A/N: It'll be a bit before the next update. Getting my wisdom teeth out tomorrow ('cause the Army apparently thinks Saturday is the perfect day for dental torture) so I'll be grumpy and unmotivated for a while. Thanks for all the lovely reviews, you wonderful things you. It is much appreciated. On another note, it's entirely possible that my muse is just trying to tell me it really wants ice cream. It seems to keep appearing.
Emma Swan was everywhere. Where before she had been late to all their meetings (Although it was possible that was due to simple ineptness rather than spite) and ducked and dodged Regina at every turn, now she was early. She came with a swagger and that horrid leather jacket, more often than not bearing coffee and pastries from Granny's (Which remained pointedly ignored) and a newfound sunny disposition that was downright infuriating. She refused to be baited into arguments in spite of Regina's increasingly more desperate and creative attempts to do so. It was insulting, frankly; The Mayor was certain she had been in rare form. Her jibes were a thing of poetic beauty.
No, Emma Swan would grit her teeth and clench her fists until her knuckles turned white but refused to fall into their by now familiar verbal dance. She even had the gall to smile, that quirky, dimple filled, sweet-enough-to-cause-cavities expression that she shared with Henry and, the real rub, Snow (And it was a curious thing, trying to deal with someone who was at once so like the little boy Regina adored and the woman she hated. She went through bouts of wanting to throttle Emma where she stood and and disconcerting fits of longing to pull her close and never let go.).
This might have been ignored, shrugged off as the woman finally finding respect and a sense of work ethic, maybe, until she started showing up early to retrieve Henry for school, seemingly for the sole purpose of annoying the Mayor over her morning coffee.
The first time she had slammed the door in the Sheriff's beaming face. It was surely illegal to be so chipper at such an hour, and if not she would find away to make it so. Then Henry had opened the door to see his savior sitting on the stoop like some sort of dejected puppy, thus ensuring that every morning when she knocked he was there to let her in (And as it turned out, they were the both of them annoying morning people whose good moods only fed off one another. She likened their conjoining to a fairy with a sugar rush; They only lacked the wings.).
She talked about everything and nothing and it was irritating and also, somehow, a relief. Regina hadn't had anything like intelligent conversation in over twenty-eight years, not since Maleficent if she was being perfectly honest. The people she had found to be idiotic in their own world hadn't improved when they'd had their identities stripped from them and there was only so much mental stimulation to be had from bonding over comic books with Henry, back when he'd been so inclined.
That was a whole other conundrum, Henry. He'd been more open with her of late than he'd been in what felt like a lifetime. When it was just them he was still distant, though in a curious way, as though she were a puzzle that had been placed before him that he was desperate to solve (Plotting the "Evil Queen"'s death for all she knew, but at least he was no longer so cold). He didn't return her affection but he didn't shrug away from it either. When Emma was around he was so happy, so bright, she could almost pretend her little family had gone back to normal. Well, insomuch as one's life could be normal, when you were living it in a world that wasn't your own.
It was painful, deep and twisting, but in the same breath those moments, when her son would forget himself and smile at her like he had once done when she was still his whole world, were the last balm available to the blackened chasm in her chest.
So she tolerated Emma Swan's vendetta of kindness, though it was irksome. Until she hit on her next big idea, there wasn't much else for it.
When Saturday rolled around and the Sheriff turned up on her door with a grin and an obscenely large tub of icecream, however, Regina felt her patience sorely tried.
"Miss Swan... What the hell is that?"
"A little birdie told me the reason you didn't like it was because you've never actually tried it." Emma waggled the tub's handle so it swayed in a manner she probably thought was enticing. "So, I come with temptation. And movies. Henry said you were both partial to superheros."
Little traitor. He wasn't wrong; Twenty-Eight plus years later and she still couldn't get her mother's voice out of her head long enough to enjoy the simpler pleasures this world had to offer. She was just surprised he'd noticed.
"You and Henry are free to enjoy your time as you will. But you will keep that," Regina gestured with a sneer, "Away from me."
"Emma!" Henry came bounding down the stairs and Emma invited herself the rest of the way in, muddy boots and all, to meet the little boy's exuberant hug.
Regina slammed the door behind her with a flourish and a scowl. "Make yourself at home." She muttered darkly before retreating to the kitchen where she had every intention of making her own healthier snack and then spending the rest of the day in her study with a stack of paperwork and a strong drink. There wasn't much trouble the pair of them could get into if they spent their afternoon sprawled in front of the television. She could hide, guilt and worry free. It was easier, to be close but separate, than it was to try and mesh with their rhythm.
Of course Emma didn't take the hint; she pushed her movie rentals off on Henry so the boy could settle in and get started and then followed, still toting her giant bucket of sugary poison. "Don't think you're escaping so easily, Madame Mayor."
Regina watched askance as the blond deposited the tub on the kitchen island and rummaged in the silverware drawer, looking for all the world like this was something comfortable, something she had done every day and not a breach into the personal environment of someone who hated her.
"Just a bite. I guarantee it'll change your life." She pried the lid off and dug in with one of the spoons she'd produced from her rummaging, swirling it around in the slightly melted treat. "Pleeeease?"
Regina scowled, hands on her hips. There were times when she felt as though she'd inadvertently adopted another child. "IF I do- Will you leave me be so I can actually get some work done?"
Emma lifted one hand in a two fingered salute, the other offering up the spoon that was dangerously close to dripping chocolate all over Regina's pristine tile flooring. "Scout's honor."
Regina didn't take the spoon, instead leaning forward to accept the offered bite while the utensil still rested in the blond's grip, and her eyelids fluttered shut with her surprise. It was exquisite, the cold and the sweet of it, the silky texture, and suddenly she couldn't remember why she had been denying herself in the first place. When she opened her eyes again she was even more surprised to note just how closely Emma was watching her, eyes burning and lingering as her lips relinquished the spoon.
Was that it then? Was this niceness some fumbling form of seduction? That, at least, was a game Regina was familiar with. A game she had written the rules to, no less.
She gently pried the spoon from Emma's fingers, pressing forward until the Sheriff was trapped between her body and the island. Emma clearly wasn't expecting that and she remained rigid as Regina latched on like a vampire and nibbled her way down the smooth muscles of her neck. When the Mayor's hands settled on her belt and began to pull at the supple leather she finally reacted, her knees seeming to turn to mush as she sagged and grabbed at the older woman's shoulders for stability. Those grasping fingers suddenly dug in, pushing Regina back forcefully. The whole world narrowed down to fierce green eyes and shuddery, panting breaths.
"Stop. Stop."
"I thought this was what you wanted, dear. To get me to open up." She bared her teeth in a feral grin, straining forward against the blonde's hold. She felt dangerous; the air between them was alive with energy. She wasn't sure if it was hate or rage or lust or some weird mash up of all three but it was the closest thing to magic she'd felt in years and it made her skin burn with the intensity of it.
"What? No! Well, yeah but-Not like this!" This time Emma actually shoved her backwards, just hard enough to generate sobering, much needed space. "Jesus, Regina. Is that really what you thought?"
Regina still looked like a wild cat ready to pounce but the sultry look fell away, leaving behind a puzzled frown. "Well, yes."
"Jesus." Emma's hands were on her hips, leaning forward, and she felt like she'd just run a marathon. It took a supreme effort of will not to just rush forward into Regina's arms and take what she was offering. It was what she would have done before, before Storybrooke and Henry and this new awakened longing to have roots beneath her feet. Fuck and run and never look back. "Okay, look. Someday, maybe, we're going to have this conversation. But we're not there yet. We do this, it's not just about us. It's about the kid and, fuck, the whole damned town because come Monday morning we've gotta find some way to look each other in the eye and work together. And even if we didn't have all of that, in spite of what you seem to think you're worth more than a quickie against the kitchen counter."
With the kid only a few rooms away no less. Jesus.
"We do this, I want more. I want all of you. You're not ready, I get that. Maybe we start by being friends and see where we end up."
Regina had her arms wrapped about herself in a defensive posture that was fast becoming familiar and she looked so small (And it was strange, to think of her as such, because the woman had enough presence to fill an entire room) that Emma wanted to pull her close in comfort, but she didn't quite trust her hormones enough to try breaching the gap between them just yet.
"Friends."
"Yeah."
"You're really... denying me?"
"Yeah."
"Oh. I've never been anyone's friend before."
"Well, now you are." Emma reached behind her for the ice cream tub and the spoon and some sense of normalcy. "So, we're going to take this. And we're going to go watch the Fantastic Four with our son and pig out irresponsibly."
"MY son."
"Our son."
"Fine. Okay."
And Henry, skulking in the hallway and on the verge of running for fear of eavesdropping on something gross, did a little fist pump of victory. Maybe they would work it out all on their own.
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When Mary Margaret got home, and had Emma been in a clearer frame of mind she might have teased and asked what had the school teacher out so late, it was to find Emma elbow deep in the mess of parts and wires that had once been their microwave. The blond looked up guiltily as her roommate set her purse on the counter, smiling around the screw she held between her teeth.
"Oh Emma. What happened?"
"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to, it just- I'll get a new one, I promise." Emma sank back in her chair, tangling her hands in her messy curls with frustration.
The sight was adorable and Mary just shook her head, already reaching for the cocoa mugs. "What did Regina do this time?"
Emma watched her friend putter around their tiny kitchen, collecting the chocolate and the pot for boiling, feeling her gratitude deep down in her bones, in that aching place that still longed for family.
The problem was, she thought while she considered how to answer, not really what Regina had done so much as what Emma herself hadn't done.
It was all Henry's fault really, instilling her with his fantasy of her being a hero, a white knight. She'd had the perfect opportunity to bleed out all her frustration in what probably would have been the world's greatest hate sex and instead... Instead she was sitting here, agonizing over whether or not she had meant what she said, if she really wanted the possibility of something resembling a relationship with the person who had been the closest thing she'd ever had to a genuine enemy.
"I think I'm in trouble."