Chapter Text
A loud clanging coming from somewhere in her house woke Regina with a start. Bleary-eyed she focused on gathering flames in her palm, pulling on her housecoat as she stepped quietly into her hallway.
“Shit. Fuck. Jesus. Who the hell still has one of these?”
“Who’s there?” Regina called, trying to force her shaky voice into an icily even tone.
“R’gina?”
“Yes, that’s whose house you’ve made the mistake of breaking into—“
She rounded the corner, the flames in her hand reflected in her eyes.
“… Miss… Swan.”
The blonde looked up slowly, grinning sheepishly in response. She’d somehow managed to get her jacket caught on a coatrack, knocked a book off a table and knocked over Regina’s bucket umbrella stand.
“What, pray tell, are you doing in my home at,” she checked her watch. “Good god, it’s three in the morning?!”
“I was just gunna crash in the spare room,” Emma slurred, leaning on the doorway. Her hand slipped and she flopped to the floor, taking the coatrack with her. Regina winced as the smell of cheap whiskey wafted over her face, stinging her nostrils.
This is not how I intended to spend my night, Regina thought, sighing as she pushed her hair behind her ear, collecting what little composure this late hour allowed her.
“Emma, I gave you a spare key in case Henry needed something. That wasn’t an invitation for you to just barge in here, drunk off your ass to spend the night in my home...”
Emma nodded, looking somewhat sober before dissolving into a fit of giggles. Attempting to get up, she fell yet again, her knees giving out. She sighed, hugging the coatrack, swaying drunkenly back and forth.
Regina shook her head.
Apparently under the heavy influence of alcohol, Emma Swan turned into a ten year old.
“Emma, go home.”
“D’ya really want me drivin’ like this, R’gina?”
… Point taken.
“Fine. But I’m waking you up early tomorrow morning and you will return home then.”
“Thanks, ‘Gina.”
“It’s Regina.”
“’S what I said, right?”
“Perhaps we should get you some water before you sleep this off,” Regina sighed again, rolling her eyes. “I’d hate to be accused of murdering you in my own home when it seems you planned to kill yourself with alcohol poisoning.”
“Nooooo,” Emma chuckled, running her fingertips up and down the coatrack. “Jus forget stuff.”
“… I see.”
“You’re not gunna ask me what ‘m forgettin'?”
“I’d rather not.”
“C’mon ‘Gina. You gotta be curious.”
Regina leaned her hip on the banister and watched with a raised brow as Emma tried several times to get to her feet, using the coatrack like a strange, overlong cane.
Well at least I’m losing sleep over something amusing…
“Standing is hard,” Emma mumbled, looking down at her feet.
“Indeed.”
“Help.”
“Excuse me?”
“Help me. ’m drunk.”
“I’m aware of that, Miss Swan.”
“Emma.”
“Yes, that is your name.”
“No.”
“I’m afraid it is.”
“Noooo,” Emma whined. “You always call me ‘Missswan.’ Why don’ you ever call me Em-ma.”
“I….”
It’s a fair question. Why don’t I have an answer…?!
“I’m not sure.”
“I don’ call you ‘Miss Mills.’”
“It’d be ‘Mayor Mills.’”
“You’d like that, huh?”
“Would you rather I call you Sheriff?”
“Hmm. Think I like the sound of that,” Emma grinned toothily.
Were it not for the fact that Emma smelled like the floor of a bar, she'd look kind of... cute.
Wait, what?
“I beg your pardon?”
“I could get my handcuffs.”
Regina’s cheeks flared red and she was immediately grateful that it was still dark in the hallway, the only illumination coming from the moonlight streaming in the windows.
“Okay, Sheriff Swan. Would you like for me to get you some water? Or would you rather roll around on the floor in a drunken stupor?”
“Water. My mouth tastes like booze.”
Regina couldn’t help but chuckle as she turned toward her kitchen, fetching a glass and filling it at the sink. Feeling a presence behind her, she turned slowly, finding herself nearly pressed against a very drunk Emma Swan.
“Miss Swan what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“You smell nice.”
“I shower fairly often. You should try it.”
“Showering with you?”
“I’m sorry?” Regina’s voice shot up an octave. She tried to step backwards, mouth falling open as she bumped into her countertop. Nowhere to run.
… Was Emma hitting on her?
“You should be. Wearing that little robe thingy.”
Regina looked down at herself, her fingertips toying with the edge of her silky housecoat, the other hand gripping the glass tighter. It was never something she’d wear outside, of course, as it only fell to her mid-thigh. But she was decent.
“You’re drunk, Emma,” Regina reminded her, pressing the glass of water into Emma’s fumbling hands as she took a step to the side, sliding out from between Emma and the counter. She took a breath, trying to calm the quickened beat of her heart.
Why were her palms clammy?
“You’re pretty, Regina.”
“Just… Drink your water and try not to vomit on my rug,” Regina sighed, stepping around Emma to head back upstairs.
A firm hand grasped her wrist.
“Don’t go.”
Torn between yanking her hand away and the intriguing thought of what Emma might have to say, she shook Emma’s grip and turned toward her, crossing her arms over her chest.
Regina eyed the highly intoxicated blonde in front of her and sighed.
“Well?”
“Hook 'n I broke up.”
Regina cocked a brow and leaned against the doorframe.
“… You don’ care?”
“I’m not understanding what that has to do with me, Miss—Emma.”
Emma grinned and took several gulps of water.
“Well. I brokeup with him,” Emma slurred. Regina winced as Emma slammed the glass a little too hard onto her marble countertops.
“Sorry…”
“Congratulations.”
“I… Thank you?”
Regina shrugged.
“I suppose you’re welcome though I’m still not seeing your point.”
“’m single again.”
“Again, congratula—mmph…!”
Regina’s eyes fluttered shut as Emma hastily pressed their lips together. Her heart hammered in her chest, her breath leaving her lungs completely at the overwhelming sensation of finally kissing Emma Swan. Emma’s hand cupped the back of her neck and she felt the gentle hum of a moan vibrate against her lips.
The bitter scent of whiskey and sweat stung her nostrils, her eyes flying open as she shoved Emma backwards.
… Conveniently forgetting Emma’s apparent lack of balance as the blonde crashed into the counter and promptly collapsed to the floor.
“Fuck.”
“What the hell was that?”
Emma groaned from the floor, cradling her hip in her hand.
“A kiss. Didn’t expect it t’ go like that…”
“What the… fuck Emma?!” Regina hissed, leaning over the fallen blonde. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair disheveled. She looked nothing like the put-together Mayor of Storybrooke that everyone knew and… Well. Hated.
“That word sounds better when youuuu say it,” Emma grinned.
“I… I am talking to a three year old,” Regina mumbled, closing her eyes to keep from staring down at the woman who’d just… kissed her.
“Plus twennyfive.”
“I’m finding that to be fairly difficult to believe.”
Regina paced the floor, unable to meet Emma’s glassy eyes.
“Somethin’ wrong?”
“Emma, you are drunk.”
“Uh… Yeah.”
“I just… Go to bed,” Regina huffed, nearly sprinting up the stairs on her way out.
Emma stared dumbly down at her legs.
“Well shit.”