Chapter Text
****
Emma Swan isn't one to idly sit around. Except for the last year-and-a-half she's spent sitting around, nursing a slowly-burgeoning attraction for one insanely irritating, infuriatingly gorgeous mayor. She supposes it would be easy to develop an attraction to someone that looks like Regina. All dark hair and dark eyes and full lips and a voice like molten chocolate... yeah. No advanced degrees required to figure out the attraction there.
But this level of attraction? This pathetic all-consuming ache in her chest whenever she's next to Regina? That's what she can't figure out.
She thinks the attraction changed somewhere around the breaking of the curse. When she and Regina were forced to work together to save their son. This weird bond just sort of came up out of nowhere. Especially when Regina proved herself to be trustworthy, and Gold, well... didn't. When Emma pushed herself up out of that elevator shaft to find Regina bound and gagged... her stomach lurched. The contact was easy as she grasped Regina's arm and untied her, trying to be as gentle but as quick as possible when she ripped the tape off her mouth.
Emma pauses the train of thought there, shifting at her desk and taking another sip of her coffee. Contact has always been easy between she and Regina, come to think of it. Whether they're wanting to kill each other or trying to help each other. Proximity and physical contact is never difficult.
When Henry was trapped in the mine, it was easy to rush up to Regina and just clasp her arm. It garnered a not-so-great reaction, sure, but it was easy. Then when she got Henry out of the mine and she rushed over to see him? Regina was already doting on him, and Emma found herself so happy at the sight of Regina's smile that she couldn't help the smile spreading on her own face. So she'd reached out to Henry at the same time she reached out to touch Regina. Just a simple hand resting in the middle of her back.
That hadn't ended so well, either. Neither had the time she pulled her out of the fire. Every time, Regina had rebuffed her. They were adversaries, then. Emma thinks that's what sparked the urge to touch. Regina was always so closed off, so put together, that at the slightest hint of her mask slipping, Emma wanted to reach out and touch her. It had always been so very pathetic.
She remembers once, she and Regina awkwardly standing outside the school, each of them awaiting Henry's dismissal but neither knowing the other would be there. There had been a few snide remarks from Regina and a roll of the eyes or two from Emma, and then
Regina bowed out. It had been so unlike her.
Emma remembers the way she had made some comment about how Henry would prefer to see his 'real mother' instead. She remembers the way she ducked her head and the way her hair fell into her eyes. The mask slipped. And she remembers needing to fight so hard not to reach out and brush away those pieces of hair obstructing Regina's gaze.
Unbelievably pathetic.
Now, if possible, it's even more-so. They're no longer adversaries. She's not sure they can be called friends, but they're not actively trying to destroy each other anymore. Emma's been trying to reach out to Regina, trying to get her to see that she has people rooting for her as she tries to turn herself around.
And Regina no longer rejects physical contact. It's... nice. In a really lame way. She doesn't reciprocate the contact, but she doesn't respond with venom either. It's progress.
But the attraction. That damned attraction, that was there from the beginning, is not going away. And with this new... kinship, bond, whatever it is... it's only making the attraction worse. She finds herself anxiously awaiting the next time she and Regina will cross paths. She thinks of ways to get her out of her shell, to perhaps coax a smile from the brunette -- a genuine full-tilt Regina smile. She's seen them directed at Henry, and they're a force to be reckoned with. Stupidly, she wonders if she'll ever see one meant just for her.
"Ugh," she huffs, disgusted with herself as she drops her head into her hands. Then, she scrubs them over her face -- as if that will make this ridiculous lovelorn crap go away -- and she stares at her computer monitor.
She wonders idly if she has a death wish as she pops a blank CD into the open disc drive. She listens to the whirring of her machine and her stomach churns, thinking of all the ways this next little 'advancement' she has planned will backfire right in her face.
"Screw it," Emma huffs, grabbing the CD from the drive when the disc has finished burning. She's sick of this. Sick of thinking about Regina, sick of thinking up ways to run into her, sick of the tightness in her chest when she's nearby or the urge to reach out and touch her. She's sick of all of it.
And sure, they've made quite a bit of progress already... progress that she could very well destroy with this next move. But she's past the point of caring. She's sick of walking on eggshells around the woman, sick of wanting to kiss her every time she purses her stupid full lips, she's just sick of it. Something has to give.
*****
She rolls to a stop in front of 108 Mifflin Street and she leans across the passenger seat, trying to peer into the house. She doesn't see any movement, any sign that Regina's even around, and feels a little hopeful. She jumps out of the car and strides up the walkway. Maybe she can just drop the CD off at the door and leave it at that.
Then she stops on the front stoop. If Regina's not home, should she leave a note? Oh crap, what the hell would she even write?
Hey, these songs make me think of you.
Nope.
You should listen to these, because they remind me of how I feel about you. Sorta. Or, well... most of the lyrics do, anyway.
Again, no. Dammit. Why didn't she think of these things before she made the stupid CD?
She stands there fighting with herself for so long, she doesn't hear the footsteps inside the house, nearing the front door. Nor does she notice the front door opening until Regina's leaning out, staring at her quizzically.
"Emma! What are you doing here?"
She startles, her heart lurching at the sound of her first name. Dammit, that's another thing that annoys her about this stupid attraction. She'd gotten so used to hearing Regina refer to her as 'Miss Swan' or 'Sheriff' that hearing her first name actually gives her chills a little bit.
This is so pathetic and stupid. She should just leave.
"I, I uh..." Also, she never thought of what she would say when she dropped this thing off. God dammit.
A bemused expression takes over Regina's face. Her lips quirk - almost smirking, but not quite, and she leans against the doorway. "Are you alright, Sheriff?"
There we go. A little return to familiarity is all it takes to get Emma's breath back in her body. "Sorry. Yeah, I'm fine, I just..." She shoves the CD at her. "I wanted to drop this off."
"Oh." Regina looks down at the disc, turning the jewel case over in her hand. "Is this something of Henry's?"
"No. Um... I made it." She shifts on her feet uncomfortably and wonders how she could be any more awkward. "It's a CD."
Yep, there it is.
Regina nods, giving her a look. "Yes, I can see that." Lifting her head, she quirks an eyebrow and asks the inevitable. "What is this for?"
"It's for you." This is going well, she berates herself.
Regina just keeps staring at her. It's unnerving.
"It's music. I-I... made a mix CD... for you."
If possible, that arched brow crawls even higher. "You made me a mix CD?"
Emma sighs, hanging her head. "Y'know what?" She looks up and makes a face, sweeping her arms like a baseball umpire indicating 'safe.' "Just... forget I was here. This was so, so stupid. I should go."
She shoves her hands in her pockets and turns to go, side-eyeing Regina who's now staring in confusion at the disc in her hand.
She takes five steps from the house before she hears the heels of Regina's boots clicking after her. "Wait - Emma!"
Drawing in a breath and screwing her courage, she turns around again and plasters on an uncomfortable smile. It actually feels more like a grimace, but she hopes it passes for a smile. "Yeah?"
"Uh... thank you. For this." She holds up the CD. "I-I... don't know what else to say."
Emma nods and swallows. She knows the feeling. "Just... give it a listen whenever you feel like it. Or don't, doesn't matter. Up to you." Shaking her head at herself, she decides to turn tail then and make a beeline for her car before she can screw up any further.
The last thing she sees before she climbs in is Regina, running her fingers over the clear jewel case with a confused smirk.
TBC