from a prompt by @cpark1899: "Swan Queen and the Olympics"
A/N: this prompt was sent back in July, and should have been related to the Summer Games, but I lost track of it and only just found it the other day, so, now it's the Winter Games.
“Wooooo!!! You go, babyyyyy!” Emma shouted from the family room.
The commentary in the other room had been growing in intensity for the last ten or fifteen minutes. This latest outburst had nearly resulted in alfredo sauce flying all the way to the breakfast nook. Regina sighed and wiped up the mostly insignificant mess with a soft smile despite herself. She’d had no idea that Henry was a hockey fan to begin with, and now he had passed it along to his other mother, and Emma was all in - completely hooked by the fast-paced nature of the game. Now with the Olympics ramping up every game was “important” and they recorded everything so they wouldn’t miss a single match.
Regina popped the casserole in the oven, wiped her hands on her apron, and grabbed a beer for Emma, a pomegranate LaCroix for Henry, and an iced tea for herself from the fridge. She hung the apron on it’s peg by the pantry and headed for the family room.
She found Emma standing in front of the TV by herself, rocking her hips to the music playing over the hockey rink’s (arena? stadium?) speaker system.
“Where’s Henry?” she asked, completely ignoring the sway of Emma’s hips.
Editor’s Note: that’s a lie and you know it
“Oh, hey Gina!” Emma said, looking back over her shoulder.
“Must you?” (Regina wasn’t… “unfond” of the nickname really, but…)
“H’-ha, sorry,” said Emma, with a smile that clearly portrayed her as anything but. She noticed the beer in Regina’s hand. “Oh, is that for me? Thank you!” she said, hastily snagging it and immediately turning back to the TV.
Regina rolled her eyes. There was no one to see it, but precedent was precedent. “Where’s Henry?” she prodded again.
“Street hockey. With Nick and some of the other kids from school.”
“They play hockey in the street?? Emma, wh-”
“Relaaaaaaax - it’s the cul-de-sac on Bradford by Nick’s house, and Nick’s dad is there. I checked.”
“Yep. Came in UPS this morning. Fits.”
“Okay, good,” Regina said. “If you two would let me know next time, that would be nice.”
“Sorry Mommmm…” Emma drawled.
Emma smirked. Her eyes raked over Regina from her toes all the way up. “Damn sure aren’t,” she muttered, taking a sip of her beer with a wink and turning to watch the game again.
Regina felt her neck and ears go hot. The blonde’s flirtatious banter had gone up a notch lately. Not that she minded - it wasn’t pegging the needle on the scale yet, but it was a little more … direct, than it had been in the past. Regina, blushing, but hoping it wasn’t showing too much, took up a position next to Emma to watch for a little while with her. Emma smiled and bumped their shoulders together, holding up her beer in a ‘thank you for this’ gesture. Regina smiled back and nodded, unscrewing the cap to her tea as they watched a… face-off, she thought it was called, and took a sip.
“Does that really say the score is five to zero, there in the corner?” she asked.
“Yup… giving these little Russian girls a spanking,” Emma said gleefully.
It was then that Regina realized that she had not been paying attention… like, at all. “Oh… these are…. these are all women,” she said.
“Yep, men’s Olympic hockey is a huge disappointment. These girls though… fierce!” Emma said. Just then a particularly tall player threw her hip sideways and blasted one of the “little Russian girls” into the side boards.
“Aw, BOOM!” Emma whooped. “Savannah Harmon,” she said, pointing at the screen with the tip of her bottle, “…woof… hottie. Henry’s fave, by the way.”
All the players had already scurried to the puck again and Regina had lost track. The monochromatic uniforms didn’t help, and she didn’t know the numbers. “Which one is Savannah?” she asked.
“Number 15, out there, back from the left wing, almost in the neutral zone.”
“Left wi-... neutral zone? What?” Regina asked, completely lost.
Emma laughed. “There,” she said, taking a step forward and pointing at the screen with her finger, almost touching it. “Her.”
A bright blonde ponytail streaked down the back of a dark blue uniform, but that was about all there was to see. “It’s hard to tell what she looks like in all that,” Regina said. “They all look the same.”
“Yeah, it’s great isn’t it?” Emma said cheerfully. “Fuck all that ‘male gaze’ bullshit.”
“Oops, sorry, language, I know,” said Emma. “Anyway, just Google her later, you won’t be disappointed… pretty blonde, y’know?” she said with a wink, and took another sip of her beer.
Regina just stared at the side of her face.
She took a few gulps of her tea. “Hmm,” she said after a few more moments of chaotic skating and clashing around on the ice. She assumed there was more to it than chaos, but she had failed to make sense of anything more than ‘our-goal-their-goal’ over the last few weeks. She screwed the top back on top of her bottle and cleared her throat. “And who’s your favorite?” she asked, aiming for ‘conversational.’
Emma finished another swig and swallowed, pointing at the screen with her beer again. “Carpenter… Alex Carpenter. Number 25. Just scored a little bit ago. Five goals in the last three games… little brunette basher. Love her.”
Regina found the young woman on the ice. She was quick and nimble, and seemed to be a bit shorter than some of the other players. Emma was watching with a smile of contentment on her face, motionless but for her eyes following the puck between the players, her beer gripped in two fingers and her thumbs stuffed into her belt loops.
Editor’s Note: lightning bolts, shield your eyes
“Plus, she’s queer, so, you know….” Emma added with a one-shoulder shrug.
Editor’s Note: there it is
“No, I don’t know. Why?” Regina asked. “Why does it matter if she’s queer?”
Emma frowned. “Uh… representation?”
“Representing what?” Regina asked. “Queerness on an international stage is important to you?”
Emma’s frown softened and shifted from confusion to concern. She reached back slowly and set her beer bottle on the coffee table behind them. “I’m… I’m queer, Regina,” she said quietly and cautiously, suddenly much less sure of herself.
Regina was momentarily cut off from the wider world as gears and other mental machinery began to click and whir. Pieces of information slotted into place. <click,buzz> oh… <k’chik - k’CHUNK> Oh!!
“Wait, you didn’t know?” Emma asked.
To Emma, it probably looked like Regina was staring past her into the distance, but everything about the brunette was currently focused inward as she stood immobile, her mouth fixed in a silent “O”.
I am as dense as a Charming…
“I…” she stuttered, as the world shifted and moved around her. As it adjusted, she moved with it, helpless to stay where she had been. When it all came together, she found that her place in time and space was no longer what it once was. And neither was Emma’s.
“No, I didn't know,” she said, her eyes drinking in the woman before her in a brand new light. There was a strong, slender, pretty blonde standing in her family room - a pretty blonde flustered and smiling nervously under her renewed scrutiny as Regina began to close the distance between them. As she tried to form more words, (perhaps an apology), she realized that said pretty blonde was speaking again.
“... I mean I kinda thought I was obvi…ous…” Emma said, swallowing visibly as Regina drew closer, the brunette’s eyes still absorbing her in full. “Like, what part of this,” she asked, holding her arms out and looking down at herself, “doesn’t look gay as h-”
Emma stopped speaking mid-sentence as Regina, eyes soft with wonder, took one of her outstretched hands wordlessly into her own, turning it over a few times and noting long, slender fingers, and nails cut short, and calloused pads around her palms. She trailed the back of a fingernail along Emma’s forearm and raised it above them, as her gaze traveled back down a toned arm, over a ribbed white tank top, past belted jeans, and down to clunky boots. Emma took the momentary pose as an opportunity to get cute again, (deflecting like she always did when the situation seemed to be getting heavy) - performing an impromptu twirl under their conjoined hands, as if Regina were spinning her in a couples dance. Whee! she giggled, and blushed again oh so prettily. Regina was still speechless and could only smile back.
Emboldened, Emma continued their fictitious dance, grabbing Regina’s waist lightly for a moment before twirling the brunette out to arm’s length. She laughed, gleeful that Regina was playing along. Pulling her back in, she dipped her low.
Regina made a small sound of surprise, but otherwise remained mute, her eyes locked to Emma’s as she reclined in her arms, gripping a flexed bicep in her left hand. The muscle was hard, but the skin was warm and smooth.
Editor’s Note: my teeth hurt, get on with it
Emma glanced at Regina’s mouth, smiled, leaned in, and kissed her.
It was a quick kiss; Regina opened her eyes. “Up,” she said. Emma lifted her back to her feet and released her, smiling smugly.
“All this flirting, Emma…” she said, “have you been trying to get my attention? Ask me out?”
Emma chuckled. “Well, I’m a big coward and you scare me a little, so I was miles from asking you out,” said Emma. “But uh, yeah,” she said, sheepishly. “I’ve been trying to get your attention and, uh…” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Well, to be honest, I… I kinda thought I already had it, so… I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing wrong?” she finished with an inquisitive lilt.
“Oh,” said Regina, “Was I sup-… were you… maybe hoping I’d ask you out?”
“Well,” Emma began, relieved at the opportunity, “Out… in… doesn’t matter… but, whatever that is in the oven smells really good?” she said, clearly fishing.
Regina smiled, clasping her hands in front of her and clearing her throat. “Emma, would you like to stay for dinner?” she asked, as if… all of this… hadn’t already happened.
Emma lit up like sunshine. “I would like that a lot actually, yeah.”
