Poking her head cautiously around the door to the apartment, the blonde sighs with relief as the living room appears deserted. She shuffles in quietly- moving with practiced stealth- pulling the door shut behind her with a barely audible click.
"Out 'running' again, huh?"
"Fuck!"
Mary Margaret laughs pleasantly, her eyes twinkling as she regards her housemate who stands with her hands raised in a odd display of combativeness; the effect ruined somewhat by the flash of fear yet to fade from her eyes.
"What the hell are you doing sneaking up on me like that? Shit!"
"I didn't 'sneak'! I was looking for something in the cupboard behind the counter... You're the one being 'sneaky'; tip-toeing in... So?"
"... Guess you wouldn't believe me if I told you you were right?"
"Not in a million years!"
"Damn."
The schoolteacher grins as she makes her way over to the small, threadbare sofa that stands in the corner of the open plan living room; placing her peppermint tea on the coffee table in front of her and watching as Emma goes about helping herself to a bowl of fruit loops. She remains quiet, leaning over to retrieve her mug and blowing across the steaming liquid thoughtfully, noting the damp fall of her housemate's hair.
"You're seriously not going to tell me who it is you keep disappearing off to see?"
"Oh, I don't think so..."
The Sheriff flicks her tongue out between her teeth; green eyes shining as she smirks at the raven headed woman. Making her way over to the sofa with her spoon in her mouth, she falls down heavily next to the schoolteacher; her gaudy breakfast sloshing with a threat to spill.
"Oh, come on! I want to know! You've been acting suspiciously for the past few weeks!"
"Hmm, suspicious behavior... You better let the Sheriff know..."
Mary Margaret rolls her eyes amiably, elbowing the blonde softly in the ribs, causing the younger woman to yelp dramatically and choke slightly on her cereal as a result of her theatrics.
"Hey!"
"Whaa-aat? I want to know about your illicit affairs!"
The schoolteacher draws out the last two words salaciously, laughing when the Sheriff throws her a dark scowl.
"My illicit affairs?! I'm sorry, but aren't you the one dating a married man?"
Mary Margaret cringes, muttering irritably that she isn't in fact 'dating' Mr Nolan, but rather simply 'spending some quality time with him'. Emma nods sarcastically, propping her feet comfortably up on the coffee table only to have them glared at by her housemate. Mary Margaret offers the blonde a long-suffering sigh when the latter merely raises an eyebrow challengingly, before lifting up the Sheriff's legs and pulling the younger woman so that she sits with them dangling over her lap so as to save her from any scuffs on her coffee table.
"Anyway, who say's I'm doing anything illicit?"
"Hmmm..."
Pale fingers pluck pointedly at sheer red fabric, rosy lips pulled into a knowing smile. Green eyes roll and Emma bats her housemate's teasing fingers away from her shirt.
"So I'm dressed nice, so what?"
The schoolteacher bites back a chuckle as she watches the blonde stare moodily ahead of her; the Sheriff's thorny behavior comically reliable when questioned about anything even remotely personal. Ignoring her housemate's harmless grumbling, the dark haired woman proceeds lightly; her voice carefully free from the laughter that shines in her eyes.
"You best be careful, it'll become a habit!"
"What's that supposed to mean!? Ugh! You've been talking to Ruby!"
"... That's the second time you've said that... What's Ruby got to do with how you dress suddenly?"
Mary Margaret's brow creases with confused intrigue as the blonde silently reprimands herself for the sudden increase in her heart rate.
Of course she doesn't mean it like that. Not like how Regina meant it. She would never even think of it that way in a million years!
"Nothing... She just... I let her do my makeup the other day..."
"What?!"
The schoolteacher quickly leans over; staring at the Sheriff as though she has turned suddenly green, slender hand resting companionably on the skinny ankle strewn across her lap.
"You let Ruby do your makeup?!"
"Yes..."
A low hiss. Dangerous. Clenched teeth.
"Oh my God!"
"What?! So I'm wearing something decent?! So I let Ruby do my damn makeup!? What of it?!"
Mary Margaret sighs; Emma's bitching reminding her ever so slightly of the children in her class when having a tantrum. The smile doesn't fade completely from her lips, however.
"Ok, ok, so nothing! I'm done!... You look pretty, though."
"...Thanks."
The blonde huffs irritably, but she glances up at her housemate with a small, pleased grin.
"So..."
"I'm still not telling you."
Emma's composure betrays her- her moody scowl breaking into a good natured smile- as the schoolteacher pouts sulkily; bright eyes wide with pitiful appeal.
"Nope, you can stop looking at me like that; I'm not gonna break!"
"Emma!"
"Hey! Don't whine at me; you said you were done!"
"Fine!... But-"
"-I'm not going to tell you!"
"Ok!... But... Do you... Do you like them?"
"Oh god..."
"Do you?"
"And here I thought I'd left high school thankfully behind-"
"-Oh shush!"
The blonde laughs, regarding the schoolteacher affectionately as the latter glowers down at her mug on the coffee table. Sighing, and resting her hand at her head- pushing back her drying curls- she muses thoughtfully for a while as Mary Margaret tires of her irritable glaring and sips contently at her tea.
"...Yes..."
"Huh?"
"Yes... I like them..."
The schoolteacher opens her mouth in surprise, turning to study the Sheriff curiously as the blonde eyes her warily.
"Really?"
"Yes... I really like them."
"Wait... 'Yes, you really do like them', or 'yes, you really like them'?"
"...'Yes, I really do really like them. A lot."
Emma shrugs noncommittally, but her cheeks flush a pale pink and she grins sheepishly when the dark haired woman offers her a cautious smile.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"... And... Do you think they really do really like you, too?"
"Okay, this is all getting way too sleepover-esque for my liking! I'm out!"
The blonde promptly swings her legs around and slips from the sofa, refusing to look at her housemate as she hurries quickly up the iron staircase to her room to change for work. Mary Margaret grins in bemusement before adopting a small frown.
She hadn't really paid the oddity which now causes her confusion much thought when the Sheriff had joined her on the couch. But now- as the younger woman had jumped hastily up and stalked off- her nostrils flare as she picks up a scent that unsettles her. It bares no resemblence to any of the soaps and lotions she has grown to associate with the blonde. She supposes whomever her housemate is sneaking out to see could have a sister- god, she hopes it's not a wife, although that would provide its own tainted irony given her own position- or housemate in favor of the floral scent that lingers in the air she breathes... Only...
Only there's something curiously familiar to the light, fragrant smell left behind by the blonde.
Something which is inexplicably unnerving.
"Ah!"
Regina sucks her finger into her mouth, wincing as her tongue finds the small nick created by the vegetable knife in her other hand. She glares at the utensil accusingly, retracting her abused finger to inspect the damage. A small bead of blood forms slowly to embellish the soft whorl of her middle finger.
There's something curiously familiar to that sight.
Something which is inexplicably unnerving.
For a brief moment, her mind flashes with the image of the insufferable little wretch finally bested by her dear friend- and all by a simple spinning wheel no less!- but then the soft fingers her mind conjures become stronger, slimmer, absent of the ring worn by Aurora, and she realizes it is not the needle of the spinning wheel which has caused this hand to bleed, but glass.
"...No..."
The brunette shakes her head in an attempt to banish the image, but yet again her mind's eye pans cruelly out to show her the blonde lying on the floor of the Station.
Wet.
The water from the over-flowing sink, so cold. Hair like dirty straw. Skin pale. Clammy.
The gray flash of her cotton briefs betrayed by the slant of her jeans.
"No!"
Throwing the knife she holds hatefully onto the kitchen island, she stands with her palms flat on the woodblock surface, head bent, commanding her breath slowly back under her control.
Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. This has to STOP!
"Pull yourself together, dear."
And normally that's all it would take.
This isn't normal.
No. Not in the least.
That morning, after the Sheriff had slipped quietly from her room, she had stood blissfully bare on the soft carpet of her master-bedroom, brushing her wet hair thoughtfully, dark eyes flickering about the expanse of the greenery out front. She had watched the blonde with a small smirk as the younger woman had jogged hastily across the lawn and ducked into the yellow piece of scrap she insists on calling a car.
It had been a smirk, yes; Emma's display of stealth comical to say the least.
But it had not been a smirk of ill-intent.
Rather, one of a secret shared.
An expression of affection.
"Oh Emma..."
She sighs distractedly, rubbing at her temples restlessly; holding her injured finger primly away from her face.
"What am I supposed to do?"
The words are quiet. Calm. She just wishes she knew the answer.
"I could have killed you. What I did should have killed you. And yet..."
True love's kiss can break any curse...
"That's ridiculous!"
She laughs nervously; dark eyes brimming with hysterical tears. Shaking her head once more, she moves stiffly to put the potatoes she had been cutting up back into the fridge. Running a hand through her hair, she does something she has never done before...
...Entering her drawing room as if on autopilot, the Mayor moves to the liquor cabinet. Trembling fingers reach for the half-empty bottle of bourbon that remains from the previous evening, and a small smile touches her lips as she thinks of the time spent up in her room; perfect droplets falling unnoticed from her lashes.