Chapter Text
They have been out together, having dinner. Nothing else really. And that’s why Regina is so surprised when Emma offers to walk her home – she’s not even drunk, 2 glasses of red, tops – and even follows her as she walks through the door to her mansion.
“You’re staying?”
There’s hope attached to the words, as they tumble out of Regina’s mouth.
Emma shrugs then, smiling like she always does when she’s not quite sure of herself. She shifts from one foot to the other.
“I was thinking maybe we could have a few more drinks, maybe listen to some songs? Henry set up Spotify on your laptop last week.”
Emma nods towards the computer on her desk in the study. Ah, yes, Regina remembers their son mentioning it, promising it would open your eyes mom, seriously, there are other things to listen to besides the Boss. He had finished his statement with a smirk. So very Emma-like, when poking fun at her.
“Of course. Let me grab glasses and… wine?”
“Whiskey, if you have some.”
“Of course.”
Regina gives a quick smile and nods, making her way to the kitchen, while Emma slips into the study, red leather jacket being shrugged off her shoulders only to be tossed over the back of the couch.
Once Regina returns with a glass of red and a tumbler filled with her best whiskey (that really, she bought specifically for Emma, but those are things never to be discussed) she is met by the sight of Emma seated on the floor, back against the couch, laptop settled on her crossed legs.
She reaches for the tumbler, eyes leaving the screen for just a second.
“Thank you.”
She takes a quick sip and grins as the alcohol goes down.
“So you need to listen to this song.”
Regina places herself on the couch, a safe arm’s length away from the blonde who is, to say the least, very excited about sharing her latest music discoveries. This could be good, she thinks. This could be fun.
This could be the beginning of a disaster.
4 glasses of wine and probably an equal amount of whiskey-filled tumblers later Emma, who is still sitting on the floor, eyes closed and fingers tapping against her thighs rhythmically, lets her head fall back onto the soft cushion of the couch. She turns and looks at Regina through hooded eyes.
“Come here.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said” Emma shifts her entire body so she’s almost facing Regina where she’s sitting, legs tucked underneath her own body “come here.”
She’s pulling at Regina’s legs now, gently, playfully.
And maybe it’s because Regina is definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol now, or maybe it’s because she’s sure Emma is and perhaps won’t remember much of this tomorrow, but she allows herself to be guided down until she finds herself laying on her back on her expensive rug, staring at a crack in her ceiling that has never been quite as fascinating as it is right now.
“Okay, so…” Emma begins, her words amber colored as they’re passing over whiskey-stained lips, placing her legs on either side of Regina, her hands carefully lifting the older woman’s head to let her dark hair spread itself across the soft rug and the inside of Emma’s thighs. “I want you to close your eyes and listen to this song. I mean really listen.”
She reaches over and Regina can hear the click of the mouse before the speakers are filled with the sound of Ben Howards’ Keep Your Head Up.
“This makes me think of road trips I’ve taken.”
Emma decides to not elaborate further at this time, closing her eyes and letting her warm fingers, skin rougher than Regina’s, get entangled in her dark hair, drawing small circles on her scalp.
It feels good. And too intimate.
Suddenly Regina is hyper-aware of her own body and every single movement, however small, feels too calculated. So different from Emma’s, whose upper body is swaying gently back and forth to the melody. Sweet, sweet Emma who is somehow giving of herself so freely now, requesting nothing in return.
Somewhere in the back of her mind Regina knows she shouldn’t allow for this to continue, but her body, every nerve ending, is responding. Wants to curl up into Emma’s embrace and bury her face in the crook of her neck.
She knows Emma’s scent now. They’ve hugged before and God, Regina’s eyes close as she takes a deep breath at the memory of it.
When she opens them again she finds Emma leaning over her, smiling the kind of lazy smile you do when your world is slowing down and everything is good and you’re content and there is a lightness to your being.
Regina wants that feeling too. Wants Emma to bring her to that space in her own mind, and not to over-think the position of her hands as they sneak up under and around Emma’s strong thighs until they’re finally resting on top of the dark denim.
She drums with her fingers a little to the beat providing, she thinks, the necessary excuse as to why she needed to place her hands there in the first place. In case Emma was wondering. Thought it strange.
She is still just smiling down at her and Regina is beginning to feel herself being pulled across that elusive line you aren’t supposed to cross when you are friends and you share a son and your whole perfect fragile world could fall to pieces at one wrong turn.
Emma sighs and leans further down, her blonde hair cascading down around Regina’s face, tickling the bare skin on her neck. Their noses touch and Emma, Emma, Emma silly carefree contented Emma places a kiss on the side of Regina’s soft lips as she hums along to the chorus.
Regina’s breath hitches and her eyes seek out the faint constellations of freckles on pale skin, as if though she’d be able to find answers to what should follow there.
Emma just grins and bumps her nose against Regina’s once more while letting her hands cup the older woman’s face.
“Your skin is ridiculously soft” she whispers and Regina can’t breathe. Can’t formulate an answer to that, that doesn’t sound outrageously stupid in her head. So she decides to be brave instead, braver than she has been for a very long time, and let her own fingertips graze over Emma’s cheeks. They stay like that for a while, silently exploring with feather light touches.
“Sorry. Is this weird? Like overly intimate?” Emma asks suddenly, laughing.
Regina freezes.
“No, I- Why would you ask that?”
She’s trying hard to seem unaffected. Like her entire body didn’t just shut down on her and now she doesn’t know how she’ll be able to move away from this; to escape this perfect storm that’s brewing.
“I just…” Emma laughs again, giggles really “I- I’m sorry, I must be invading your personal space right now, I get clingy when I’ve had a bit to drink.”
Well, that answers that.
“Don’t worry about it” Regina replies as she pulls herself up off the floor.
For a second Emma looks so genuinely perplexed at the sudden turn of events that Regina has to hold back a sob.
“Wait, where are you going?”
“I just need to use the bathroom. Excuse me.”
Regina straightens her dress as she exits the study and when she finds herself staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror she’s suddenly furious, absolutely furious with herself for thinking that this was anything other than Emma being intoxicated and a particularly touchy-feely drunk.
Her fingers graze the corner of her mouth that Emma kissed.
This is stupid and it will end right here. She will march out there, call a cab and send Emma home to sleep it off. And then - she can feel the resolve grow stronger - then she won’t speak of this ever again.
And she absolutely won’t dream of blonde hair and freckles that form constellations and whiskey-stained lips.
She absolutely won’t.