A/N: Alright so awhile back my best friend and sister from another mister, Lady Fogg wrote an awesome little story called Slip of the Hand. The fict was so well received she penned a sequel and even based a character in said sequel off of me. Once it was done, the plan was for me to write another sequel but from my character's POV. Well, when I sat down to do just that I couldn't write it. So I tried a different approach. I made it a SwanQueen fic. And guess what? The story practically wrote itself. Thank so much for the read and I hope you like this as much as I love writing it. For those of you following my Between the Shadow & the Soul Fic, I'm still working on it. This move from NY to TX totally kicked my butt. And I've been in a slump writing-wise. Hopefully this will help me out of my funk. UPDATE: I had to get a new Tumblr. So if you like my stuff, gimme a follow, I'm MurderouslyAdorkable on Tumblr. And MurderouslyCute on Twitter.
Rating: M/R (For Violence, Adult Content, and Strong Language)
Warnings: Non-Magical AU, Criminal AU, Smut, So much Belligerent Sexual Tension that it could be called Trope Abuse, NSFW
Full Summary: Emma Swan is in the business of buying and selling secrets. And after about 15 years in the game she has finally reached the pinnacle of her career. People have started taking notice. The wrong people. The kind of people that would want Emma dead. As an information broker, she wouldn't be too good at her job if she didn't already know about the active hit on her life. A life that keeps getting more and more complicated by the minute. Enter Regina Mills, aka the Evil Queen, a professional hitman… hitperson who has been hired to kill Emma Swan. What happens when more than just bullets fly between them?
Chapter Summary: Honeypot (n.) - In espionage terminology, "honeypot" is one of several ways to refer to a recruitment that involves sexual seduction.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, universes or whatever the hell else. They belong to Disney, ABC etc, etc. I claim no rights to copyrighted material and this story is purely for entertainment purposes.
"Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows."
― Trinculo, Act Two, Scene Two of The Tempest , by William Shakespeare
Emma's phone buzzes in the early hours of the morning, like a heart beating in her hand. She looks down and notices the text notification.
RUBY: We just hit the city limits.
She grins, her spirit filling with elation, and replies quickly.
EMMA: If the kid's up, get him some waffles. And hot coco. He loves that stuff.
The response is immediate.
RUBY: With cinnamon and whip-cream. Yeah. We've met. But why are you staling? Do you have someone over?
She shakes her head. As much as she tries to play it off, she's an easy read. Everyone who's ever met her knows that.
EMMA: Maybe.
RUBY: Seriously? Are you sure that's a good idea? You know given your current predicament.
EMMA: I'm chasing a lead.
RUBY: Is that what we're calling it?
EMMA: Shut up. And gimme about 20 minutes. But be ready in case this shit goes sideways.
RUBY: I've got the kid with me.
She grimaces at the phone. Having the kid with her now is another complication that Emma hasn't quite yet figured out. While she doesn't want him to see this side of her world, she knows that sooner or later, he'll be exposed the darker aspects of her life.
EMMA: I know. But I wouldn't be asking if I didn't think this was solid.
RUBY: What are you going to do?
EMMA: What I do best.
RUBY: Emma… With you that could literally be anything.
EMMA: I'm not that good.
RUBY: That's what I keep trying to tell you.
Rolling her eyes, she huffs a big puff of hot air and cigarette smoke. Ruby is her best friend next to Lily. But even she doesn't understand the method to Emma's madness sometimes. No one does, really. And that's just something Emma has to learn to accept.
EMMA: Rubes… Just be ready if I need you.
RUBY: How will I know?
EMMA: If I don't text you in ten minutes something's up.
RUBY: I don't like this.
EMMA: Neither do I.
Ruby's scared for her. She has every right to be. Someone is trying to kill her, after all.
Now, while that isn't exactly unusual, given her occupation, what makes it weird is that anyone who wants to kill her should think she is already dead. One of the fringe benefits of faking your own death, is that people tend to not hire hit… people to try to kill you again. If there's one thing criminal masterminds hate to do is spend money on a job that's already done. It's why she faked her death in the first place.
(Actually more like the opportunity presented itself a few months ago and she always wanted to know what her own funeral would be like and now she does.)
But it still doesn't help her rest easy at night. Which is probably why she isn't sleeping too much these days. Burying herself in her work doesn't help either. It only makes things worse. That's why she went out last night. Because she needed a distraction. Nevermind that said distraction takes the form of a breathtaking raven haired beauty currently occupying one side of her bed. A distraction is a distraction. And this is truly an amazing one.
However, this doesn't cure her strickening bout of insomnia, as her mind is filled with the endless possibilities of dying at the hands of person or persons unknown. And she doesn't know which is worse: the death threat itself or the fact that a new player has entered the game right under her nose. The latter might not have bothered her as much if isn't for the fact that she deals in the information business. She's The Information Broker of the New York Criminal Underground. It is literally her job to know these things.
She'd put out some feelers later on today. But for now she just wants to enjoy watching the sunrise from her balcony, with a cigarette in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.
The early light of dawn breaks over the skyline of New York City and the sky explodes in sea of purples, oranges, reds, blues, and yellows. The streets below are quiet. People haven't even left their homes to start their day. In the silence of the early morning, she feels unburdened.
Until her phone buzzes, again.
With a heavy sigh, and a softly muttered curse, she fishes it out from her jeans pocket. The irritation fades and a soft smile blesses her features when she sees who it's from.
Lily.
LILY: So you faked your death? And you were going to let me know, when exactly?
She bites back a chuckle as she types out her response:
EMMA: Hey, I didn't want to upset you with you being preggers and all.
The reply comes quickly as her phone buzzes again.
LILY: I hate you so much.
She laughs and taps her reply.
EMMA: I love you too, Lilypad.
Her phone buzzes once more.
LILY: I told you to stop calling me that.
She smiles, delighting in the mild annoyance she's inspiring. But before she can say more she gets another text.
LILY: Just be careful… please, Emma.
EMMA: For you… Maybe.
LILY: I hate you.
EMMA: Tell your hubby I said, "What's up." I'll call you later.
Lily texts back a sarcastic response and tells her again to watch her back. She promises she'll try because that's the best she can offer. With the active hit out on her that's all she can give her best friend.
Story of my fucking life, she thinks before stamping out her cigarette and finishing her coffee so she can head back inside. The cool temperature of her condo is a shock to her system from the hot humidity atmosphere outside. New York is in the middle of a heat wave. Not unusual for this time of year. But nonetheless, getting anything done in this heat is going to be next to impossible.
With a heavy sigh, she reminds herself that she can worry about the weather later. Right now she wants nothing more than to take a moment to appreciate the finer things in life. Like the woman in her bed, for example.
Replaying the events of last night, Emma still can't believe how she managed this one. It's not just that the woman is arguably the most beautiful thing she's laid her eyes on in a very, very long time. Because honestly, these days and in this city, beautiful women are a dime a dozen and it takes a lot more than a pretty face to get her motor running. Besides, she has already spent the better part of last night admiring this woman's features. Her light olive complexion, her jet black hair, the fullness of her lips, her burnt honey colored eyes. This woman was straight up perfect. Everywhere. Emma has spent the last few hours going over every inch of this woman and has yet to find a singular flaw, save for the tiny scar on her top lip. But even that tiny imperfection doesn't mar her beauty, it only amplifies it.
However, that isn't what piqued her interest last night. It's how the other woman carried herself. Dark, mysterious, but with the kind of swagger that was as intimidating as it was alluring. The moment Emma saw her, she knew that was it. She was caught; hook, line, and sinker.
"Come here often?... My apologies, that sounded like a line."
"It's fine. But just so you know if you ask me if I'm an angel next I'm bailing."
"I will try to refrain."
"See that you do. I'd hate to cut this conversation short."
"What I was trying to say was, I haven't seen you here before. And this place makes the best apple cider. So I was wondering if I could buy you a glass."
"I'm actually looking for something a little stronger than apple cider tonight."
"Scotch?"
"The sponsored drink of supervillains and old billionaires? I guess, I could live a little. I'm Emma, by the way."
"Regina."
"Pleasure to meet you, Regina. So do you make it a habit approaching women sitting alone at bars."
"Only the ones I find intriguing."
Intriguing. Emma has been called a lot of things, but intriguing isn't one that comes up often. Insufferable? Yes. Stubborn? All of the time. But not intriguing. That's how that one scotch, turned into three, and Emma decided to take Regina home.
Sunlight creeps into the bedroom and caresses Regina's form. Emma moves through the bedroom and sits on the bed. The movement causes Regina to stir but she doesn't wake up until Emma brushes some hair out of her face.
"What times is it?" Regina asks, her voice thick with sleep.
"Time for round two?" Emma suggests, her eyebrows wiggling, playfully.
The brunette chuckles. "You're insatiable."
"You like it."
Their lips meet in a soft and sensuous kiss. Slow and lazy, as they begin their exploration of each other all over again. Regina's arms coil around Emma's neck, as the blonde climbs into bed, slotting her body between Regina's thighs. There's a thin cotton sheet that separates Emma's hands from Regina's bare skin as they trail up her sides, tracing the slopes and plains of her body as she swallows the tiny gasps and whimpers that escape Regina. The sounds this woman makes set her blood on fire and before she can stop herself, her hips are canting forward, desperate for the feel of Regina's body against hers.
It's that movement that has Regina arching into her, mewing her encouragement. "I was hoping last night wouldn't be the end of this."
Chills run down Emma's spine at her words. "I'm nowhere near done with you."
Before Regina can retort, Emma takes her wrists and pins them over her head, rolling her body into her she does it. A victorious smirk plays across her features when Regina moans, her eyes darkening with need.
"Fuck," Emma breathes. "I want to taste you."
Regina's thighs tighten around her waist as she lets out a groan. "What's stopping you?"
"Well..." Emma trails off.
The sound of metal ratcheting against metal, stops them both. Regina's eyes widen in surprise but before she can react, the sound echoes and she's finds herself trapped, handcuffed to Emma's headboard.
"The fuck…" Regina struggles against the handcuffs in vain, finally falling back onto the bed with a deep sigh. "Is this really necessary?"
"Just a precaution," Emma informs her.
"Against…?" Regina fishes.
Her eyes narrow. "I think you know."
The brunette shakes her head. "It's not what you-"
But Emma doesn't let her finish her thought before she rolls over her. "Cut the shit, your Majesty. I knew who you were and what you had come to do the second I laid eyes on you last night."
Regina doesn't bother to deny any of it. She just casts an incredulous look Emma's way. "So I suppose there's no longer any point to go on pretending."
Emma shrugs. "You're the one handcuffed to a bed. So you tell me."
Regina's eyes narrow. "Do you make it a habit of knowingly sleeping with people who are trying to kill you?"
She thinks about it for a moment before she nods. "Actually, I do. Some people call it a character flaw."
Emma pretends she doesn't see the subtle smirk Regina has in response. Just as she pretends that she's still not attracted to the woman currently naked and handcuffed to her bed.
"Are you going to tell me how you knew?" Regina asks.
"Depends," Emma replies. "Are you going to tell me who hired you?" When the other woman says nothing, she chuckles. "I know this is a bit of a cliche but I have ways of loosening tight lips."
A cold laugh billows out of the brunette. "There may be a slight problem with your plan."
Emma scoffs. "I can't see how when you're-"
Two quick clicks and Regina's out of the handcuffs, springing into action. Emma barely has time to mutter, "Oh shit," before she's hit in the face. Regina's on her, landing a series of furious blows, each connecting with deadly precision, rattling the blonde's brain. Emma is knocked off the bed from the force of the hits. But that doesn't stop her from scrambling for a weapon, guessing that Regina's doing the same. When she pops back up, Emma finds that her hunch is dead on, because they are both armed, pointing their guns at the other one with the bed being their only barrier.
"Don't. Even. Try. It." Regina warns. "I will kill you."
Emma doesn't doubt it. This close, she's dead to rights. They both are. Even if Emma ditches the gun there's still a good chance she'll catch a bullet. So why is she grinning? It could be her confident streak has finally crossed the line into idiotic hubris. Or it could be the fact she's got a full view of Regina's form in all of it's naked splendor.
"Are you as turned on as I am right now?" she has to ask. Call it another character flaw.
Regina's eyes regard her quizzically. "You are either incredibly stupid or clinically insane."
Emma scoffs. "Pfft… I can be both."
It just takes a moment. Regina lets her guard down for just a second and that's when Emma springs into action. Sh drops her gun and vaults over the bed, colliding with Regina. The brunette yelps in surprise though that doesn't impede her defensive efforts with skill winning out in the end over the element of surprise. And Emma finds herself pinned, unarmed, with the barrel of a gun pressed under her chin.
"How much?" she asks, suddenly.
"That's what you want know?" Regina replies.
"I'm curious," she tells her.
"Twice my normal rate."
Emma's lips quirk into an amused smile. "Really? Well that is something."
The other woman locks eyes with her and she just stares back, pushing slightly against the gun to her throat. When it gives, Emma reaches up, her hand cupping the back of Regina's neck pulling her down to her level.
Their lips connect in a heated exchange. Kissing Regina is like drinking liquid fire. It burns, but in an oh-so-good kind of way. Emma groans, feeling Regina rock into her.
Then the brunette pulls away to whisper. "I'm sorry."
CLICK.
Emma chuckles smugly before she flips Regina onto her back, pinning her there. "The thing about guns is that they kinda need bullets to work."
"You found my gun."
It's not a question but Emma answers it. "I found your gun."
"When did you…?"
Before Regina can ask her question, the door to Emma's bedroom swings open and a lanky dark haired woman storms in, pistol at the ready.
"Emma, I came as soon as-" the newcomer takes one look at the pair of tangled bodies and sighs. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."
"Heeeey, Ruby," Emma greets, sheepishly, heat creeping up her face. "I wish I could say that this isn't what it looks like... But to tell you the truth I thought I would've had this part wrapped up before you got here."
Ruby rolls her eyes turns on her heels and walk right out of the room, throwing over her shoulder. "You should probably handle this quick. The kid was coming up the stairs right behind me."
"Shit…" Emma curses.
Regina arches an eyebrow. "The kid?"
"My kid…" the blonde confesses.
"You have a child?"
"It's a recent development." Emma eases away from Regina for a moment but remains on top of her. "Look, I get you have a job to do. But this is my kid… um… sort of. So cool it for a second maybe? You can try to kill me later."
Regina chuckles at the breeziness of her words. "That's not exactly how it works."
"Fair point," Emma replies, adding, "I'll triple what you're collecting on me."
"What?"
"Your fee? Someone offered to double it? I'll triple the offer."
"You'll triple my normal fee so I don't kill you in front of your child?" Regina asks in utter disbelief.
"Wrong on both accounts," Emma tells her. "I'll triple what they're giving you. So your normal fee times six if you don't kill me at all."
"You are insane."
"We've already covered that, your Majesty. So what's your answer? Will you let me make you a very rich woman? Or will my son be orphaned twice?" Emma looks at her and the mask falls. She's real. Exposed. Regina has her heart in her hands. Having the power over her life, she thinks the metaphor is appropriate.
"Let me up, Miss Swan," Regina grumbles, no doubt kicking herself for relenting on this. After all in her line of work, just like in Emma's, reputation is everything. And if word got out she flipped sides then it would be bad for business.
"How do you know-" Emma stops herself. "Dossier. Stupid question."
"Miss Swan?"
"Hm?"
"Are you going to get off of me or continue to lay there on top of me all day?"
"There are options?"
Regina's voice becomes firmer. "Get off of me, Miss Swan."
Emma rises up, offering her a mockingly dejected, "Fine."
The first thing Emma does when she gets up is collect the guns. Just because Regina's gun is empty doesn't mean she isn't dangerous. A gun is a heavy chunk of metal. And being pistol-whip? Not as fun as it sounds.
She tucks the guns into her jeans at the small of her back and pulls a hoodie over her torso and then heads for the door. "There's a shower in here. You can clean up. We'll talk business once we're away from the kid. Sound good?"
Regina nods. "I'm amenable to those terms. But we can't leave together. I can't be seen with a target."
"Former target," Emma corrects.
"I haven't agreed to anything, yet," Regina tells her. "However, I have certain rules. And one of those is I won't terminate a target in the presence of their children. I will meet with you at a secure location. And I'll hear your proposal then. Agreed?"
"Agreed," Emma says. "I'd give you my cell number but I'm assuming you know it."
"I'm very good at my job, Miss Swan."
Emma's eyes light up. "I don't doubt that. It's why I'm looking forward to working with you, Regina."
The brunette tries to remind her that she hasn't accepted Emma's offer but she closes the door on her before she can say any more.
"Jesus Christ," the blonde whispers to herself, running a hand through her flaxen waves. "What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?"
