#youwannadance

[minnienn1990]

Chàng kỹ sư flex LƯƠNG KHỦNG 100 TRIỆU hỏi vợ khiến Hoa Khôi Năm 4 mê mệ...

[ivanvenerucciitalianstyle]

(Ivan Venerucci D.J.)

[kindofabigdealshields]

"Bold strategy, Cotton. Let's see if pays off for 'em." #handinthepants #youwannadance #NYC #subway #comeonbro

[angstbotfic]

Fic: Paper Hearts and Punchbowls Ch2

Read at AO3

“Those are for the children.”

Emma looked up, startled and a little guilty. She had been considering whether she could swipe a cookie with no one the wiser, but in her defense Regina’s baking was amazing.

“I’m just admiring how well they’re decorated,” she insisted.

“Oh? What do you like about it?”

“The, um-” She looked down again. The cookies were in fact gorgeously decorated, with precise frosting hearts and scallops. “The detail work.”

“Uh huh,” Regina said. She sounded unconvinced, but a little smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. That made Emma grin, too. She loved making Regina smile.

“I don’t believe you for a second, which is why I made you your own,” Regina went on, holding up a Tupperware.

“Really?” Emma knew she sounded more excited about that than she should, but she hoped Regina would chalk it up to her love affair with food and not suspect how much it meant to her that Regina had gone out of her way to give her something she knew she’d like.

“Yes, well, it seemed like the best way to protect the refreshments.”

“Ha ha.” Of course that was what it was. It wasn’t about Emma at all. She should remember that.

“Here,” Regina chuckled, handing over the container and turning back to her work.

Emma had just gotten a cookie out when she heard a sharp, “What are you doing?!” and froze guiltily.

She only realized Regina wasn’t talking to her when a man answered, “Putting out the cups?” Turning, she saw it was her least favorite dwarf, Happy.

“I can see that. Where is the punchbowl?”

“At that end.”

“And where are you putting the cups?”

“At- this- end?”

“So unless the you have a deep and abiding love of mopping up punch, I recommend you rethink that.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Emma hid her grin behind her hand. Regina was so over the top, but she loved how much she threw herself into making the dumb cookies and punch absolutely perfect and would go full Evil Queen to guarantee that Henry had a nice school dance. It was endearing, but also hot as hell. She pushed that thought down and took a big bite out of a cookie to distract herself, only to let out a moan that sounded exactly like the thing she shouldn’t have been thinking about.

“Careful, dear, people might get ideas,” Regina teased.

She forced herself to smile, then mumbled around a mouthful of cookie, “Yeah, they might.”

**

This chaperoning thing wasn’t too bad, Emma decided. She barely had to do anything, just stand off to the side and scan the room for any problems, and since they were mostly good kids there hadn’t been many. And when there were, since she was the sheriff and the savior, all she had to do was cross her arms and glare at the offenders and they immediately stopped trying to cop a feel on their dates.

“Good evening, Sheriff.”

“Hey, Archie.” She had to shout a little bit to be heard over the music.

“Fun night, huh?”

Emma chuckled. Probably for him it was. “A little dull for my tastes.”

“Yeah, the kids could use somebody to show them how it’s done.”

“What?”

“You know, to get out on the dance floor and cut a rug.” He looked so eager.

“Archie, I’m flattered, but-”

“Oh no, not me! Somebody else. I don’t know, Regina.”

She looked at him, eyes narrowed. That didn’t sound like a casual suggestion. But now that it had been made, she felt her eyes drawn inexorably over to where Regina was hovering around the refreshments table. She had changed into a little black dress once everything was set up. It hugged her curves and dipped down in the front and how could she look both completely respectable and unbearably hot? As Emma watched, she realized Regina was rocking a little to the music, like she wanted to dance. Maybe Archie was right?

She found herself standing by the refreshments table moments later, not even having made a conscious decision to come over.

“Hey,” she greeted.

“Hey,” Regina said back, sounding a little startled.

“Youwannadance?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak mumble,” Regina said, eyebrow raised.

“Wouldst thou do me the honor of dancing with me, Milady?” Emma said, dredging up every old-fashioned word she could think of.

“It’s Your Majesty,” Regina shot back, but her mouth held the hint of a smile.

“Do you want to dance, Your Majesty?” Knowing what Regina’s objection would be, she added, “The refreshments will be fine for five minutes.” Just then, the song changed, and Emma knew this one. “Ooh, I love this song! Come on!”

“Alright,” Regina said, coming around and taking her hand to pull her onto the dance floor.

In those few steps, Emma was suddenly certain she’d made a huge mistake. Dancing? With Regina? The hottest woman in existence? She was going to make a total idiot of herself. This was going to be a disaster. But then Regina turned back to face her and found the groove and she just went with it. They slid into an easy rhythm, and it was chaste, really—which, Emma reminded her libido, it should be. This was a middle school dance and they were the chaperones. Grinding on each other wasn’t exactly on the table, no matter how much she might wish it was.

She looked up and met Regina’s eyes just as the singer sang, “This woman is my destiny.” Her heart thumped so painfully in her chest that she stopped moving. God, she wished.

But then Regina was reaching out and placing her hands on her hips and guiding her to start dancing again, mouthing along “Shut up and dance with me.”

So she did. She did her best to lose herself in the rhythm and not think too hard about things she wanted that could never be.

As the song transitioned to a slow one, Regina tilted her head to indicate they should leave the dance floor, and she reminded herself that was how it should be, too. They’d goofed off long enough and should get back to chaperoning.

“Oh shit,” she suddenly realized. “What if somebody spiked the punch?!”

Just then there was a loud zapping noise followed by a yelp. One of the eighth graders was stumbling away from the refreshments table looking slightly singed, flask in hand.

“Honestly, Ms. Swan. You think I didn’t magic the punchbowl?”