Chapter 2
Regina did not quite recoup those 8 minutes she had waited for Henry. She polished the wooden floors in the dining room to a high shine as she did every Tuesday at 7.40 (which was how she avoided the time she should have been getting Henry into the car parked in the driveway. She still did the same 450 steps with the polishing shoes in each direction as she did every other Tuesday simply because she could not quite think of what else to do. But she finished late. And there was a little panic because for a moment, because she could not decide what she could possibly do to avoid the hour she used to have set aside to go over planning issues before the Tuesday's planning meeting at the Town Hall.
The few minutes of panic were sufficient to step into pace with the lunch routine: cooking, setting a lonely table and then leaving most of her food on her plate because the one thing she couldn't yet force into a routine was her stomach.
When Emma knocked on her door at 4.17 in the afternoon, she wanted to ignore her, because she was in the middle of the crossword (big bold characters that refused to fit inside the small squares) which she had taken to fill in with her fountain pen for an extra challenge. But the doorbell rang absurdly loud in an empty house and Regina felt that it would be better to answer than to hear that echo for one more second.
When she opened the door a crack, Emma pushed it open, mad curls flying around her like a banner of valour.
"Miss Swan! Twice in two days! I assure you I have not yet managed to finalise my escape plans." Suddenly, she filled up her skin. It didn't hang slack from her frame.
"Very funny!" And she pulled Henry's monogrammed coat into full view. "It's torn." And she motioned the coat for Regina to take it. "Obviously, I don't know how to fix it."
"I thought they taught needle work on your first day in prison."
"Nope, that was lock picking 101" Emma snapped back. "Look, the kid says you can fix it. Can you fix it?"
Emma turned on her heels, letting Regina inspect the garment and noticing the unnatural shine of the wood on the banister and the German precision flower arrangement in the vase. She had to look away. She did not want to be looking at Regina if - or when- the woman were to figure out that she had ripped the coat's sleeve herself for lack of better excuse to come and check on Regina.
"Yes, I can fix it." Henry had mentioned her. He had said that she could fix it. She pulled the coat to her chest and held it there. She was going to open the door and show the Sheriff out but Emma was quicker.
"Can I hide here for ten more minutes?"
Regina did not take it as lifeline that it was. She took it as a slight on Snow because she needed at least a little of the status quo to remain unchanged. She ostensively moved to let Emma into the house.
"You wouldn't have some of that ice tea left, would you?" Regina had actually made a fresh one, though she only ever made iced tea on Mondays. She thought to herself that she must have gotten confused with the calendar. She would have to pay better attention.
"In the kitchen."
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Regina was fascinating to watch. She moved with the grace of a panther, ready to pounce and call you dinner. And she had the claws to go with it. Emma studied her from her expensive shoes to her now longer hair. It suited her. It softened her expression, made her look more vulnerable. It made Emma want to run her fingers through that hair. Oh!
"Do you like what you see, Sheriff Swan? Regina questioned, confronted really, because she wanted to be in charge of this. She wanted to be in charge of something. Anything. Anything at all. The Sheriff's gaze was too reminiscent of someone watching a tiger in a cage at a zoo. With pity.
"I do"
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When Regina lay awake that night, her thoughts were a jumble of emma swans. Emma Swan giving her an appreciative look. Emma Swan telling her that I do with a hungry gaze. Emma Swan bringing her her son back through a torn coat and a walks-past-her-window-on-the-way-to-school-Henry. The Emma Swan that had taken her child away.
And then it all started again with getting up at 6 precisely- without so much as need for an alarm clock because she did not sleep.
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It was taking its toll on Henry's wardrobe, all the days of torn pieces she took for Regina to fix. She would have come up with a better excuse. The one day she decided to skip it cold turkey as you do a bad addiction, Henry presented her with one more torn piece, a knowing-slash-hopeful smile that had no place in such a young face and that was the mirror of her own. She took it as a sign.
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Emma purchased two bear claws and all but sauntered to what was still known as the Mayor's House, though Storybrook had now a queen. She had not slept a wink until the sun was already tickling the sky pink. Yes, she did like what she saw (every day, lately). Regina was, quite possibly, the most sexual being she had ever encountered in her whole life. And she had met a few. She liked that very much. She liked the unabashed sexuality of the woman, the challenge in it.
Of course, the counterpoint to that attraction was something she couldn't quite define and correlated directly with the vulnerability Regina insisted on hiding, and, more so these days, the apparent fragility of her body. She had lost weight- too much really- and her skin was almost translucent, paper thin. And, she was willing to bet, there were bags under that carefully applied eye makeup.
All the little lies Regina used to make a point that house arrest was no punishment, Emma knew them all for what they were and saw right through them. And it was that, that seeing right through the lies that put the spring in her step. She had finally slept when she had come to terms with her decision. Which she was now on her way to execute like a carefully planned project. Or as carefully as she could muster, queen of the fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants that she was. But she had fallen asleep as soon as she'd made her peace with the fact that she had said the truth when she had told Regina I do.
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Regina considered briefly simply not answering the door. She considered it because these visits by the Sheriff left her on edge, torn between something she had come to desire and something she needed at all costs to avoid: believing there was still something good for her. The Sheriff was nothing if not insistent.
Regina put away the gardening gloves and stepped out of her gardening shoes with deliberate care, taking just a few seconds extra to annoy the Sheriff. She composed her hair on her way to the front door. Perception is everything.
"Sheriff!" The tone alone was as good as a what the hell but the eyes told a different story.
"Peace" Emma protested handing Regina the sweet smelling box with the pastries.
"Sure. What else spells peace as effectively as deep fried complex carbohydrates?"
"Hey! You could use some endorphins in your blood stream. And since you're not getting any these days, you could do worse than the fat/sugar combination." God knows I do Emma mumbled only loud enough to be able to deny it.
As expected, Regina did hear and it threw her off. In her many hours of studying Regina, Emma had found that if you need results, you need to catch Regina off guard. And she used the brief moment when Regina was still paralyzed with the box in her hand to move past her.
"OK, I really could use some caffeine with that. I'm not even going to cry about the new caffeine rules back at chez Snow. It is just too humiliating."
"I thought you were cocoa people."
"I need my coffee, OK? I get a tad irritable when I don't get my fix. Do you think you can hook me up with some without the side of snark?" She plopped herself down on the breakfast bar holding on to the box of pastries Regina had set down there. It was mesmerising, the way Regina moved, the way a little of her perfume permeated Emma's senses.
"You are looking yet again, Ms Swan!" Regina said without so much as turning to confirm the truth of the statement.
"No, I'm staring yet again. It's a pleasant view." Regina had banked on embarrassing Emma, but she was the one stuck, her tongue growing thick in her mouth. She remained transfixed by the coffee slowly setting inside the French press.
Emma moved softly, slowly until she stood behind Regina, almost but not quite touching. "Unless you prefer I didn't". When she spoke, her voice was gravely and it resonated through the shell of Regina's ear, through her cheek, through her whole body. It was a caress.
Regina felt she was losing ground and fast. And that would not do. And there was only one way to deal with it: up the ante. "You are welcome to look, Sheriff. I'm sure Storybrooke is slim pickings for someone as worldly as yourself, but I'm not going to have sex with you." Oh, Ok, flirtation. It had not been what she expected, but she could work with this. She was adaptable.
"Now you hurt my feelings!" Regina could hear the smile on Emma's voice even if she lacked the courage to turn and face her. Besides, having her there, snug against her back, was a surprisingly good fit.
"No I haven't. I like sex but_"
"See, so much common ground." Emma interrupted. "This keeps up and we're going to be friends soon."
"Perish the thought. Why did you interrupt me?"
"My words exactly. And because I have no manners."
"If I wanted friends, I'd join a book club. Did no one ever teach you manners?"
"Two words: house arrest. And no. No mom, remember?"
It smarted like a slap. Of course it did. Not that she would ever admit it. As far as the world was concerned, she was heartless. "There is always the internet. Serves so many purposes: manners, book clubs and even sex."
"Again with the common ground. Though I like it better in person. More personable, I think."
"Yes. Sex is more pleasurable in the flesh. I think you find me attractive on some level…"
"All of them, actually."
"I don't blame you. And that's why you brought your deep fried complex carbohydrates. But I'm not going to have sex with you."
Ah, but she would. Emma was nothing if not dogged in her pursuits. She did not lack staying power on that front. "So you say. Is it just because we have not yet shared a bear claw? Or are you more partial to wine?"
Regina laughed despite her frazzled nerves. This conversation was getting out of hand. Ridiculous. She did not discuss sex with such lightness. Sex was all about power. What Emma Swan was proposing was more like a lightheaded past time. And Regina did not do sex – did not know how to do sex- that was not about power. And still… Emma was sitting in her kitchen, discussing sex as if they were talking about the weather in Mexico. It was unnerving, unsettling. Fun. Exciting. Despite herself, her lips curved into a smile. She tried being discreet about it since it could not be helped.
"Jesus, Regina was that a smile?" It seemed that she had failed.
"A grimace."
"Oh look at that: now you made a joke. I bet we will be so compatible."
"I do not value sense of humour in potential sexual partners."
"I do." Emma was feeling giddy. She could actually see Regina crumbling like sand under her relentless pressure. She could see her growing back into the woman she had been. And that was strangely arousing. When had she become so articulated? (Or so interested) "Is that the only entry in the cons list?"
Regina poured the coffee, nervously reaching out for something to do with her hands. The coffee could probably use a few more minutes infusing (she was beyond paying attention to it), but it was either serve it or run. And Regina Mills did not run. She made people run.
"No. Have you just met me? For one, top of the list, if we were to have sex, how would I avoid you afterwards? You're all over this town and I cannot leave."
"What makes you think once you have tried this_" Emma pointed at herself, a feat of mechanics and equilibrium, balancing her hot coffee cup, a bear claw and narrowly avoiding sugaring her cascade of blond hair. "_you will ever want to give it up?"
"Not me. You. People always leave." She bit the inside of her cheek. The filter her mother had painstakingly fitted her with seemed to be broken when it came to Emma Swan.
"You are fucking fascinating, Regina."
It did not feel like Emma was mocking her for some reason. It also felt like she should soothe the sting of rejection. Because it was rejection. That was a pep talk she would have to have with herself later, but it was important to nip it in the bud sooner rather than later. No sex. No sex with Emma Swan. No. No, no, no. "I do like the symmetry of your features…"
"And yet, not sex for me."
It was infuriating how off balance Emma threw her. She bit into the pastry. And oh, gods, it was surprisingly good. "I'm sure you have other options."
"True. I mean, Leroy cannot seem to stop propositioning me."
"Grumpy. You are attractive… Smart. A princess."
"I have a sword."
She did. A sword she had used to save Henry. The same sword she had used to defend her when she would have most certainly been killed by a mob. "You have a sword."
"And yet, I want to have sex with you, not Leroy. But I understand you are fairly traditional. And that you will not have sex with me until our second date. At least."
A date. A DATE. "I'm pretty safe, then." A date was something of this world. Something that people did in films and in books. Where she came from, you were thrown into arranged marriages or you sneaked around behind you mother's back. None with most excellent results.
"Why?"
"Two words: House arrest." Did Emma ever give up?
"Huh. See you tomorrow, then."
What? "You're going?" Where was the dogged determination then? Had she screwed this up already? Oh, wait, this was what she wanted. Right?
"Yep. I'll be back tomorrow. I'll bring the wine."
"Wine?" She was getting tired of feeling one step behind in all this conversation. It was surreal.
"What's a date without wine?"
"Date?" Her mind was like a scratched record, stuck on the same squeaky note on a loop. Date?
"Stopping repeating. A date. Second date, more specifically. Might even get me to third base. If I play my cards right."
"Second? What happened to the first?"
"Now that hurts. We had deep fried complex carbohydrates and coffee. We talked. I snuggled- well, almost. Look it up. Old Mr Webster's definition of date: entertainment, affection and conversation. No harm in a goodbye kiss, either. Part of the definition."
Regina saw it coming, that kiss. She saw the way Emma's head tilted to hers, she saw the intent shinning on the now intensely blue eyes. She felt Emma's breath on her face, that split second before Emma's lips connected with the corner of her mouth. She saw it all coming but was powerless to step back, was incapable of refusing. Instead, she simply stood there, having an out of body experience as Emma's mouth slowly- so dam slowly- left a trail of tiny little touches between the corner of her mouth to her upper lip and then finally settled on her parted lips, teasing a response, giving her time to refuse or run. She settled there and coaxed a breathy sigh and then a tentative tongue to come and taste her. She saw it all coming, she was survival-bent on having no part on this. And yet, here she was, her hand moving to hold on to Emma's hip (the first solid thing she could feel) and her heart hammering, her tongue wanting more of that sweetness Emma was offering. Here she was with her body reacting so strongly to just one kiss that she could barely stand straight.
"Wow…"
Yeah.
