.
With teeth gnawing at the sensitive skin of her throat and her own fingers tangled in blonde locks, she fought to keep a train of thought, intent on winning this battle, or at least fight until the very end. "I thought it would be highly inappropriate to simply offer such a vital piece of information in such a session." Regina in turn angrily yanked at the front of the wife beater the other woman wore, pleased when it fell open, revealing a naked chest.
"You do realize that talk therapy is supposed to be helpful to our relationship, correct?" The blonde's head was quickly yanked back as it was the other's turn to mark her territory.
"I suppose," Regina pushed the younger woman away and slid to the floor, shrugging in surprise when she discovered that the seams of her skirt had ripped, leaving her standing in only her panties. "Would you look at that?"
Emma could not help but chuckle, the sight enforcing the slickness between her thighs.
"Enough," Regina waved a hand, effectively sending Emma flying across the room and landing on the formal sitting room couch with an "Oomph!"
"What in the hell was that for?"
"The skirt."
Emma scrambled to her feet, shedding her jacket and the remnants of her shirt. Not as quick as she would have liked to have been, Regina only made it to the first floor landing before strong arm wrapped around her torso and pulled her tight against a warm body.
"I don't think you are going anywhere Madam Mayor," the locking of handcuffs was heard as Regina found her left wrist cuffed to the banister. Angrily she pulled back her right hand intent on firing off another spell, when the Sheriff acted quickly, yanking the older woman forward and cuffing her right wrist a good four feet away from the other.
"You used magic, Ms. Mills; I am thoroughly disappointed in you. You have already lied more than once tonight, shall we continue your string of mischief?"
"Magic is much different than a pair of handcuffs, Sheriff!"
"We will see about that. Now," Emma's booted foot nudged at Regina's four inch black Louboutin's. "Spread 'em."
"If a single therapy session with a cricket and a minor discussion about the first time we met was all that we needed to spice up our sex life, we should have –"
The statement made in tender bliss was cut short as the pair managed to pull away from each other as two sets of eyes surveyed the destruction of their home, perhaps they had gone a bit too far.
"You can fix this, right?" the savior winced.
The dining room not only sported thrown chairs but a table now cracked into two halves, a living room with an overturned sofa or two, a kitchen that looked like it had been ransacked, not to mention the various knocked over ornaments and décor and the rather flattering holes now proudly displayed instead.
Hey! What was a few thousand dollars' worth of damages compared to saving your relationship with your wife? It was priceless, really. For once in her lifetime Regina did not argue or make a sarcastic comment, allowing Emma to ease her up and over the broken glass of the kitchen table, pressing a kiss to Emma's swollen lip in turn. Perhaps it would not be in their best interest of allow their magic to run rampant together, she thought.
Awkwardly tugging at the now dented fridge, Regina pulled out an unscathed glass pitcher of orange juice, grinning when her partner handed her a mutilated glass and a butter ladle.
"At least we didn't blow up the house." Emma chuckled as she once more picked up Regina, this time softly sitting her down on the split island counter.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
A pair of emerald eyes peeked over a bare shoulder to the potion cauldron that had sat atop of the stove for hours on end, forgotten. A thick green slime had seeped into the hardware itself, the electronic time now flashing a sequence of four zeroes and a telling beeping sound.
"Oh, shit."
The grand white house that stood upon the property of 108 North Mifflin Street now lay in a literal destruction of wooden boards, and an assortment of small fires and water sprouts.
The island counter had survived the ordeal no thanks to the protective magic orb the witch had conjured in the nick of time. Allowing the orb to burst, Regina swung her legs in a childish fashion, as Emma's jaw dropped.
"You were saying, dear?"