Whatever This Is (Once Upon a Time; Regina/Emma)
TITLE: Whatever This Is
CHAPTER 5: Tilt-a-Whirl
FANDOM: Once Upon a Time
PAIRING: Swan Queen (Regina/Emma)
SPOILERS: AU from early in “The Cricket Game”
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: When they've finished the scotch, they're closer than ever on the couch. Regina is propped on her side, and Emma is doing her best to stay upright. They're watching the fire -- which is weird, because Emma doesn't even remember when Regina started one -- and just sitting silently together.
*****
Emma and Regina make their way back to the mayoral estate on foot, both of them a little too tipsy for driving. The wind whips around them on their way back and they button their coats tightly, clinging to one another's arms for balance along the way. The cracks in the sidewalk trip them up, quite literally, more than a few times. They burst into a fit of the giggles every time, and this is a side of Regina she's never seen before.
When they arrive at the estate and rush inside, their cheeks have reddened from the cold, hair disheveled from the wind. Jackets are tossed haphazardly aside, and Emma figures Regina must be pretty far gone to not insist that they're hung up properly.
They land in her study and Emma flops backward on the ornate sofa, staring up at the ceiling as it tilts and spins. She hears a clinking of glass on glass and props herself up on an elbow, watching Regina pour them each a scotch.
"Oh I probably shouldn't," she slurs. After five beers, and... she thinks maybe there was a rum and Coke in there somewhere... she should not be drinking.
"Nor should I," Regina sighs, and brings the glasses to the couch. She gives Emma's foot a nudge with her knee and says, "Scoot," prompting Emma to make room.
Then they're sitting on the couch together, clinking glasses in a silent toast. Emma brings the glass to her lips, trying to focus on it and finding herself going cross-eyed. A sip of scotch burns a path down to her stomach and she sits back with a sigh, closing her eyes.
When she opens them, it's to find Regina with her head leaning back on the couch. Her lips are pressed together tightly and she swallows. Emma thinks she can actually see it roll down her throat and disappear beneath her collarbone before she hears Regina sighing.
"This reminds me of when Henry was nine."
Emma takes another gulp of scotch and asks, "You got drunk a lot when he was nine?"
Regina laughs, eyes closed with a hand laying over them briefly, and Emma giggles back. Regina shakes her head, never moving it from the back of the couch as it tips toward her. "No. It reminds me of when we had a carnival and he begged me to take him on the Tilt-a-Whirl."
"Tilt-a-Whirl's awesome," Emma tells her, slumping down on the couch.
"Perhaps for a two-minute ride," Regina chuckles, "Not when your entire world is tilting and whirling."
"What, you've never been drunk before?" she whips her head to look at her and instantly regrets the motion. It takes a moment for Regina to swim back into focus.
"I've been pleasantly buzzed, but... never have I felt like this."
Emma laughs, sidling closer. "Well this is what drunk feels like. Glad to be the one to show you the ropes."
Regina gives a full belly laugh at that, and Emma can't figure out why, though it probably doesn't matter.
When they've finished the scotch, they're closer than ever on the couch. Regina is propped on her side, and Emma is doing her best to stay upright. They're watching the fire -- which is weird, because Emma doesn't even remember when Regina started one -- and just sitting silently together.
After a long moment, Regina breaks the silence. "So this is friendship, huh?"
Emma looks down at her. "Sorta, yeah. I guess. I've never had many close female friends."
"No?" Regina tilts her head up to meet her eyes but leans too far back. She slumps against the couch and starts to laugh again.
Emma laughs back, shaking her head. "You are so drunk, this is kinda hilarious."
"You're drunk," is the less than elegant comeback she gets, and she nods in agreement.
"Yep, I am."
Another sigh escapes the brunette and soon Emma feels a weight on her thigh -- Regina's head has made it a pillow. Sable hair is sprayed across her jeans, and Emma reaches out, feeling drawn to it. She runs her fingers through Regina's hair and watches her eyes slide closed in response.
It hits her in her bleary-eyed stupor that this is a tremendous step for them. Regina never looks vulnerable for anyone ever, excepting maybe Henry, and yet here she is with her head in Emma's lap and eyes closed. It's a display of trust that she had never expected.
"Regina?"
"Hmm?"
She rakes her hands through the thick, shiny locks again. "...Nothing."
Regina's chest rises and falls slowly, and Emma wonders if she's starting to pass out. Then she says softly, in a voice thick with alcohol and drowsiness, "You want me to tell you about Daniel... don't you?"
Emma smiles, leaning her head back against the couch and closing her eyes, the blackness behind her lids spinning and tilting as well. "Mmm," she just barely nods. "When you're up for it."
And those are the last words they exchange for the night.
**
When Emma comes to again, it's light out. The fire has been reduced to a few last glowing embers, and everything around her is swirling violently. With a grimace and a groan, her eyes slide closed again and she attempts to swallow. Her tongue is thick and dry, and when she attempts to lift her head, the sheer weight of it forces her down.
Her forehead lands on the couch cushion and her hands brace on the arm. She groans again in a way that sounds like two voices.
That's when she feels a body shifting against hers. She knows it's Regina, and wants to lift her head in a greeting, but she thinks it's roughly the weight of a boulder, so instead she settles on a grunt. Her neck is killing her from sleeping upright, and she's more than a little certain she'll be throwing up soon.
Regina groans again, and this time Emma gathers enough strength to push herself up. Regina is lying face-down on the couch, a hand pressed against the top of her head as she shakes it back and forth slowly, probably damning herself for getting drunk in very much the same way Emma is berating herself.
"Oh God," she sighs gruffly. "I'm dying."
Emma chuckles, groaning at the pain she feels a moment later, and pushes herself up further to reach for her friend. "You're not dying," she tells her. "You're hungover. Maybe still a little drunk from last night."
"God," Regina groans again. She drags a hand over her face, and then looks over at Emma slowly. "Is there any alcohol left in Storybrooke, or did we drink it all?"
"There's plenty more where that came from," she sighs, and rolls off the couch to get to her feet. Her stomach rolls dangerously and she clamps her lips together until the wave of nausea passes. Then, she extends a hand to Regina. "Come on."
"No." Regina flings an arm over eyes dramatically, rolling onto her side as she begs, "Just leave me here to die."
"Drama queen," Emma grins, and it's with some effort that she actually grabs a hold of Regina and helps her to her feet.
The two of them cling to one another for balance, much more desperately than they had last night, and one look in Regina's eyes tells her that she's feeling just as ill. "You should go upstairs and go to bed."
"So should you," Regina tells her, then grimaces at her choice of words. "Not with me, you understand, but--"
"I got it," she nods, though she can't help enjoying the new shade of pink taking over Regina's face. "And don't worry, I'm outta here once I get you upstairs. I still have to get my car from the Rabbit Hole."
Regina makes a noise under her breath that sounds suspiciously like a curse word. "Mine is still there too, isn't it?"
"If we both haven't been towed by now, yeah."
There's a lot more groaning and a little more nausea as she and Regina slowly make their way up the stairs. The highlight of the entire trip upward is when Regina glares at the banister in disgust and asks herself aloud, "Why must there be so many stairs here? It's a nuisance."
They're nearly to the master bedroom when Regina's arm suddenly lurches out and grabs the door frame of the bathroom. "One moment," she says, and then rushes over to the toilet.
She barely lifts the lid in time and then Emma has to look away, the sound of retching causing her stomach to pitch and roll violently. She grabs her abdomen and groans, "Oh God," before she too has to rush.
She makes it to the sink, fingers digging in to the granite counter top as her stomach empties itself in waves. Her hair falls in her face as she slumps against the sink and she moves to toss it back.
As she does, she feels a second set of hands in her hair, pulling it away from her face. It's in the nick of time as another wave hits her and she retches into the sink again. When that wave passes, she slumps down again, and a hand on her waist picks her up again, guiding her away from the sink.
Emma watches Regina through blurred vision as she rinses the sink thoroughly and flushes the toilet. Then, the brunette rinses her mouth and splashes water on her face before turning around, leaning back against the counter and gripping it for dear life.
"How much more of that can I expect?" she rasps, laying a hand over her stomach.
Emma shakes her head. "Hopefully not much more."
Regina nods and pushes off from the counter, reaching for Emma just as she reaches out to her. They brace one another again and walk together to the master bedroom. Regina crawls into bed fully-clothed and as she gets under the covers, Emma brings the trash can to her side.
Lying back against the pillows, Regina asks her, "You're certain you can make it home? You're welcome to sleep in Henry's room for awhile."
"Thanks for the offer," Emma tells her, and hopes she knows that she really means it, "But I think I'm okay. I'll call you later, okay?"
Regina grunts in understanding and then rolls onto her side, and Emma softly shuts the door behind her, hoping that this experience hasn't soured their already tenuous friendship.
*****
It's barely seven o'clock when Emma oozes through the door of the apartment, hoping not to wake anyone up. She squints against the sunlight and shuts the door as quietly as she can.
"Where have you been?" a voice immediately hisses, and the assault on Emma's ear drums is enough to get her to close her eyes and hold up a hand.
"Stop yelling at me," she tells Mary Margaret, who's already at her side buzzing around her like a hyperactive hummingbird.
"Emma, I'm whispering," she hisses again, "Now where have you been?"
"Out," is all she can say, her hands fumbling for the stairs so she can sit down and take off her boots.
She looks up to see Mary Margaret standing over her clad in her bathrobe, her petite fists planted on her hips. "Out? With who?"
Emma grimaces, stomach still churning a little as she answers, "Regina."
Her mother leans down to her, then immediately steps back, waving a hand in front of her face. "You smell like a brewery! Are you drunk?"
She shrugs, feeling like a teenager caught out after curfew. "I don't think so. Not anymore, at least."
Mary Margaret looks less than pleased -- which, for her, means furious. She points toward the other room. "I want you to get in there and go to bed before Henry wakes up and realizes you've been out all night. And change your clothes."
"'Kay," Emma grunts, not in the mood to argue, and does as she's told.
**
The next time she wakes up, she no longer feels as if she's on a Tilt-a-Whirl. Now all she feels is pain. She groans and tries to sit up. The mattress dips in an unusual way, and it takes her a moment to realize there's someone beside her.
"Morning," she hears, and this time it's no longer the angry hiss of Mary Margaret. The tone is deeper, and a little amused.
"David?"
"Here." He hands her a cup of water and she drinks gratefully. The entire glass is drained in a matter of seconds and he gets up to get her a refill.
When he returns, he's smiling at her. "How are you feeling?"
Emma closes her eyes and accepts the second cup of water he hands to her. "Look, if you're here to read me the riot act, Mary Margaret already beat you to it."
"I know she did. That's not what I'm here for." Shrugging, he pushes the sleeves of his flannel shirt up to his elbows and sits beside her again. "I just wanted to check on you."
"Oh. Well... thanks." She sips at the cup of water, a bit slower this time to make it last.
"So, I take it you and Regina had a good time last night?"
She chuckles into her glass. "Until the hangover kicked in, yeah."
He nods. "I can imagine."
"Where's Henry?"
"Your mother took him to the park, and then grocery shopping. They won't be back for awhile." With a shrug, he adds, "I thought it could buy you a little extra recovery time."
Emma grins despite the pain it induces, teasing him, "You've got a 'Coolest Dad Ever' award coming your way, buddy."
David chuckles, glancing down at his lap. When he looks up, the smile remains but his tone changes slightly. "Look, Emma... you know your mother is having a difficult time with your new, um... friendship."
"Really? She hides it well," she quips, taking another drink of water.
"She'll come around. She and Regina have, to say the least, an incredibly complicated past. I'm part of it, but it's bigger than that."
Emma quirks a brow. "Any of that have to do with a guy named Daniel?"
She watches the color drain from David's face. "Regina, she... she told you about Daniel?"
At that, she can't help throwing her hands in the air. "What is the deal with this Daniel guy? Every time he comes up, people act like there's a ghost in the room!"
David sighs, some of the color returning to his face. "I'm probably not the right person to ask. Mary Margaret has said very little. What I do know is that whatever happened to him is the reason there's so much bad blood between she and Regina."
She nods. "I kinda figured. And no, Regina hasn't told me about him, but... she will eventually."
He raises his eyebrows, sighing, "I hope she does. She needs someone to open up to. Someone that can help her get rid of the demons she's hung onto for all these years." He lightly touches her arm. "For her sake, I hope that someone is you."
And Emma smiles behind tired eyes, feeling the words in every bit of herself as she says, "I hope so too."
TBC
{x-posted to onceupon-fanfic and regina_emma}
CHAPTER 5: Tilt-a-Whirl
FANDOM: Once Upon a Time
PAIRING: Swan Queen (Regina/Emma)
SPOILERS: AU from early in “The Cricket Game”
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: When they've finished the scotch, they're closer than ever on the couch. Regina is propped on her side, and Emma is doing her best to stay upright. They're watching the fire -- which is weird, because Emma doesn't even remember when Regina started one -- and just sitting silently together.
*****
Emma and Regina make their way back to the mayoral estate on foot, both of them a little too tipsy for driving. The wind whips around them on their way back and they button their coats tightly, clinging to one another's arms for balance along the way. The cracks in the sidewalk trip them up, quite literally, more than a few times. They burst into a fit of the giggles every time, and this is a side of Regina she's never seen before.
When they arrive at the estate and rush inside, their cheeks have reddened from the cold, hair disheveled from the wind. Jackets are tossed haphazardly aside, and Emma figures Regina must be pretty far gone to not insist that they're hung up properly.
They land in her study and Emma flops backward on the ornate sofa, staring up at the ceiling as it tilts and spins. She hears a clinking of glass on glass and props herself up on an elbow, watching Regina pour them each a scotch.
"Oh I probably shouldn't," she slurs. After five beers, and... she thinks maybe there was a rum and Coke in there somewhere... she should not be drinking.
"Nor should I," Regina sighs, and brings the glasses to the couch. She gives Emma's foot a nudge with her knee and says, "Scoot," prompting Emma to make room.
Then they're sitting on the couch together, clinking glasses in a silent toast. Emma brings the glass to her lips, trying to focus on it and finding herself going cross-eyed. A sip of scotch burns a path down to her stomach and she sits back with a sigh, closing her eyes.
When she opens them, it's to find Regina with her head leaning back on the couch. Her lips are pressed together tightly and she swallows. Emma thinks she can actually see it roll down her throat and disappear beneath her collarbone before she hears Regina sighing.
"This reminds me of when Henry was nine."
Emma takes another gulp of scotch and asks, "You got drunk a lot when he was nine?"
Regina laughs, eyes closed with a hand laying over them briefly, and Emma giggles back. Regina shakes her head, never moving it from the back of the couch as it tips toward her. "No. It reminds me of when we had a carnival and he begged me to take him on the Tilt-a-Whirl."
"Tilt-a-Whirl's awesome," Emma tells her, slumping down on the couch.
"Perhaps for a two-minute ride," Regina chuckles, "Not when your entire world is tilting and whirling."
"What, you've never been drunk before?" she whips her head to look at her and instantly regrets the motion. It takes a moment for Regina to swim back into focus.
"I've been pleasantly buzzed, but... never have I felt like this."
Emma laughs, sidling closer. "Well this is what drunk feels like. Glad to be the one to show you the ropes."
Regina gives a full belly laugh at that, and Emma can't figure out why, though it probably doesn't matter.
When they've finished the scotch, they're closer than ever on the couch. Regina is propped on her side, and Emma is doing her best to stay upright. They're watching the fire -- which is weird, because Emma doesn't even remember when Regina started one -- and just sitting silently together.
After a long moment, Regina breaks the silence. "So this is friendship, huh?"
Emma looks down at her. "Sorta, yeah. I guess. I've never had many close female friends."
"No?" Regina tilts her head up to meet her eyes but leans too far back. She slumps against the couch and starts to laugh again.
Emma laughs back, shaking her head. "You are so drunk, this is kinda hilarious."
"You're drunk," is the less than elegant comeback she gets, and she nods in agreement.
"Yep, I am."
Another sigh escapes the brunette and soon Emma feels a weight on her thigh -- Regina's head has made it a pillow. Sable hair is sprayed across her jeans, and Emma reaches out, feeling drawn to it. She runs her fingers through Regina's hair and watches her eyes slide closed in response.
It hits her in her bleary-eyed stupor that this is a tremendous step for them. Regina never looks vulnerable for anyone ever, excepting maybe Henry, and yet here she is with her head in Emma's lap and eyes closed. It's a display of trust that she had never expected.
"Regina?"
"Hmm?"
She rakes her hands through the thick, shiny locks again. "...Nothing."
Regina's chest rises and falls slowly, and Emma wonders if she's starting to pass out. Then she says softly, in a voice thick with alcohol and drowsiness, "You want me to tell you about Daniel... don't you?"
Emma smiles, leaning her head back against the couch and closing her eyes, the blackness behind her lids spinning and tilting as well. "Mmm," she just barely nods. "When you're up for it."
And those are the last words they exchange for the night.
**
When Emma comes to again, it's light out. The fire has been reduced to a few last glowing embers, and everything around her is swirling violently. With a grimace and a groan, her eyes slide closed again and she attempts to swallow. Her tongue is thick and dry, and when she attempts to lift her head, the sheer weight of it forces her down.
Her forehead lands on the couch cushion and her hands brace on the arm. She groans again in a way that sounds like two voices.
That's when she feels a body shifting against hers. She knows it's Regina, and wants to lift her head in a greeting, but she thinks it's roughly the weight of a boulder, so instead she settles on a grunt. Her neck is killing her from sleeping upright, and she's more than a little certain she'll be throwing up soon.
Regina groans again, and this time Emma gathers enough strength to push herself up. Regina is lying face-down on the couch, a hand pressed against the top of her head as she shakes it back and forth slowly, probably damning herself for getting drunk in very much the same way Emma is berating herself.
"Oh God," she sighs gruffly. "I'm dying."
Emma chuckles, groaning at the pain she feels a moment later, and pushes herself up further to reach for her friend. "You're not dying," she tells her. "You're hungover. Maybe still a little drunk from last night."
"God," Regina groans again. She drags a hand over her face, and then looks over at Emma slowly. "Is there any alcohol left in Storybrooke, or did we drink it all?"
"There's plenty more where that came from," she sighs, and rolls off the couch to get to her feet. Her stomach rolls dangerously and she clamps her lips together until the wave of nausea passes. Then, she extends a hand to Regina. "Come on."
"No." Regina flings an arm over eyes dramatically, rolling onto her side as she begs, "Just leave me here to die."
"Drama queen," Emma grins, and it's with some effort that she actually grabs a hold of Regina and helps her to her feet.
The two of them cling to one another for balance, much more desperately than they had last night, and one look in Regina's eyes tells her that she's feeling just as ill. "You should go upstairs and go to bed."
"So should you," Regina tells her, then grimaces at her choice of words. "Not with me, you understand, but--"
"I got it," she nods, though she can't help enjoying the new shade of pink taking over Regina's face. "And don't worry, I'm outta here once I get you upstairs. I still have to get my car from the Rabbit Hole."
Regina makes a noise under her breath that sounds suspiciously like a curse word. "Mine is still there too, isn't it?"
"If we both haven't been towed by now, yeah."
There's a lot more groaning and a little more nausea as she and Regina slowly make their way up the stairs. The highlight of the entire trip upward is when Regina glares at the banister in disgust and asks herself aloud, "Why must there be so many stairs here? It's a nuisance."
They're nearly to the master bedroom when Regina's arm suddenly lurches out and grabs the door frame of the bathroom. "One moment," she says, and then rushes over to the toilet.
She barely lifts the lid in time and then Emma has to look away, the sound of retching causing her stomach to pitch and roll violently. She grabs her abdomen and groans, "Oh God," before she too has to rush.
She makes it to the sink, fingers digging in to the granite counter top as her stomach empties itself in waves. Her hair falls in her face as she slumps against the sink and she moves to toss it back.
As she does, she feels a second set of hands in her hair, pulling it away from her face. It's in the nick of time as another wave hits her and she retches into the sink again. When that wave passes, she slumps down again, and a hand on her waist picks her up again, guiding her away from the sink.
Emma watches Regina through blurred vision as she rinses the sink thoroughly and flushes the toilet. Then, the brunette rinses her mouth and splashes water on her face before turning around, leaning back against the counter and gripping it for dear life.
"How much more of that can I expect?" she rasps, laying a hand over her stomach.
Emma shakes her head. "Hopefully not much more."
Regina nods and pushes off from the counter, reaching for Emma just as she reaches out to her. They brace one another again and walk together to the master bedroom. Regina crawls into bed fully-clothed and as she gets under the covers, Emma brings the trash can to her side.
Lying back against the pillows, Regina asks her, "You're certain you can make it home? You're welcome to sleep in Henry's room for awhile."
"Thanks for the offer," Emma tells her, and hopes she knows that she really means it, "But I think I'm okay. I'll call you later, okay?"
Regina grunts in understanding and then rolls onto her side, and Emma softly shuts the door behind her, hoping that this experience hasn't soured their already tenuous friendship.
*****
It's barely seven o'clock when Emma oozes through the door of the apartment, hoping not to wake anyone up. She squints against the sunlight and shuts the door as quietly as she can.
"Where have you been?" a voice immediately hisses, and the assault on Emma's ear drums is enough to get her to close her eyes and hold up a hand.
"Stop yelling at me," she tells Mary Margaret, who's already at her side buzzing around her like a hyperactive hummingbird.
"Emma, I'm whispering," she hisses again, "Now where have you been?"
"Out," is all she can say, her hands fumbling for the stairs so she can sit down and take off her boots.
She looks up to see Mary Margaret standing over her clad in her bathrobe, her petite fists planted on her hips. "Out? With who?"
Emma grimaces, stomach still churning a little as she answers, "Regina."
Her mother leans down to her, then immediately steps back, waving a hand in front of her face. "You smell like a brewery! Are you drunk?"
She shrugs, feeling like a teenager caught out after curfew. "I don't think so. Not anymore, at least."
Mary Margaret looks less than pleased -- which, for her, means furious. She points toward the other room. "I want you to get in there and go to bed before Henry wakes up and realizes you've been out all night. And change your clothes."
"'Kay," Emma grunts, not in the mood to argue, and does as she's told.
**
The next time she wakes up, she no longer feels as if she's on a Tilt-a-Whirl. Now all she feels is pain. She groans and tries to sit up. The mattress dips in an unusual way, and it takes her a moment to realize there's someone beside her.
"Morning," she hears, and this time it's no longer the angry hiss of Mary Margaret. The tone is deeper, and a little amused.
"David?"
"Here." He hands her a cup of water and she drinks gratefully. The entire glass is drained in a matter of seconds and he gets up to get her a refill.
When he returns, he's smiling at her. "How are you feeling?"
Emma closes her eyes and accepts the second cup of water he hands to her. "Look, if you're here to read me the riot act, Mary Margaret already beat you to it."
"I know she did. That's not what I'm here for." Shrugging, he pushes the sleeves of his flannel shirt up to his elbows and sits beside her again. "I just wanted to check on you."
"Oh. Well... thanks." She sips at the cup of water, a bit slower this time to make it last.
"So, I take it you and Regina had a good time last night?"
She chuckles into her glass. "Until the hangover kicked in, yeah."
He nods. "I can imagine."
"Where's Henry?"
"Your mother took him to the park, and then grocery shopping. They won't be back for awhile." With a shrug, he adds, "I thought it could buy you a little extra recovery time."
Emma grins despite the pain it induces, teasing him, "You've got a 'Coolest Dad Ever' award coming your way, buddy."
David chuckles, glancing down at his lap. When he looks up, the smile remains but his tone changes slightly. "Look, Emma... you know your mother is having a difficult time with your new, um... friendship."
"Really? She hides it well," she quips, taking another drink of water.
"She'll come around. She and Regina have, to say the least, an incredibly complicated past. I'm part of it, but it's bigger than that."
Emma quirks a brow. "Any of that have to do with a guy named Daniel?"
She watches the color drain from David's face. "Regina, she... she told you about Daniel?"
At that, she can't help throwing her hands in the air. "What is the deal with this Daniel guy? Every time he comes up, people act like there's a ghost in the room!"
David sighs, some of the color returning to his face. "I'm probably not the right person to ask. Mary Margaret has said very little. What I do know is that whatever happened to him is the reason there's so much bad blood between she and Regina."
She nods. "I kinda figured. And no, Regina hasn't told me about him, but... she will eventually."
He raises his eyebrows, sighing, "I hope she does. She needs someone to open up to. Someone that can help her get rid of the demons she's hung onto for all these years." He lightly touches her arm. "For her sake, I hope that someone is you."
And Emma smiles behind tired eyes, feeling the words in every bit of herself as she says, "I hope so too."
TBC
{x-posted to onceupon-fanfic and regina_emma}