Emma Swan angrily ripped open the glass door to Granny's and barged into the quiet cafe. It was well after dinner time, and most of the locals who would be out at such an hour were already down at Storybrooke's local pub, the Rabbit Hole. Emma noticed some time ago that Friday nights at the diner were nice and quiet, and Granny always kept her bar fully stocked. So, she figured, why fight the crowds at a loud, dark bar when all she wanted to do was relax with a drink at the end of her work-week?
It had only taken two weekends before Regina stumbled in on Emma's new weekly routine, and two more Friday nights after that before the blonde invited her friend to stay. Since that point, they'd made their "date night" every week, barring some town emergency, for nearly a year. Weeks such as this, Emma was looking forward to the numbing nothing that the bottomless glass of whiskey provided and the excellent company that came along with it.
Emma felt secure with the former Queen in a way that was like coming home, and they slipped into an easy friendship. Regina was broken in a lot of the same ways Emma was herself, and the would-be-Savior could just be herself. She could panic and rant without someone's helpful suggestions, not because the Mayor didn't have answers, but Regina understood that sometimes you need to throw a temper tantrum or break an appliance or two to let go of the pressure.
Today was a tantrum day, and Emma arrived at their spot at the end of the counter earlier than what was typical. She ordered both herself and Regina two shots of Johnnie Walker Black and then proceeded to suck hers back in an attempt to tamp down the sickening feeling mixed with arousal she'd felt for the better part of an hour.
She'd made her bi-monthly visit with the town psychiatrist, Doctor Archie Hopper, and something extremely upsetting happened during what had been, up until that point, a routine appointment. They've been working on coming to terms with the fallout of the one question that had plagued her entire life — the question of why.
She finally knew why she'd been in the system. She always thought if she knew why it would alleviate the weight she carried around with her. It would stop that empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. It would set her free.
Knowing the truth did none of those things.
Instead, it left her feeling hollow and just as lost as ever before. She had her parents, but they didn't feel like parents. They felt like roommates. Opinionated roommates. Opinionated roommates who looked at her with regret of what could have been.
So she took up with the good doctor in an attempt to figure out how she can live with feelings that make her want to run and hide. During this visit, they were discussing Emma's relationship with her mother, and the cricket said a phrase that punched Emma in the gut.
"What is it that makes you want to be a good girl, Emma?" The doctor sat closer to the edge of his chair and asked with intensity, "Do you know when this yearning began?"
The term he used paired with the word yearning ignited a spark of arousal deep within her, and the fact that it was coming from the doctor was irrelevant to how those words made her feel. "What? No." Emma gulped and shifted in her seat on the brown leather couch.
"No?" The ginger man pried, "Don't you want to be a good girl?"
Emma felt the term settle low in her belly as she tried to explain the problem she was having to the doctor, "I- I'm not a girl."
"Of course not, but you don't see yourself as their little girl?"
Emma shook her head and stood up abruptly. Her discomfort was plainly seen in her wide open expression, and she stuttered, "I think that's good for this week, Doc. I… I've got date night tonight, and I don't want to be late."
"Emma, I think you should stay; we're really getting to the heart of the matter."
"I gotta go." She picked up her red leather jacket and stuffed her arms into the sleeves before rushing out of the door.
She'd left her yellow bug in the parking lot behind the cricket's office building and power walked straight to the diner. The entire walk was filled with panic-induced beratement. How could she get turned on by something like that? Something said by Archie, no less? About her biological mother? It was sick, and the idea of the entire thing made her stomach upset.
She was finishing one of the two shots she'd ordered for Regina when the woman herself entered the near-empty cafe.
"Sorry I'm late."
"I was early," the blonde hissed as the alcohol burned down her throat.
"You've started without me, Swan." The swagger of the haughty Mayor was evident when Emma attempted to grab Regina's second shot. The brunette slapped her hand away before grabbing the small glass full of amber liquid and commanded, "Order another round." She shot back her drink and added, "And you sip yours, I need to catch up." Regina flipped the empty glass over and set it down alongside the three empties that sat in front of her friend, then took off her coat and made herself comfortable alongside the Sheriff.
There was a growing calm the Mayor noticed whenever she was in the blonde's company, and she'd grown accustomed and was comforted by its presence. Emma didn't treat her like the scary Evil Queen of legend, and although they did butt heads as the Savior came to terms with the Queen's role in how her life played out, they'd settled things in ways you do when your very existence is perpetually threatened. They saved one another. This mortal danger that loomed over them caused a bond between them deeper than trust. It was a friendship that neither of them could ever imagine. This friendship provided them each with a space to be real and honest with one another, and soon they were inseparable.
It had been strictly platonic, even though the Mayor felt certain leanings from the Savior, they had always kept things easy and light. Emma Swan was her first real friendship based in reality, and she didn't want to do anything to jeopardize it. Not that she didn't think Emma would be interested, nor was she afraid of what others would think; she simply knew her penchant for self-sabotage and couldn't imagine losing Emma after everything they'd been through.
It was better this way.
Emma leaned back so she could look into the small order window for the tall, scantily dressed waitress. With patience running thin, she got up and went behind the counter to grab the black and gold-labeled bottle and set it down between her and her friend before retaking her seat. She upturned two of the four empty glasses, and Regina was already pouring the thick liquid into her closest glass.
"Bad day with the bug?" Regina asked knowingly.
Emma noncommittally humphed as she held up her glass and waited for Regina to clink hers to the bottom.
After downing her fourth shot, the blonde hissed as the alcohol heated her belly, burning the confusing feelings away.
Regina snatched Emma's empty and filled it and her own before downing one right after the other. She slid the empty glass back toward the blonde and said, "Alright, I'm caught up. What happened?"
Emma let out a breath as she considered how she could even begin telling the other woman what her problem was and settled on, "It's embarrassing and sexual and a little gross."
"On a scale of one to five, how gross is it?"
Emma asked to clarify, "Five is…?"
"Five is catching Charming afternoon delight."
Emma scrunched up her face at the memory that still haunted her and said, "It's Cora banging Gold level gross."
"Woo, so off the charts. Alright, lay it on me, Swan."
"I'm afraid if I tell you, it'll change how you look at me," Emma said cautiously.
"Emma, it's me. There is nothing you can say to make me change my view of you."
Emma poured herself another drink and took a small sip as the words the doctor spoke that evening hung in her head and caused a flutter in her chest. "It was an innocent thing Archie said that, kind of, sort of, maybe, possibly-"
"Spit it out."
"...Turned me on."
Surprise was all the brunette could feel, and it was painted across her dark features when she exclaimed, "The bug turned you on, sexually?"
"Not him, just the words he said, and it was confusing and gross, so I just left."
"What did he say?"
"That's the part you want to know?"
Regina poured herself another drink and replied, "That isn't all I want to know, but that's a great place to start."
Emma could feel her embarrassment crawl up her cheeks as she mulled over how honest she wanted to be with the brunette. Perhaps if she hadn't had five shots in the last half-hour, she would have been able to hold back parts of her disturbing story, but she had, and it was far too late for her to sensor herself. "We were talking about Snow and my relationship, and he framed a question as if I were a little girl, and I got turned on, and how screwed up is that?"
"What was the question, Emma?"
"He asked me if I wanted to be a… uh… good girl," Emma said and covered her hands over her eyes before adding, "It's so gross to be turned on by his words, Regina. I'm never going to be able to look him in the eye again!"
"Do you?"
Emma snapped to attention and demanded, "Do I what?"
"Do you want to be a good girl?"
"Please…" Emma begged through her embarrassment. "Please don't say that out loud."
The former Queen looked over the Savior before she asked, "Does it turn you on when I say it?"
Emma hung her head and nodded as she felt the pang of desire rip through her.
"Well, the fact that it's the words themselves and not the cricket speaking them reduces the grossness factor of this incident by ten."
"It's still a weird thing to get turned on by!"
"Miss Swan, weird does not equate gross, and the state of weirdness is entirely relative."
"Weird equates gross in this scenario, Regina! He said it in relation to my mother! The grossness factor is way off the charts on this one!"
"When I asked you if you wanted to be a good girl, did you think I was, in any way, referring to Snow?"
Emma groaned and reached for the bottle, only to be stopped with a crisp, "Nuh-uh. Answer me first, Miss Swan."
"No," Emma spat with a scowl.
"No? No what, dear?"
"No, I didn't think you were talking about Snow," Emma mockingly answered.
"But yet you still became aroused by that phrase, did you not?"
Emma nodded her head as she pointed toward the boxy bottle seeking permission from the older woman. Regina picked up the bottle Emma was fingering and refilled both their glasses, then asked, "Whose good girl did you believe I was referring?"
Emma shrugged her shoulders before picking up her shot glass and sipping back more of the warmth to numb the confusing feelings she felt inside.
"Did you assume I was asking after my good girl?"
Emma swallowed back her drink and felt the numbness spread up her body as she groaned when she said, "You really need to stop saying that, Regina."
"Is it repulsive to you to think about being my good girl, Miss Swan?"
Emma clenched her jaw as the desire broke through the alcohol barrier, and she hissed, "I wouldn't use the word repulsive."
Regina pushed her glass toward the Savior, having had all the alcohol she could handle for the moment, and asked, "What word would you use?"
Emma picked up the offered glass and sipped the liquid courage before answering, "I would use the word arousing."
Emboldened by the Savior's apparent honesty, Regina leaned in and asked, "Would you like to be my good girl, Emma?"
Emma set down her half-empty glass and turned to look at the smirking brunette. "Are you seriously giving me shit about this?"
Regina shook her head, and before she could answer, Emma went back to her drink and mumbled, "Forget it."
"I am in no way teasing you, Miss Swan."
Emma scoffed and said, "Yeah, sure."
Regina turned on the stool and faced the younger woman. She could feel her heart pounding, coursing her alcohol-infused- blood throughout her system, which clouded her thoughts and dulled her actions. The Savior was clearly upset over her little discovery, and it was evident that the blonde didn't comprehend what it was that stirred those feelings.
Regina learned long ago about Emma's desire to be praised, and at the beginning of their relationship, she may have used it as a manipulation tactic. However, as their friendship grew, giving the blonde her much needed validation gave Regina something in return. It was an intimacy with the Savior she's never had with anyone, friend or lover. It was simply this unspoken thing that they did, and judging by the blonde's reaction to that praise phrase the doctor used, Emma was still clueless about their underlying interactions.
"Emma," the Queen started, a low rumble in her voice. "I'm not making fun of you. I am asking if you would like a safe space to explore this newly discovered kink."
A worried scowl faced her before Emma asked, "You think this is a kink?"
"It could be," Regina shrugged off the blonde's worry and added, "It would explain your strong reaction."
Emma picked up the shot glass and upended its contents before asking, "And you want to what, exactly?"
Regina, noting the Savior's walls were high and thick, answered carefully, "I don't know." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and pushed all of the selfish scenarios she wanted with the Savior out of her mind before answering, "But you're safe with me."
Emma flipped over the empty glass and lined it up with the others before boldly turning towards the brunette and asked, "Are you offering to have sex with me, Madam Mayor?"
"I am not opposed to sex, Sheriff Swan."
Emma peered through suspicious slits and asked, "Have you ever had sex with a girl?"
"I've had lovers of all genders; however, what I'm offering you is intimacy. Have you ever had intimacy before?"
Emma contemplated what the Mayor was suggesting and didn't entirely understand what it was she was offering but also felt that bubbling need grow within her. "I don't think I have, no."
Regina saw the blonde's armor start to melt away, and she softened her features before tucking a stray strand behind the Savior's ear and said, "I would be honored if you would be my good girl, Miss Swan."
The amount of alcohol in her system caused Emma to lose control of her emotions, and she broke down. She didn't understand where the upset was coming from, but it wasn't a sad feeling she felt. It was happiness. Joy. A sense of belonging and it overwhelmed her.
Regina instinctively wrapped her arms around the crying Savior and pulled her into a comforting embrace. After a moment of being acutely aware that they were in a public space, Regina said in a low, soothing voice, "I'm going to use magic to take us to the manor. Is that alright, darling?"
After a tight, silent nod from the Savior, the pair were enveloped in the Queen's signature cloud of smoke and were gone. The only trace that remained was a mostly empty bottle of whiskey and a crisp fifty-dollar bill left on the countertop for their tab.