#carpenter emma i swear i havent forgotten about you

[cinnonym]

Felt inspired by this. Decided to write a mini fic. Fell into a rabbit hole and wrote a slightly longer piece that's also barely related to the inspiration anymore. Once again, whoops? Anyway, here goes:

"Miss Swan?"

Regina's voice cut through Emma's quiet misery like a single ray of sunlight through an overcast day. Warmly. Unexpectedly, therefore. Emma wasn't exactly on speaking terms with the mayor, not since the whole becoming-Sheriff-in-spite-of-her-meddling fiasco. She'd done her best to avoid Regina in the days (weeks) that followed, but apparently the winter solstice was more of a celebration-worthy event in the rural corners of Maine than one would think. Or maybe Storybrooke was again, as it was in so many ways, the exception.

"Madam Mayor," Emma said, reluctantly looking up from her glogg to squint at Regina. Leave it to the woman her own son called the "Evil Queen" to look sharp and professional even at a party where the alcohol was handed out with a ladle. In a dark green pantsuit and plainly hazardous golden heels, Regina looked like the kind of person who went to an office Christmas get-together just to sniff out who spoke badly about the company, then ratted them out to the boss. Except that she was the boss. Dangerous combination, that.

Emma surreptitiously slid her glogg mug into her jacket pocket. It was empty anyway. Again.

"Can I help you?" she asked smoothly, bracing herself for the accusation that was sure to come. It seemed all Regina did with Emma was accuse her of things. Stealing her son, first and foremost. Being an irresponsible asshat, who didn't know the first thing about being a mother, also. Among others. Some charges were wrong, some were right, but it didn't matter, because Regina launched all of them with the same vigour, the same glint in her eyes that made Emma's hair bristle and her stomach lurch with excitement at the same time. An exhilerating mix. Not that she enjoyed being the mayor's favourite punching bag. She just didn't not enjoy it either...

"Indeed I think you can," Regina said now, voice tipped low to avoid being overheard. Emma had picked a rather quiet spot of town hall to nurse her glogg in, but the room still contained too many bodies to allow even the illusion of privacy. Which could be the reason why Regina's next sentence was: "Walk with me."

"Uhm," Emma said, "I guess?"

Articulate as always, but at least this time she could blame the alcohol. Not that she'd had any real quantities, but then again, considering how sweet the glogg tasted, it sure packed a punch. And Emma had drunk enough that she wasn't ungrateful when Regina offered her an arm - how tipsy did that make her to even be able to stand being this close to Emma - to lead her across the room and towards the stairway up to the offices. The crowd parted around them, a couple dozen eyes following their ascent, and more than a few people gave Emma a sympathetic nod, but apart from that, most townspeople were too busy enjoying themselves to pay them much attention. Soon, the hum of the party faded, and the only sounds came from Regina's heels on the newly renovated stairs.

Emma cleared her throat. "So, what exactly do you need help with?"

"Upholding tradition," Regina replied, her tone still oddly warm, her hand still on Emma's arm, gripping it assertively but not forcefully. They had reached the mayor's office, and Regina unlocked it and pushed Emma inside without letting go of her once. In the neutral lighting of the room, Emma could see that her cheeks were flushed. It made her look absurdly pretty, somehow. Not that Emma was paying attention.

"It's tradition to abduct the sheriff from a mediocre Christmas party?"

"Winter solstice," Regina corrected, and not even then did her voice sharpen. The thought crossed Emma that she had to be a nice drunk, which was surprising considering she was so un-nice otherwise. Most people got ruder under the influence, but then, maybe Regina's default was already maximum rudeness, so the only way to go from there was up. Or maybe, Emma thought with something that felt alarmingly like fondness, maybe the mean exterior was all an act, and the alcohol made a truer, more caring core come to light.

Of course, it was utterly unproductive to wonder about the mayor like this. Besides, it wasn't like Regina would always be drunk from now on, so it wouldn't do for Emma to get used to this version of her. Better to keep her guard up. Better to stay -

Regina pushed Emma. Full on pushed, two hands to her shoulders, shoving her backwards, causing Emma to stumble against the desk, lose her footing and sit. Her torso, still carrying momentum, tilted backwards, she flailed, her gaze flew up and landed on a small green bundle of twigs, hung smack middle above the desk and thus Emma.

- safe.

"Mistletoe!" Emma exclaimed before she could help it, before she could even remember to curse at Regina for pushing her like this. "Quick, quick, we gotta - "

Only then did it register. The shove. The invitation into Regina's office. The fact that it had been locked, and yet someone had to have hung the mistletoe, someone had to have prepared the room -

Emma's eyes met Regina's. The mayor stood close to her now, practically towering over Emma in her heels and fuck-me outfit, and Emma half-expected to see a smirk on her face, a victorious smile at luring Emma into her trap. She half-dreaded that it had all been an act: the voice, holding her close, the glimpse at something softer underneath. She half-knew she was fucked, so fucked.

Instead, Regina's eyes were averted. Her gaze flitted to Emma only once, something almost like shame churning below a certain bashfulness. Her cheeks had reddened further. She all but chewed on her lip (but of course Regina would never).

Emma could scarcely believe it, but for once in her life, Regina looked uncertain.

It was enough to stop Emma in her tracks. She knew she wanted Regina to kiss her. And now she realised that Regina wanted to kiss her too. Wanted it, in fact, enough, to stage a whole show around it. Wanted it enough that it terrified her.

Slowly, with a distinct sense of unrealness, Emma reached out her hand. Her fingers hovered over Regina's cheek, not quite daring to touch, but offering to. An opening, that was all. Time lengthened.

Then Regina exhaled a small puff of air and leaned into Emma's hand. Her eyes fluttered closed but Emma couldn't stop watching: how the curve of Regina's face slotted into Emma's palm, how her chest rose with her next breath, how she stepped close and reached for Emma on instinct alone. Her hand found Emma's neck with unexpected gentleness, fingers slipping over the skin under Emma's ear and up into her hair, where they gripped tighter, drawing Emma close, into her. Their noses touched and still Emma watched, as Regina tilted her head, her hair tickling Emma's arm. As she brushed her lips against Emma's, carefully, questingly at first, then, when Emma didn't pull away, more firmly.

One of them, Emma couldn't tell who, sighed, and Emma's eyes finally closed. Regina's lips tasted of glogg and something harsher, spicier, that Emma couldn't place. She smelled like it too, sharp and soft at the same time, and the sensation washed over Emma as they kissed, and kissed. Her hand fell from Regina's cheek to the nape of her neck, while her other one came up to rest against Regina's hip, her fingers feeling out the shape of her bones through the cloth of her pants almost reverently.

They stood like this for who knows how long, swaying softly with the kiss, but barely moving apart from that. Then, somewhat abruptly, Regina took a step back. Their lips separated. They were both breathing heavily.

"Wow," Emma said, when Regina made no move to talk.

Regina nodded, her eyes dark and warm, like chocolate.

Another break ensued.

"So, that's the tradition?" Emma asked, somewhat awkward now that the kiss was over. "Canoodling with the sheriff at the solstice celebrations?"

Regina gave her a look, but it was a mitigated version of not even her worst glare.

"Actually, Graham and I would - "

"Thanks, but on second thought, no details for me," Emma interrupted quickly. She felt decidedly too good about what had just transpired to waste any time thinking about the nature of Regina and Graham's relationship. Way to make Emma feel less special. Though she had half a notion that Regina hadn't watched Graham like she was watching Emma now, a certain shine to her eyes like she couldn't quite believe what had happened. How good it had been.

Or maybe that was just Emma projecting.

"Well, anyway," she said, hopping down from the desk at last. "Now that I know where to find this - " she pointed at the mistletoe above her " - I wouldn't mind being called into your office a few more times before Christmas. Just putting that out there." She shrugged. She felt fucking fantastic and it seemed suddenly way more likely that she would enjoy the party downstairs. Leave it to Regina Mills to achieve what several glasses of glogg had not.

She turned one more time before leaving the office. Regina still stood in the same place, looking up at the twig above her with a poorly concealed smile. Maybe she was drunk. Maybe she wasn't. She'd let Emma in though. And that was a first.