The Love Hack by mariacomet
Author's comments:
Happy Thursday everybody,
The flight takes you into Flirtingville and has clear skies though the last leg of the flight will be turning into being said, I am going to give you all an extra post next week so I will be posting on Monday and Thursday. Monday and Thursday posts! Cats and dogs living together! Anarchy!
I continue to be amazed and appreciative of all the reviews, etc. You all have really given me a community here and it's fantastic to be so supported.
With tons of love, this is your captain speaking.
pFire274 - Thank you, they are VERY cute.
donotusefailbook - Glad you are liking so far. Hope you like the rest.
paranoidandroid - Hackers have indeed gotten very clever. Tape and maybe just occasionally reading up on how to keep secure goes a long way.
n00b - Thank you, hope you continue to enjoy!
pseudoanon - This is the way it used to work in one of the companies that I worked for. The police would contact the ISP (my company). They would have the IP address, which would give them a general location of where the IP address was located (city/state). The police used that to try and identify possible ISPs and we could usually tell them (a) if we were indeed the ISP and then (b) track the ISP address back to a specific household and address. This was several years ago but I believe this still holds true. If Peter Pan was actually good at hacking, he would have disguised his IP address by using VPN, proxy server, etc. I have worked in IT for many many years but admittedly more on the manager side than security. I did re-read about Tor based on your post and I realized my assumption that it ONLY protects you when you use it as a substitute for a browser were incorrect. It looks like it acts as a proxy server too, which is pretty cool and a good tip. Thank you!
When Emma says "she found him," it may be that I didn't explain the sequence above well enough. I'll review.
Chapter 29 - The one with an absolute lack of focus
The third "thing" happened two weeks later, when Emma came back into town for a long weekend.
This time the Nolans volunteered to entertain Henry so they could have time alone, and Regina cooked. They agreed that they would start the evening looking over resumes, however, so it was a "working thing" instead of just a "thing".
During dinner, she found herself watching Emma's profile and the intensity of Emma's gaze as she skimmed resumes. "Most of these are college kids." Emma fumbled her fork, dropping pasta in her lap. She tossed the pasta into her mouth and smoothed out her pants. "Like, this one has no work experience at all. Shouldn't we be asking for that?"
Regina got up to look, bending to peer at Emma's screen. "Your parents gave a thumb's up to all of these. You think they're a soft touch?"
Emma didn't answer, but Regina could feel her eyes stroking up her neck to her face, caressing her skin. Her ego crowed, unused to that kind of attention. She glanced toward her. "You're not focusing, Emma."
Emma swallowed and wet her lips. "Sorry."
Regina repeated her question.
"Yeah, pretty much."
Regina couldn't help herself, she leaned across Emma to point at her screen. "Can you open that one, please?" Once more, Emma's silence was conspicuous. "Focus, Emma."
"You're standing way too close to me for that."
They turned toward one another and she basked in the totality of Emma's attention, and the depth of the longing etched on her face. "Decorum, Miss Swan."
"Don't you call me Emma these days?"
Regina drunk with how it felt to be wanted by Emma, pressed her fingers on the back of Emma's neck and lowered her head to whisper in Emma's ear. "Decorum, Emma."
Emma groaned and slumped down in her chair. "God, Regina, are you kidding me?"
Regina jerked back, repentant. "I'm sorry, I was just — I — I'm not trying to -"
Emma straightened, chasing Regina's hands with her own, trying to quell her skittishness. "Whoa. It's okay, just...use your powers for good instead of evil." It forced a smile from Regina. Emma always found a way to ground her. "It's just flirting, Regina. We just don't usually 'go there'. So...kinda threw me."
Regina was still confused about what they should or should not pursue with one another. Still, she'd developed a plan on how to proceed. First, she would speak with Henry. After that, she would try to take initiative more often. She may be unsure, but she should be honest and show Emma they were in this together. She vowed to find a moment to do so during dinner. Those two steps were all she had; she was still working on a third one.
Earlier that day, she'd completed the first step.
Henry set his hands on his hips. "You're kicking me out?"
"Yes," Regina answered succinctly. "However, tomorrow all three of us will have breakfast. And after that, you and Emma can get into as much sensible trouble as you can manage without destroying anything or hurting yourselves."
Henry snorted and his eyes twinkled. "Mom, I don't think 'sensible trouble' is a thing."
She eyed him. "It is in this house." She paused. "Henry — what if we saw more of Emma? And what if I, specifically, saw more of her?"
He didn't look surprised. "Just as friends?"
The question stilled her heart in her chest and made her wonder if time had stopped. Her answer was careful. "What if it was more?"
He tilted his head. "Are you asking for my blessing? Because I think Emma's supposed to do that."
He didn't seem thrown by any of this, which flustered her. "I'm asking — need to know you're okay. I will always need to know that, Henry."
His face softened . "She makes you smile more often. I like that. I like her being around. She fits in. She makes things...better."
"She does, doesn't she?"
Now, right now, seemed a good time to try to take that second step — be more direct and honest with Emma about her feelings.
She took in a deep breath. "Can I tell you that I like flirting with you? I liked just now."
"Really?"
The question rang with vulnerability. It was hard, this place they were in. "Really."
"So, what if we decided flirting was okay sometimes? Not all the time, because you'll kill me. But occasionally."
"Are you sure?"
"I like knowing that we're not just buddies." Another quiet revelation from Emma, another reminder of how many times Emma's hopes had resulted in ash.
"Emma?" Regina squeezed her shoulder. "We're not just buddies."
"Good. Now, could you please stay on task, Regina? We're looking at resumes, you really need to focus."
Regina threw her napkin at her.
That night, Regina found it impossible to stop thinking of Emma. Even after declaring war on the fridge, removing all the food, wiping it down, and even running the shelves through the dishwasher. It made her tired, it just didn't take her mind off Emma's reaction to her earlier. While she showered, she thought of Emma's smile...and her mouth.
She sat cross-legged on her bed and threw herself into answering emails from council members. Every correspondence seemed duller than usual. She wondered if Emma was sleeping. She imagined her sitting at her desk, her eyes consumed by whatever was on the screen. Emma's fingers were long and white; they flew across the keys when she typed.
When they held hands, she noticed the way her skin was a shade darker than Emma's, and that Emma's index finger had a little scar she hadn't asked about yet.
She wondered how to make Emma's eyes shine. Over and over, she replayed the moment at the hotel in Portland when they'd almost kissed. She wanted to see that ache in Emma's eyes again.
With a sigh of frustration, she closed the laptop and placed it on her nightstand. This was ridiculous. Dammit, just call her.
Emma answered on the second ring.
"Did I wake you?" Regina asked, more out of politeness than because she was concerned.
"Nope, I was daydreaming."
"About?"
Regina could almost hear Emma's grin. "My new coffee mug. For like an hour and a half. It's a mug that strives for perfection and will allow no stain. It is unlike any coffee mug I have ever known. A little sassy but able to hold warm cocoa."
Regina rolled her eyes. "You're very strange."
"I'm just very invested in my coffee mugs."
Regina's voice deepened and she imagined whispering in Emma's ear like she had earlier. "Well, I was thinking about you."
"Do tell."
Regina fought back a wave of shyness. "I had a question. What would your ideal date look like?"
She heard Emma shift the phone. "I am not good at questions like this. I haven't had many dates. One time Neal got us a pizza and lit a few candles. My first prison girlfriend and I danced in a cell once."
"That reminds me, are you still in touch with her?"
"Nope."
"Good." Regina heard a soft chuckle then a squeak on Emma's end, like a chair reclining or moving. "Do you like roses?"
"Only got them once," Emma said. "But they die, right? That's kinda sad — like, hey you're hot and I like you. Here are some things that are going to wither and die."
"Unique perspective."
"Do you like roses?"
Regina lay back, Emma's voice lulling her mind and body toward rest. The duality of wanting Emma and the desire to simply hold her blended together seamlessly inside her, born of the same need to be close. "Everyone gives roses and, therefore, I felt the need to like something else. Blue hydrangeas are my favorite, but I haven't received them in a long time. I do see your point, however. I like Ghirardelli chocolates. But I guess, in terms of romance, those things are just accessories."
"Hey, are you wearing those blue pajamas you wore at the hotel in Portland?"
Regina's brow pinched together. "Emma Swan, did you just ask me what I'm wearing?"
"I'm just trying to picture you."
Regina let her eyes drift close, amazed at how talking to Emma this way could make her feel like she was floating. "Are you wearing a Star Wars t-shirt?"
"Did you just ask me what I'm wearing, Regina Mills?"
"I asked about your choice of geekwear."
"It's Big Bang Theory tonight."
Picturing Emma lounging in that shirt — and probably little else — unleashed an ache which Regina knew the light conversation shouldn't. "We should probably switch topics. Though it occurs to me that my more intimate moments have been somewhat pedestrian."
"Sorry, could you put that into English?"
"I haven't tried a lot of things. Like phone sex for example."
Emma exhaled loudly and when she answered her voice was muffled. "God, Regina."
"I'm not offering. I'm just telling."
"You're provoking."
"I am doing no such thing. However, we're allowed to flirt, correct?" Emma muttered her agreement. "Then let me assure you, Emma, I haven't begun to provoke."
"Okay, I've been good, but two can play this game." Inside Regina a bright light of interest flared. "Close your eyes for a second."
She didn't admit to Emma that they were already closed. "Very well."
"Pretend you're in your living room. You liked what I was wearing the other night, right?"
"Yes."
"Then imagine me in that. You're standing near the fireplace and I come up behind you. My body presses against your back. My hands slide over your hips. Do you feel that?"
Regina's voice trembled. "I — Yes."
"You're wearing one of those skirts you torture me with. " Regina had no idea Emma felt that way, but lights kept firing inside her, glowing brighter, drowning out anything she might say. "I press my mouth near your ear and tell you how fucking beautiful you are. In every way. And I'm not good with words and that word — people use it too much and too easily. But, I think, I could show you."
Regina bit her lower lip. In her mind, Emma's panting breath teased against her neck. She shivered and pressed her head back against the pillow, wanting more of the sensation. She was transported downstairs with Emma and her living room became a place of infinite possibilities. The couch, the coffee table, even the wall — visions danced in her head of what they might do.
"I want to show you till you believe what I see." Emma said in a low, dangerous voice. It coiled between Regina's legs, that tone.
"Emma," she whispered, wanting Emma to hear the reverence in her voice.
"Is your heart pounding?"
"Yes."
"Mine too. We should...I don't want to get carried away."
Her Emma, always trying to protect her, Regina thought. As close to a knight — her knight — as she would ever know.
"You okay?"
Her body hadn't accepted the loss of the illusion of Emma's body against hers. Regina wrapped her arms around her midsection, pressing her head into the pillow, and tried to catch her breath. Her feelings for Emma kept growing, and now the physical aspect of their relationship was building momentum at an even more alarming rate. If they weren't careful, they would wind up in bed before they were ready.
"Has anyone ever died from flirting?," Regina asked.
"I'll google it later."
"Emma? It hasn't been like this for me before."
"Not even with Mal?"
"Never." They were both quiet a moment after that. "You're leaving tomorrow to go back to Portland?"
"Yeah."
"I'll miss you," she said, and didn't hide the aching she felt.
"I'll miss you too, Regina."
The phone conversation made Regina wonder about a lot of things. She wanted Emma. Regina was a pragmatist and saw no point in denying such a vivid reality. Sex between them would not — could not be just sex. Not like with Mal. Mal had always been a visitor in her life. Their time together was purposefully temporary and had a specific intent. Emma never left her; Regina conjured her presence even when she wasn't really there, because she was essential.
Regina couldn't let them do something they weren't prepared for. She just wasn't sure how long she could stop herself. Usually, she'd bet on her self-control a thousand times out of a thousand. With Emma, she could see herself being lost to passion.
She needed to figure out what to do.
Soon.
She found herself inviting Mary Margaret over for coffee under the guise of getting to know one another better. She made shortbread cookies, took out her more expensive premium brand coffee, and arranged a tray with cups and saucers.
When Mary Margaret arrived, she discreetly asked about her parents and her childhood before finally getting to one of the questions she really wanted to ask.
"Mary Margaret, can I ask you — how long were you and David seeing one another before you chose to make it formal?"
Mary Margaret paused, her coffee cup midway to her mouth. A quilted gray beanie perched atop her head, and she wore a t-shirt and jeans. Quite the contrast to the starched business suit Regina was wearing. "Is this about you and Emma?"
Regina didn't think she'd been quite that transparent, but apparently she'd miscalculated. "I am not going to go to Emma's 'mommy' for advice. That being said, I — I don't have many people I can talk to. I thought perhaps I could ask your general perspective on relationships."
A smirk inched up Mary Margaret's mouth corners. "Oh, I'm in favor of them."
Once again, Regina felt thrown. Her confusion, for some reason, seemed to be endlessly amusing to Emma's mother. "Sorry, it's just that this is very much like a conversation Emma and I had a week ago. All vague and mysterious."
"I'm sorry if I'm putting you in awkward position. That was not my intention."
Mary Margaret exuded a practical optimism, especially toward those she thought of as being in her 'circle.' Warmth and honesty rained from her eyes as she stopped teasing Regina and became thoughtful. "For the record, David and I care about both of you. If all you had ever done was help us with our business, we would care about you. But you have also made our daughter open her heart in a way neither of us thought was possible. We want both of you to be happy."
Regina faltered, sitting back and realizing that even her own mother had never wished happiness for her. Success, power, and other similar things were what Cora wanted for her. "You both took care of Emma long before I came along." She couldn't quite meet Mary Margaret's eyes. She meant the words too much and it made her feel defenseless. "I am so very grateful to you for that."
Tears formed in Mary Margaret's eyes. They both pretended to ignore it when she discretely wiped at them. She set her cup down in its saucer. "You asked me when David and I became official. In his mind, after the first time we talked. In mine, it took a while. Not that I went quite to the lengths of calling what are obviously dates, 'things'. I mean, come on, Regina."
"They're — we're just…" Regina tried to find more words, an apt rebuttal. She didn't have one. "I don't want to rush."
"I'm not sure there's a danger of that."
Regina's jaw set, feeling defensive. She was, after all, the one setting the pace. "I came to Storybrooke to hide. For years, I was so careful about everything I did. Worried that the slightest misstep would mean my past would catch up with me. Paranoid about any new person who came to town. But as time passed, I felt safe. I stopped actively jumping at shadows a few years ago. Or I thought I had. And then, that reporter came to town." She bent her head, elbows on her knees. "My fears still control so much of my life. How can I ask anyone to be part of my life under those conditions?
"What are you most afraid of? Of all your fears, which one is really stopping you?"
She thought for a long time and Mary Margaret let her. Her reflection, reflected in the mirror in her mind, was stark. The other her, the one she had been — the one she believed was the truth — lived there. "That, in the end, I did the worst things, not because of my mother's manipulations, but because there is something in me that is inherently weak and selfish. That Henry...or Emma...will pay the price of discovering that."
The prevailing feeling Regina had most of her life was hunger, starvation to be seen. Her last name did not herald her, instead it covered her, draping over her like a shroud. That it made her special in the eyes of so many reduced her to furniture. People disregarded her because they assumed her only real attribute was the good fortune of her family. For most of her life others saw her victories — every moment of brilliance, each time she persevered — as almost accidental. They were all reduced to symptoms of her lineage.
Her triumphs in Storybrooke didn't have the same taint. She believed herself to be a good mother and an innovative mayor. Emma fed her parts of life she had never tasted before. Sweet things, nourishing bites shared during each moment in one another's company. Storybrooke and Henry presented her with a feast, but she hadn't fully enjoyed it. Not till Emma.
"And I worry," she said slowly. "That that part of me is also what is causing me to hang on to anything more than friendship with Emma, when I know I should let her go."
Mary Margaret simply nodded, like Emma in the way she offered no condemnation. "Everyone has voices in their heads that tell them to walk away from what they want the most. Women, I think, especially, fear asking the universe for more than we have right now. Like we don't have the right, or it's impolite. Or if we do we'll be punished. The only way to shut that voice up is to go ahead and ask and keep asking."
"You think I have given into some traditional female stereotype?"
"I think someone like you, Regina, believes in what you can see. With Emma coming and going back and forth to Portland, how can you really know how she fits in day to day? Maybe you need to see that."
"I don't think we're ready for a U-haul."
Mary Margaret waved that way. "So, what are you ready for?"
Regina parted her lips to answer, but it turned out to be a very good question and it not so easily answered.
Emma listened to Regina's plan, and with every word, her heartbeat increased till it slammed against her ribs. The old anxiety clamped its jaws around her and began taking bites of her. The urge rose in her to hang up, to fake a call, to do anything to get her away from this conversation.
"So, we'd cohabitate for one month. You would stay in the guest bedroom. Of course, if you agree, we'll need Henry's buy-in." This was the third time Regina had stated her plan, and Emma still couldn't bring herself to give a coherent response, which was probably why Regina kept re-explaining.
"Okay," Emma said finally, but it was more acknowledgement than an answer. "Can we not do this on Skype, please?"
"Do you want to call me back," Regina offered gently.
She nodded, hanging up. She started to pace, trying to control her breathing, to will away the sensation of her entire body being constricted, seized tighter and tighter.
She forced herself to dial Regina's number.
Once when she was five, she had to go to the clinic at school, and there was a new nurse. She asked, "Do you want me to call your mother, honey?" Emma didn't know what to say.
Regina picked up.
In fifth grade, Emma joined the volleyball team. For just one game. Her foster parents didn't bother to come. Other families invited her out afterwards; she refused. Lying on her bed later, she imagined what it would be like to have family in the stands. She quit the team the next day.
"Emma?" Regina called to her.
In middle school, her test scores in math led her to be considered for an AP program in school. One of the teachers expressed the worry that Emma lacked the parental support needed to excel. Emma, her pride wounded, set fire to a math book in the school parking lot. That ended the talk of a special program and got her suspended. No one was surprised.
" I...I still have moments before I come into town where I have to, kind of, talk myself into it, r-reassure myself it will be okay. It's been better, easier lately, though so...so...I don't know."
Regina only sounded concerned. "I need you to take a deep breath for me, sweetheart."
Emma shook her head, denying herself Regina's tenderness. "What if I do this and you hate the day to day with me? I could be over-the-moon happy and you could decide…" The rest of the words refused to be dislodged from her throat.
Every fucking January after Christmas break — all the stories of presents and dinners and vacations. She got one gift — part of a program for foster kids. It was usually a doll or something, even when she was thirteen. She hated dolls.
"I know I'm — this — this is old baggage. I thought I'd gotten past this. I-I didn't ask for anything from life for a long time because it all fell to shit when I did. Every time when I was a kid. Every time."
Regina's answered quickly; a plea. "Emma, we don't have to do this. I wanted to make sure I didn't keep you waiting, but, we can forget this for now. This is in no way an ultimatum. I just thought it might be a good step forward. If you aren't ready, that's okay."
Emma's hand mangled her hair and she fought to find enough reason to remember how far she'd come. Henry and Regina inspired her to fight. She just couldn't find any sign of that strength in herself right now. "This — This — asking this is you trying to be brave, right? For me? For us?"
"I thought perhaps I was. I-I wanted to try to be."
Regina sounded so lost, and Emma hated that she'd made her sound that way. "I — can I please have a couple of days to think?"
"Emma? Please, don't disappear on me."
It was fair. Given all that they had gone through, that worry was more than justified. "I won't. I promise. I-I just need a little time."
"Just, please keep in mind we could wait. We could leave things as they are. Or...we could try and talk through it, whatever you're feeling. "
Regina had been trying to be brave and now she was scared. Emma's fingers clutched at the phone so tightly it hurt. "Don't give up on me, okay?
There wasn't a hesitation in Regina's reply. "Never."
The call ended with Emma promising again that it would just be a couple days. She set down her phone and sank into her chair, a hollowness in her gut. After that subsided, she found herself getting angry at Regina. What more did Regina want from her, after all she'd already given and done? She'd changed. She'd given, she'd taken things at the pace Regina wanted to.
Because Regina didn't give her a choice to be half-in and half-out.
Even though right now, Regina was. They could stay as they were, Regina had said.
It felt wrong that Regina had offered that.
A few months before she met David — going to third base with some guy she barely knew. Afterwards, hating herself. Wishing and wishing and wishing for someone who cared enough to hold her while she cried.
Emma snatched her jacket from her desk chair and headed for the door, wanting to move, to go — to move and move. Her phone chimed in her pocket, and she took it out to find one word from Regina:
Marco.
She stopped, staring at her phone. Her fears still loomed over her, but maybe it meant something that they didn't stop her from typing back four letters.
Polo.
