Title: Fairytales Ain't What They Used To Be
Author: Fab_fan
Fandom: All My Children
Pairing: Bianca/Frankie, mentions Frankie/Ruby
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not my characters
Summary: Happy Endings aren't the easiest thing in the world to get. Crossover with Once Upon A Time. AU
Note: I haven't ever really watched Once Upon A Time, but I got the general gist of what was happening in it. So, if there are any glaringly obvious inaccuracies with that show - I claim creative license. Let me know what you thought of this story! Comments/feedback are welcomed and adored!
The mug of coffee was warm against the insides of Frankie's hands. A sharp contrast to the cold rain slapping the glass window near her head. She breathed in deeply and took a sip of the bitter beverage, having forgone cream and sugar in a desperate attempt to clear her head. It was another normal day in the life of Frankie Stone. A long day wiping windshields and checking oil levels at the local gas station and auto repair shop. When that was done, she heated up one of those frozen meals that tasted like the cardboard box they came in before trekking out to Granny's for a late nightcap. Well, that was how her days usually ended. This time, there was no shot glass full of alcohol. Ruby was ready to pour the vodka, but Granny appeared out of thin air like some booze Nazi and reminded them both about the last time Frankie had a drink in her establishment.
It wasn't like Frankie wasn't paying for the repairs. Get a little drunk once, and everyone acts like you can't hold your liquor anymore.
Sighing, she wrapped her fingers more firmly around the mug. A glance out the window showed the sheriff's car rolling along. Must be out on patrol. The sight of the black and white vehicle caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end and her grip to tighten until her knuckles were white. Something inside of her screamed to move. To back away from the window and do…something. For as long as she could remember, Frankie hated the police. A glimpse of a cop had her hiding in the cupboard as a child, and it only worsened as she grew older. The new sheriff in town, Emma or something, had offered her a spot as a deputy one day. Said a few people told her Frankie was reliable and could handle herself. Those people were right, but there was no way in hell Frankie was going near a badge. It probably didn't help any that Frankie laughed in her face with a sneer at the proposal before turning back to whatever it was she had been doing in the first place. The pay was probably better than at the shop, but Frankie would sooner share her drinks with Dr. Whale than become a deputy.
Twisting away from the rain soaked visage, Frankie let her eyes lazily roam the small diner. It was the only place in town to get a decent cup of coffee at this hour. Most places were closed. Storybrooke wasn't known for its nightlife. Probably why she was the only person in the place except for Ruby. Frankie let her gaze trail over the waitress. Ruby was what her dad called an eye-catcher. She caught the eye of anyone who was looking.
Frankie was looking.
Her eyebrow rose as Ruby peeked over at her. The brunette shot Frankie a seductive wink before sashaying over to a stack of freshly washed glasses. Frankie watched her go, eyes glued to her hips. She even sat up a bit straighter to snag a glance at her legs. Her lips pulled with a smirk. Ruby was a looker, alright. Another reason Granny wasn't too fond of Frankie getting her nightly shot or two. Frankie had no problem leaning over the counter and telling Ruby what she'd like to do with her if Ruby'd come on back to her place.
By the way Ruby kept coming back, Frankie thought the waitress didn't mind one bit what Frankie had to say.
Frankie leaned back into the booth. The couple of nights she'd shared with Ruby were memorable. It wasn't always easy to find a willing partner in this tiny town that met her needs, but Ruby fit the bill. Tall. Slender. Long dark hair and dark eyes a lover could get lost in. And just like Frankie, Ruby didn't need to make a big deal out of a few rounds between the sheets. It was just a bit of fun to get through the night. A way to forget about the dreary lonely boredom that made up living in a small town near the middle of nowhere.
Storybrooke, Maine was a quiet idyllic little village. It sat on the coast and offered all the promises made by a 1950's sitcom.
Frankie felt trapped, but she couldn't get out. She had nowhere else to go and nothing to leave with. Work barely paid for the rent and Granny's cooking. It wasn't like she had a college degree or anything to go off of, either. She was simply a poor twenty-two year old kid with nothing going for her but the life left to her by her parents.
Nah, there was one thing she could do her parents couldn't. It was a skill not many knew about. She sure as hell hoped the sheriff and mayor didn't know about it. Frankie had a knack for pickpocketing. It wasn't too useful. She couldn't exactly go around pickpocketing her neighbors all the time without someone getting suspicious, and there weren't many outsiders who came to visit. Besides, the last time she did that, she swiped a few bucks from Mr. Gold's pocket and ended up buying the guy who lived across the hall from her a burger because he'd lost his job and looked so pathetic she had to give the money to him.
Releasing the mug, she flattened her palm on the tabletop. Her thumb randomly rubbed circles into the formica, and she peered back at Ruby. Maybe she could get the girl to come home with her for a few hours. It'd make up for the day she'd had.
Opening her mouth to call out, the tinkle of the bell above the front door chimed. Frankie tilted her head to see who had braved the summer storm to join her in the restaurant.
Her heart caught in her throat as her eyes landed on Bianca Montgomery.
She watched Bianca slowly walk further into the diner, shaking off the rain from her umbrella as she closed it. Water flecks clung to her shoulders and painted the calves of her formfitting blue jeans. She was clad in an elegant green top and strappy sandals. An understated look that probably came from an expensive catalogue. Frankie noticed the clothes, she always noticed what Bianca wore, but her concentration remained focused on her heart shaped face.
Bianca was the most beautiful woman Frankie'd ever seen.
As if sensing the gaze, Bianca looked over at the booth. She hesitated when she met Frankie's stare. Her umbrella hung awkwardly at her side, dripping water onto the tile floor, as her long lashes blinked in surprise. Her mouth flickered, like she was going to smile, but the smile never appeared. Instead, her amber colored orbs filled with an ache Frankie felt deep inside her chest.
They stared at each other. Neither moved.
Then, without a word, Bianca turned on her heel and quickly strode back out into the rain.
Frankie was on her feet before the door even closed. She sprinted out of the diner, forgetting to pay her tab that Granny would hound her about the following day, and into the pouring rain. Her blue work shirt was quickly drenched. Her hair matted to her face and skull as she desperately took in the road and sidewalk.
Where was she? Where had she gone?
It only took a second for her to spot the heel clipping along toward the nearby apartment building.
The same building Frankie lived in.
Slipping on a puddle, Frankie spun to her side and raced after the woman. She skidded around a lamppost and nearly collided headfirst into a parked car, but she didn't slow down. The driving rain pounded against her back and shoulders, trying to drive her down to the cement with brutal force. She fought back, refusing to waver. By the time she reached the entrance to the building, Bianca was gone and the door locked. She jammed her hand into her pockets, rooting out her key with fumbling fingers. When she touched metal, she flinged the key out and unlocked the door, tumbling inside.
She took the stairs two at a time and ran down the hallway until she was in front of apartment 323.
Frankie collapsed against the doorframe, years of smoking and alcohol not helping her become an Olympic sprinter. Wheezing, she pushed her shoulder into the wood and straightened her stance. She knocked on the door and waited.
It would be a lie to say she wasn't holding her breath.
The sound of a chain moving and a lock twisting echoed in the starkly lit hallway. Frankie froze as the door carefully opened an inch, Bianca's cautious eyes peeking out.
"Bianca," Frankie exhaled, bending toward the opening.
Bianca bit her lip, seeming to think about if it was the right thing to do, letting this drenched rat of a person access to her home. Frankie silently pleaded with her to let her in. Words were Frankie's best weapon. But, sometimes, they were her worst enemy.
After a few moments that felt like hours, the door opened wider. Frankie gratefully slid inside, allowing the door to close behind her.
"You're soaked."
"I'm alright." Frankie shrugged, "Just water."
"You'll catch your death." Bianca couldn't hide the worry in her voice. She turned away from Frankie and walked the short distance to the tiny bathroom. She swiftly grabbed a towel from the closet and tossed it to the shorter woman, "Here."
"Thanks." Frankie pressed the fluffy material to her face.
Bianca crossed her arms and put on a harsh expression, "What are you doing here?"
Frankie pulled the towel away and let it hang limply at her side, "I…" she searched for the right words to say.
Bianca waited, an eyebrow rising impatiently.
Frankie unconsciously twisted the towel in her hand, "I needed to see you."
"Why?"
Bianca wasn't giving her any leeway, "Because."
"Oh. Because. That's a great reason."
Frankie squeezed the towel, "Because I want to talk to you."
Bianca smirked, "Since you're doing such a wonderful job of it right now."
Frankie rolled her eyes with frustration, "Damn it, Bianca." This was already hard enough without Bianca acting like a bitch.
"What? Not used to civil conversation with a woman?" Bianca glared at her, "Would it be better if I got undressed and laid down on my bed? That's how you normally speak with women, isn't it?"
Frankie's eyes narrowed and the corner of her lips twitched with hurt, "Clearly, it's the only way I can speak with you."
Bianca scoffed, but pain radiated in her posture, "You wish."
"You were the one who came on to me."
"A mistake I won't make again."
Frankie threw the towel to the floor, "Yeah, don't want your friends knowing you slept with a mechanic. What would they say? Bianca Montgomery – the girl who thinks she's a princess having an affair with a poor sap."
"I don't think I'm a princess." Bianca's jaw clenched, "I don't care what anyone says about me."
"Sure you don't."
Bianca's eyes blazed, "You were the one who left me."
Frankie opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She cleared her throat, willing away the memories. She couldn't think about how gorgeous Bianca looked curled into her side. How she looked so peaceful while she slept. The overwhelming happiness that filled Frankie knowing this woman was in her arms.
"You left me." Bianca repeated. She took a step toward Frankie, "I went to sleep with you beside me, and when I woke up you were gone. No note. No goodbye. Nothing." Her voice shook, "When I saw you at your shop, you acted like we hadn't even met let alone made love."
Frankie swallowed thickly. She didn't know what to say, "It was one night, Bianca."
That was definitely the wrong thing to say, "Get out."
"B…"
"I said, get out." Bianca pointed at the door.
"No." she should leave. She should forget anything ever happened with this chick. They'd slept together once, and suddenly it was like they'd had some all-out crazy relationship. The thing was, Frankie couldn't stop the way her heart leapt when she saw Bianca around town. It was why she ignored her that morning when Bianca tracked her down at work and why she never went somewhere when she knew Bianca would be there.
Bianca Montgomery made her feel things no one else ever had. Things she wasn't supposed to feel.
"Are you deaf? I said get out!"
"And I said no!" Frankie shouted back. Her voice dropped, "I'm sorry, ok?"
"Sorry? You're sorry? Why are you sorry?" Bianca laughed humorlessly, "It was one night."
Frankie flinched as her words were thrown back at her. "You told me you never wanted to see me again."
Bianca's lips pursed.
"I came to you afterward, and you told me to go away. That you wanted nothing to do with me."
"You were drunk!" Bianca's arms waved, "You showed up at my door at two in the morning falling over yourself. You couldn't even stand!"
"And you had company." Frankie sneered.
"Oh, don't act like you're the innocent victim here. Like you haven't been with others. How's Ruby?"
Frankie's jaw snapped shut.
"How do you think it makes me feel knowing you're sleeping with her and whoever else you can con into your bed for a night? I don't say a word to you, so don't go around acting like you have a say in anything I do. You gave that up when you made it perfectly clear you only wanted me for one thing."
"I wanted you for more than one thing!" Frankie slapped her hand against her thigh, "I came back to you, and you turned me away. I wanted you!"
"You were so drunk you were slurring." Bianca's fists clenched, "I thought you were going to pass out in the hallway!"
"You wouldn't talk to me because you had someone waiting in your bed."
"I wouldn't talk to you because the only time you said anything to me was when you were close to blacking out."
"And the letter?"
Bianca frowned, "What letter?"
Frankie began to pace, "I wrote you a letter. Even personally put it under your door so you would get it."
Bianca bit her bottom lip.
"I…I told you I wanted you. That I was a mess, but I had feelings for you. You never said anything to me. I wrote everything in that letter, and you didn't even look at me when I got coffee at Granny's the next morning."
Bianca ducked her head, her long hair falling forward to frame her face.
"I know you got it, because I put it right there." Frankie stabbed her finger at the front door. "I wasn't drunk then. I was so damn sober that day John at work thought I'd joined AA or found religion."
Bianca chewed harder on her lip.
"Come on, Bianca. What about the letter? Too busy with whoever was warming your bed to even read it?"
"I read it." Bianca whispered.
Frankie reached the back of the couch that made up Bianca's living room. She smacked her hand against the top of it, "Then why didn't you…"
"Because I couldn't!" Bianca cut her off. She whirled around, "There was so much going on, and I couldn't deal with you. I didn't have time to deal with some girl who might love me."
Frankie scoffed, "You didn't have time? I pour my heart out to you, and you didn't have time?"
"You had your chance. I wasn't going to put my life on hold because of you. The world doesn't revolve around you, Frankie."
"Obviously."
The room grew quiet. Frankie griped the sofa, willing herself not to cry or do something stupid like wrap Bianca in her arms and never let go. She jumped when a hand landed softly on the back of her shoulder, "I read it."
Frankie held in the shiver as Bianca stepped closer. There were only a few inches separating them, and Frankie could feel each one. "Good for a laugh, I bet."
"No," Bianca didn't close the distance, and Frankie was both thankful to be given space and pained her body wasn't pressed against her former lover's, "it was never a joke. We were never a joke. Not to me."
Frankie breathed harshly, working to keep the emotions at bay.
"You hurt me, Frankie. You hurt me more than anyone else ever has. I thought I had you, and then I lost you. I wonder if I ever really had you in the first place."
"You did." Frankie mumbled. "You still do."
The short distance between them vanished, and both closed their eyes at the sensation. It had been so long since their bodies touched. Bianca nuzzled Frankie's temple as her arm curved around her waist, "I want there to be an us. We just…we never seem to work out."
Frankie leaned back into the embrace. She slowly turned and cupped Bianca's face. Gently, she guided her into a kiss.
Bianca kissed her back, both moaning at the emotional sparks.
This was what Frankie had never been able to find in anyone else. Not even Ruby. This undeniable euphoric joy and desire that lit up every nerve-ending and kick-started her heart.
Before either knew it, they were tumbling onto Bianca's bed, clothes shed and bodies melting together.
When Frankie woke up, she was tangled in bed sheets and limbs. Sweat had cooled on her naked skin, and a head rested comfortably between her shoulder blades. A quivering hand pressed into her forehead, an odd sensation enveloping her senses. She didn't see the purple fog dissipating outside the apartment window. Instead, her eyes went down to the arm haphazardly thrown over her waist and the thigh nudging her knee.
She felt like she was waking up from a dream.
A very real, very confusing dream.
What the hell was going on?
The face nestled against her back moved, and a soft groan filled the air. The arm over her waist flexed. Frankie felt a light kiss press to her skin before the person she was undoubtedly sharing a bed with froze.
Froze as if she was hit with unexpected revelations.
Or, like Frankie, memories.
Frankie turned over, her hand absently cupping the small of her lover's back and drawing her close.
Bianca studied her for a moment, face intense in its concentration and wonder. Then, as gentle as a dove, she asked, "Robin?"
Frankie gulped, "Marian?"
Robin Hood and Maid Marian huddled into each other, neither understanding, but knowing they needed each other to draw strength from for whatever lay ahead.