Regina hesitates for a moment; not used to finding the door to the Sheriff's office to be closed. She glances at her watch; seven twenty. She supposes the blonde could have left and gone home, but she doubts it; that would make things too easy. If Emma is nowhere to be found, she can come back tomorrow. She can put this off.
To what purpose, other than to drive yourself slowly mad?
Pulling herself together, she squares her shoulders and raps lightly on the door before peering inside.
"Sorry, Station's closed, you'll have to- Oh! It's you!"
The brunette falters momentarily before forcing a perfectly believable smile as she inwardly forbids herself to dwell on the way the younger woman's expression softens into a grin when realising who her visitor is.
Almost as if she is genuinely pleased to see the her.
And why wouldn't she be? So far as she's concerned I'm none the wiser to her little undercover operation. It would be foolish to believe myself to be the only one capable of putting on a pleasant face, that much I have already learnt.
"It's me. Burning the midnight oil?"
"More like early evening oil. Fuck me if I'm staying here 'til midnight!"
The blonde offers her a wide grin, as if daring the Mayor to take her up on such an offer. Regina raises a brow and shoots Emma a small smirk before letting herself into the office fully, taking a seat opposite the Sheriff.
"Have you had dinner? Do you want some?"
Emma holds out half of her sandwich amiably as the brunette wrinkles her nose. Reading the older woman's expression easily, the Sheriff chuckles with a carefree shrug and takes a bite herself.
"Actually, dear, I came to bring you dessert..."
Regina smirks as the blonde chokes on her mouthful of peanut butter and jelly; telling herself her amusement is simply disdain rather than genial humor.
"Is there a problem, Miss Swan?"
"Apart from being fairly sure I now have a generous helping of bread down my windpipe, not at all!"
The Sheriff blinks away the water from her eyes and offers the Mayor a strained smile which dissipates into a gail of laughter once she trusts her respiratory system to behave itself.
The brunette looks away; Emma's uninhibited laughter something she has only seen on a couple of occasions, and, given the way things have turned out, something she doesn't want to get hooked on.
Because getting hooked on that husky, throaty sound and the way she throws her head back and shakes with it seems dangerously easy.
"Should I be flattered or offended by your rather overjoyed reaction?
"Sorry! I guess that's up to you... I'd say flattered... But I'm curious to know what my punishment would have been if you'd felt offended..."
Oh, if you only knew what punishment you have in store... How can you be so glib? So easy-going? Have you no sense of guilt at all? No conscience?
"Hmm... Well, let's see..."
The Mayor rises slowly; leaning as far as she can across the desk and reaching for the collar of the blonde's shirt. Pulling at her roughly so that she meets her half way, she presses her lips hard against Emma's, meanwhile increasing the power with which she tugs at the Sheriff's shirt until, eventually, the younger woman gets the hint and climbs slowly up onto the table, kneeling atop its surface. Regina lets her hands fall from the blonde's lapels down to her ass and pulls her closer still.
This is a mistake. Just give her the pie and leave the bitch to rot.
"Get on the bed."
The brunette points to the small cot in the jail cell; the very same on which she had caused the younger woman so much anguish what seems like forever ago. Emma raises an eyebrow, but does as she's told; walking over to the bed and sitting expectantly down on its edge, pale face upturned to the Mayor who follows her and riddled with curiosity.
"On your back."
"Why?"
Regina doesn't offer an answer, but merely waits as the Sheriff gives a casual shrug of her shoulders and swivels herself with ease until she lies prone on the rough cotton spread. She regards the blonde with clinical interest, appreciating the gentle curves of the svelte form she knows hides beneath cheap clothes, but refusing to acknowledge any of the warmth she has found when spending time with Emma over the past week or so.
Almost refuses.
There is no doubt in my mind that I am making the right decision... And with that in mind; this is the end. There is no beauty in death, that part of the fairytale is nothing but a cruel lie. There will be no glass coffin. So let there be beauty while it is still possible. Until the end.
Lowering herself gently so that she straddles the Sheriff, the brunette begins to slowly undo the small buttons to her shirt. Emma moves to give her a hand, but the Mayor shakes her head and pushes the blonde's fingers gently away. She doesn't speak- doesn't explain what she wants- so the younger woman rests her hands patiently at her sides and simply waits.
Regina is slow and methodical in her work; stopping every now and then to press her mouth to a familiar freckle or bone. She traces the crude scar that runs the Sheriff's midsection with her finger, but ignores the silver lines at her sides cautiously.
She is not his mother. Blood means nothing.
When she finally has the blonde completely naked- rising from the bed to pull the last scrap of cotton slowly down slim legs- she stands back and lets her eyes roam, musing bitterly that she could conjure a perfect image of the younger woman should she close her eyes, and hating that fact.
"Regina?"
She glances down into wide eyes and smiles. Holding the Sheriff's gaze, she slowly strips off her own finely-tailored ensemble so that she stands just as bare as the woman before her. Closing her eyes, she lowers herself back onto the cot- back onto the blonde- and stretches herself out carefully so that her slim frame shrouds Emma's. She runs her tongue teasingly down the pale collumn of the Sheriff's throat before resting her jaw comfortably in the hollow of the blonde's shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo.
Emma fidgets slightly, unsure what is expected of her. She tries to wiggle her thigh to nestle between the brunette's to offer the darker woman a touch of friction, but with the way the Mayor remains so calm and still, she soon desists. This isn't about sex it would seem.
The brunette is unsure how long they stay that way- sharing breath and body heat- but she imagines there is some clue in the dull cramp that pulses in her legs when she finally rolls off the blonde. Bending her head to cast shadow across the younger woman's face, she captures the Sheriff's lips softly and offers her a slow kiss which she only breaks when it threatens to turn salty with the traitorous tear she feels rolling down her cheek.
Pulling away she swipes the droplet swiftly from soft skin and captures the younger woman's gaze one final time.
"You deserve it."
"Deserve what?"
Green eyes glitter amiably up at her, pale lips pulling back into a lazy smile. The brunette simply nods her head, offering no further explanation, and makes her way to the door, turning as she reaches the threshold to see the younger woman casually going about collecting her clothes.
"Don't forget your sock under the bed, there... I've left you an apple pie in the fridge in the little kitchenette round the back..."
"Really? Cool, thanks! Night, Regina."
"... Goodbye, Miss Swan."