A/N: Thank you so much for your feedback on the last chapter. The response to this story means the world to me.
BREAK
I wake up alone. For a moment I think it's morning, but a glance at the radio clock tells me it's just before 4am. The bed's not cold, but I didn't notice Regina leaving so she must have been gone a little while already. Reluctantly, I get up too. She's not in the bathroom. I have the horrible thought that she heard something about Henry - that she heard something about Henry and didn't wake me up - but the thought is fleeting. I know her better than that.
I listen to the dark, biting my lip. I tiptoe out of the room - something about the nighttime silence makes me want to be silent too. At the top of the stairs, I can see the kitchen light is on. I chase down the light like a moth, my heart fluttering like battered wings. I pause in the doorway, still listening, not sure if I should knock. I can hear her moving, but then I also hear-
I push open the door.
"Regina?"
She's crying. Not princess crying, but real, human, animal crying, huge sobs ripping through her body as she scrubs non existent burnt milk off the hob with a scouring pad. She's wearing an apron over her pyjamas and her hair is tied up in a messy ponytail. She isn't wearing gloves, though, and her hands are red and raw from the bleach in the cleaner.
She doesn't answer me. She stops scrubbing, leaning both arms against the oven to support herself. Her whole body is shaking. I go to the sink and turn on the faucet, then carefully guide her hands under it. I don't hold her, I just touch, letting her move and control herself.
She gasps as the cold water runs over her hands. I leave her for a moment to wipe down the hob. It's so clean it sparkles. Then I hop up to sit on the draining board, flashing her a small smile. She's still shaky, but her hands are okay. She dries them on her apron and I pat the counter beside me. She's gathered herself enough to raise a scornful eyebrow before she sighs and hoists herself up to sit beside me. I put an arm around her and she nestles into my side.
"Couldn't sleep, huh?"
"I'm so sorry. I'm supposed to be helping you."
I hold her closer. "How about we just help each other?"
She lets out a long breath. "I… I'm not sure I know how to be helped."
I kiss the top of her head. It feels incredibly natural. "Just do what feels good," I say.
She curls even closer into me. "This feels good," she sighs. "I didn't mean to wake you. I was just going to clean the kitchen. Tidy house, tidy mind, that kind of thing. Then I was going to come back to bed."
"What's messy in your mind?" I ask. I'm not clever at this the way she is. I ask everything, I always blurt things out. But in a way this gives us a kind of balance.
"Not this. Not you. Not Henry."
I smile down at her. "So everything else, then?"
She chuckles weakly. "Something like that. How do you do it, Emma?"
I carefully tug her hair out of the elastic and run my fingers through it in the way I know I find soothing.
"Do what?"
"Destroy everything."
I flop back against the wall, my arms dropping from around her. She leans over me, though, and catches my eye.
"It's not a bad thing, Emma. It's… I built this perfect… This perfect castle around myself. A stronghold, a fortress around my heart. The only love, the only feeling I had left was for Henry, and even then, it was protected, controlled. I always had to be strong. And then you waltzed into my classroom five months ago and… Something snapped inside me. At first it was just attraction, chemistry, excitement. But even those, I hadn't felt in years. And now, now it's like… All those walls, towers, defences I've spent so long perfecting… You break them down like they're nothing. You march right through them. Whenever I'm with you I'm completely exposed. In all my life I've never felt so naked. I've never felt so… So entirely out of control."
I sit up a little, the honesty in her eyes, the wild feeling, buzzing through me, settling in my abdomen.
"I'm so afraid," she whispers.
And I realise that, for the first time in my life, I'm not.
"I'll protect you," I say, the strange promise coming out of my mouth before I can stop it. "I'll be your…" I look for a word, thinking about fortresses. "I'll be your champion."
She laughs. "My white knight?" she teases.
I slip off the counter, dropping to one knee and bowing my head beneath her.
"At your service, Your Majesty."
She slides off the counter too and guides me to my feet. I look down at her tearstained face, her shiny eyes, her wide, hopeful smile. My heart swells with pride to be the cause of that smile.
BREAK
Work drags along, but even as my arms ache and my eyes sting with tiredness, I think of Regina, I think of Henry, and I think of the whole day off I have tomorrow. The day that Henry will be home. Home. I realise, slightly nervously, that I'm beginning to think of it as my home too. Henry will be home, Regina will be home, I am spending the day with them, and Henry and I are going to wash Regina's car.
She's very amused that I'm serious.
It takes significant restraint not to go straight to the hospital after work, but sanity prevails. Just. I go back to dorms and pack a bag. It's pointless to pretend I'll be coming back tonight. Or all weekend. I've even swapped shifts so I get Sunday off too. There's a cynical part of me that scorns my excitement at a weekend of playing happy families, but for once I just brush those thoughts away. I'm not playing. It's not pretend. Regina and Henry are the most genuine, the most real friends I've ever had, and this weekend, I'm not letting anything, especially not my own fear, ruin it.
M's in our room. For once, though, she doesn't look like she's about to stage an intervention.
"You going somewhere for the weekend?" she asks. I can tell she's doing her best to be genuinely friendly and interested.
"Yeah, I'm gonna…" I sigh. I don't want to lie to her. "I'm spending it with Regina."
She raises her eyebrows (in a very dull, unattractive way) but manages to hold back anything judgemental she might be tempted to say.
"Well… Have fun." It only sounds a little forced.
"She's so good for me, M," I say gently. M smiles a little more realistically this time.
"I think… I think you're right. But she's still a teacher."
"Not my teacher," I point out. "And anyway, you know me. I've never been good at rules."
"True. But… Look, I'm happy for you. I really am. But be careful."
I try not to be annoyed. I know she's looking out for me, she's been my friend for two years, and while we don't always see eye to eye, she's… She's a good person.
"Thanks. I will," I say. I give her a cheeky grin.
"What have you got planned for the weekend?"
"Date night with David," she says happily.
I wink at her. "Well, you be careful too."
She actually laughs. But I'm kind of glad I don't have parents to convince. If it's this hard persuading my friends Regina is a good thing, I shudder to think what justifying her to protective parents would be like.
I finish packing my backpack, running through a checklist in my head. I even have my own sleepwear. I wonder about getting a gift for Henry, but in the end I decide not to. I know Regina doesn't like to spoil him, and I'm planning for us to have so much fun, material things that I can't really afford are kind of unnecessary. It's still tempting, though. I wonder how Regina manages it. I'd want to shower any child with presents, and Henry is possibly the cutest child to ever exist.
I send her a text telling her I'm on my way. To my surprise, she calls immediately.
"Did you leave yet?" she asks, sounding breathless, not even saying hello.
"Just walking to the bus stop. Why?" I ask.
I hear her make a sound that's a mix between a chuckle and a sigh of relief.
"I had to pick something up from my office. I'm like, a minute away from you. Don't get on a bus."
"Uhm, okay," I say. As I hang up, I worry that I didn't sound grateful enough that she's giving me a lift. In truth, I'm just… In shock. In shock that I'm important enough to someone that they treasure even an extra twenty minutes with me.
It's a very pleasant kind of shock. I wonder how long it will last. I know, somewhere, that this kind of thing… It happens. People care about each other, they make each other hot chocolate, they give each other lifts, they dance in the rain, they even help each other through panic attacks. But I feel like there has to be a catch… For the second time that afternoon, I push away my doubts.
And when I hear the roar of a car pulling up behind me, those doubts all but evaporate. It's a clear, sunny day and Regina has the top down. She's wearing big, black sunglasses and a smile to rival mine.
"Hello," she says. I had no idea the word could be so delightfully meaningful. Or so sexy.
"Hi," I reply, jumping into the passenger seat over the door the way they do in the movies. My backpack makes it slightly less graceful than I intended, but Regina's amused, and that's the main thing.
She has some powerful French music playing on the radio. She hums along with it. She's driving without shoes again. Her hair's down and loose and slightly damp. She smells like summer and apple wine.
"What does it mean?" I ask softly when the song ends.
She glances at me, still smiling. "What do you think it means?"
I make a face. "I don't speak French."
She chuckles. "So what? It's music. What does it make you feel?"
"Like I'm in love," I breathe without thinking.
She doesn't chuckle at this. "Me too," she says. She scrolls through her phone, which she's using to play music, and puts on another song. It's much sadder, by the same singer.
"And this one?" she asks.
"Like I'm so in love my heart is breaking," I whisper.
"She's saying, don't leave me," Regina translates. Then she smiles again. "Henry heard it once, several months ago. He got me to translate and now, whenever I put him to bed and he doesn't want me to go, he says Ne me quitte pas. It… The first time, I very nearly cried. And then I just said it right back to him. But the thing is, he never will."
I look at her, waiting for the explanation. She touches the left side of her chest with the hand that's not on the wheel.
"He's here," she explains. "He can never leave me, here."
Now I am crying, not with sadness or fear, but just with… Almost happiness. The strength of the bond between Regina and her son is so strong, so powerful… It could overcome everything. It's horrific to think of, but it could even overcome death.
BREAK
Henry is ecstatic to see us. He's already seen Regina, they had lunch together. He's off the drugs now and he even managed to keep most of the meal down. This requires a double fist bump, which he enjoys immensely.
"What time are you coming tomorrow?" he asks. Regina tilts her head to one side.
"Eleven?" she suggests.
"Eleven? That's so late, Momma! You gotta come earlier than that."
"Oh, I 'gotta', do I?"
"Yeah, you do!"
I chuckle at their teasing.
"What time would suit you, my love?"
Henry considers this. "Five," he says firmly.
Regina raises her eyebrows. "You won't be awake."
"I will!"
"Well, I don't plan on being awake."
"But I gotta be home for breakfast."
She grins and bops his nose. "How about seven thirty?"
He frowns. "Six."
"Seven."
"Six forty-five."
"Seven."
"Fine. But there have to be pancakes."
"And bacon," I chip in.
Regina looks over at me, giving me a death glare. Henry giggles.
"Please can we have bacon, Momma?" he asks sweetly.
"At least one of you is polite," Regina says pointedly.
"Hey, I'm way more polite than he is," I say, sticking my tongue out at Henry.
"Clearly." Regina pretends not to be amused. We both see through it; Henry blows a raspberry at her.
We stay all through dinner, then read stories until bedtime. Henry, to my embarrassment, demands my "surviving song". With actions. Actions that incorporate Regina. The nurses look like they want to murder us. The other kids are laughing even harder than Henry.
"I'm not sure you've quite grasped the concept of a lullaby, Emma," Regina cackles once we're in the car.
"Excuse me for giving the poor sick kids a bit of fun," I say. Then I laugh even more. "I know the next one, too."
She looks at me, still laughing. I move my body, getting the beat, then,
"Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin' alive, stayin' alive."
Kissing in her car is turning into a fairly regular habit.
BREAK
Pizza. Disco music from before I was born. A movie even cheesier than our dinner. And no crying, no panic attacks, no scourer abuse.
I lean back on the couch, rubbing my stomach.
"God, Regina, I feel so good."
I spent the better part of the movie staring at her rather than the TV, and she definitely knows it. She's looking at me with dark, hungry eyes. My well-fed exhaustion disappears; I kneel up on the couch, looking down at her with a predatory smirk. She giggles.
"What? I'm trying to be sexy, not funny," I complain.
She reaches up and wipes a blob of tomato sauce off my chin, then licks her finger.
"As you were," she grins. I pout. She raises her face invitingly.
I lean in closer. "May I?" I breathe.
"Please," she replies.
Kissing on her couch is getting pretty regular too.
We fall into a rhythm that's quickly becoming familiar, lips and teeth and tongue trying to tell each other everything we haven't managed to say, and to affirm everything we have said. She tastes like the day, like pizza and soda and sunshine. Her hand's in my hair and it's soft and secure, keeping me with her but always asking, never forcing. Slowly, I straddle her on the couch, keeping a few inches between our bodies, letting her close the gap. She does so, gently, always giving me time to move wherever I want to be.
Her other hand rests at the small of my back. My top is short; it doesn't meet my shorts and her fingers easily find my bare skin. She massages it gently, gradually increasing pressure, tightening her hold but only in time with my hold on her.
My hands are almost desperate, caressing every inch of her I can reach, her jaw, her hair, her arms… I tug suggestively at her shirt. She smiles into my mouth then takes her hands off me. I let out a quiet moan of disappointment, but she winks at me and takes off her shirt. I take advantage of the space to remove mine too. She runs her hand down my neck to my shoulder, then traces along my collarbone until she's back in the middle. I take her hand and hold it over my breast.
She pulls me back into her, kissing me deeply. I hum with pleasure as I touch the exposed skin of her back, feeling her muscles ripple as she moves with me. I roll my hips unintentionally; I feel hers pushing up into me. She kisses along the path her hand took earlier; I lean back, breathing heavily as she finds more feeling in me than I even knew I had. Heat is pooling between my legs; I can feel my excitement coiling tighter and tighter in my abdomen. She reaches the valley of my breasts, then gently, carefully, stops.
"Come back," I complain, sounding embarrassingly childish. She chuckles ruefully.
"I would love to, Emma, but I fear I will soon find it very… uncomfortable, if I have to stop."
I think for a long moment. Then I look her right in the eye.
"If you want to keep going, I want that too."
Her dark eyes penetrate my light ones. "Are you sure?" she asks.
I think about everything that's happened in the last few days, everything we've done, everything we've become to each other. There are things I'm not ready to admit, not even to myself, but I know them all the same. And I know, for sure, that I am ready for this.
"I'm sure. Are you, I mean, this isn't just about what I want…" I stumble a little. She smiles.
"Oh, Emma," she breathes. And then she stands, lifting me with her as best she can.
"I could probably manage a fireman's lift, but maybe you'd rather walk?"
I giggle, picturing her lifting me like that.
"One day, you're gonna have to demonstrate, but yeah, walking's good."
She looks back at the pizza box and empty glasses on the coffee table.
"You want to get those first, don't you?" I ask. She blushes.
"It's silly."
"So what?"
I pick up the glasses, making sure to give her a show as I bend down. She grabs the box and our napkins and we hurry to the kitchen. She's even more beautiful in this light, like, photoshoot beautiful. Her bra is dark blue and lacy; her pants are floaty black capris, and I think I'm addicted to just watching her, watching her do things. I rinse the glasses and put them in the dishwasher, then look around. She sees, obviously.
"Food? Drink? Other?"
I grin. "Inspiration. But water, please?"
She's standing by the refrigerator; she takes out a bottle and throws it to me. I catch it, open it, and drink some, in what I like to think of as one fluid movement. Then I hold it back to her.
"Want some?"
She moves around the island to meet me, then to my delight, hops up on the counter, swinging her legs. I especially like watching her stomach muscles when she jumps. She takes a drink, looking blissful. I almost wish I had a camera.
"That's you," I say suddenly.
She blinks. "How do you mean?"
"Like… Right now, sitting there, in the light, your expression, the way you're dressed, the way you're smiling, the look in your eyes… That's you. Your essence, you know?"
And then I realise I actually don't want a camera. Some things aren't meant to be captured, not even on film. This glimpse of her, it's magical. I'm honoured to see it.
"I love it when you look at me like that," she says, putting down the water bottle.
I don't need to ask, "Like what?" I already know.
She scoots off the counter and offers me the water one last time before closing it and putting it away.
BREAK
The weird thing is, we've done this before. The clothes are in the hamper, the house is clean and tidy, and now we're standing in her bedroom, a room that's quickly becoming our bedroom, three feet apart, staring at each other like we could drink each other in like this all night.
We probably could.
I take a step forward. She takes a step forward. I don't even register how we cover the final step; our mouths collide and we pick up right where we left off on the couch only far more frenzied. I unfasten my shorts; she slips off her pants and I shimmy the tight denim down my legs.
Her underwear matches. Obviously. Mine does not. She grins at my Wonderwoman thong, hooking her thumb under the strap at the side.
"Fun," she laughs, guiding me to the edge of the bed as she presses kisses down my stomach.
"Tip of the iceberg," I manage, gasping a little as her teeth briefly graze my hip bone.
She moves up again, leaning over me on the bed. Her hair's messy, a little curly, framing her flawless jawline. I reach up, brushing her breasts, but moving on upward until my fingers touch her mouth. I run my index finger along her top lip. She has a scar. Somehow, it makes her even more beautiful. Imperfections are what make people perfect. She bites her lip, closing her eyes, then I move my hand back to her torso and sit up a little until I can reach her mouth with mine.
I kiss her, slowly, feeling her response. Her need is deepening, as is mine, and her hands leave my body as she undoes her bra. She helps me out of mine too and then she's kissing me everywhere, playing with my breasts with her soft mouth and tongue, rolling my nipples first with her mouth and then with her fingers as her mouth moves lower.
I lose all control of my body and mouth, releasing intermittent groans and curses as she brings every cell alive with passion and desire. I have this swelling feeling of belonging, of comfort, of safety in her hands. I'm proud of my body. For once, it just feels like part of me. And when Regina touches me, it feels like… it feels like she's touching me.
We're so close, binding ourselves ever closer as we touch. I can't reach much of her now; my hands tangle in her hair and I try not to pull it as she tugs my underwear out of the way. She kisses my thighs, so close, I can feel her breath on my sex. her hands all over me, her tongue-
I cry out so loud when she first touches me there, she actually pauses for a moment.
"Don't stop," I beg hurriedly. I think I feel her smile as she presses a soft kiss to my sex.
"You're so wet," she murmurs. Her voice makes me vibrate with pleasure.
She takes more of me into her mouth, sucking the liquid into her mouth as I writhe in ecstasy beneath her.
She guides me higher and higher, exploring me in a way no one ever has. I don't quite know what I say, but I'm pretty sure some of it has her almost laughing. When I explode around her, I probably wake half the neighbourhood before I turn to jelly in her arms.
She climbs back up the bed, holding me, stroking my hair, until I recover enough to kiss her senseless in reciprocation.
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I lose count, but we don't stop until we're so tired we can hardly keep our eyes open, and even then, it's as if our need to be close will never be sated. We lie pressed together, naked beneath the sheets, whispering, kissing, cuddling, until sleep forcibly claims us.
BREAK
A/N: The car wash was supposed to be in this chapter too, but it's already so long! You'll just have to wait. Please review, it means so much when you do.