The Favor: OR What's a Girl Like You Doing on a White Knight Like This?
Chapter Six
"Whoa, that is sooo cool ... like a combination roller-coaster/parachute drop," Henry enthused, whatever Snow White might have been babbling about instantly forgotten in the wake of the new experience. He peered hopefully at his brunette mother. "Can we do it again?"
"It was kinda fun this time," Emma agreed, surprised to find that the dizziness and confusion she'd suffered the first time were nowhere in evidence, but there was a clinging exhilaration that had her breathing hard and grinning in spite of herself.
Or maybe the exhilaration was just because things had gone so well, even if Snow White's final advice had been roughly a fourteen out of ten on the uncomfortable scale.
"Maybe sometime soon," Regina exhaled distractedly. Normally, she would have been pleased to see Henry excited by something so integral to her nature, but at that moment Snow White's words were still pinging around in her brain. It had all seemed to be going so well. She'd cheerfully tormented Hook, while Charming and Snow were looking nauseous, and nervous and generally scared to death. And then suddenly, it all went hideously wrong.
Instead of upset, angry, and unreasonable, they'd been sweet, supportive, even ... cheerful.
Her stomach rolled and she had a sudden vision of a chapel buried in mounds of baby's breath and lilac ribbons and Mary Margaret grinning maniacally at the center as she ordered them all into marital crash positions.
Somewhere in the back of her head a tiny voice reminded Regina that she'd been on this ride before and it didn't travel anywhere she wanted to go. After all, She really didn't want to kill Emma, and hadn't for at least several weeks now. Besides which, her Agraban viper was getting a bit tetchy. The poor thing had become quite antisocial in her later years, quickly hiding if any strangers came around and showing absolutely no interest in biting anyone, no matter how much they deserved it.
It was rather sad, really.
Emma, meanwhile, was still so excited and giddy she was bouncing on the balls of her feet. She ruffled the kid's hair and grinned. "Regina, you were great," she told the other woman, wanting her to know how grateful she was. "Hook actually left ... and stayed gone for the entire dinner. That's a first."
"Mmhm," Regina grunted as she flopped back, one arm folded over her eyes.
"I mean it," Emma insisted. "You were amazing ... and thank you ... and..." She pulled up short, finally noticing the other woman's exhausted sprawl. "Did poofing us all home take more out of you than when you poof alone?"
Regina raised her arm and glared. "I do not poof," she grumbled, finally giving way to her annoyance at such a childish way of referring to a very complex magical art.
"Oh, come on, Regina," Emma teased, waving her hands as she continued enthusiastically, "A swirl of purple smoke, then you're gone. Poof!" She grinned in the face of the grumpy look directed her way. "What else would you call it?"
Dark eyes narrowed dangerously.
Lost in her own excitement and the success of the evening, Emma didn't notice she how close to the edge of a very high cliff she was dancing.
Henry, on the other hand, seriously considered hitting the floor and throwing his arms over his head because that seemed like a logical choice in the face of his brunette mother's obvious emotional state.
"I. Do. Not. Poof," Regina repeated with added emphasis. "Transubstantiation is an art that requires years of study and effort and—"
"Poof." Emma giggled, bouncing on her toes as she gestured with both hands to emphasize her point.
"Do you have any idea what goes into learning how to do that ... the risks one has to take early on ... the sheer power required—"
"Poof," Emma repeated.
Making a soft noise in the back of her throat, Regina sat up sharply.
Henry flinched and threw his hands up, a tiny squeak escaped his lips. "Uh ... Emma ... I'm not sure..."
And then Regina did something utterly and completely unexpected, something not even her son could believe she was capable of, something that stunned him into silence.
She flopped back down, threw her arm back over her face and grumbled, "Fine, I poof."
Emma froze, staring at the other woman in shock. Had Regina Mills just ... surrendered? It abruptly occurred to her that this was not necessarily a good thing.
Henry lowered his hands slightly, still ready to duck if was a trick and things suddenly went south.
Regina held up her free hand, idly summoning a tiny swirl of purple smoke. "Poof," she mumbled and snuffed it out again.
Emma's brows shot up and she turned a firm look on Henry. "Don't you have homework, kid?" she asked, her tone firm enough to make it clear that his answer was a definite, 'Yes,' whether he did or not.
Henry tipped his head to one side as he considered the question for a long moment before deciding there wasn't going to be any bloodshed. "Yeah," he admitted truthfully. Besides, his teachers were pretty strict: no late homework except in the event of total armageddon. And he'd already used that excuse a couple of times this month.
Raising her arm, Regina directed a wry smile his way, then nodded her head toward the stairs. "Go on."
He started to turn only to pause and pivot back. "You sure?" he asked his adopted mother quietly, feeling oddly protective and like he kinda understood why the scene at the diner might get to her.
Her expression softened and she offered a surprisingly gentle expression meant to reassure. "I'm fine." At his doubtful look, she shrugged. Lying to Henry never did work very well. "Maybe a little rattled," she admitted. "But I'll be fine. I promise."
"I'll look after her," Emma quietly promised.
Turning Emma's way, he shared a look with his blonde mother, silently warning her not to screw up and begging her to help, then slipped out.
Once he was gone, Regina dropped her forearm back over her face and sprawled more heavily into the cushions. A tired sigh escaped her lips.
"Um ... Regina?" Emma questioned. Her former nemesis' behavior — hell, her posture alone — was so very un-Regina-like that it had her worried.
"I had a drink before we left," Regina murmured without acknowledging Emma's implicit question. "Is there any chance I was utterly inebriated and that entire scene with your parents was nothing but an alcohol induced hallucination?"
At least she still spoke like Regina.
"I don't think half a tumbler of scotch does that," Emma admitted.
"Damn."
A hint of a smile curving her lips, Emma sank down on the couch sideways, one leg tucked under her, arm along the back. "Y'know you should pat yourself on the back," she pointed out. "Our plan worked ... at least for the moment."
Regina dropped her arm and tipped her head up to fix a narrow-eyed gaze on Emma. "Your plan worked, dear," she disagreed acidly. "Mine? Poof." She shook her head slowly. "They were so ... happy," she moaned.
"Yeah," Emma agreed. "And when you think about it, that's actually a good thing."
"Not from my vantage point," Regina shot back. She folded her arms across her chest, expression pursing into an angry pout. "They were supposed to be broken hearted that their darling Savior was in love with me."
"Okay, so making Snow White miserable didn't happen," Emma allowed, then offered a bright, encouraging smile. "But look at the good side," she argued. "My parents ... your mortal enemies ... accepted you, accepted us—"
"Yes, Miss Swan, I noticed," Regina interrupted glumly. "Particularly when your mother started planning the wedding." Pinching the bridge of her nose in hopes of easing the headache building behind her eyes, she shook her head slowly, then abruptly sat bolt upright, eyes wide with panic. "My god, she's probably digging out the baby name books she ignored when she named Neal—"
Emma smirked. "I don't think even Mary Margaret is naive enough to think that would be an issue."
Regina speared her with a look. "What part of the concept of magic do you not comprehend?"
Emma blinked, knocked back on her heels by the serious look directed her way. "Wha'? "
"Think about it," Regina intoned seriously.
Pulled up short, Emma considered the comment, then swallowed hard. "Are you saying that ... that you and I could ... I mean ... if we..."
"Indeed."
"And that's why my mother was encouraging us to..."
"Yes."
"Oh," Well, that explained at least some of Mary Margaret's eagerness to see them happily intimate. Or maybe that was intimately happy. More grandchildren. She considered the news even as she reminded herself that this was all fake anyway. Fake dating, fake kissing, fake everything.
Regina shifted on the couch, offering a tantalizing glimpse of tantalizing curves.
Okay, so the cleavage was real, but everything else? Fake.
Really. The fact that it had felt nice and natural and devastatingly normal sitting next to Regina, their thighs pressed together, gentle fingers toying with the hair at the nape of the neck was meaningless. It was fake. And the fact that it had been better than normal when Regina stepped forward, protecting her?
Also unimportant. Fake. Fakity. Fake. Just a demented deal made between frenemies.
But the kissing her, holding some deep seeded part of her in amazingly gentle hands?
Fake?
It had to be, but there was a part of Emma that desperately wanted to ask why. Only the answer was too terrifying to contemplate, no matter what it might be.
Then Regina let out the tiniest of sighs, a welcome distraction from deep thoughts as well as possibly the saddest, most depressed sound Emma had ever heard.
And all because Snow White and Prince Charming didn't hate her for loving their daughter. Which was a truly demented reason to have one's heartstrings tugged so fiercely Emma thought as she kinda melted. "So Henry could really have a little brother or sister that was ... y'know ... yours and mine?" she asked in an attempt spread the distraction around.
One eyeroll later, Regina muttered, "Were we so inclined." She didn't add, 'Which we aren't,' but it was there in her tone alongside the royal variety of 'we'.
Faced with a pissed off, depressed former Evil Queen, Emma debated several responses in search of one that was both most likely to jar Regina out of her blue funk and least likely to get Emma immolated. It wasn't a long list, nor one with any certain options. "Well, you're carrying the kid this time," she deadpanned at last, going for the humor option. Hopefully, that wouldn't lead to the dead option.
Right on cue, Regina turned toward her, expression twisted into a mask of outrage. "Excuse me?" she ground out.
Still perfectly straight faced, Emma faced that look, oddly confident that the other woman wouldn't disembowel her. "I had the last one," she pointed out. "Logically, it should be your turn next."
Regina just stared.
"I mean, we haven't done too badly with the kid. He can be a bit of a pain now and then, but mostly he's pretty good," Emma continued talking as though they were in a serious conversation. "And of course, we're both amazing mothers."
The open mouthed stare continued as Emma babbled.
"Yeah, I think this is a good plan. You'll have the next one, then I'll get the one after that and we'll just trade back and forth." She grinned as she saw the tension finally break and Regina's shoulders sag as she realized Emma wasn't even slightly serious.
"Idiot," Regina exhaled, though there was a vaguely fond note in her tone. She sank back into the cushions, her breathing suddenly easier. She shook her head in wonderment, amazed at how Emma had managed to tease her out of the encroaching foul mood. The stress wasn't all gone, but the building tension eased enough to let her breathe again.
Emma settled a hand on the other woman's knee, the gesture meant to soothe, though if she was honest, that wasn't the effect it had on her because ... yeah, the feel of Regina's leg under her hand? Way too pleasant and way, way too inclined to make her heart do little somersaulty tricks in her chest. "We're in charge here, not Snow White," she reminded Regina even as she tried to get her pulse under control. "We don't have to do anything we don't want to." Which, a tiny voice whispered in her ear, meant they were also allowed to do anything they did want. Like, for instance, enjoy the warm contact of hand to a nicely shaped knee.
"Your mother has a way of getting what she wants," Regina whispered after a long moment. "She was the only one who wanted my last marriage," she added with a tiny, resentful growl. "Well, she and my mother. But the groom and I were both quite averse."
Emma shrugged, wanting off that topic for both their sakes. "Well, at least your mom still wouldn't approve," she drawled, though it occurred to her after the words were out of her mouth that perhaps that was no better a topic.
Feeling some of the tension slip away, Regina nodded as she envisioned her mother's horror over her being in a relationship of that sort. Or a relationship of any sort really, particularly one where they weren't simply using one another and there was a degree of actual caring. No, her mother wouldn't have approved of that at all. She smirked, strangely pleased by the idea. "No, she wouldn't." She thought about it a moment, then offered a tiny hint of a dark smile. "My being involved with you would have ruined her entire day."
She sounded decidedly pleased by the news.
Emma released a breath and felt some of the tightness in her chest ease. For a moment there, she'd been terrified of the turn in the conversation, but Regina was smiling ever so slightly. Okay, Emma could work with that. "Y'know, Snow White and Prince Charming may be thrilled, but did you see the dwarves? Completely outraged."
"Leroy in particular," Regina mused, finding something comfortably familiar in that old mutual contempt. "He still carries a grudge ... though I think it's more about my making Astrid a nun than anything to do with my war with Snow White."
"Probably," Emma snorted, then added, "but hostility is still hostility. And Leroy, he really doesn't like you." It didn't make much sense, but being hated by the dwarves seemed to please Regina. Once again, Emma could work with that.
Already cheerier, Regina considered the news for a moment. "True." A hint of a smile touched her lips. "Neither does the Blue Fairy," she added. "Did you see her in the back booth? It looked like she was sucking on a lemon."
"That's hardly a feather in your cap," Emma disdained. "That smug twit hates everyone." If she noticed the insanity of the game they were playing, she didn't let on.
After drawing a breath to argue, Regina paused and thought better of it. "You're right," she admitted, brows drawn into a befuddled frown. She folded her arms across her chest, tone disapproving. "I've never quite understood why the fairies put up with her. She's awful to them ... always has been. And frankly, her means of choosing which children's wishes she considers worthy of fulfilling is utterly mystifying."
"Then there's Tinkerbell," Emma added to the list. "She tried to kill you."
"Who hasn't?" Regina dismissed that reasoning. "Besides, we seem to be ... sort of ... friends these days," she admitted, her expression one of mild distaste. Kicking off her shoes, she turned toward Emma, folding her legs loosely in front of her as she moved. "Though after the whole Robin Hood 2.0 fiasco, I'm not sure that's a good thing."
"She pressed you pretty hard to get with him, didn't she?" Emma remembered seeing the two of them huddled together on several occasions and every time Tink had been intense and up in Regina's grill, while Regina just looked like she'd rather be somewhere else.
Slim shoulders drooped and Regina refused to meet Emma's gaze for a moment. "She said I ruined his life, you know," she exhaled, her voice smaller and softer than Emma had ever heard it. "Because I didn't run off with him that first time."
Caught by a sudden rush of outrage, Emma barely resisted the urge to snarl several choice profanities to describe the fairy's opinion. "You were locked in a tower ... suicidal and trapped in marriage to a man you didn't love..." Her hand floated back to Regina's knee and she patted lightly, the movement meant to soothe. "'Hey, a new guy will solve all your problems,' was not the answer."
Regina's answering laugh was sharp and bitter. "In the Enchanted Forest, it was."
"Then the Enchanted Forest needs to get its head out of its ass."
Dark eyes snapped wide and Regina's breath caught. "No one's ever..." she whispered almost inaudibly without finishing.
"And as for Tinkerbell," Emma continued, "can I just say, LOSER," she snarked and lifted her free hand to her forehead in the classic L sign.
Regina couldn't quite contain a tiny smile.
"Seriously," the blonde insisted. "She gives crap advice and we're all better off with her outa the fairy business." She paused for a second. "Meanwhile, what are the chances someone that unreasonable doesn't get pissed off at you again and make another try for your throat?"
"Good point. She's on."
Emma grinned. "That's the spirit."
More names got tossed out as they bantered back and forth, both enjoying the strange game and slowly relaxing more in each other's company than they ever had before. Regina summoned drinks at some point and Emma had to admit, it really was an excellent scotch, the kind meant to be sipped slowly. It warmed the throat and belly and left a body feeling mellow and like all was right with the world.
As the evening wore on, Emma readjusted herself, sinking deeper into the couch and about half the time, her hand found a surprisingly comfortable purchase on Regina's knee, mostly patting or squeezing lightly to add exclamation points to her funniest one liners, but very occasionally, stroking gently, trailing her fingers along the run of muscle in the back of Regina's calf in effort to offer the tiniest bit of sympathy when she was sure something stung even if it was usually Regina who made the offending joke.
It was silly, stupid, and entirely too much fun and Emma found herself exposed to a side of the other woman that she hadn't so much never seen before as never even guessed existed. She was smart, funny, self-deprecating, and sexy.
Okay, so she'd seen the sexy part before, but this was a different kind of sexy. Not so much the Evil-Queen, stripper-walk, melt-rocks sexy as Henry's-Mom, MILF-GILF-Great-GILF, bakes-a- mean-cookie-and-great-lasagna sexy.
Which was, Emma was rapidly concluding, a whole other universe of sexy and if she was honest, way sexier than Regina's regular brand of sexy because it made her think not just of nudity and wanton moaning, but of lazy Sunday mornings and family movie nights snuggled together on the couch, and quiet lovemaking after Henry turned in early.
And ... oh, god, those were so not the thoughts she was supposed to be having about Henry's other mother, the former freaking Evil Queen. Because this was a setup, just to get rid of Hook's pursuit. That was all it was.
Okay, so those kisses Regina had laid on her in the diner hadn't felt particularly fake, but pleasant as they'd been, they were fake, fake, fakity, fake, fake, fake
Regina shifted, and ... yeah ... there was cleavage right on cue and Emma's brain did that thing it did, only this time, right along with her brain doing that thing, her heart did its own thing. A thump and a bump and a rumble in her chest melded into a hard squeeze that made it hard to breathe.
Either that was genuine emotion or she was having a heart attack. She honestly wasn't sure which was worse.
Regina resettled herself yet again which, like clockwork, led to another glimpse of Emma's current favorite thing. It occurred to her that even with the attendant dangers in cleavage — like getting cleaved, and not in a good way either — a heart attack was never going to be any fun. Cleavage, on the other hand...
Yeah, it had definite possibilities.
All of which would have been scary as hell if didn't feel so damn good. She peered at the drink in her hand. Though maybe that wasn't such a good idea, she decided as she carefully set it aside. It made too many things seem possible, even easy.
She was yanked out of her thoughts when Regina cleared her throat pointedly. Blinking rapidly, Emma refocused on the other woman. "Sorry, I guess I fazed out for a moment," she admitted, fully expecting a mocking reply in return.
Instead, Regina just nodded. "Not surprising. It's been a long, stressful day." She thought about it for a second, then added, "Or maybe that's just me." After all, Emma was the one who'd gotten what she wanted — Hook, was, if not entirely gone, then headed in the right direction, plus the bonus of disgustingly happy parents.
"It's not just you," Emma exhaled. She ran hand through her hair. "It was..." She paused for a long moment, the meeting with her parents running through her head. "Crazy," she said at last. "But pretty amazing too." Another pause. "You were pretty amazing."
Startled to feel a blush heat her cheeks, Regina ducked her head in an effort to hide the response, but Emma tucked a finger under her chin, not letting her escape. Her heart thumped solidly in her chest and the blush only deepened as green eyes studied her closely, sliding this way and that with the impact of actual caresses.
Unexpectedly, Regina didn't mind at all. A slow smile made its way across her mouth. "Now, now, Miss Swan," she taunted gently. "No changing the subject."
Emma smirked, but didn't argue. "What if I've run out of names for your list?" she drawled. "Maybe I feel like starting a new kind of list."
"Such as?" Regina challenged.
"How about a list of the people who like you."
It was Regina's turn to smirk. "Well, that should pass a good ten or fifteen seconds," she muttered and would have turned away, but Emma's voice drew her back, not letting her flee, physically or otherwise.
"If we're counting, that's the list I'd be on," the blonde whispered.
Regina froze.
"And what's more, I think you'd be on a list of people who like me."
"I suggest you get your ego under control, Miss Swan," Regina deflected in her crispest, most mayoral tone.
Emma just laughed and leaned in closer. "You like me," she accused.
"Most people like you." Which was true. Emma might have her flaws, but she could be genuinely charming and kind, and she seemed to possess a sense of empathy that let her relate to anyone. Even an Evil Queen, Regina mused. She didn't quite know how Emma did it, but she wormed her way inside of people's emotions and made a little nest for herself in there, until a little part of them was hers forever.
"I'm not talking about most people," Emma dismissed, her entire focus on the brunette. "Just you."
"Tough ... there are a lot of people who like you," Regina assured her. She peered up at Emma seriously, well aware that she had her own issues with fear and rejection and the asinine title Rumple's curse had saddled her with. "And not just because you're the Savior ... for some, maybe even in spite of it."
"Like you?" Emma whispered, her tone making the words more of a statement than a question.
The tiniest hint of a smile curved full lips. "Perhaps," Regina allowed, her tone walking a fine line between confirming and denying the charge. She settled a hand on Emma's chest, palm spread, neither pushing, nor pulling, just resting there.
Brows drawing into a hint of a frown, Emma studied the brunette. It was tempting to run screaming in stark terror, but there was that bit of lovely alcohol in her system — just enough to let her emotions swing from insecurity to bravery in an instant when faced with the challenging look in warm brown eyes.
"Well?" Regina demanded crisply when Emma still hadn't spoken a moment later.
"I think..." Emma whispered very softly, trailing off momentarily and purposely leaning into Regina's space until their faces were a scant distance apart. "...you do like me," she exhaled, her tone somewhere between confident and questioning.
A hint of a smile touched full lips, while black pupils expanded until there was only the tiniest ring of brown left. "I'm not sure there's anything that simple between us," Regina responded.
"It's anything but simple," Emma agreed, edging a little closer, ready to pull back if she got any discouragement.
She didn't. In fact there was something that looked suspiciously like invitation in the subtle twist of full lips and the lingering softness in brown eyes
Emma grinned in response. "You like me." This time she was all confidence, even a little cocky as they slid deeper into this unexpected push-me-pull-you game. "I think you even liked kissing me in the diner," she tossed out, finally broaching that bit of supposed play acting that had felt an awful lot like the real thing.
"Don't be silly, Miss Swan. That just was part of the show."
"Maybe," Emma admitted. "But I still think you kinda liked it." Intensely aware of warmth and softness, she settled her hand on Regina's calf, smiling as taut muscle quivered in response.
Regina snorted disdainfully, but didn't actually deny the accusation, just muttered a reproving, "Miss Swan."
"Emma," Emma insisted, her voice little more than the barest of whispers.
"Emmawhat?" Regina responded seriously, though her eyes danced.
Emma pressed more firmly into Regina's space, close enough now to smell the lingering scents of soap and body oil. "Emma, my name." She offered a surprisingly gentle smile. "Use my name, Regina," she drawled, the softly spoken words a firm command.
"Miss Swan," Regina teased, a cheerful kind of defiance in her eyes. She shifted on the couch, restoring the distance between them.
"Not that one." It was Emma's turn to pull back.
Regina edged forward as if pulled by an invisible tether.
Emma didn't think the former queen was even aware she did it. That, she realized, was the secret to Regina Mills. Push too hard and she'd run like hell, but run a bit yourself and those predatory instincts would kick in and she'd be the one chasing.
Emma wondered if that sudden burst of understanding was a good thing or a bad one. A lazy smile curved her mouth as she ran an appreciative gaze over graceful curves. "Now be a good girl and say my name."
Wearing a hunter's smile, Regina purposely leaned into Emma's space, coming close enough that her warm breath played over Emma's face. "I haven't been a girl in a very long time, Miss Swan."
"Thank god for that." Emma pulled back a little more, then settled into the couch with a soft sigh, deliberately leaning back and grinning at Regina.
Speaking of defiance.
Regina's breath caught and her stomach muscles rippled with tension as she fought the urge to swoop in and take command.
Take Emma.
No, she mentally corrected herself as she recognized the mistake in that thought, not take, give. Give pleasure, protection...
Give hearth and home...
The realization shook her to the core and left her trembling. Regina braced a hand on the back of the couch, clutching tightly to steady herself. Her heart thumped solidly in her chest and every last trace of oxygen fled the room as fantasies slid through her brain, none of them dark or forbidden. Instead, every image that played in her head was of gentleness, softness, time carefully spent, and words and tones that were all tenderness and affection.
She shook a little harder.
"Regina?" Emma's voice was soft and a little worried.
It shattered one kind of paralysis, but intensified another.
Emma saw the moment Regina fled inside. Her eyes turned blank and scared and she sat back on her heels.
"Regina?" Emma repeated, her tone low and inviting in hopes of pulling the other woman back.
"I hardly think your crude game is appropriate, Miss Swan," the former queen responded frostily.
Dammit. Emma sighed softly. "Don't, Regina," she warned quietly, a wealth of meaning behind the simple words. She fully expected a fight, denial or something else thoroughly Regina-like.
Brown eyes flashed dangerously and the brunette drew breath to unleash a scathing reply.
Emma just peered at her, the look in her eyes a silent rebuke.
Slim shoulders sagged and Regina held up a hand in a halting motion, but she didn't say anything, couldn't say anything if she was honest. "I won't," she exhaled more to herself than Emma when she finally spoke. She fell silent for a long moment before beginning again. "I won't, but—"
I shot the sheriff...
"No, no, no," Emma hissed and jerked upright. "Sorry," she babbled. "But that's the emergency line." Hands shaking, she fumbled for the phone in her back pocket.
...but I did not shoot the deputy...
Regina's brows shot up, and her expression arched into a wry smirk. "Interesting ringtone," she drawled as Emma flipped the phone open and peered at the screen for a second before answering.
Emma waved sharply to silence the brunette. "Swan here," she snapped.
Regina felt her pulse kick into high gear as tension rippled across Emma's shoulders in response to whatever she was hearing.
That was never a good sign in Storybrooke.
"Slow down and tell me what happened," Emma ordered the caller.
Brows drawing into a frown, Regina leaned closer, trying to hear something of the conversation, but even her hearing wasn't that good.
"Are you serious?" Another pause. "No, I didn't mean that. I just meant ... you have to admit, it's kinda crazy sounding."
Which was par for the course in Storybrooke. Regina frowned. What the hell was going on? "What's wrong?" she mouthed, but Emma held up a hand in a halting motion, focused on the conversation.
"No, no ... just lock things up and I'll be there in a few minutes." She clicked the phone off and shoved it in her back pocket. "There's an emergency. Nobody's hurt, but it's at the diner and there are still a lot of folks in the area," she explained before Regina could ask. "I'm sorry," she whispered raggedly. "But I've gotta go."
"Of course," Regina agreed. "But perhaps—"
The kiss was sudden, abrupt, and fast. It happened without planning. One moment, Regina was saying something, the next, Emma's hand found her cheek, and the moment after that her mouth was covering the brunette's. There was precious little finesse to it. Their lips met, mouths clashing with a kind of desperate need, then she was pulling back. "We're going to talk about this later," she promised.
Regina didn't argue. Couldn't. Too many things were short-circuiting in her head. She just shook herself and tried to get her brain back into some state of functionality. Emma was on her feet and nearly to the door when she finally found her voice again. "Wait!"
Emma spun back, her tone impatient. "I have—"
"What happened?" Regina demanded in her sharpest, do-not-mess-with-me tone. That sudden kiss had been rife with a strange sense of the warrior off to battle and not expecting to come home. The hell if Emma Swan got to kiss her like that, then run and get killed without even a word of explanation.
"Something happened ... scared the hell out of everybody. I've gotta go."
"I'm coming with you." Regina didn't even have to think about it. She was off the couch, halfway across the room, and redressed in knee high boots, black tights, a sweater and black leather jacket all in one move.
Emma pulled up short and her brows shot up as she noted the stylish ensemble in spite of herself. Well, at least it wasn't the cocktail dress of doom that Regina occasionally favored. Then she froze, torn. Despite all the problems between them, she and Regina worked well together, fought well together. Having the brunette along had saved her life more than once, but suddenly all she could think about was keeping the other woman safe. "You don't need to..."
But Regina had already stepped past her and was calling up the stairs to Henry, letting him know they were going out and to call his grandparents if he needed anything.
He called back down, assuring her he'd be fine. He'd been getting more time on his own and had handled it well so far.
"Regina, I can handle this," Emma insisted.
The brunette spun back. "Monsters at the diner, Emma?" She shook her head, much more comfortable now that she had the promise of an enemy to fight. "More my specialty than yours," she pointed out. "Besides, I'm not letting you face that sort of unknown without someone to guard your back."
"I ... uh ... I," Emma stammered, simultaneously warmed and terrified by those quietly uttered words. She started to fish her keys out of her pocket, but Regina just laughed and laid a hand on her upper arm.
"We've had drinks," the former queen reminded her. "No driving."
Then the purple smoke came for both of them.
TBC