OUAT fic: Not A Fairy Tale Romance (Regina/Emma) Part 6

[seriousfic]

Title: Not A Fairy Tale Romance
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4,083
Characters/Pairings: Regina/Emma, Graham/Kathryn
Notes: This fic is an AU as of 1x07 - The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter
Previous: Part 5
Summary: Regina learns Emma's most secret fantasy.

What the hell was she doing? Kathryn asked herself that and a few related questions—“What the fuck am I doing? What in God’s name am I doing? What the hell?”—as she walked away from their home. Hers and David’s. So not their home at all, really.

They’d talked. She’d talked, he’d just sat there. Shocked by the entire notion? Or already thinking of Mary Margaret? In an aching, freeing way, it didn’t matter. Kathryn had said her piece and if nothing else, she had walked away with her pride. There’d be no affair under her nose. There wouldn’t be lies and yelling and lawyers, like her parents had had. For her, things would end with a whimper.

She’d asked him if he would want to see other people. She’d explained why she herself thought it was a good idea. She’d told him that they’d both been through a lot and before they got sucked into their marriage (those were her words, ‘sucked in’), they should explore all their options.

And he’d nodded. And said “This happens to every couple.” And pointed out that this wasn’t anyone’s fault (bad things were always someone’s fault). And that the important thing was that they were being honest with each other.

But mostly he’d nodded.

And now he was out and the house was so empty and she felt like she’d escaped moments before suffocating. She was barely dressed—her jacket more of an ensemble piece than a protection against the night air, and it was chilly that night, a cold front heavier than Kathryn had ever seen. But there was just a block to go and she couldn’t turn back. She could give up on her husband, but not this.

The moment she saw the house, a dog started barking. It figured a cop would have a good alarm system. She braved the increasingly feral noise to ring the doorbell. Of course, Graham was already at the door. She wondered if he’d already had the gunbelt on or if it was just for the mystery guess.

“Kathryn. Hi.” It took him a moment to stop looking into her eyes. Then he noticed her skirt and the blue tint her bare legs had picked up. “God, Kathryn! You’re catching your death out there!”

“Can I--?”

“Come in, come in.” He ushered her in and slammed the door behind her, cutting off the night air. Instantly, Kathryn felt her inner thermometer go up five degrees. “What’s happened? Did your car break down?”

“No. Nothing. Nothing like that—“

Graham didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes signaled his understanding. David. “Well. I suppose that settles it. I’ll be building a fire tonight.”

***

Graham already had his firewood cut, the ax stuck in a stump in the backyard (Kathryn’s mental image was straight off a Harlequin cover). He trekked outside to fetch a few logs and came in blowing in his hands. “Zooks. Temperature’s plummeting. Come morning, I think I’ll send the department on some courtesy calls, make sure no one’s freezing.”

“Good idea,” Kathryn said, trying to repress a giggle while he was talking about little old ladies freezing to death. “Zooks? Is that what they say in Ireland?”

He looked guilty for a moment, like he was hiding something. Maybe he was with the IRA. “Just a bit of slang…”

“What? Is it something you’re not supposed to say in the presence of a lady?”

“No, I’m… I’m good about controlling myself in a lady’s presence.”

She sneezed before she could torture him more. Graham nearly dropped the stack in his rush to get it into the fireplace.

“There’s some tea in the kitchen,” he said, his back to her. “I know it’s not coffee, but it’s hot.”

She came back with two cups. One for him and one for her. He took the cup she offered and the warmth of the one in her hand dug into her fingers. They drank. He stayed crouched down in front of the fireplace, looking up at her. It reminded her of how David had proposed. No, he hadn’t gotten down on one knee, he’d put an engagement ring in her champagne glass. This went back further. To how she’d imagined a proposal would be as a little girl believing in fairy tales.

He stood, towering over her again. “What are you doing here, Kathryn?” Maybe it was meant to come out gruff, but it didn’t. It tickled her ear, as soft as a feather.

“I took your advice. About David.”

“Goddamn,” he said, looking at the fire.

She drank her tea, hoping for whatever reason that he would follow suit. But Graham was a statue.

“He’s with Mary Margaret now. He’s going to stay with her.” Even as she said it, she knew it was true.

He looked at her again. “I’m sorry.”

“And I’m not. All I feel is happy for him. I think I was ready for this. All the while he was in his coma, I was ready for this. I just needed it to… get here.”

“That’s good.” He nodded. “Did you come here—is that why you came here? So I could tell you it’s good that you’re not hurting?”

She didn’t say anything. She had really done it. She had come into his house and presented herself to him and there were no feelings of betrayal, no doubt, no regrets. It’d been so long since she could say that. She luxuriated in the feel of it.

“I should get the fire going,” he said. There were matches on the coffee table, part of the bric-a-brac that had accumulated there. He grabbed them, wadded up some junk mail, and plugged the gaps in the wood. He felt Kathryn’s shadow on him as he knelt under the mantel, facing away from her. He lit the match and didn’t touch it to the wood. He didn’t want to eclipse the spark of warmth as her fingers brushed the back of his neck.

“I’m not here to show David that I still deserve to be loved. I’m showing myself.”

She crouched down beside him. He was motionless again. Spellbound.

“The only thing that feels right is helping you. That’s the only thing that feels at all. But I don’t know if I love you. The last woman I loved broke my heart.”

The match burned down, singed his finger. He tossed it into the fireplace even as Kathryn put his scorched fingers in her mouth. The pain was gone instantly. Replaced.

“Let’s start with sex,” she said, “and work our way up.”

***

Mary Margaret’s apartment boasted a fireplace that could roast a wild boar. The heat spread out through the living room like the smell of a fresh-cooked meal, and the light made Emma look like she’d spent a month in Bermuda, working on her tan. Despite the cold she’d set the fire against, her uniform was open to the tanktop. She liked the way Regina kept trying not to look at the girls.

“This is your fantasy?” Regina asked, temporarily successful.

“You’re scandalized now, Bettie Page?” Regina’s eyes flashed incomprehension. “She did bondage photos.”

“Of course you’d know that.” Regina looked at the TV, where the DVD menu had looped. ‘The Sweetest Thing.’ “I tell you I want to have kinky sex and you tell me you want to watch a rom-com?”

“Relationships don’t work if all you do is have sex. Trust me, I tried that in college.” Emma flapped open her jacket a little further. “We can cuddle.”

Regina crossed her legs like she did everything else, exquisitely. “Emma, why is your deepest fantasy for me to watch a romantic comedy with you?”

“I don’t know.” Emma got up. The popcorn in Mary Margaret’s popper was done (Mary Margaret had no love for microwave popcorn) and the cocoa on the stove was bubbling. “For the last month, Mary Margaret has treated me to every Audrey Hepburn movie in existence. It’s nice, but I’d like to try watching a romance with someone who can hold my hand. Besides, this is an R, and I can’t watch the raunchy ones with Mary Margaret. It’d be like swearing in front of a puppy.”

“You don’t swear in front of puppies?” Emma gave Regina her hot chocolate. The surface was thick with marshmallows. “I didn’t ask for marshmallows.”

“You date me, you get marshmallows. Deal.” Emma sat down, slanted into Regina’s lap.

“I might’ve asked for a blonde.”

“Deal,” Emma replied happily.

***

An hour in, they’d finished the popcorn, the cocoa had gotten cold, and Regina had stopped wondering whether Cameron Diaz would find true love. She rested her hand on Emma’s leg, easily within reach by the way Emma was leaning on her shoulder. Emma purred slightly.

It still amazed Regina sometimes. They’d been dating for about a week and Emma had already managed to get her to confess to some very private feelings. And here they were, and she could touch Emma without getting slapped or yelled. Emma just accepted it. She liked it.

Emma didn’t seem to notice as Regina moved her fingers up Emma’s thigh, just nuzzling her head under Regina’s arm. When Regina scratched her fingernail over the leather of Emma’s belt, she smiled a little. “What?”

“Hmm?”

“Your hand,” Emma said, not getting up, and not doing anything about Regina’s hand but looking at it as it squeezed her waist. “Seems to be migrating.”

“It’s cold,” Regina purred. “I need to put it someplace warm.”

Emma shut her eyes as the hand slid under her waistband. “I’m trying to watch the movie.”

“Pause it,” Regina whispered, her voice getting lower with every word.

“You promised a nice romantic evening.”

“Fingering can be romantic.” Regina wasn’t sure what she was saying. She was breaking every rule she’d set for herself. It wasn’t that she couldn’t control herself around Emma. It was that she didn’t want to.

“I am not giving you a reach-around,” Emma replied. “Or whatever the lesbian version of that is.”

“That’s alright,” Regina assured her. “I just want my hand nice and toasty…”

“Don’t ever call my crotch toasty again,” Emma sighed, lowering her head to the armrest. It actually did feel pretty great… Then she felt cold fingers inside her shirt, caressing her breasts. “Regina…”

“I have two hands, Emma. You knew that when we started this.”

Emma tried to concentrate on lovelorn Cameron Diaz. “You should’ve told me you were an insatiable pervert before we sat down. I could’ve put on Emmanuelle.”

“What’s Emmanuelle?”

“God, really?” Emma closed her eyes to think up an explanation, but that just left her with nothing but Regina between her thighs and around her nipple, playing her like Guitar Hero. “It’s, like, the first softcore porn series. Lots of naked people, but there’s also… shit… a plot and… you know, no one chokes anyone.”

“They do that in—“

“Hardcore porn. And you do not want to know how I know that. Sometimes being a bounty hunter isn’t as glamorous as Dog makes it look…”

“Emma.” Regina said her name like she was warning someone about a poisonous snake. “Turn the TV off. Your romantic comedy has worked, I want to have sex with you. We don’t need it anymore.”

Emma pressed pause. “You have to---finish watching it with me after.”

She was rolling over, giving her front to Regina, allowing the other woman to mount her. Regina pressed butterfly kisses to her exposed throat, licking the sweat she’d started.

“Mmm,” Regina said. “After.”

Emma turned the TV off. Mary Margaret would give her hell if there were plasma burn-in. “And you have to get up and go to the kitchens for snacks, while I get to lounge around all naked on this couch.”

“Yes, dear.”

“And you have to tell me I’m pretty.”

Regina shot up briefly to kiss Emma’s lips. “You’re beautiful.” She returned to the lower reaches of Emma’s throat, kissing the line of her collarbone. “Enchanting.” She moved lower. “Sexy.” And lower. “Exotic.” And lower. “Tasty…”

“So you won’t slap me if I say I’m going to ride you like a stallion? It must be love.”

Emma’s head shot up. That hadn’t sounded like Regina. Way too husky. And Regina was staring up at her, thinking the same thing.

A key turned in the lock.

Emma jerked up, knocking Regina off her, onto the coffee table, scattering a bowl of unpopped popcorn kernels across the floor. As David and Mary Margaret came through the door, Mary on David’s back like a monkey (“I’ll ride you!”), Regina was on all fours sweeping the kernels under the rug with her hands while Emma was doing up her buttons in completely the wrong order.

“Mary Margaret!” Emma cried in surprise, folding her hands in front of her crotch just in case Regina had left any… evidence.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret cried, getting off of David’s broad shoulders.

“We were just—“

“We?”

Regina stood up, looking impeccable. Not a hair out of place. “Emma and I were… discussing Henry’s educational future. I favor Dartsmouth.”

“Isn’t he ten?” Mary Margaret asked.

Regina shrugged.

“Mary broke a toe,” David said too quickly. “I was giving her a ride—giving her a lift to her bed. So she can lie down.”

Mary Margaret quickly leaned against the wall. “I’m going to see a doctor in the morning.”

Regina calmly took Emma’s arm. “Well, I’m sure Emma would love to help you in bed, but she’s promised to come home and help me. We’re installing a new computer for Henry. Isn’t that right Emma?”

“Yes. That is completely right.”

“So, David.” Regina smiled. “I suppose you’ll just have to stay and help Mary Margaret yourself. You can make her feel better, can’t you?”

“I’ll be sure to try.”

Mary Margaret’s foot wasn’t too injured to kick him a little.

***

“Grace under pressure,” Emma observed when they were safely outside. “No wonder they elected you mayor.”

“It’s not so hard. You just have to remain calm and deal with each problem as it arises.”

“I’m sure I couldn’t do that. Especially if my panties were in her washing machine.”

Regina looked back. Looked to Emma. “You’re going to retrieve them for me.”

“You’re going to finish watching The Sweetest Thing with me.”

***

Emma gave Regina a ride back home, since she’d already given Regina a ride everywhere else, and was a bit surprised that Regina spent the trip with her hands folded neatly in her lap, occasionally checking her iPhone.

“No roadhead?” she asked.

“What’s—“

“Seriously?” Emma interrupted. “Where were you raised, a convent?”

“Oh. It’s something naughty.”

“It’s when the passenger has oral sex with the person driving the car,” Emma explained, a little exasperated.

“Emma, I would never impede your ability to drive safely. We did just get that sign fixed, after all.”

When Emma looked over at Regina, she was grinning. Emma matched it. “Hey, that last one was on you.”

Regina changed the subject. “So. David and Mary Margaret.”

“Yeah, they make a cute couple.” Emma looked over again and noticed Regina’s jaw was set in displeasure, a look that until recently she’d usually reserved for Emma. “Oh. Sorry about your friend.”

“Kathryn’s a big girl. She can handle it.”

“Yeah. And hey, maybe this’ll make Henry finally stop going on about fairy tales.”

Regina looked sharply at Emma, barely managing to stop herself from snapping “Explain!”

Emma snickered at her seriousness. “It’s just he had this idea that Mary Margaret was Snow White and David was Prince Charming, and if they kissed, the curse would be broken. I think it’s safe to say they’ve kissed at this point.”

“Yes. Very safe…” Regina looked out the window. Watched her town passing by. Emma was no threat, the spell hadn’t been lifted—who cared if Mary Margaret got her happy ending? She’d still be branded as a man-stealer. Regina could help that along. That was revenge enough. “So if we date at my place, Henry will wonder why you’re here, while if we date at your place, we might overhear… riding lessons.”

“Know any sleazy motels, Madame Mayor?” Emma asked with a grin.

“You could move in,” Regina said, staring straight ahead at the road as it was blasted by the headlights. “With me.” And here it was, the part where she got rejected, dismissed, humiliated. But she’d do it on her terms, not like with Graham. She’d go down swinging. And maybe, just maybe—“Our workplaces are a block away from each other, so we can carpool, and obviously you could spend more time with Henry—besides, I have plenty of room, and sometimes I really could use some help around the house…”

They came to a stop sign. Emma shoved the car into park and reached over to cup Regina’s chin, turning her so their eyes were forced to meet. Regina was like a statue except for the one tear winding down her cheek.

“Did you just ask me to move in with you?”

Regina nodded.

Emma leaned in and kissed her. Emma had kissed her several times that night, but those were meant to share passion. This was something else, slow and lovely, like an embrace only strikingly more potent. It reminded Regina of the first time, when she’d been feeling nothing but loneliness and suddenly Emma made her feel together.

Emma pulled away, nodding.

Regina rolled her lips and felt smudged lipstick. “I’m just being reasonable.”

“You’re cute when you’re reasonable.”

***

When they reached the manor, Emma entered it for the first time as more than a guest. The décor wasn’t as chilly as it had seemed at first—a few houseplants would set it right off. Regina played the peppy tour guide as best she could—“This is my bedroom. You’re welcome to share it, but it’s fine if you want your own. We could convert a guest bedroom.”

“That’s great, because I was thinking we could sleep in one bedroom and turn the other into a sex dungeon.”

Regina looked back to see if she was joking. Emma smiled at her.

“What makes you think I don’t already have one?”

In the bedroom—which had the personality of a Sharper Image catalog and a bed the size of a continent—Emma sat down on the mattress while Regina disappeared into the walk-in closet. Emma got it. Someone as tightly-wound as Regina needed some space after putting herself out there like that. Emma tested out the bedsprings; very firm, but quiet. And the sheets were satin. She could get used to that.

“Do you sleep in the nude?” Regina asked from beyond the closet door, with a ruffle of cloth indicating she was changing.

“You really can’t wait to find out?” Emma called back.

“I was just thinking about Henry.” Regina stepped out of the closet, glossy white negligee now covering her like a layer of frost. The smooth skin Emma could just make out underneath it and the slender fingers she could see very clearly as they knitted together the belt, on the other hand, gave Emma a feverish rush. “Pajamas would be fine, of course—or, if you like, I can give you the number of my tailor. You’d be surprised the difference some good sleepwear makes.”

“So that’s how you sleep at night,” Emma replied. She crooked her finger, beckoning Regina to come closer. “Have you ever tried sleeping ‘in the nude’?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. What if there were a fire?” Regina crossed her arms, but obediently stepped forward.

“I’ll put it out with the fire extinguisher. And don’t tell me you don’t have a fire extinguisher.”

“Hall closet, next to the first aid kit. I’ll show you in the morning.”

“Mmm.” Emma patted her knee. “Sit.”

Regina took Emma’s meaning instantly, gripping the upper panel of the four-corner bed and lowering herself onto Emma’s thigh. The movement pressed her breasts flush against the negligee. Emma could get used to waking up to that.

“Any other requests?” Regina asked. “Now that I’m sitting?”

Two minutes later, Emma’s uniform was in a state that would’ve worked better at a bachelor party than a police station, while Regina’s negligee had avoided tears only through profoundly good durability. With a sudden sigh, Regina pulled herself away from Emma’s questing lips and squinted at her charging iPhone on the bedstand, trying to read the clock.

“What time is it?” she asked, as if Emma had been checking her watch.

“Sex o’clock,” Emma retorted, burying her face in Regina’s neck.

Regina angled her knee to shove Emma away. “Seriously?”

“It worked on me once.” Regina’s stare didn’t lessen. “I was in high school. And he played football.”

Regina gave up on her paramour’s good taste, a compromise she had resolved to get used to, and grabbed the iPhone for a closer look. 11:10 PM. “Shit.”

“What is it, babe?” Emma asked, sneaking one last kiss before settling around Regina comfortingly.

“The Bannings will be back home from their date. I was going to call at eleven to see how the boys were doing at their slumber party.”

“So? How much trouble can Henry get--” Emma recalled having her birthday party crashed. In Boston. “Oh. Right.”

“One minute,” Regina promised, tugging her robe into modesty with one hand while pressing Emma down to the mattress with the other. “I will be right back. Keep your pants off.”

“Good line. Way better than sex o’clock.”

Being in Regina's bedroom, Emma felt delayed-onset modesty. She pulled her clothes into a bit more of a state. It just meant Regina could undress her all over again. Or not, as Regina rumbled back into the bedroom, throwing open the dresser to pull out jeans and a T-shirt. Emma didn't even know she owned those.

"They're not picking up," Regina said. "And I can't reach Graham to do a drive-by, so we're going. And don't tell me I'm being unreasonable, because—"

"Hey, it's okay. I'll drive." Emma pulled on her shoes. "I'm sure he's fine."

***

In the car, Emma put the siren on, broke the speed limit, and squeezed Regina's thigh on long stretches of straight road. Anything to comfort her. The Banning house was just across town, but it felt like a hundred miles. When they got there, Regina shoved the door open and almost tripped on her seatbelt getting out. She stopped on the sidewalk, staring at the house, overcome with awful visions.

The door was shut, but the lock had been broken.

"Wait here," Emma said, drawing her gun and holding it low. "Do not move from this spot," she repeated emphatically.

"I've got it!" Regina replied. "Just go!"

She locked her arms across her chest as Emma hustled to the door and slipped inside. "Police officer! I'm coming in, hands where I can see them!" No answer. Then Regina couldn't see her anymore.

Regina would not put up with this. Even if it was just teenage vandals, she would hold their parents accountable. She would boil them in oil or put their heads on pikes or… or… make them feel this way, whatever mixture of poisons it took, she'd make them feel like their heart was being held over an open flame.

"Please," she said, wishing there was someone listening, God or a fairy or her father. "Please, please, please, let me keep him."

The radio in the car crackled to life. Emma's voice. "This is Swan, I need medical assistance to 305 Lakecross Terrace, and find Graham, get him here now—"

Regina broke into a run, ditching her heels in the damp grass as she sprinted across the yard and to the front door where Emma was coming out, gun holstered, catching her in her arms, holding her back.

"Let go of me!" Regina hissed, hating her more than she ever had before.

"He's not in there!" Emma insisted. "The Bannings are tied up, the dad was knocked around a little, but they're okay—"

"Where's Henry?"

Emma still held Regina, but all the fight had gone out of her. It had turned into an embrace, Regina sinking to the ground and Emma falling with her, onto her knees, cradling Regina as she shriveled up.

"We're going to get him back," Emma promised. "We're going to find him and get him back, I swear it."