A/N: Left this one a bit late XD! I had such good intentions and so little time, so here is a Christmas fic written in the early hours of Christmas morning and while waiting for dinner to cook! I enjoyed writing this one- rushed as it was- and hope you enjoy reading it! Something's better than nothing, right? :p
I hope those of you that celebrate Christmas are able to have as nice a day as possible (I live in the UK, and I'm sure my fellow Brits understand the caution to that well-meaning sentiment given recent changes to... are we calling it a plan?) and that those of you that have already celebrated were able to enjoy yourselves as best as possible also :)
As always, thanks for reading :) Here's to a... very different 2021!
"Merry Christmas Eve, Madame Mayor!"
"Mm."
Regina responds with a curt nod as she passes Archie on her way to the Station; the cricket's most recent comments about the positive effects of Henry's blossoming relationship with Emma still leaving a sour taste in her mouth.
"Ha!"
She had responded at the time, and she had opined much the same when her son had proposed the preposterous idea that the blonde had taken on her new job of following Graham around out of the goodness of her heart and her wish to help the people of their small town.
"Miss Swan took the job out of pure spite, more like! Spite towards me, and an innate need to make a nuisance of herself!"
She had complained to Sydney once out of earshot of Henry. The reporter had, of course, agreed; a trait that had been growing tiresome in its predictability before Emma's arrival, but that she has once more come to appreciate as she finds it preferable ripping their newcomer to shreds to the accompaniment of Sydney's obsequious agreement than she does to spitting poison at her own reflection.
Well...
A small smirk finds her lips as her sleek black boots crunch through the freshly fallen snow.
"This should really have been cleared. Someone could do themselves an injury..."
She mutters under her breath; sounding much more perturbed than she actually is. Personally, she likes the snow, and can't see why this land's patrons feel the need to sully it with ploughs and salt in a way that had never been necessary back in her homeland.
Yes, well, perhaps the horses and wagons faired just fine, but the Mercedes is a little more temperamental when it comes to such things.
Perhaps, and while she likes her car, the real reason she's busying herself with grumbling about any of this is that she's fairly certain that menial tasks such as wandering the town with a shovel fall upon the Deputy, and, well... Picking the Swan woman apart really is one of her favoured pastimes.
"And she makes it so easy..."
Regina muses as she rounds the corner and spies the jolly flickering lights strung up around some of the stunted bushes cast in shadow by the Station. A single car stands in the small parking lot adjacent to the building, covered in a light dusting of snow from earlier in the day. Graham's car, its siren creating a peculiar white bump on its roof.
Smiling to herself as the Station appears otherwise deserted, she concludes that the Sheriff must have sent his joke of a Deputy off home already to enjoy cookies and milk with her oblivious mother.
How sweet.
She twists the sentiment in her mind to become something sarcastic and cruel but swiftly lets the matter go in favour of happier thoughts.
It's Christmas Eve after all.
Walking up the path leading to the entrance to the Station- this, at least, has been recently cleared of snow- she lets herself in when she finds the door to be open, before turning to lock up behind her as per her arrangement. Inside her pocket, she carries the folded note slipped to her by Graham while waiting for her coffee at Granny's this morning, and as she makes her way quietly down the empty hallway, she fingers the crease that runs down the middle.
Have you been naughty or nice?
6 PM, I have something for you.
It had read; a little cliche, a little crass, but she's willing to let that go in the spirit of the season.
In the spirit of receiving.
Another small smirk as she stalks the shadows; dusk falling fast and casting the empty corridor with a purple hue. Making her way to the main room, she frowns as she pushes the door open, finding the place deserted; the lights off and the iron doors to the holding cells pushed open, the concrete floor glistening as though recently mopped.
Could have set the scene at least a little...
She frowns, but while she finds him to be an agreeable means to sating her boredom when it suits her, she wouldn't go so far as to praise Graham with the gift of romance. He'll try now and then, as he had with the note, or by buying her small tokens of his confused affection, but Regina imagines there's some sense of partnership- lustful and otherwise- that becomes lost in translation in the complicated history of their relationship.
Oh well, no matter.
No. If anything, it suits her well. She would just expect more of a show of reverence given her standing.
Just some form of acknowledgement for just how lucky he is.
She chuckles quietly to herself, no longer quite so conceited as she had been when she'd first claimed the throne, and able to see some humour in her past expectations, although she would never care to admit it.
"Graham?"
She speaks up, spying a half-full cup of coffee in the inner-office where the paperwork gets kept, but no further signs of life. Pulling out the Sheriff's note, she checks it against the time displayed on her phone and lets out a sigh of open irritation when she makes it to be 5.52 PM.
"Where are you?"
She murmurs, heading back out into the hall to check the small kitchen and bathroom but finding them to be just as empty as the rest of the building.
"Where-"
But she stills, catching the faint thump of something falling onto the floor and turns around with a frown before concluding that the noise must have come from the very back of the Station where the hall narrows and hooks around, ending in the entrance to the narrow storage closet.
"Why am I now dubious about your gift, Sheriff?"
She pulls a face that doesn't match the quickening beat of her heart as adrenalin born from anticipation lends her a sly smile.
Making her way to the back of the Station, taking care to move silently so as to match the Sheriff's odd behaviour with her own element of surprise, she casts a distracted glance at the gaudy tinsel strung between portraits of previous Sheriffs that never were, before turning the corner to find the door to the storage closet slightly agar.
Creeping closer, she slips into the darkness with the vague thought that it seems a little odd that Graham might be waiting for her in the dark, but theirs is a relationship she has always run to suit herself, and she doesn't hold back now as she slips inside and lets the door fall shut as she runs her hand teasingly up rough denim.
"Hey!"
"Ah!"
Regina matches Emma's surprised yelp with her own, backing swiftly away until her shoulders make hard contact with the back of the door.
"... Graham?"
The blonde asks uncertainly, although the wariness to her tone suggests she's fairly certain that the high timbre of the Mayor's surprised gasp belongs to someone other than her boss.
"Do I sound like Graham?"
Regina snaps breathlessly, feeling blindly for the lightswitch as, with the door closed, they stand less than a foot apart in the pitch-black.
"Regina?"
Emma tries again, this time sounding more annoyed than she does cautious, and once again, the Mayor matches her in kind.
"What are you doing in here, Deputy?"
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?!"
The blonde hisses, raising her hand tentatively out in front of her before emitting her second uncharacteristic yelp in as many minutes as her fingertips brush against the soft wool of the brunette's sweater.
"Why are you messing around in the dark?"
Regina demands, disregarding Emma's inquiry as to what she might be doing at the Station after hours.
"I'm not messing around! The power's gone, I was trying to find the fusebox."
"It's on the outside of the building."
The brunette sighs as though speaking to an idiot.
"How was I supposed to know?!"
Emma snaps, a great deal of her irritation stemming from her unease at being backed into a corner in the dark with Stroybrooke's Mayor, not to mention the sly squeeze to her ass that had all but shocked her into screaming like a child.
"Wasn't it covered on your orientation?"
"Orientation?!"
"Yes. Isn't that standard when one takes on a job?"
Regina replies waspishly, everything about her tone hinting at the fact that she finds the Saviour's role as Deputy to be a complete and utter farce.
"We didn't cover where every fucking switch and socket might be, Madame Mayor."
Emma hisses sourly, before jumping back to the topic at hand- at least, so far as she sees it- before the brunette can rile her up further."
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Would you mind your language, Deputy? We weren't all raised- or not raised- in a barn."
"Cute."
The blonde growls angrily, feeling around blindly for the lip of the stack of shelves to give her some sense of her space, before pointing out bluntly
"I'm not the one that's sneaking around feeling people up."
"That's not... That's... You bite your tongue."
Regina orders, at a loss of what to say and subsequently furious at the younger woman for it.
"Really? You sure you weren't looking for someone else to do that for you?"
"Miss Swan!"
The brunette snarls, her cheeks burning as she shuffles warily to better her footing; completely thrown by her loss of vision and the unpleasant realisation of her company.
Even if she does smell nice.
Frowning as her nostrils flare with the scent of honey and something with a little more spice, she shakes her head and demands
"Where's the Sheriff?"
"Out."
"What do you mean, 'out'?"
"Uh... Not in?"
Emma elaborates unhelpfully, and she'd like to think she can actually hear Regina rolling her eyes in the darkness.
"I'll ask you again, Miss Swan..."
"And my answer won't be much different, Ms Mills."
"Don't do that."
"Why not?"
"It's not appropriate."
Regina snaps, taking in a sharp breath as she senses movement from further into the cupboard and bristling when Emma reminds her
"Mm. I'm going to bring us back to you goosing me as a form of greeting."
"I didn't."
"You definitely did. It's fine. It's okay to admit you enjoyed it."
The blonde chuckles, and this time she doesn't need to imagine the Mayor's frustration as Regina lets out a loud sigh and insists
"Believe me, I'm sure to have nightmares."
"That's a bit much."
"Not at all, dear. Now please, let's get out of here, and will you just tell me where Graham is."
"If you'd move, I'd be happy to!"
Emma retorts impatiently, gripping the shelves to maintain her sense of direction as she waits for Regina to shed some literal light on the situation.
She doesn't imagine that it bodes well when the darker woman wrestles with the door for what seems like a rather long time before muttering darkly beneath her breath.
"You have to give it a bit of a shove, it sticks sometimes."
The blonde advises, leaning back when she's accosted by warm breath as the Mayor snaps at her
"I know that! I've been here much longer than you have!"
"What, creeping around in the closet?"
Emma smirks in spite of her discomfort as something with a hard handle pokes her in the back.
"I think not."
Regina hisses, narrowing her eyes unbeknownst to Emma when the younger woman makes a noise to suggest that she's not convinced.
"Shut up."
The Mayor warns, pulling her cell phone out and lighting up the screen.
"Damn. No signal."
She groans, glowering at the useless thing as though hoping to scare it into cooperation before looking up to spy Emma studying her warily through the gloom.
"Do you want me to try?"
The blonde asks, aware that she's likely to get an earful for this suggestion, and it is perhaps because of this certainty written clearly across her face that Regina abstains and simply pushes herself up against the wall as best as she can in the silent bid that they switch places.
While I loathe the insinuation that she might do what I could not, I'm willing to let it slide if it means getting out of this situation as quickly as possible!
"Hands off this time, okay?"
Emma grins as she makes her way past the Mayor, although the darker woman's resultant annoyance barely registers; dampened by the blonde's own sense of unease as she brushes past her self-appointed nemesis clad in soft wool and an expensive silk pashmina.
"Don't worry!"
Regina replies with a theatrical shudder, using a small toolkit to prop her phone up on one of the shelves to her side to cast a dull light over the closet.
"I wasn't worried, I just usually expect a drink first, at least."
The blonde replies smartly as she fumbles uselessly with the door handle before giving up in favour of giving the painted wood a couple of hard thumps with her shoulder.
"Ow."
She mutters, deeming this method unsuccessful on the fourth try and massaging her arm with a wince.
"Idiot... And I have no trouble believing that a drink is all it would take. I'm surprised you'd even need that."
"Think about it a lot, do you?"
Emma hisses, meeting the Mayor's catty remark with icy annoyance.
"I can't say that I do, but some things are simply made obvious by one's general demeanour."
"Hmm."
The blonde sniffs, pulling a face that doesn't sit especially well with her unwilling companion.
"What?"
Regina snaps, meeting the younger woman's green-eyed stare haughtily through the gloom.
"Oh, nothing, it's just I've given a perfectly reasonable explanation of what I was doing in here, whereas as your reason for slipping into the shadows and copping a feel remains undiscussed!... Although I'll admit, it's hardly a mystery."
She tacks on with a curl of her lip, and the brunette frowns, uncertain what to do with this poorly-veiled accusation.
"What do you mean?"
She asks, and Emma offers her a look that suggests her attempt to feign ignorance is poor at best.
"Just that your immediate move to, well, make a move suggests that you're sneaking around the Station for some kind of booty-call."
"Booty-... I beg your pardon? How dare you?!"
"Easily. And tell me I'm wrong?"
"I fail to see how it's any of your business what I might be doing on town property!"
"With town property..."
Emma mutters under her breath, although, given their close proximity, Regina catches every word.
"Watch your tongue! You're talking about your superior may I remind you."
"I don't think it's my tongue Graham needs to be worrying about from the sounds of things- ow!"
The blonde yelps, flashing her teeth in surprised fury as she bats Regina's hand away from her face. She imagines that the Mayor had been aiming to slap her before thinking better of it just a second too late, resulting in a queer flick to her cheek.
"That was uncouth... But so was your insinuation!"
Regina apologises. Badly.
"Maybe, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong."
Emma muses, ignoring the sting of the darker woman's anger in favour of the enjoyment of watching her struggle to conjure up a suitable retort.
"It's none of your business."
Regina hisses finally, wanting to tell the blonde that she's wrong, but familiar enough with their heated bickering to know that such blatant refusal of supported suspicion will only lead them down the rabbit hole further.
"So long as you keep your hands to yourself, I guess it isn't."
Emma agrees, jumping in swiftly to get the last word, which is probably why the Mayor responds as she does.
No one goes up against me and wins, Miss Swan, you should know that by now.
"You couldn't handle it, dear."
"Oh?"
The younger woman asks with a note of genuine curiosity in her voice that causes the brunette to pull back swiftly.
"What do we do?"
Regina clears her throat and forces them back to their current dilemma before things can take on the strange- yet not wholly unpleasant- undertone she has come to associate with her time spent alone with the Saviour.
It must be some sort of clause or side-effect of The Curse. That's it, that's all. Something in the blueprint, beyond our control. Something unimportant and not worth thinking too deeply about.
No, as the few times that she has let her mind wander when it comes to that particular topic, her thoughts have taken her places that have left her feeling flushed and utterly disgusted in herself.
It's her fault.
She clings onto this firm belief vehemently as she often does, declining to take it any further and consider its implications.
It's her fault that she speaks that way. Acts that way. Looks that way. Her fault that she puts these ideas in my head.
Enough! That's more than enough!
"Any ideas?"
She demands impatiently as she wills dangerous thoughts to leave her be.
"Well, there's always Seven Minutes in Heaven, that might answer a few questions."
Emma chuckles huskily to herself, before reading from the brunette's expression that she has no idea what she's talking about, and shaking her head as though trying to free herself of whatever madness that led her to say such a ridiculous thing in the first place.
I mean, can you imagine?!
Yes. She can. She has. That's the problem.
"I don't know. Are you sure you can't get through to anyone?"
She asks to dispel the silence, and she meets Regina's unimpressed stare with a shrug.
"Just check."
She urges.
"Fine."
The brunette concedes, angling her phone to spy the absence of bars at the top of the screen.
"At least try it."
"To what end, Miss Swan?"
"Uh, I could think of something!"
Emma grumbles, and the Mayor rolls her eyes before coming clean and admitting
"Even if I were able to call someone... They wouldn't be able to get in. I locked the door."
"Why the hell would you do that?! You-... Ohhhhhh. I get it. Yeah. You're totally not here for anything naughty."
"Don't speak to me like that."
Regina snaps, surreptitiously dipping her hand into her coat pocket to finger the note in which Graham had used the same term.
God, I'm surrounded by idiots...
Yes, but some that she loathes more than others, and she glares at the blonde accordingly as she waits for the younger woman to come up with another idea.
"Well... I guess if you get any service, we could call Marco and just say the door seems jammed. We don't have to tell him it's locked..."
"What if I don't get any service?"
"Why are you asking me that like it's my fault?"
"Where's your phone?! You're the Deputy!"
"In the office. I wasn't accounting for such a close encounter with the Mayor too horny to take note of the fucking wedge propping the door open!"
"Miss Swan, I am this close!"
Regina warns dangerously, holding her thumb and forefinger half an inch apart.
"This close to what?"
Emma grins, before holding up her own hands in a sign of truce as she reckons the Mayor might be fixing to strangle her any second now.
"Look, we'll figure something, it will be fine."
She assures lamely, really not sure how she plans on coming through on her promise, but turning to check the shelves for something that might help. She supposes she could take the door off its hinges depending on what tools actually remain in the toolkit, or just kick it in, but she doesn't relish the idea of explaining either decision to Graham and so hopes it won't come to that.
"It better be. It's Christmas Eve! Henry will be wondering where I am if I'm too long."
Regina frets unhappily.
"Yeah? How long does this whole arrangement usually take?"
The blonde teases, before letting out a sigh and turning to face the Mayor head-on with her hands on her hips when she catches the brunette shooting daggers at her through the shadows.
"Come on, Regina, it's not like I don't know."
"Don't know what? I imagine the list of what you don't know is endless!"
"I know you're fucking Graham; I've known for quite some time."
"... I thought I told you it was none of your business..."
"You did."
"Well, then!"
"And, when you offer me the same courtesy and quit commenting on every imagined flaw to my very existence you can come up with, I'll leave you alone, but for now, given that your little hook-up arrangement is why we're in this mess, I'm going to say what I like."
"Fine, then. Go ahead."
Regina challenges, lifting her jaw defiantly as she waits for the younger woman to insult her.
She finds it more irksome than placating when Emma simply replies
"I'm not going to be a bitch just for the sake of it. I was just making a point."
"I see."
"Not all of us have daggers for tongues."
"There it is."
The Mayor snatches her chance to retaliate, and she's caught off guard when the blonde simply chuckles.
Even more so when she finds herself joining in.
"What time is Henry expecting you?"
Emma asks in a kinder tone.
"Around seven-thirty at the latest... And you don't need to comment on that!"
"I would never!"
The younger woman lies.
"Ordinarily I would ask Sydney to watch him, but as it's Christmas Eve and I wasn't planning on being long- shut up- I've left him with an early gift of two new comic books and some hot cocoa he just needs to warm up in the microwave when he wants it."
"Okay, maybe I do need to comment..."
Emma wrinkles her nose, but she shakes her head when she catches the warning look the Mayor throws her and hastily assures
"Not about your thing with Graham!.. Just... So, Henry might have sent me a message to tell me he was sneaking over to ours when you left."
"What?!"
"Look, like you said, it's Christmas Eve! I asked if I could see the kid tomorrow and you made it very clear where you stood on that. I know all of this is messy, okay, I know that. But... Your refusal to allow us to see each other at all wasn't fair, Regina... Just... Don't blame Henry."
"Oh, I had no intention of doing so, Miss Swan!"
The brunette snaps pointedly, casting her gaze around cluttered shelves and tacking on spitefully
"Well, a marvellous time he's sure to have, what with you absent. Although I suppose, it's somewhat tradition."
"...That's low."
"It's true."
The Mayor shrugs, although she soon bores of the tension that lingers between them in the wake of her comment, and vies for the younger woman's attention in favour of her sudden chilly refusal to engage.
"Why did you agree to Henry sneaking around when you weren't even going to be around to see him? Why not suggest he come here? Not that I'm advocating your ignoring of my rules, but... As you seem incapable of obeying my command at the best of times, I suppose the question stands."
"I wasn't supposed to be out! I was gearing up to leave when the power went out, and I just figured that with no one coming into the Station for the next couple of days, I better get it going again or everything in the fridge might go bad."
"... Well, that is at least believable; you being concerned with food over all else."
"I'm not even going to pretend to be insulted, it's kind of true."
Emma plays along dutifully.
"Won't Mary Margaret wonder where you are?"
"Maybe... But, as you so sweetly pointed out, reliability isn't really what I'm known for, and I'm not sure she's about to call the, well, me and Graham, because I'm a little late coming home."
"Maybe not."
"She already got a bunch of stuff together to make Christmas cookies with the kid, I don't even know if she'll notice!"
"Miss Swan, you do realise that I spend time and effort cooking meals for my son that I then wonder why he doesn't have any appetite for!?"
"I didn't think about it, I'll admit, but that's exactly the sort of thing we could have worked around if you'd have been open to discussing a fair way for us to spend the holidays together rather than forcing us all to sneak around behind your back!"
"I planned for us to spend the holidays as we have always spent them..."
Regina hisses angrily, meeting Emma's steely glare with her own breed of fury, but she knows the blonde too well now to believe that she'll look away and back down as others might.
"... I didn't come looking for the kid. He came looking for me."
Emma reminds quietly after a long stretch of silence, but she makes it clear from her stance and expression that her statement carries no challenge, only truth, and that she's not altogether sure what to do about it.
"Well, that I will blame Henry for."
Regina replies dismissively, mirroring the younger woman's body language in a silent form of truce.
"You should be thanking him. From what I hear, I get you going."
The blonde smirks as she digs in her pockets in a hunt for some lip balm.
"I beg your pardon? Who on earth did you hear that from?!"
"Graham. Mary Margaret. Ruby."
Emma counts off on her fingers.
"They say that you 'get me going'?"
"They claim you were half normal before I showed up."
"I am normal!"
Regina snaps, glaring at the blonde who raises an eyebrow at her and gestures at their surroundings.
"You're not, and neither is this."
"Yes, well-"
"-It's fine. I'm not very normal either."
Emma muses calmly, and on this count, the brunette can find no room for argument.
"Move over, let me have a look what's in that box."
The blonde shuffles awkwardly around the Mayor, aware of the brush of her shoulder and bump of her hip as they try to find whatever distance they can between them.
"No. You're not normal..."
Regina agrees, watching Emma as she roots through one old box and then the other; not sure what on earth the blonde might be looking for, but for once she refrains from badgering her as she just wants to get out of here one way or another.
In the electronic light cast by her phone, the younger woman's curls look almost green.
"What was that thing you said?"
The Mayor asks eventually to break the silence.
"What thing?"
"The heaven thing? Minutes in heaven?"
"Oh... It's a kid's game. Well, I guess that depends on how you define 'kid'. A high school game."
"And how was it supposed to help us?"
"Ha, I actually think it might do the opposite if I'm honest... Well... Actually... I don't know."
Emma muses, half to herself, jumping when Regina pokes her irritably in the lower back.
"What does it mean?"
The Mayor persists, swiftly burying her hand inside her coat pocket; rather shocked at herself that she should have reached out and touched the blonde so impulsively and left with that feeling- that buzz- that she's still not quite sure what to make of.
"It was kind of a play on spin the bottle. Sort of. I think. I can't remember exactly."
"What's-"
"-Spin the bottle is another kids game where you sit in a circle, spin a bottle, and whoever it lands on has to kiss the next person it lands on."
"Why?"
"I... I mean, if you want me to try and explain why kids do anything, we may as well quit trying to figure a way out of here as it will be a while."
"Well, I mean, what if one were forced to kiss someone they loathed?"
Regina elaborates.
"I'm pretty sure that's half the point! The other half being general horniness and peer-pressure."
"Hmm. So what's the heaven part? As at the moment, I'm not seeing it?"
"Seven minutes in heaven is where two people- sometimes selected by spinning a bottle- spend seven minutes together in the dark, usually in a cupboard or closet like this one."
"And do what?"
"I mean..."
Emma glances back over her shoulder and her expression says all it needs to say to cause the brunette to pull a face of shocked disgust.
"Why?!"
Regina demands in an uncharacteristically high voice.
"Because people are animals. Teenagers especially."
The blonde reasons simply, before frowning as she resumes her search and asks curiously
"You've seriously never heard of either of those games?"
"I can assure you, that's not the sort of company I've ever kept."
"Explains a lot."
"What's that supposed to- Ah!"
The brunette gasps as they are suddenly thrown into total darkness.
"Kind of trying to find a way out, Regina..."
Emma growls, before taking in her own sharp breath as she accidentally presses up against the Mayor in her bid to regain her bearings.
"I know, I... No! No, the useless thing is dead!"
The brunette cries as she reaches out blindly for her phone and tries to bring it back to life.
"Running the torch does kind of kill the battery."
The younger woman states matter-of-factly.
"Well, what would you have suggested?!"
Regina demands, slipping her unresponsive cell into her pocket and reaching out to grab hold of the shelf so as to ground herself.
"Do you mind?"
Emma grumbles, pulling back as the Mayor inadvertently caresses her side.
"Yes!"
Regina replies breathlessly, frowning in the dark as the blonde laughs quietly at her response.
"Is it just me, or is this now super awkward?"
Emma asks.
"It was always awkward!"
"Well, yeah, but then you went and asked about a game where people literally grope each other and make out in the dark before your phone just happens to die..."
"It did die! You saw just as well as I did!"
"You say this..."
The blonde teases, before swiftly losing her mischievous edge when the Mayor backs her blindly but purposefully against the shelves.
"Stop."
Regina warns silkily, her breath playing across parted lips. She takes a step back once she's certain the Deputy has taken heed of the danger in her voice; swallowing as she finally identifies the spice underlying soft honey as clove.
And it's not perfume as I originally thought, it's her hair. It's her shampoo.
Feeling her own breath catch in her throat, Emma blinks in the darkness as the tension between them is enough to make her dizzy, and she slips her hands uncomfortably into the back pockets of her jeans and curls them into fists.
A habit.
A-
-Oh!
Her knuckles brush against something small and unexpected, and she turns her palm and wrestles the little item free; opening her mouth to share her find, before finding herself at a loss for words when the Mayor muses softly
"Do you know... I think that's the first time you've actually obeyed me without needing encouragement."
"H-huh?
"I was almost expecting your ever-vexing response of 'or what?'"
Regina admits quietly; laughing gently in a way that causes the blonde's stomach to tighten.
"... Expecting or hoping?"
Emma replies finally.
"Why on earth would I hope for such insolence?"
"I'm starting to think you might kind of like it."
"Don't be absurd. I-"
But the brunette's argument gets cut off mid-flow as the blonde pushes back and finds her lips in the dark; tasting her slowly.
Hungrily.
Retaliating with a bid for dominance over their kiss, Regina demands entry as she plunges her fingers into thick curls and keeps the younger woman firmly in place until she's finally forced to pull back for air.
"As I said..."
Emma croaks, her breathing matching the brunette's as it comes out short and sharp in a curious blend of shock and exhilaration.
"Absurd."
Regina repeats hoarsely, stepping back swiftly as best as she can when it eventually dawns on her that she remains stood with her hips pressed against Emma's and her fingers threaded into soft silk.
"Totally."
The younger woman humours her, sounding similarly dazed, before moving with great care to avoid touching her companion and lowering herself down onto her knees.
"What are you doing?"
Regina asks, sounding panicked, and the blonde isn't sure whether to feel amused or insulted.
"Hang on."
Is all she says, bringing the hairpin in her hand up to her mouth and pulling it apart with her teeth. Feeling around blindly for the indent of the lock, she inserts the pin and works it back and forth experimentally.
"Tell me what you're doing!"
"Shh, I'm working blind, here."
Emma hisses, cocking her head to listen out for the telling click of the tumblers as her movements become slightly more precise.
"Working blind on what? I-"
"-There!"
The blonde exclaims, her relief echoed by the Mayor who lets out a relieved groan as the door finally creaks open.
"Finally!"
She breathes, barging past Emma in her hurry to escape the closet.
"Hey!"
The blonde snaps, although she doesn't quite dare to say much more, and so simply steps out into the relative light of the hallway- the moon at least allowing them the ability to make out shapes in the shadows- while avoiding eye-contact with the Mayor.
"You should probably get going."
She mutters uncomfortably, and Regina nods as she stalks down the hall alongside the Deputy in a bid to get as far away from the scene of the crime as possible.
"Indeed... Though... It's only six-thirty."
She muses when they reach the office and she spies the clock above the desk.
"So?"
"So... I told you. Henry expects me back around seven-thirty. If you want to go home and remind him to mind his mother- his rightful mother- then... That would show just a shred of responsibility at least."
"... Thanks."
"Don't mention it... Seriously."
Regina warns.
"Done."
Emma agrees, wondering if she should suggest that this is probably the approach they should take to several things that have happened this evening, but she doesn't quite dare.
"...Why didn't you work the lock sooner?"
Regina asks, alluding to what they are absolutely not going to mention.
Not ever!
Silence; telling and loud as Emma fetches her jacket and wrestles with the zip while purposefully averting her gaze and avoiding the question.
"What are you going to do for the next hour?"
The blonde asks finally; swiftly changing the subject.
"Oh, I imagine I'll go home and run myself a bath and pretend I don't hear Henry sneaking in. I'll call him down for dinner when I hear the door to his room close... Honestly, neither one of you is especially subtle for such a couple of sneaks, dear."
"That's nice of you... The humouring Henry part, not needing a bath because... Well. Whatever."
Emma trails off uncomfortably, and Regina surprises herself as she stifles a chuckle.
"I'm cold. That's why I want a bath, Miss Swan."
"Oh."
"Mm... Yet not as cold as I was."
"Oh."
The younger woman repeats huskily, her eyes widening a little at this admission.
"Come on."
Regina takes the lead down the hall towards the entrance, before coming to an abrupt stop with a look of shocked surprise as she spies a familiar face, ruddy with cold pressed up against the glass. Unlocking the door swiftly, she steps out with Emma at her heels and addresses the Sheriff uneasily.
"Graham?!"
"Madame Mayor... Emma...?"
The Sheriff frowns.
"Why was the door locked?"
He asks, watching as the women exchange a look before Emma speaks up breezily
"It's after hours."
"But, then-"
"-There was a power outage. You best see to it as you're here for some inexplicable reason."
Regina chips in.
"I... I thought we said six..."
Graham mutters quietly with a wary glance in Emma's direction, noting curiously that the blonde looks uncharacteristically flustered as she makes an effort to appear oblivious.
Regina also...
"And it's now six-thirty."
The Mayor replies simply, catching the look of surprise Emma shoots her way and gritting her teeth as she doesn't quite know what to do with the conflict of emotions battling it out beneath her calm facade.
"Okay..."
Graham replies, accepting that he is being subtly dismissed, and he shrugs helplessly before trudging off for the back of the Station to fix the fuse.
"Well... Merry Christmas, I suppose."
He offers both women casting short shadows over the snow as they stand beneath the tungsten glow of a streetlight.
"And to you, Sheriff."
Regina replies in her usual, velvety tone.
"Yeah. Have a good one."
Emma nods, watching as the Sheriff disappears from view before turning back to the Mayor.
"Well... I guess... Have a nice bath?"
"Really, Miss Swan."
The brunette rolls her eyes, although her cheeks flush just a little in the moonlight.
"I just... I meant..."
"Shush. Where's your car."
"Busted. The engine's fucked."
"Honestly..."
Regina grumbles, but before the younger woman can snap back at her, she beckons for Emma to follow her down the street to her Benz with a stern glance that suggests the blonde would do well not to say another word.
"I'll drop you off at the end of your street. No point in you catching hypothermia. Henry would be beside himself, and I imagine I might find that rather annoying."
She sighs as they slip into the relative warmth of her car.
"You wouldn't want that."
Emma agrees, buckling up.
"No."
Regina concurs, starting the engine and cranking up the heat as they are forced to wait for the windscreen to defog.
"... That's one thing I know I don't want. I'm unsure in other areas."
She muses quietly, but before the blonde can answer her, she puts the car into drive and takes them the short distance towards Mary Margaret's; holding up her hand in a non-verbal request that Emma remain quiet.
"Here we are."
She states unnecessarily as she pulls up just out of view of the schoolteacher's apartment.
"Yeah... Uh... About what you said... I mean..."
"Enough... Don't you recognise a joke when someone tells you one?"
"I do... When someone tells me a joke."
"... It was a joke, dear."
"It wasn't. Not your style."
"I... I suppose not. But I'm not really sure where that leaves us."
"Me neither... Maybe that's something you should think about. You know... In the bath."
Emma muses, offering the brunette a grin as she opens the passenger-side door and steps out before her suggestion earns her a harsh response.
A harsh response that never comes as the Mayor studies her pensively; dark eyes darting to blonde curls caught by the wind.
"Maybe I will."
She replies with her own sinful smile.
"And with that image to take away with you, Merry Christmas, Miss Swan."