It's okay to say you've got a weak spot
You don't always have to be on top
Better to be hated than love, love, loved for what you're not
Marina and the Diamonds - I Am Not A Robot
They watch in silence as Mary Margaret is led out, back to her cell.
Emma leans her head against the one-way mirror for a moment, exhaling loudly. It's bad enough that this is a scarily good frame job, but now Mary Margaret is being goaded into screwing herself permanently. It doesn't make any sense, that anyone would come after an innocent schoolteacher this way; it reminds Emma of her days before Storybrooke, when she saw the legal system as something to fear, not something she could ever be a part of.
But worst of all is that in the midst of fighting for Mary Margaret and searching for more evidence, Emma finds herself stuck in a confined space with Regina. Regina, who stares that dead-eyed stare at her own half-reflection, and smirks just a little as everything gets a little bit worse. Regina, who smells like fancy perfume and clean, fresh cotton, whose face is impossibly sad even when she's supposed to be reveling. Emma doesn't understand why, when presented with her family (or whatever) in trouble, she's still fascinated by Regina-sneaking little looks and watching her for something, anything to explain why she is the way that she is.
Maybe it's because there's no truth to be uncovered in the room with Mary Margaret and Gold-only more lies. Here in the observation room (more like observation closet) Emma finds herself replaying the frank confession Regina made just days ago in the interrogation room, about a crushing loss and the terrible things it drove her to. That's the story Emma is losing sleep over every night, even as she pours heart and soul into the quest to help her roommate.
"Enjoying yourself?" Emma asks, peeling her head away from the cool glass.
"What a cruel accusation," Regina counters, but she sounds more shaken than smug. "You really do think the worst of me, don't you Sheriff?"
"You keep giving me reason to," Emma says, and Jesus Christ, she is so beyond tired. She showered about an hour ago in a vain bid to feel refreshed but now she just feels kind of cold, and there doesn't seem much point to anything she's doing. "What the hell happened to you, anyway?"
Another time she would have been more cautious, but she's effectively been asking this same question since the day Henry dragged her to this town, and Emma is shit out of both patience and finesse.
"You know what happened," Regina snaps. "I don't see that the details are necessary, dear."
"You're... hurt?" Emma tries, because she's spent so long trying to decide what evil emotion is pushing Regina on that she completely skipped over that possibility. "You're still hurting, I mean. That's why you're like this."
"Shut. Up," Regina snarls, stepping forward. In a space this small that basically puts her right in Emma's face. "You know nothing about me."
And there it is, that damn problem again: Emma wants to know something about Regina. Hell, she wants to know everything.
"You know," Emma says, fronting up to the Mayor. "If you would stop trying to control every last detail for just a minute," she continues. "You might find some time to actually be happy. And then you could stop trying to ruin everyone else's life."
"How dare you-" Regina spits, but Emma's stepping back towards her leaves Regina backed against the mirror.
"It's true, Madam Mayor. You're a textbook control freak," Emma can't help but glance towards the closed door. If anyone were to walk in right now this might look bad-Regina backed against the wall, Emma's threatening body language.
"We can't all spiral out of control our whole lives," Regina argues. "Just because you're lacking in self-discipline doesn't mean everyone else should be."
There's a glint. There's a goddamned fucking glint in her eye when she says the word 'discipline'. And that's when Emma knows she hasn't been imagining this weird tension, where every conversation seems to be happening on at least two different levels. She hasn't been imagining all the times she felt Regina raking her eyes up and down Emma's body at every opportunity, or how close they've been sitting or standing in recent days.
"Are you offering to discipline me?" Emma asks, before she can think better of it. Her tiredness has evaporated now, almost like the energy from Regina (so close, so practically in touching distance) is recharging Emma somehow. It feels like something inside her is singing, even if she doesn't know the words.
"Don't flatter yourself, Miss Swan," Regina tries to cover, but the fluster is showing. Emma decides in an instant to take the chance, and she leans in quickly to kiss her own name right off Regina's lips.
"Mmmf," Regina protests in the first moment, but as Emma pulls back Regina's hand is on the back of her head, just under Emma's ponytail, pulling her back in with surprising strength.
"This is insane," Regina sighs when they break apart, Emma actually staggering a step or two when Regina relents with the iron grip. "If this is some tactic on your part to-"
"Oh, shut up," Emma interrupts, and this time when she kisses Regina there's a note of warning in it. "Honest to God," she gasps when they part for a second time. "Do you ever get tired of the sound of your own voice?"
"Not really," Regina says with a smirk. Emma reaches for the lapels of her deep red jacket, an unwitting complement to Emma's own, tighter top. It takes no more than a couple of seconds to have the blazer thrown on the floor, leaving just the low-cut white blouse as a barrier between them. When Emma hesitates, Regina starts unbuttoning it herself.
Which is all the excuse Emma needs to press herself against Regina, whose hands keep working. Emma has her hands quite busy grabbing Regina's ass, which is every bit as perfect as advertised in all those tight skirts over the past few months. Meanwhile, Emma gets to kiss and lick and nip at Regina's elegant neck and prominent collarbone to her heart's content. There's an urgency to it, because there's no lock on that door and eventually someone will notice their continued absence. Emma just has to hope everyone will assume they're fighting and give them a wide berth for a while. It wouldn't exactly be unusual, and yet here they are-at each other's throats in a completely different way.
If Emma has controlled the action until now, she's distracted enough to lose the upper hand just a moment later. Using Emma's shoulders for leverage, Regina spins her until Emma is pressed face-first against the half-silvered glass. Emma tries to focus on the empty table and chairs, but Regina's hands are everywhere at once, tugging at Emma's zipper in one moment and roughly pushing her top up in the next.
It ends up with Emma's bare breasts pushed against the cool glass, after Regina has stroked and twisted Emma's nipples into hard peaks that have a hardwired connection straight to her clit. It means Emma is already soaked as Regina slips a hand into plain, black panties, before complaining about the angle and pushing the panties down to join Emma's jeans at her ankles.
"So wet," Regina breathes against Emma's ear. "You want this so badly, don't you dear?"
"Fuck," is all Emma can think of in response. She wants to deny it, but can't risk any pointless stand that might cause Regina to stop. Those slender fingers tease and torment Emma while Regina kisses and runs her tongue over the back of Emma's neck, and by the time Regina is pistoning two fingers in and out with hard, rhythmic strokes, Emma knows she's going to come in very short order.
She does, seeing stars and then the cloud from her breath on the back of the mirror. Regina is smug right away, of course, until Emma can clumsily reach for her and push her against the wall for what Emma planned to start with.
Regina's unflappable exterior dissolves the instant that Emma's fingertip first grazes Regina's clit. From then on she's a storm of emotion, whimpering and frowning and then smiling impossibly bright as Emma works her fingers in rough circles and then in a series of thrusts to mirror Regina's own. Regina doesn't talk much, just quiet babble that transforms into Emma's name as she climaxes, and Emma stops kissing Regina long enough to lean back and appreciate the image.
It's quite something to see the usually pristine mayor, shirt undone and underwear gone, leaning back against the wall looking thoroughly well-fucked, with Emma's hand still between her thighs. The sight alone provokes Emma to provide a hard and fast second round, and this time when Regina comes she sobs her climax into Emma's shoulder.
"Oh God," Emma breathes when they separate in a more permanent way. Clothes are fumbled with and frantically smoothed out, and just as Emma finishes pulling her top down, they freeze at the sound of footsteps in the hallway. The whole room smells like sex, and they both still look messy, so Emma heaves a sigh of relief when the footsteps continue on.
"This doesn't change anything," Regina warns, buttoning her jacket and looking haughty (well, as haughty as someone who just came twice, loudly, can manage).
"I know," Emma replies. "Like, it won't stop me continuing to look for more proof. To prove Mary Margaret innocent."
"It's your time," Regina says with a shrug. "Waste it however you want."
"I needed that," Emma confesses in a very small voice. "You were amazing, for what it's worth." She kicks at the floor, squirming in embarrassment.
"You were more than adequate," Regina concedes, and it looks as though the almost-compliment physically hurts her.
"Can we-" Emma begins, but Regina cuts her off with a little wave.
"Tomorrow night," Regina confirms. "I can come to you."
"Okay, maybe," Emma hedges. "I really have to go now."
"As do I, dear," Regina points out.
Emma takes her chance and slips out of the observation room, already kicking herself for not demanding just one more kiss to tide her over.
Oh well, she thinks, as she goes out to check that Mary Margaret has been returned to her cell correctly; at least there's a chance of more. Somehow, coming from Regina, that seems like a lot more than it should.
Emma reaches for her car keys, in a hurry to leave before Regina can stride out to interrupt her. She doesn't think about what this could mean for Mary Margaret, or for Henry, and instead jogs outside to go and get some real police work done.
She can still smell Regina on her as she turns the steering wheel and heads out into the streets of Storybrooke.