Note:

This story takes some liberties with the time frame of events in TWAU. I wanted to set this at this specific point in the game, so I "inserted" this open time of events between Bigby finding out about Crane and the subsequent investigation that follows.

This references the comics a little but shouldn't spoil anything for Fables!

Please note that this story is labeled mature!

and that reviews are very appreciated :)

The night was nearly half over when Snow peered at the grandfather clock across from her desk. With pen in hand, she allowed herself a pause in her hurried motions for the first time today. The hollow room was perfectly still finally; no line in the hallway, no drunk Bufkin breezing past every few minutes bothering her, no Crane throwing shit on her desk without a word as he walked—

Crane.

With a swallow, she pushed her weight up against the back of her leather chair before running her hand through her hair. The empty physical gestures kept her distracted for another moment, until her mind landed in the same murky place that she had purposefully avoided all night.

She glanced at his desk, the Deputy Mayor's desk, with the gold nameplate that should have been hers long ago. Running this place with any sort of a conscience or efficiency was a lost cause on Crane. There was great satisfaction to be held in the fact that it would almost certainly be her title officially, soon. But the satisfaction twisted in her stomach into an angry knot. If she only could have achieved it through recognition alone, in the way she had been imagining for years.

She had long pictured the conversation King Cole would have to have with his close advisors while trying to figure out what to do with the useless Crane. Snow's been here forever, she's the most dedicated Fabletown Employee. It's a perfect fit. Deputy Mayor, Snow White. The mayor would pay her a special visit, unexpectedly one day; perhaps after a particularly swift display of community management on her part. He would shake her hand and congratulate her and it would be very reaffirming and happy. Even Bigby would be pleased for her.

But rather, with today's events under her belt, Snow now realized the official promotion would, most likely, come in a carefully prepared but casually sent over letter. It would be written concisely and professionally, but in between-the-lines, it would boil down to: Your boss is at least partially involved in a prostitute-murdering spree of some sort, besides paying them to act out his favorite rape fantasies with you. You're the most qualified person to take his position. With a reduced salary.

It was all bullshit, but it was a promotion, the one she had been seeking for centuries now. She was unfortunately used to the tendency to ignore the responsible public servant. Why exactly she had expected any sort of pomp and circumstance was unknown, but it was surely due to some sort of childish need to be recognized by the people she respected. Luckily, that respect was nearly nonexistent now, and as she stood up from her chair, she felt a little bit more powerful, despite her unusual position.

Earlier that evening, at Lily's funeral, she had finished her eulogy uninterrupted by the Sheriff. When he appeared, he had to stop himself from walking directly up to her. He waited with his arms crossed, looking exhausted but vaguely understanding of the delicate situation. Even then, Snow could tell when he had something to tell her. His increasingly pensive gaze had alarmed her more than anything else, and her kind words nearly fumbled as her mind raced to figure out what he needed to say.

That awkward mumbling afterwards while he explained his visit to The Open Arms Hotel was painfully...sweet. Bigby's reluctance to go into great detail about the subject was obvious, but it only agitated her. He could hardly look her in the eye and that only made the situation more embarrassing.

She didn't like feeling like he had to treat her so gently, like she couldn't possibly handle it. It was becoming increasingly clear to her that he had been trying hard to clean up his act, trying to be restrained and….friendly. What could have spurred that, what motives he possibly could have, were unknown to her. She appreciated that his service was becoming increasingly loyal, and that his temper seemed to be cooling off. But she had her suspicions about why.

He had reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. Her head hung low, for a moment, and she felt that familiar and increasing spark between their body language. As much as she wanted to pull away and give him a cold glare, to maintain this needed empty space between them, she allowed herself a small moment of appreciation for his presence and his kindness. They shared silence before she regained composure and turned to leave.

Shortly after, Dr. Swineheart was pulling shrapnel out of Bigby's shoulder. They called it a night after that, waiting for Bufkin to sort the broken mirror. She could hear him still, clinking shards together in the corner of the room, cursing every quarter hour or so. Hopefully, she would have just enough time for a few hours sleep before getting back to work.

As Snow gathered her coat and paperwork, the sight of Bigby's Huff N Puffs gave her pause. He had left them behind and she couldn't help herself from smirking at the thought of him reaching into his jacket pocket, probably right around now, and finding that his only pack was gone.

The carton's lacquer shined in the dim lamplight as she picked up the package. Maybe half empty. She gazed at the clock for a final moment, before Snow put the carton in her front pocket. It was a smelly habit. But a handsome one, at that.

It was two minutes later when she stood in front of the Sheriff's door, letting out a nervous sigh. Despite her normally meticulous introspection, Snow had not thought this out at all and was desperately trying not to. You're only delivering his cigarettes, because you are a kind person. She could feel something hiding within her, some sort of perplexity that she was avoiding. With her shoulders sagging, her exhaustion was becoming more evident, and she questioned again why she was here.

Despite her misgivings, she reached out and knocked on the heavy wood door, reasoning that there was no turning back now. Her panicking internal monologue stopped itself when she heard footsteps. She braced herself for the impact of awkward eye contact that was sure to happen when he opened the door.

"Snow?"

Their eyes met. Bigby stared at her, rubbing one eye with his wrist, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He was still in his work pants, but his button down shirt was undone now, exposing his myriad of bandages and bruises.

"Bigby! Were you sleeping?"

He shrugged before clearing his throat, "Only trying. Got a lot on my mind, I guess." His eyes crinkled as he gave a small smile, before returning to confusion, "Is something up? Any new info?"

"No, no. I was heading home finally, when I noticed these," Snow procured the carton from her coat pocket, while watching Bigby's eyes rise in surprise. "I couldn't bear to think of you living without them."

She reached out, holding her hand in the air for him. His widened eyes were amused and disbelieving, and he seemed to think for a moment before reaching out and grabbing it from her.

"You didn't have to come all the way down here to do that. I've got a ton of these inside, just because I can't live without 'em."

Snow's cheeks flushed before she took a small step backwards, preparing herself to leave before saying offhandedly, "I'm glad you're covered. Try not to leave them on my desk again."

"Wait, thank you though, really. Why don't you, uh, come inside?"

Her eyebrows rose as she stopped her turn down the hallway. Before she could respectfully decline, Bigby purposefully stood back, opening the door widely for her.

"I need your help with something, really. Do you have just a second?"

Snow scoffed, "My help with something? I've certainly heard that before."

It was Bigby's turn to blush sheepishly before brushing his hair back, "Ahh, I can just ask Dr. Swineheart later. You need some down time." He grabbed the door with his hand and stepped back into the threshold.

Snow crossed her arms in her contemplative fashion before resigning herself to the situation and sighing, "No…I'm fine. Who needs sleep, anyway?"

Bigby's meek grin hinted at his nervous satisfaction. He stepped back and held the door open for her as she walked inside.

Walking straight in, Snow tried to seem assertive and not as diminutive as she felt. She heard the door close behind her as she made her way forward. His apartment, the smallest in The Woodlands, wasn't…too shabby. It was certainly fitting for a person who worked nearly every waking hour. She appreciated some of the small improvements he had obviously tried to make in his down time; a crooked landscape painting, a second hand rug. Most out of place was a small plant, clinging to life by his kitchen sink.

She instinctively walked to it, turning the faucet on lightly before picking up the small pot and bringing it under the stream of water for a moment. Bigby's footsteps could be heard behind her.

"Did you come here to water my plant?"

She set the pot down gingerly. She let the water run, allowing it to drown the sound of silence out before finally turning it off.

"You should take care of it. It's depending on you."

Coming closer to her, he muttered, "I didn't realize my house plants were under your jurisdiction, Snow."

"I'm sorry. Maybe you don't need my help, after all?" Snow turned to face him and smiled as he sat down at his dingy table. Newspapers were tucked under one leg to keep it balanced and two takeout containers she had noticed a week ago were sitting in the same spot she remembered.

"Don't make it so hard to ask for your help. I started itching at these bandages and I think I tore something open."

Snow was in the middle of peeking into one of the old takeout boxes before she shook her head in disgust, "Ugh, Bigby…"

"Oh, don't mind those...just avoid them. Come on, I didn't know I would have my boss over tonight."

"Boss, huh? Is that what you're going to call me now?" Snow faced him and crossed her arms while leaning on her hip. Bigby looked up at her, perplexed but still entertained with a crooked smile.

"Isn't that what I should call you? Crane's out. You've always been the one with the orders, anyway."

Snow ignored that and motioned for him to remove his shirt before telling him, "Turn around. Do you have extra bandages?"

Bigby reached across his table to give the additional dressings to Snow, causing him to cringe from pain momentarily. She felt bad for him, but he never seemed to focus on it for too long. His ability to continue on as though he felt fine made him the dependable Sherriff that he was.

Turning in his chair, his back faced her now as she sat down behind him. He was right; the bandages were pulled up against his fresh stiches, and droplets of fresh blood had stained the edges of the dressing.

"What are you doing scratching at new stitches like this?"

"I heal fast, stuff like this itches like crazy on the first night, usually."

"You're more dog than man, Bigby."

"I prefer wolf, not dog. But thanks for the judgment."

She smirked, pulling the old bandages around his shoulder and off his body. "You have to be careful, there's no point in telling Dr. Swineheart that you're going to lay off if you're going to go home and do this."

"I'm serious, Snow, I'm this close to never asking for your help again."

Her busy hands stopped for a moment, and she stared at the back of the greasy hair that hid his expression from her. Part of her felt guilty for the antagonism between them, but another part knew that they needed it, the bullshit. When it came down to it, disturbingly, the pair had a lot in common. They worked selflessly for Fabletown, and were the only ones who understood the other's real position. They were both lonely, but fiercely independent. Independent enough that they always went home to separate apartments, never indulging in anything beyond the rare cup of coffee down the block; all they needed from the other one was help in cleaning up the variety of messes that occurred in their lives. And that was all she needed, for now.

"Your hands are freezing, Snow."

"I get that a lot," She inspected the stitches for a moment before she reached for the new dressings.

"Well, I'm serious, unlike most of the assholes who probably tell you that."

Her eyes narrowed as she continued, "Why do you say that?"

"Seems like the perfect line," His voice rose an octave, in a royalty-mocking accent, "Snow White, your hands are cold! May I warm them up for you? How often does that happen?"

She cringed, not just at Bigby's attempt to disarm her, but at how accurate he was. She swallowed before answering, "It used to happen all the time. Not anymore, though."

"Why's that?"

"I guess very few people have been close enough to me to be able to say that in the past century. It used to happen, though. When I was still..." Her voice trailed off.

"Socializing?" Bigby offered.

"I guess so."

He grunted in affirmation, relaxing in his chair as she tucked the final layer of bandage neatly down.

"All done. Try not to mess it up this time, Wolf."

He turned in his chair, stretching his arm slightly to test the give of the bandage. Satisfied, he pulled his shirt over himself again, while still avoiding buttoning it.

"Can I ask you something, Snow?"

Damn it. "Sure, Bigby."

"You weren't…keeping anything from me about Crane, were you?"

Her cheeks flushed at the mention of his name, and she pulled back defensively from the table, "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, did he ever mess with you? Was there something going on I didn't know about?"

"Bigby, I don't—"

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But I always hated the fuck, Snow, and if I had known—"

"You would've what, Bigby? You would've killed him?" Her voice rose and nearly broke as her throat tightened, "It doesn't matter, okay? It doesn't matter. There is something so much bigger going on here, something so much bigger than my problems."

"You're so consumed by everything bad that happens in Fabletown that you can't recognize when something bad happens to you, and I can see it building up, Snow, and I don't—"

"I have spent centuries being stepped on and objectified, Bigby. This isn't the first time. And it probably won't be the last. But do you know the last time those women were stepped on? When someone cut their heads off and tossed their bodies in the river."

Bigby leaned forward on the table with his elbows, sighing and looking more exhausted suddenly. He spoke carefully, "I'm just sorry, that I've been working closely with you for so long, and I wasn't able to put it together until I walked into a crime scene. You were probably right about Crane being harmless. But if he isn't… I don't know. Something could have happened. He's lucky I didn't stumble upon those photographs the night your head showed up on our doorstep."

Snow stood up, pushing her chair in with a single hand, "Please stop talking about it, Bigby."

His mouth closed, and Bigby looked defeated. Every few years, it seemed, he would reach out to her in this way. Maybe he thought he was doing it for her benefit. She probably seemed pretty pathetic. But so did he, and his loneliness was compounding yearly. It was obvious to her.

"I'm sorry. I know I'm not that much help. I just hope you know that I'm here, on your team."

"I know that, Bigby. And I appreciate it… I really do."

Snow's breath caught in her throat. Bigby was still sitting at his chair, but was now facing out and toward her, waiting for her to continue. Her knees were close to his, and even more now, she could feel a jolt of electricity go up her thighs. What am I doing here?

She swallowed before meekly adding, "Thank you for today. You did some of your best work out there."

Before she could stop herself, she reached out to his right cheek. She stopped before she touched him, making eye contact to make sure he wasn't about to turn away. Her palm landed on the right side of his jawbone. His skin was hot, rough, with stubble that prickled under her thumb while she grazed it gently across his cheek.

He stared at her for a long time before he tilted his head to say, "What do you think, Boss?"

Her other hand found the side of his neck. She relaxed her cool fingers around it, feeling its pulse under her wrist. "I need…to be in control of something. For once in my life."

"Well, if I can do one thing, it's follow your orders."

There was silence between them before she gave a small laugh, "Please. Don't ruin it with lying."

She took a step closer to him, parting his knees with a small push to the side with hers. They parted willingly, and Snow inhaled deeply in satisfaction. His eyes were wide, befuddled but desirous. Bending over, she was now face to face with him. She came closer, pausing only to glance at his expecting face before kissing him hard and straightaway. Their breath multiplied while he thrust his weight against her. She kept his pace though, placing her hands on his freshly-bandaged shoulders and pushing them forward before she moved to straddle his lap between her legs. She sat down on top of his thighs and parted her legs to accommodate his waist.

She pulled herself closer to him, holding onto his shoulders for support as her weight leaned her back. She commanded him with the same assertive tone she would use at work, "Bigby, hold on to me."

He took her orders and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her up and squeezing her tightly against him. Snow could feel every inch of him, and she came close to giving everything to him and letting him simply take her, with no more pretense. His flat face buried into her breasts eagerly, too eagerly, nearly, and she regained her control over herself. She pushed him, hands on his chest, back up against the chair and away from her.

Looking guilty, he waited for her to continue. She balanced herself on top of his body before she lifted her head up, exposing her tender neck. With a single finger, she pointed to it before coaxing him to come closer. Obediently, Bigby pitched forward before taking in her scent, the area she so carefully sprayed with perfume every day. His breath was slow and hot and it nearly melted Snow, leaving her trembling and flexing her thighs around Bigby's waist. He lowered his reach and grazed his lips across her clavicle before moving up and kissing her neck roughly. His arms tightened simultaneously and Snow finally let out a drawn-out moan.

"Bigby."

His prying arms stopped instantly. He pulled back, furrowing his brow and waiting for her to carry on.

"Can I trust you to move forward?"

He turned his head to the side, waiting for her to explain. The sounds of the city outside of the apartment walls became apparent to them for the first time in several minutes. His heavy breathing was overpowering to her, though, with an assortment of longing, exhaustion and sweetness.

She cleared her throat, "If this goes on, I need to trust you."

Bigby reached out, without thought for the first time tonight it seemed, and cupped her cheek in his calloused hands.

"Just tell me what to do."

Her eyes narrowed before she pulled on the collar of his shirt to leverage their faces closer. Her tone was flat when she finally spoke quietly, "Just take me, Bigby."

The response was immediate. His mouth returned to her neck while one hungry hand left her waist and moved further down, finding its way under her blazer and blouse. Snow struggled to unbutton both in order to prevent them from being ripped to shreds. While one of his arms wrapped completely around her back and pushed her towards him, the other was eagerly caressing her breasts and pushing her back. The balance between the two actions was heavenly and Snow felt nearly weightless.

With her front finally unbuttoned, it wasn't long before her white lace brassiere was unclasped and fell to the floor with the growing pile of clothing.

Bigby's hands finally left her upper body when they found her thighs. He grasped both before slowly standing up, forcing Snow to tighten her grip around his neck and giving her a chance to nibble at his jaw. He took a couple clumsy steps forward until he slammed her against the wall, pinning his weight against the middle of her legs. Her skirt was at Bigby's mercy as he slid it further and further up.

With his hands busy with her thighs, Snow took the opportunity to run her nails up Bigby's back and neck. She paid special attention to his hair, running her fingers through it and pulling it gently. Her slender arms were draped around his shoulders, and while he was losing himself in her, Snow felt remarkably calm. For a moment, she let her head rest upon his chest while she closed her eyes. The sound of his breathing combined with his rapidly quickening heart beat could nearly lull her to sleep, if it didn't turn her on so much. Her eyes opened when she heard his belt jangling open, and the idea that this was happening finally registered to her.

A rough hand went up between her thighs, pulling down her underwear. It grazed her knees and fell to her ankles, where they clung still to her navy heels.

"Don't stop, Bigby, just keep going." Her body ached with anticipation for him. Their eyes met and that electricity between them that had existed for years finally sparked. He lowered himself to kiss her, hard, while pushing her further against the wall. It was only moments later that he thrust himself inside of her, and Snow threw her head back in ecstasy. It had been so long. The action itself was a little sore, but she tried to relish in the delicious stretching her body did to accommodate him. She clung to him more and more tightly, and her hot breath licked at his ears.

Her voice said ridiculous things, things he surely already knew; ramblings about how good it felt and how he shouldn't –no – couldn't stop. Everyone needs positive reinforcement every once in a while, and as she whispered encouragement into his ear, she felt outstandingly powerful. He needed her command, her attention, and now her body, so much. He was quite certainly in the palm of her hand, and that certainly got her off.

He continued, experimenting with the angle he held her at and the certain moans they produced. It was only when he found a very specific spot, where he pushed her higher up on the wall and nuzzled the indulgently soft skin on her chest and neck that she gripped his hair and neck more tightly than ever and muttered his name longingly over and over. She came, feeling every muscle in her body tighten before she became as limp and lax as a ragdoll.

Bigby's response was only to smirk for a moment before kissing her roughly and quickening his pace, tightening his grip upon her more and more until he finished. With a slowed pace, he pushed himself into her with one final stroke before he relaxed and reluctantly pulled out of her.

Snow's feet met the wood flooring as he let her down gently. They both stood against the wall still, with shared breath and rapid heartbeat. She gazed up at him, and he looked down at her, before she started to laugh gently. It all had happened so fast, but it had had centuries of buildup. He laughed too, seemingly out of bewilderment and satisfaction, as he rested his head upon her shoulder for a moment.

Bigby pulled away from her but held onto her hand, leading her to his oversized armchair. He sat down and looked expectedly at her before he tiredly pulled her closer, nearly whispering, "Hey, come on, don't leave me just yet."

Wearing only her skirt still, Snow glanced at her clothes on the floor guiltily before she obliged and sat down on his lap, laying sideways so her legs hung over the arms of the chair and her head tucked into his shoulder and chest. He wrapped his arms around her, one under her arm and above her chest, and the other under her knees and around her thighs. In a moment, his cheek rested against her head, and they both fell asleep without another word.

Snow's eyes opened abruptly only a few hours later, immediately taking in her surroundings and remembering what had happened. Somehow, Bigby's apartment seemed messier than before, beyond the stray clothing and knocked over takeout. She felt very foreign here, despite still happily being held in Bigby's arms.

She turned to glance at him. His head rested on the back on the chair, and his usually frustrated face seemed rather peaceful. Seeing him relaxed pleased her. She buried her urge to kiss him once more. The action would wake him up and he would kiss her back, and she would have to pry herself from his embraces. Beyond sincerely wanting him to rest, Snow had hopes for not sharing an awkward goodbye on unsettled terms before she went back to the office. What terms could they possibly be on after tonight?

It was complicated. As she watched him sleep, Snow realized that part of her loved him, maybe quite deeply. She needed him. But she wasn't sure what level those feelings existed on. She knew when walking down the hallway to his apartment earlier that night that she would be affirmed of some sort of feeling towards him, if she allowed herself more than a moment's conversation with him. And now here she was, in his arms, half-naked and half-asleep. Beyond the confusion, there was a sharing of knowledge; knowledge that they now both recognized this complicated set of feelings that they had for each other. In a time of self-doubt and confusion, confronting these feelings together felt like a small triumph.

That acknowledgement made her feel more whole. She hoped he would feel the same way. Either way, she wouldn't know, because he was quite good at hiding his feelings. Maybe, years from now, something more could come out of this. But presently, Snow was pleased to leave her feelings here. Gently removing his hot hands from her skin, she managed her way out of his lap without waking him up.

It was still dark outside, reassuring her that she had time to freshen up at her apartment before heading back into the office. Pulling on her blazer while brushing her hair haphazardly with her fingers, she made her way to Bigby's door.

With her hand on the doorknob, she stopped suddenly. Her eyes caught on a small photo frame sitting on his cluttered desk. She picked it up while examining it curiously. It was a group photo of the Mayor's staff from the Remembrance Day celebration a few years back. Bigby and her stood together, his arm around her shoulders with a goofy smile. He had definitely been drinking that night. Her face was exasperated but amused. They looked like friends.

She smiled, setting it back down quietly on the desk. Grabbing a pen, Snow slid a blank sheet of paper over to her writing hand. She scribbled a small note before folding it and setting it next to the picture. Always dateless, always together, at the Remembrance Day Ball –S.

Satisfied, Deputy Mayor Snow White opened the door before walking back down the hallway to the elevator, alone, to her apartment.