THE STAIRCASE
By Red Charcoal
CHAPTER 34 - STRICTLY BUSINESS
"Sure you've got enough snacks there, Miss Swan? I am certain your high-salt, high-fat, unhealthy food limit was surpassed three grocery bags ago."
Emma snorted as she inserted another bulging bag of snacks into the sleek Merc's boot.
"I can tell you're not an expert at the 'road trip experience'," Emma gave the words air quote marks and grinned. "But I am. And these things you mock are what we experts call The Essentials."
She almost laughed at the brunette's appalled expression and continued: "You will not want to be buying any of the crap sold at the gas stations along the way because they are probably at least three months out of date, stale and have been soaking up gas fumes for a helluva lot longer than that."
She bent forward and shoved one of the bags to one side to squeeze more in.
"May I remind you, Miss Swan, that I did actually drive all the way here without needing to resort to absurd quantities of ..." she waved derisively, "this ... alleged food."
"That's only cos you had half of Storybrooke pack your lunch for you," Emma smirked. "Now come on, let's get the thermos on board. You think you've tasted bad coffee before? It's nothing compared to the sugary oil slicks on offer at some of the diners we'll be passing. I guarantee my brew will at least be an improvement."
Regina handed her Mary Margaret's refilled thermos and their hands touched briefly. Emma froze. She could not deny the effect the mayor's proximity had on her when she felt telltale tingles shoot up her hand. She noticed Regina's movements had also stilled. She quickly moved her hand away from her and curled it into a fist.
"Uh sorry. I'll just..." Emma backed away hurriedly and, for want of something else to do, looked around.
All bags were already packed.
She shoved her hands in her red jacket pockets and glanced back at Regina. The mayor was looking completely stunning in her so-called "casual" gear. She was rocking her tailored dark pants - what else - which were presently showing off one of her best assets as she bent over the boot. Emma's eyes paused on the view.
She also wore a figure-hugging designer white tee-shirt under a thick black coat. It snugly clung to her breasts, defining their shape and giving the blonde more than a few thoughts as to how they would feel to slip her fingers over. If she was interested in such things, which of course, she had sternly told herself repeatedly the night before, she was definitely not. Some lines should not be crossed again.
Regina finally stepped back from under the boot lid, closing it and pivoted, catching the blonde staring.
Emma immediately turned and stomped over to stand by the passenger door, her knee-high brown boots crunching on the gravel. "We ready then?" she asked self-consciously under the mayor's pointed stare.
The brunette gave a small smirk. "Well if by ready you mean do we have enough processed food to cater several arks, then yes, Miss Swan, we are ready."
Emma folded her arms and eyed her darkly.
Regina glanced at her as she strolled to the driver's side. She stopped and asked: "What?"
"Why are you back to calling me that? I thought we were beyond the 'Miss Swan' formalities. Especially after..."
"After?"
Emma blushed and dropped her head. "You know - last night?"
Regina assessed her for a long moment, then slid her designer sunglasses onto her nose. "Oh yes, dear, the 'mistake'. How could I forget?" She opened the door, her mouth set in a grim line.
Emma's mouth fell open. "I ... we..."
"A coherent thought sometime soon would be greatly appreciated," Regina noted and slid into her seat and closed the door with a firm slam. Not before Emma glimpsed an expression of hurt on her face.
The blonde frowned. She opened her own door and sunk into the seat. "Regina ... are you mad with me?" she asked, buckling her seatbelt.
"More with myself," the other woman sighed and adjusted the rear-vision mirror. Her eyes flicked briefly to Emma and then returned to the windscreen.
At Emma's questioning look she added: "Expectations or hopes generally tend to disappoint. But I always knew coming here that things, well, certain emotions or viewpoints might no longer be held ... the way they once were."
She started the engine. "So, for everyone's dignity, let's just keep everything ... strictly business.''
Emma drew her brows together, trying to understand what she was saying. "I ..." She faded out when Regina shot her an impatient look and began to reverse out of the driveway. They swung onto the road and the brunette accelerated firmly away.
Emma sucked in a breath. "OK, if that's what you want... Is it?"
"It is, Miss Swan. And perhaps we should now move on from this particular topic? Spare everyone's blushes?"
The blonde shook her head. "How about we agree to postpone it? It's not really a great conversation for us after we've had only six hours' sleep."
"Two." Regina said moodily. She bit back a yawn, hidden by her hand.
"Huh?"
"Nothing. Alright. The topic is hereby tabled." Regina declared as though closing a council meeting. She leaned forward and stabbed a few buttons on her dash. Classical music began to fill the car and Emma rolled her eyes.
"Seriously?" the blonde blurted. "Hours and hours of this shit ahead?"
"Handel is not shit, Miss Swan. What is your preference anyway? Barely legible rappers badmouthing women and boasting of boosting cars?"
Emma smirked and leaned over and punched a different button. "Why am I not shocked you hate rap? OK let's try this." Country music now filled the cabin and a look of horror crossed Regina's face.
"You must be kidding," she gaped. Then gritted her teeth.
"Do I look like I am kidding?" Emma leaned back with a laid-back smile on her face and her fingers beginning to tap against the window sill.
"Well that explains why you dated the country-singing lawyer," Regina sniped. "You can share your mutual love of hearing slack-jawed yokels crooning about horses dying and wives leaving brutal husbands."
Emma snorted. "That is not what country songs are about. Well not most of them anyway. Usually it's about lost love and broken hearts. Something I know a lot about as it turns out."
Silence fell between them. Only the music and the road noise swirled around and Regina's jaw clenched.
"I thought this topic was being tabled, Miss Swan," she ground out icily.
"I was speaking generally," Emma lied and turned away. She watched small businesses and street signs blur by. Regina flicked her a disbelieving look which Emma saw clearly reflected in the window glass.
After three blocks, the mayor leaned forward and changed the station to an easy-listening format. Bruce Springsteen began to fill the car.
"A compromise?" Emma asked, her eyebrows rising in question.
"If you want to call it that."
The Boss sang on and Regina stopped talking and began focusing on negotiating the thickening traffic.
Emma gave it a few more minutes and then stretched over and changed the music back to classical. She leaned back with a plop against the dark leather seats.
"Here," she said. "Listen to your dead white guy music. I am going to catch up on a bit of sleep. And for the last time," she mumbled, angling her head against the window, "Shania isn't a country singer."
A small, sudden snort of laughter burst out of Regina startling them both. Emma gave a pleased smile as she closed her eyes.
The last words she heard before she dozed off were an acerbic retort. "Like you would know."