This intoxication, takes my breath away,
this agitation, fevering the day.
I see her now at every turn,
around every corner, she's there, she is waiting,
one moment inviting, one moment frustrating
-Intoxication, from the musical 'Marguerite'
She doesn't start panicking until the following afternoon. After hours of begging, Moe has let her off her shift early and it's 5'o'clock, which leaves 3 hours until her date with Regina. 3 hours to sort herself out. Currently, she's sat cross legged on the floor in her underwear in front of a mirror, stuffing a second bear claw into her mouth. The contents of her wardrobe are heaped precariously on the bed, and that's how Lacey finds her when she arrives.
There's a click in the lock (Lacey has a spare key for emergencies, like this one), and the brunette is barging into Emma's room.
"Christ, Em. You look a state." Lacey declares, quirking an eyebrow as she plucks a lacy black bra from off the door handle. She swats it at Emma's face.
Emma groans, a spray of crumbs exploding from her mouth. "I know. 'Wear something nice,' she said, like I actually own something nice. I don't even have a dress!"
Lacey just gives Emma a disgusted look, saunters out of the room and returns a few moments later with a bin liner. "These are some of my old clothes. Pick something" and then "I can't believe I told Gold I couldn't go to his show for this." She gestures Emma, who is currently rifling through the bag like a homeless person searching for a discarded sandwich.
The blonde scowls and hits her arm lightly. "Hoes before shows, and all that."
"You mean hoes before bros?" Lacey drawls.
"Whatever." Emma shrugs. "If you'd have seen her, you'd understand why I'm panicking so much."
"I thought you said she was a bitch?"
Emma pauses, a stack of clothes balanced in her arms as she heads towards the bathroom. "She is," she agrees finally. "But she's a hot bitch."
It's okay for Lacey- she has a small, delicate built and a gentle (until you get to know her, anyway) personality. She's curvy, and has her own good sense of style. Emma is clumsy, has a chronic case of foot in mouth syndrome, and her idea of fashion is a Walmart tank top and the red leather jacket she bought when she was 18. She's never been in a serious relationship, and the handful of dates she's been on have consisted of playing pool and drinking herself into oblivion at a karaoke bar. Emma Swan just isn't the sort of girl suitable for someone like Regina Mills, and she's been wondering all day why the woman has asked her for dinner, because there's no way in hell she likes her.
In spite of this, Emma wants to look nice for the woman. Regina has been nothing but rude, sarcastic and downright mean, but Emma feels oddly drawn to her all the same. Not that she plans to tell her that.
With a long sigh, she searches through the pile of clothes she's grabbed from Lacey's collection. Some of things are brand new, the tags still in them, and Emma feels a small stab of jealously- she can't remember the last time she'd bought anything new, and she certainly doesn't have the luxury of throwing clothes away. Eventually, she finds a plain black dress and wriggles into it. It's a little tight on her, but it's not low cut (like most of Lacey's other dresses) and reaches just below her knees.
She pokes her head out of the door. "Think I've found something, Lace."
The brunette looks her up and down. "Not bad. It'll look good with your black leather jacket and my high heels, I think. We need to sort out your mop next- it's a complete mess."
Emma nods, looking in the mirror. Lacey isn't wrong- it gets pretty humid in the shop during summer, and the moment there's even a bit of moisture in the air, Emma's hair goes from pretty blonde ringlets to scarecrow. "What do you have in mind?"
With a grin, Lacey pats the bed. "Take a seat, my friend."
Two and a bit hours later, after a lot of screeches as Lacey practically rips through her hair, and Emma is ready. Lacey frogmarches her over to the mirror to admire her handy work.
By some miracle, the black dress looks pretty good. It accentuates her best features, and hides the bits she doesn't like (the top of her thighs)- coupled with the black jacket, Emma looks nicer than she's seen herself in years. She's still no Lacey, of course, but she looks half decent. Lacey insists on minimal make up (because apparently making too much of an effort is a bad thing), so she's wearing mascara and a dash of lip-gloss. Her hair has been teased into gentle curls, and the blonde locks fall over her shoulders in soft waves.
Lacey squeezes her shoulders. "You look beautiful, Em."
The blonde's cheeks darken and she looks down. "I guess."
Emma winces and clutches her bicep as Lacey throws a punch at her shoulder. "No. You look beautiful. Amazing. Hot-"
"Lacey-" Emma warns
"- 10/10, would totally bang. If I was gay, anyway." She sing songs, prancing around the room with Emma's bra on her head.
Emma swats her lightly, then grabs hold of her hands. "Thanks, Lace. I mean it. You know I'm not- well- you know-" She stammers out.
Lacey just nods and grins. "You'll be fine, goldilocks. Go knock her out."
A warm glow diffuses through Emma's body, right down to her toes. For all her annoying habits, Lacey is a good friend. She knows all of Emma's insecurities and each one of her bad habits, but loves her anyway. She's also the only friend who's been able to put up with Emma's inability to express her feelings.
"I mean it," Lacey says seriously. "If she treats you well, knock her out with your charm and wit. And if she's a bitch, then smack her right across the face. Now, put your shoes on and get the hell out of here. I'll lock up."
Emma jams the heels on her feet and hauls herself up, wondering how the hell Lacey wears these on a daily basis. She half walks, half stumbles towards the door, sucking in a deep breath.
"Well, see you later."
Lacey salutes her. "Later,"
"And don't eat all my poptarts again!" Emma yells as she slams the door shut.
At precisely 8pm, the clicking sound of Regina's heels sound across the pavement. Emma's head snaps up, and her mouth goes dry.
She's beautiful. Dark hair is swept back in a sleek up do, and Emma's eyes trace the pretty curve of her skin to a dangerous neckline. A plum dress hugs her curves as she sways towards Emma, her usual haughty expression for once softened into something else, something gentler.
Too late, she realises she's staring. Her mouth snaps closed, and Regina's eyes glitter deliciously as she flashes Emma her trademark smirk. "Miss Swan,"
Emma gulps. "Regina," She stammers out. "You l-look regal,"
Regal, she cringes. Christ, the most beautiful woman she's ever seen is taking her out for dinner and all Emma can manage is regal. She blushes furiously and looks at the floor.
The brunette barks out a laugh. "Regal," she repeats slowly, a teasing edge to her voice. "I hope that means you intend to treat me like a queen tonight, Miss Swan,"
A searing heat scorches through her entire body, and every nerve ending comes alight. She can't think of a single sensible thing to say in response, so instead she just jams her hands in her pockets and shuffles from foot to foot, looking anywhere but Regina. She isn't sure what the hell is wrong with her. She doesn't usually react this way to anyone, but there's something about the seductive way Regina's voice curls around every syllable that turns her into a floundering school girl. She almost wishes they were back to bickering, like in the shop. Anything other than whatever the hell this is.
Regina actually has the gall to laugh at her, the sound twinkling along with the night stars. Emma almost jumps 6 feet in the air when the brunette slips a small hand into the crook of Emma's elbow. "Come, Miss Swan. My car is around the corner."
They walk towards the car in silence. It's a warm night in June, and the streets are full of young families taking lazy evening walks. Emma is hyperaware of Regina's fingers bunched in the fabric of her leather jacket, and the way her hip keeps brushing against Emma's as they walk. She's searching desperately for something to say now, but the words are snagged in her throat like a zip. Regina herself seems calm and is, much to Emma's surprise, humming contentedly.
Finally, mercifully, they reach the car. It's a black Mercedes with grey leather seats.
Of course, thinks Emma, even her car is beautiful.
Regina walks around and opens the passenger door, gesturing at Emma to get in. She does so, sighing the moment her feet are off the ground. How Lacey walks around in heels everyday, she'll never understand. She's only been wearing them for a half hour and her heels are already burning.
Regina climbs in next to her, and somehow, it's even quieter than before now. She plugs the key in the ignition and the car grows into life. Emma clutches the side of the seat, thinking about Lacey's words.
Knock her out.
She's certainly doing that. She's undoubtedly knocking Regina out with her inability to form words. She clears her throat.
"So, um, where are we going?"
Regina's eyes are fixed on the road. "An Italian called La Vecchia Scuola. Do you like Italian?"
Emma's mind darts to her freezer, stocked full of cheap ass pizzas, and she chuckles nervously. "Yeah, if we're counting pizza,"
The brunette makes a face and takes her eyes off the road for a moment to throw Emma a disgusted look. "Of course you like pizza."
Emma isn't sure what to say to that, and she's already regretting the decision to meet Regina. There is no way in hell they have anything in common, right down to the foods they like to eat. She feels downright uncomfortable sat on the leather seats of Regina's Mercedes wearing a pretty dress on her way to a restaurant she can't even pronounce the name of. It just isn't her. Anxiety swills in the pit of her stomach as she thinks about the wallet stuffed in her leather jacket- 25$ dollars is all she could afford to bring if she wants to pay the bills next month, and La Vecchia Scuola doesn't sound like a 25$ type of restaurant.
"Regina," she blurts out, "Why am I here?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Why did you want to go to dinner with me?" She mumbles.
The brunette's hands tighten around the steering wheel. The streets race by and for several painful moments, Emma is convinced she won't answer. There's a traffic light up ahead, and Regina turns to look at Emma as the car comes to a halt.
"I'm uncertain." She murmurs at last, and for the first time this evening, Regina looks as uncomfortable as Emma. Her face is tight and thoughtful, and Emma doesn't know what to make of it. "When I came in your shop yesterday, I had no intention of asking you for dinner."
Emma meets her eyes and offers a small, reassuring smile, and Regina smiles back. It's the first genuine smile Emma has seen there, and it softens her whole face. In that moment, she looks every inch the nervous school girl Emma feels like. Regina might be full of bravado on the surface, but Emma figures the brunette has probably felt as nervous as Emma all along. She's just a damn sight better at hiding it. She sinks back into the chair, feeling at ease for the first time.
"So you don't make a habit of being rude to women in flower shops then asking them out?"
The traffic is moving again, and Regina's eyes are back on the road, but it doesn't stop her from looking at Emma one last time, that same thoughtful expression on her face again.
"Only the beautiful ones." She says sincerely.
Emma's mouth falls agape at the compliment, and she shuts it in a hurry before Regina catches her for the second time that night. The haughty, cold woman from the shop is gone. Of course, her every word still carries a sharp edge of teasing and sarcasm, but the vitriol is gone. This Regina is still cool and collected, but refreshing and almost gentle, like an early morning breeze.
"You intrigue me, Miss Swan." Regina admits. "And I'd like to get to know you better."
"Emma," the blonde insists. "My name is Emma."
She sees the corner of Regina's lips twist upwards. "Emma, then."
They drive the remainder of the way in a companionable silence. They finally arrive at the restaurant, and Emma blushes when Regina opens the passenger door and places a hand on the small of her back as she guides her into the restaurant, and Regina's face is a pretty shade of pink when Emma pulls out her chair for her.
The restaurant isn't as fancy as Emma expects. It's small and intimate, and there are only a few tables.
Emma doesn't know what most of the things on the menu are, so she gets Regina to pick something out for her. The brunette orders them both a starter of garlic bread, followed by some creamy seafood pasta dish.
"So," Emma says as their starter is served, "Who's looking after Henry?"
At the mention of his name, the brunette's whole face changes. The smile that blooms across her face is both proud and joyful, and her brown eyes brighten. "He's with my old university friend, Kat. No doubt he's currently eating his body weight in sugar and bouncing off the walls."
"He seems like a great kid."
Regina nods. "He is. He can be a handful, but he means everything to me. Tell me, how long have you worked as a florist, Emma?"
Emma's dying to ask about Henry's father, but it feels too intrusive for first date conversation. "Since I was 15. It's the only job I've ever done. I'm not good at much else."
Regina frowns at that, but doesn't comment. "Didn't you want to go to college?"
The blonde shrugs. "I guess. I've just never had the money. I-uh- grew up in care."
She waits for the sad, pitying look and words of sympathy that usually follow when she admits that, but they never come. Regina only looks at her with curiously soft eyes.
"Henry is adopted," She says quietly.
Emma's eyes widen and she stares at Regina in amazement. "Adopted?"
"Yes. I always wanted a child, but I- I'm infertile. So I adopted Henry," she explains, "My mother told me I wasn't capable of raising a child. Almost everyone thought it was a bad idea, but the moment I held him in my arms, I loved him,"
Emma is silent as she chews on her garlic bread, mulling over Regina's words. "He's lucky," She says at last. "To have someone like you for a mom."
A brilliant smile graces the brunette's face. "Thank you, Emma. That means more to me than I can say."
"Anyway," Emma says, "We can save the heavy stuff for when I've drank more wine." As if to reiterate her point, she drains the remainder of her first glass. "What's your favourite animal?"
If Regina is taken aback by the abrupt change in conversation, she doesn't show it. "A horse." Regina answers immediately.
Emma snorts, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, a gesture that earns her a black look from the brunette. "Only posh people like horses."
"And I'm guessing yours is a dog?" Regina asks through a sneer.
"Of course. Who doesn't love dogs?"
"Only common people like dogs." Regina insists, wiping the corning of her mouth primly on a napkin.
The evening flies by after that. They argue about everything from films they like, to their favourite colours, to politics, and their favourite pastries (Emma won't accept it when Regina insists she doesn't like pastry). The brunette is still a sarcastic bitch, but she's also charming and funny and Emma finds herself sharing titbits about her shitty childhood, and in return Regina shares a little about her difficult relationship with her mother. Regina is remarkably easy to talk to, and Emma doesn't know how to feel.
Sometime after 11, the waiter returns to their table and coughs nervously. "Excuse me, but the restaurant is closing now."
Emma blinks in surprise, and Regina looks around her at the empty seats. She settles the bill after several protests from Emma, and then her hand is on Emma's back again, guiding her back to the car.
Regina asks for her address, and after that, they drive in silence.
The air is crackling with a whole lot of something.
Emma's heart is thudding in her ribcage, and Regina is staring determinedly ahead, her face taut.
Finally, they pull up outside Emma's flat and the blonde unbuckles her seat belt.
She turns to face Regina, to find the woman watching her intently.
"You're home," the brunette murmurs.
Emma's face is burning, and she isn't sure if it's the warm summer night, or if it's just her, looking at her with those dark chocolate eyes, but she feels a little delirious. Dizzy, almost.
At the start of the night, she hadn't known what to expect, but it wasn't this. She hadn't expected to like Regina.
Now they are out of the restaurant, she doesn't know what to do, or how to act. Half of her wants to flee to the safety of her flat, and the other half wants to pull her close and kiss the absurdly defiant red lipstick from her lips.
It's Regina who makes the first move. She reaches across the gear stick and encircles Emma's wrist with soft fingers. Emma wonders if the other woman can feel her pulse fluttering away against her hand.
"I hope you enjoyed yourself tonight, Emma," She says.
Emma looks up at her slowly, drinking in the brunette's face. She can smell the intoxicating scent of Regina's perfume. Some of her hair has fallen loose, and the dark ringlets are falling prettily in front of her eyes. She looks smaller, somehow, in the car, and more vulnerable than Emma had ever thought a woman like Regina could look.
"You're not the person I thought you were." She confesses breathily, tucking an errant strand of hair behind Regina's ear with a trembling hand.
Regina sucks in a sharp breath. She takes Emma's hand in hers and presses it against her cheek. "You really are beautiful, Emma,"
It's said with the same sincerity as earlier, only this time Emma doesn't look away.
For the first time in her life, Emma Swan really does feel beautiful.
And then they are kissing. She isn't sure who starts it, but Regina's lips are on hers, slow and languid, asking for permission, her hand still curled around Emma's wirst. Emma presses closer to her, drunk on the heady taste of Regina's lips. The fingers around her wrist dig into her skin painfully, and she rests a hand on the nape of Regina's neck, her hand ghosting across the delicate skin.
They pull apart at the same time, chests heaving. Their foreheads are resting against each others', and Emma's grinning like an idiot.
"Well damn." She mumbles, oh so articulate, against Regina's cheek.
Regina lets out a throaty chuckle. "Not quite how I would put it, but yes." Regina moves back carefully and starts fussing her hair in the rear-view mirror.
She pouts, and shoots Emma an irritated look. "You've messed up my hair, Miss Swan."
Emma raises a brow. "You kissed me. Besides, it was worth it."
Regina only hums non-committedly.
Emma knows she should get out of the car now, but she doesn't want the night to end.
She nudges the brunette's shoulder. "Admit it, I'm the best snog you've ever had."
Regina pauses and begins mumbling names and counting on her fingers, pretending to consider. Finally, she looks at Emma. "I've had better."
"So you don't wanna do it again?" Emma challenges.
"You," Regina growls, "are an idiot." She closes the distance between them and captures Emma's lips in a searing kiss, but Emma pulls away almost instantly, smacking a palm against her forehead.
"Flowers!" She almost shouts.
Regina looks at her as though she's grown an extra head.
"I work in a florist and I forgot to bring you flowers."
"I'm kissing you and that's what you're thinking about?" Regina huffs, incredulous.
She flashes the brunette a cocky grin. "You're not the only one who's 'had better'."
"If that's true," Regina says sweetly. "You can get out of my car, Miss Swan."
Emma cackles as she opens the passenger door and steps on to the pavement. "I'll see you again?"
"Perhaps." Comes the delicate reply, and it's Regina's who's cackling as she slams the car door shut.
It revs into life, and the brunette waves at her regally, blowing her a final kiss before rounding the corner. Then she's gone.
No, Emma thinks, Regina is nothing like she expected at all.