Author's Note: Warning! Straight sex in the beginning! No straight romance though. But I promise it'll be Swan Queen! I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you enjoy!

"Nothin' hotter than a leading lady, eh, Em?" a young, dark-haired man joked with his co-worker, nudging her roughly in the shoulder.

He wasn't quite drunk, but he was definitely getting there, and it made Emma nervous, especially given that she was also starting to feel a little more than a buzz. She tried to keep her work and private life separate, but when the handsome young man had asked her to go out for drinks, her stress level was too high to resist. She needed to wind down.

"Um… Sure, John," she replied flatly. "Whatever you say."

"No, c'mon," he slurred. "Don't tell me you don't think about it."

"What?"

"Look, we all know you're a dyke. Nobody cares. It seriously doesn't matter. But don't lie and pretend like you don't jizz yourself when she gets up there in those fuckin' pantyhose, wearing barely anything, and does 'Good 'N' Evil' Or 'Bring On the Men.'"

The numbers were particularly erotic. Emma couldn't deny that. And their leading lady certainly did own the role with complete and total confidence. Her performance was flawless, even in the initial run-throughs with the rest of the cast (who were hardly at her level of acting, or singing). Broadway eats people alive, and only the best of the best make the cut, but Regina Mills was, without a doubt, the most talented woman Emma had ever worked with as a production stage manager.

"Emma?" the man pressed, shoving her shoulder to regain her attention.

"Huh?"

"I was talking about pantyhose."

"Oh. Yeah. Whatever, man."

"You're so full of shit," he laughed in response. "We all drool when we look at her. The woman's a goddess."

"She's alright," the blonde muttered, averting her eyes and taking a large gulp of her glass of scotch.

"Alright?! Are you kidding me?! Regina Mills is-"

"Flawless. I know," she sighed. "None of us stand a chance, though. There's no doubt in my mind that her and our leading boy Robin are fucking."

"Oh, come on. You don't really believe that."

"It's kind of what co-stars do, John. They get together. It helps their chemistry on stage."

"He's a fucking oaf, dude. There's no way she's fucking him. He's hideous and just barely good enough to be the lead. I have no idea how he got the role, honestly."

The young woman couldn't help but laugh at this, relieved that he shared her sentiments about the male star of the show.

"You could probably do a better job," Emma agreed. "And you can't sing for shit. I've heard you."

"Hey! I don't sing!"

"Backstage, when you're setting up? Sure you do."

"Shut up, man."

"It's alright. I sing in the shower."

"Everyone sings in the shower," the man laughed, shaking his head. "You're probably a hell of a lot better than me."

"Nah."

"I bet you used to act and sing. I can just tell."

"I was in some stuff in college, yeah, but-"

"Ha! See?! I knew it."

Emma rolled her eyes and took another swig from her glass. The room was starting to move on its own, and he was becoming more annoying and more hilarious at the same time (which made absolutely no sense to her, but seemed to be true nonetheless).

"It doesn't matter. I sucked. I did much better when they put me backstage. I just did it 'cause they made me in order to get my degree. Said I had to be 'well-rounded' or whatever."

"What were you in?"

"I was Maureen in RENT once. Did Eponine in Les Mis, too. Felt bad for the people in the audience."

"Any recordings of those shows?"

"None you're ever gonna see," the blonde laughed.

"Oh, come on. It'd be fun. I doubt you sucked as much as you say, but we'd have a good laugh about it if you did."

"I'm not showing you."

"Well," the young man said loudly, swaying a bit on the bar stool as he leaned in. "I think you should reconsider. We could have a good time, you know? You could take me back to your place and-"

At this, Emma burst out laughing, to the point where she doubled over and held her stomach. When she finally caught her breath, her co-worker was scowling at her and looking offended and dejected.

"Fat chance, lover boy."

"It doesn't have to be like that," he grumbled. "We could just hang out. Doesn't it get lonely, not having any friends?"

"How the hell do you know I don't have any friends?"

"Well, you just admitted it, right there, for starters. Second of all, you've never been out with anyone we work with."

"That's not true!" she shouted back. "I had a working dinner with Don once!"

Don, the director, was particularly fond of Emma. What she wasn't going to tell John was that the older man had made a particularly explicit pass at her, and when she'd declined, he declined to have dinner with her again after that.

"Guess that's why you don't go out with us then."

Surprised at his level of understanding without her having to explain, she nodded her head slightly to let him know he was on the right track.

"Come on, Em," he finally sighed. "Let's just chill and have a few drinks. Let me see the shows."

"It's not gonna happen. Besides, we're already having more than a few drinks. I'm not drunk enough to bring you back to my apartment."

"Then have another drink. It's on me, alright?"

"Stop it, John. I-"

But he interrupted her to wave down the bartender, who took his order for two more glasses of scotch. When the bartender returned with the drinks, Emma looked at John apprehensively, but with her inhibitions already low, she found her defenses waning, and soon, she was sipping on the next glass of alcohol. After another hour of drinking, they were both definitely drunk.

"Take me home," he slurred in her ear, leaving his lips lingering there without pulling away.

"F-Fine," Emma laughed, her resistance demolished by her drunkenness. "Let's go."

So the young man settled their tab, paying for all of Emma's drinks, and allowed her to lead him out of the bar. When they reached her apartment in Greenwich village, Emma slammed the door behind them and sucked in a quick breath as he backed her up against the closest wall, nearly knocking down the framed poster beside them.

"Let me kiss you," he pleaded, his face close to hers.

"N-No," she laughed, shaking her head. "You're gross."

"Come on, Em. We both need to get laid. You're pretty. I'm attractive. Charming. Intelligent. Talented…"

"Oh, shut up, you fucking asshole."

"Seriously," he sighed, sliding his hands over her sides. "What's so wrong with needing a little physical attention? I mean, I know I'm not a chick, but-"

"I'm not gay, John," she said, voice stern.

"Whatever. Bi, then. So what?" he countered. "Wait… You're into guys too?"

"Depends on the guy, but yeah."

"Then why not? Why not me? Just this once. We don't ever have to talk about it ever again."

"I'm so not drunk enough for this," Emma groaned, pushing him away and rolling her eyes as her head fell back against the wall with a thud.

"You are too. Look, I'm not looking for anything more than a little action with someone I'm fond of, okay? We're friends, right? That doesn't have to change. Like I said, we both really need to get laid, and-"

"Fuck, Jonathan!" Emma shouted, grabbing his shoulders and jerking him forward, crashing their mouths together in a rough but passionless kiss. "Just fuck off."

"Let me fuck you."

Again, her head fell back against the wall, exposing the pale skin of her neck. He took his chance to kiss her there and after a few movements of his tongue, she let out a low moan.

"I'm not interested," she finally managed, between heavy breaths.

"Maybe not in me. But you definitely want to get fucked."

"Not by you."

"Just pretend I'm her, yeah?"

"What?"

"Who cares? It doesn't matter to me. We both want to get off. I don't care if you're thinking about her."

"I'm not going to think about her when you're fucking me!"

"Oh, so I am gonna get to fuck you, then?"

"Ugh! Shut up! Maybe I'm too drunk for this."

"Shit," he cursed, but sounding concerned. "You gonna get sick?"

"Nah," Emma sighed. "I'm just actually considering your proposition, so I know I'm too far gone."

He stared at her until her gaze met his, then slid his hands up her toned stomach and over her breasts, which were displayed perfectly by the low-cut tank top she was wearing. Again, she sighed, but reached out and groped his jeans in the space between his legs, earning a deep groan from him. She could feel his erection through his pants and was surprised to find that he was larger than she'd expected. Emma rubbed him a little harder a few times, until he was gasping and his head fell to her shoulder.

"Are you gonna think about her too?" she asked him suddenly, pulling her hand away.

He lifted his head reluctantly, slightly aggravated that the stimulation had been removed.

"Honestly?" he asked, irritation grating his voice.

"Yeah."

"I'm happy thinking about you."

"What?"

"I've wanted you for a while now. Since we met, actually."

"But I thought you said-"

"Of course I want to fuck her too. Who doesn't? But you're fucking hot, Emma, and I'm seriously desperate to get laid right now."

"How desperate?"

"What?"

"How desperate are you to get laid?"

"Very."

"Desperate enough to go down on me first?"

The dark-haired man raised his eyebrows and looked at her with deep green eyes.

"Wouldn't you rather I do it after?" he finally asked. "I mean… you know… to finish you off?"

"Most men are too tired and bored afterwards. I'm not dumb enough to expect to come after they do."

"I won't be. I promise."

Looking suspicious but drunk enough to believe him, she pulled him into her bedroom and started to strip.

"This is weird," Emma said suddenly as he gently pushed her onto the bed and positioned himself between her legs. "I-"

"It's alright. Really. I get it. She's flawless, like you said. It's cool. Whatever gets us both off, right? Nothing serious. Just casual, much-needed sex."

When he asked if she was ready, she nodded slowly, and he pushed into her, his head once again falling to her shoulder as he groaned in pleasure. He came quickly – not at all to Emma's surprise – but made good on his promise to please her. A few short moments after his release, he put his mouth between her legs. Though he was pretty much an amateur at the action, the thoughts that Emma allowed to flood her mind were enough to get her off, though it did take a while. When she finally came, with her eyes squeezed shut, she had to bite her tongue to keep the woman's name from slipping past her lips.

He raised his head with a smirk and looked at her face, which was full of a mixture of relief and exhaustion.

"Was that alright?" he asked her, his hands remaining on her hips. When Emma nodded, he added, "Was she good?"

"Oh, shut up," Emma laughed, pushing him off.

He rolled onto his side next to her and smiled brightly.

"So how bad of a crush do you have on this girl anyway?"

Still feeling buzzed, but not quite drunk, Emma flopped back against the pillows, folded her arms behind her head, and sighed, "It's so bad that it's painful."

"I fucking knew it!" the man cackled.

"What? How?!"

"Well, first of all, like I said, there's nothing hotter than a leading lady. Secondly, it's in the way you stare at her."

"I'm the fucking production stage manager! Of course I'm looking at her!"

"You're supposed to be looking at everyone on the stage, not just the star."

"Oh, shut up, John!" the woman cried, shoving him and knocking him onto his back.

"Your bed is comfortable," he commented after a few moments of silence.

"Yeah, it is," Emma said. "But you're definitely not sleeping in it."

"Why not?"

"I don't let people sleep in my bed."

"Why?"

"Because it's too intimate, okay? It's too much like a relationship. I'm not into commitment."

"Okay. I get that. But-"

"Drop it, John."

"Fine, but-"

"Seriously."

"Are you sure I can't stay? I mean, it's not like we don't know each other. I'm not gonna murder you in the middle of the night."

"That's got nothing to do with it. This is too serious for me already. You need to back off."

"Oh, come on, Em," the man sighed. "I'm not looking for a relationship either. I just don't feel like walking back to my apartment in the middle of the night and – don't fucking laugh – I sort of like to cuddle after sex. It's not a connection thing. It's a physical thing. That's all I want, alright? A friend, a fuck, and a cuddle. Is that so much to ask for?"

"Quit pressuring me to do something I'm not comfortable with…" Emma said slowly, looking away from him.

"Don't you ever just wanted the warmth of someone else in your bed every now and then? Haven't you ever felt that?"

"Well… I mean… Maybe…"

This brought a smile to his face as he rolled back onto his side, facing her, and draped his arm over her bare torso, just under her breasts.

"Then let's just lie together for a while, yeah? Besides, morning sex is pretty good too."

"How do you know I want to fuck you again?" Emma asked, trying to sound serious.

"Was I that bad?" he laughed, rubbing his thumb over her skin.

"You were alright. I was just kidding."

"Just alright?"

"Well, you're huge, but you're no Don Juan."

He laughed at this too, only slightly offended. After all, how upset could he be after a fuck like that? He might have been mediocre, but she certainly wasn't, and he was grateful to have had such an intense release after such a long time without any action.

"Fair enough," he replied, flashing her a smile. "So, can I stay?"

With a heavy sigh, Emma replied, "Yeah. Alright."

John clapped his hands like a schoolboy, thrilled that he'd won what he wanted, and rolled closer until half of his body was leaning against hers and his head was on her shoulder. Again, though, Emma sighed.

"What?" he asked, hearing the sound.

"This is just weird. I really-"

"Relax. I'm not gonna push you into a relationship. This is just a casual physical thing between two people who happen to work together. I just want to be friends. I'm not into commitment either. I've just been horny as fuck, and you are a fine piece of ass."

"Hey!" the blonde snapped. "I'm not a piece of ass, alright? I'm a fucking human being. I'm not your toy to discard when you're done."

"I thought you didn't want a relationship!"

"I don't! I just don't like being referred to as a piece of ass!"

"Hey, listen… I'm sorry. I just meant… You're really attractive and desirable, and I'm lucky to be in your bed right now."

This brought a small smile to Emma's face as she said, "Apology accepted. Now shut up so I can sleep. We've both gotta be there early tomorrow."

"Ugh," he groaned. "I know it. Don's a fucking asshole and works us all too hard."

"He just wants everyone to be prepared by opening night. He might be a dick, but he knows how to pull a show together."

"Yeah, right. He just sits there and complains and criticizes without actually telling anyone how to fix anything. You're the one who glues it all together and makes sure it doesn't fall apart."

Sober by this time, Emma blinked a few times, surprised by his comment, then replied, "Thank you for saying that. I'm not so sure it's true, but I really appreciate that you see it that way. I do try hard to be good at my job."

"You are good at your job, Emma. I'm lucky to have you as a manager."

"Aw, come on. You're a stage manager too."

"Yeah, but you're still production stage manager and higher up than me. I've learned a lot from you."

"You are kind of a rookie, aren't you?" the woman laughed lightly, poking him in the side.

"Guess so," he muttered.

"Everyone was a rookie once, man. You won't be one forever. Maybe you'll be production stage manager for your next show."

"Honestly, I'd rather work with you again. You make it easier to be around asshole directors like Don."

Smirking at this, Emma shut her eyes and let out a quiet sigh.

"Night, Em," he mumbled, shutting his eyes again.

He passed out after a few deep breaths, but Emma, as tired as she was, found herself unable to fall asleep, kept awake by the image of the beautiful leading lady behind her eyelids. Eventually, though, she did join him in sleep. She was startled awake the next morning by the feeling of the man stroking her hip with his thumb.

"Shit, John!" she gasped, shoving his hand away. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"What, by touching you?"

"Yes!"

He laughed, shaking his head, and said, "C'mon. Don't you want another go? We've got a little while before we have to get up…"

Emma looked over at the clock. 4:03 AM. Rehearsal didn't start until 6. She only turned her head back to look at him when he rolled on top of her, hands pressed into her hips.

"John," she sighed, wanting to push him away, but slightly aroused by the stimulation.

"Just pretend it's her strap-on," he suggested with a chuckle. "I really don't care. I just need to get rid of this fucking raging boner."

"You always get a woody in the morning, perv?"

"Not as hard as this one. But I don't usually wake up next to a beautiful woman laying beside me."

"I need to shower. We should get going."

"Come on, Emma. Don't make me fucking jack off."

"I don't give a shit about your boner, John."

"You don't care about an orgasm either? A little release before a stressful day at work?"

She bit her lip, considering his point. It was a good one. It wasn't like he was so attractive, or that he turned her on so badly, but the proposition of a relatively decent fuck before a taxing day of getting shouted at by a douchebag of a director was tempting, even if he wasn't the most desirable option. Also, his suggestion was also tempting. Imagining the star of their show fucking her with a strap-on as soon as she woke up made an orgasm particularly enticing, and the more she considered it, the more the pressure and heat in her core built up, until she pulled his hips forward.

Once he came, he put his mouth on her clit again and sucked her there until she got her own release. To Emma, the orgasm was nothing special. It didn't wrack her body the way she imagined that Regina would, and it certainly didn't leave her thighs shaking or feeling like Jello. She wasn't sore from being fucked hard and rough. Really, it had been second-rate, and, given that her anticipation was more intense that morning than it had been the night before, and that she was completely sober, it was more disappointing than anything else. Of course, the young man didn't notice, or bother to ask how it was.

Instead, he rolled onto his side, smiling at her, and said a simple, "Thanks."

Emma rolled her eyes and swung her legs out from under the sheets and got out of the bed, announcing, "I'm getting in the shower. I'll see you at the theatre."

To Emma's surprise, the man's attitude at work was completely casual. It wasn't awkward at all. He was relaxed and said nothing about the previous night, or that morning, and simply treated her as he always had – like a good acquaintance. They were almost even friends. Friendly, at the very least. Emma had to admit, too, that having drinks with him the night before had been enjoyable. It was good to have the company and not feel so alone. She found herself grateful that he'd invited her out.

What did distract her, however, were her fantasies of the star of the show. Of course, it wasn't like she hadn't pleasured herself to the thought of the young woman's touch, but the longing had grown more intense as the man fucked her. They became more real. More penetrating (literally). She also found herself grateful that John had understood the desires of her imagination and allowed her to indulge in them.

However, these experiences didn't help to take her mind off the beauty who took center stage, and unfortunately, she missed multiple cues throughout the rehearsal, which were thankfully caught by the other stage manager that she usually set and example for.

"What's the matter with you?" the director asked her, after they'd wrapped for the night, around 9 PM, and almost everyone else had left the building.

"Nothing, Don. I'm fine. Just an off day."

"Yeah, well it better not happen again, or I'll have John take your position and demote you to his. Got it?"

"Yeah, sure," she muttered. "I got it."

As she walked away, Emma cursed under her breath.

Thinking she was alone, she dragged her feet as entered the backstage area to gather her things and said out loud, "I am such an idiot."

"What?" a smooth, low voice asked from behind her.

"Huh?" she said dumbly, spinning around to look behind her. "Oh. Regina. Hi... I was just-"

"Were you talking to yourself?" the brunette laughed, her gaze locked on Emma's blushing face.

"N-No! I mean… Sort of."

"What makes you think you're an idiot?"

"Oh, my God," Emma groaned. "Did you not see how many cues I missed today? It was pathetic. I…"

"Everyone has off days, Emma. It's not a big deal."

"You don't," Emma pointed out. "And Don certainly thinks it's a big deal."

"Well, he's a fucking asshole. Don't worry about him. Just come back rested tomorrow and do your thing."

"Yeah. I'll definitely try. I just hope this off kick doesn't bleed into tomorrow."

"You'll get back on your feet," Regina assured her. "I know you will."

"I think you have too much faith in my abilities," Emma chuckled. "Thanks, though."

"Emma, you're a great stage manager. You're great at what you do. Everyone knows that. Even Don."

"He said he'd demote me and give the spot to John if it happened again."

"He won't. John's mediocre. I mean, he's alright, but he's nothing special. You have your shit down pat. No one doubts that. It's an empty threat. He'd fuck the whole show over if he did that."

Mediocre, Emma laughed in her head. Boy. She has no idea.

When the star saw the smirk on Emma's face, she look confused and asked, "What?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing. I was just… thinking."

"Alright…"

"You know…" the blonde started slowly. "You're really good at what you do too. I've never seen anyone with as much talent as you."

"It doesn't come naturally. I work my fucking ass off. I practice constantly, even when I'm not at rehearsal. I've always been like that."

"It really pays off."

"Thank you," Regina said with a smile. "You're very sweet to say so."

Oh, God, Emma groaned silently. She called me sweet.

But Emma didn't feel sweet. She felt like a creep as she realized that her crush was quickly becoming an obsession. All it took was a small smile spread across the woman's lips to make her heart palpitate. She hoped it wasn't obvious that she was starting to sweat.

"Well, I gotta go," the stage manager said awkwardly, shifting her weight to her other leg. "See you tomorrow."

"Alright. Thanks again! See ya tomorrow."

As Regina turned around and began to gather her things, Emma quickly grabbed her own and hurried out of the building. As soon as she was outside and the heavy New York air filled her lungs, her heartbeat began to slow, and she was thankful that the woman was finally out of sight. On the subway back to her apartment in the Village, though, she found the thoughts returning, more and more intensely as she grew closer to her train stop. As she stepped back into her apartment, she thought about calling John, just to get some release, even if it was less than satisfying. At least it would be something. But she decided against it, instead choosing to fill a glass with scotch as she sat down on her couch and flicked on the TV.

None of the shows interested her, though, and even after she picked one, she quickly fell into a daze and ended up staring at the moving pictures on the screen with her eyes glazed over. After a while, realizing she was barely even knew what show she'd put on, she grabbed the remote and turned off the device, then went into her bedroom to change into her pajamas. Once she was in the bed under the sheets, though, her thoughts went right back to the actress. More intensely than she'd ever felt before, she felt the desire for release, when the image of Regina's bright, sly smile refused to leave her mind.

Her fingers twitched, but her arms remained at her sides, and she shut her eyes as she tried to lie still.

"Nope," she said softly, speaking to herself and the darkness that surrounded her. "Not gonna do it."

But the harder she tried to push the thoughts away, the harder it was to fall asleep. In fact, the more time passed, the more explicit the thoughts became, shifting slowly from the woman's beautiful smile, to the thought of her naked body, and then to the mental image of the intense, mind-blowing sex Emma longed to have with her. Once her imagination brought this idea to the front of her mind, she was quickly overwhelmed by the force of it and gave in to the urge for release.

"Fuck," she groaned as her own fingers brought her near to orgasm. "Regina."

She came as soon as she said the woman's name, and was left panting as her sweat soaked the sheets. It was only then that she was able to fall asleep, this time with surprising thoughts of Regina spending the night in her bed with their bodies entangled tightly, their sweat and juices mixing as heat radiated between them.

The next morning, she woke long before her alarm went off and was kept awake by thoughts of the leading lady flooding back to her mind. After another release – the urge was too strong to ignore – she turned off the alarm before it announced its presence, showered, and arrived at the theatre early. She was alone for a while and was successfully distracted by burying herself in the notes she'd made on her copy of the script. The idea was to review them to keep herself focused and more prepared during the rehearsal, but as soon as Regina appeared backstage – the second person to arrive at the theatre – all memory of her script slipped away.

"Uh… H-Hi, Regina," she stuttered.

"Oh! Emma! Hi!" the young woman exclaimed, clearly surprised to have found someone there before her. "What brings you here so early?"

"Um… I… uh… woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep," Emma responded.

It wasn't a lie, and she certainly wasn't going to tell the star why she hadn't been able to return to her dreams, or what the dreams had been about.

Looking a little concerned, Regina said, "Sorry to hear that. I'll keep my fingers crossed that you get better rest tonight."

Doubt that's gonna happen, Emma was thinking, but she didn't say the words out loud.

Instead, she replied, "Thanks," and asked, "What about you?"

"I always get here early. I like to go through the harder parts of the script before anyone else gets here to see me mess it up."

"Regina," the blonde laughed. "You never mess it up."

"Sure I do."

"When?"

"Well… That… That time we did the first read-through I…"

"Oh, whatever. That was one time, and it was the first time you'd ever seen the script."

"I guess so…"

"Hey, come on. Don't beat yourself up over something so tiny. You are a wonderful actress, and a wonderful singer. You should be very proud of yourself for your accomplishments. You've been the lead in… how many shows?"

"Well… I don't know…"

"Sure you do. How many?"

"That's not the point."

"How many?"

"Okay… Um… The Little Mermaid… Wicked… Beauty and the Beast… Spring Awakening in college. Maureen in RENT my senior year… I was also Audrey in Little Shop of Horrors and Eponine in Les Mis when I was in high school…"

"That's seven shows. That's incredible. I mean, when weren't you a lead?"

"Well… I…"

"I bet you did shows in middle school too. Which ones?"

"Um… I was Wendy in Peter Pan…"

"See? When have you not been the lead?"

"I…"

"Well?"

"N-Never…"

"Listen, Regina. You hit that stage, and you are magic."

"All magic comes with a price," the brunette laughed, shaking her head.

"What's the price, then? Being the most flawless woman on Broadway?"

"Oh, shut up. It's not having a social life. This is literally all I do. I have no time for anything else. Musicals are my entire life."

"I find that hard to believe. Every guy I know knows that you're the perfect woman."

"Knows…?"

"What?"

"You said 'knows.'"

"I… Well… Yeah."

"Meaning it's universally true."

"It kind of is."

"Meaning you think so too?"

"I…"

"Emma?"

Luckily for Emma's pride, they were interrupted by the director walking in with loud, stomping steps.

"Hello, ladies. Ready for another brutal day of rehearsal?" he said cheerfully with a smirk.

"Sure, Don," Emma answered, rolling her eyes. "You got it."

"Of course," Regina chimed in, flashing a genuine smile.

No one liked the director, but Regina was chipper no matter what. Emma assumed this was because she enjoyed her occupation, regardless of whom she worked with. It partly aggravated her that Regina seemed to tolerate him and wasn't bothered by his status as the ultimate douchebag, but her relentless smile also encouraged her to put up with the man's merciless bullshit. The only person it didn't encourage her to tolerate was the leading man – Robin – who irritated her to no end, especially when she was smiling at him. She did feel a little better after what John had said the night they'd gone out for drinks, about him barely being capable of acting the leading male role, given that it was almost painful thinking about him fucking his co-star, or even being with her at all.

To Emma's frustration and dismay, that day's rehearsal went much the same as the day before. She was more than distracted by the leading lady's beauty and her divine singing voice. The woman never missed a note, and with every one she sang, the blond became even more captivated. Her fellow stage manager had to kick her in the side of her leg to keep her on cue, and even then, she missed quite a few. At the end of the night, as the cast and crew left the theatre, leaving only Emma, John, Regina, Robin, and Don, Emma was approached by the director, who scowled at her sternly.

"What the fuck was that, Swan?" he cursed.

Being referred to by her last name made it clear she was in trouble.

"W-What?" she asked, clearly playing dumb.

"You know exactly what! You missed half the cues and fucked up the entire cast today!"

"Look, I'm sorry. I'm just-"

"Fucking up. You're just fucking up. Do I need to demote you and bump John up to your position?"

"No! I'll be fine tomorrow. I just… I need… I just need some more sleep."

"Listen, Swan. You better get your shit together by tomorrow, or you're losing your spot as production stage manager. Is that clear?"

"Yeah… Crystal clear. I'm sorry."

"Good. Now, piss off, before I decide to just fire you altogether."

When she turned around, the remaining members of the cast and crew were staring at her.

As soon as she heard the director slam the exit door, she snapped, "What? Fuck off."

Quickly, they turned away and hurried to gather their things.

John was the first to finish collecting his stuff, but before he left, he approached the blonde and told her quietly, "Don's a prick. You got this, Emma. You just need some sleep, like you said. Rest up and you'll be good as new by tomorrow."

"Yeah…" Emma replied slowly. "Thanks, John. See you tomorrow."

With a nod, he left the theatre.

Unlike John, however, the next person to approach her was less than understanding.

"Nice work, asswipe," the leading man taunted. "Way to drop the ball and mess up everybody else."

Emma opened her mouth to respond, but before she could make a retort, he walked off laughing and left the building.

This left the blonde alone with the leading lady once again, and when she saw the star look her way and start to walk towards her, her heart responded in the usual manner by racing faster than she could manage. As the woman got closer, it sputtered and sped up, until it nearly burst as they stood face to face.

"Emma," Regina sighed. "I'm really sorry. He's such an asshole."

"Why are you sorry?" Emma asked, eyes wide with surprise.

"Because he shouldn't give you shit like that. A few off days are no reason to speak to you the way he just did."

"Nah," the blonde muttered. "He's right. I need to get my shit together."

"Emma! Your shit is together. You just had a few bad days. There's nothing wrong with that."

"I messed everybody else up!"

"They're supposed to have their shit together. If they did, they wouldn't rely on your cues so much."

"Wow… I mean… I guess you're right, but then again… If they did… I probably wouldn't have a job."

"That's not true. Every show needs a stage manager to hold everything together and take care of the cast in a crisis."

"We haven't had a crisis yet. I doubt we will. Not with you as a lead."

"Oh, stop it. I can't hold the whole goddam show together like you can."

"You are single-handedly carrying this show right now. You should know that by now. Only half the cast knows what they're doing, and it's mostly the ensemble," Emma told her, then muttered under her breath, "Robin's certainly got no fucking clue what he's doing."

"What did you just say?" Regina asked sternly, staring Emma down.

"N-Nothing. Forget it."

"No. Say it."

"Ugh. Fine! I said, 'Robin's certainly got no fucking clue what he's doing.'"

To Emma's surprise, the star burst into a fit of laughter, until she even doubled over and held her stomach.

"W-What?" Emma asked, gaping at the reaction.

"N-Nothing," Regina cackled. "Just wanted to make sure you said what I thought you said!"

"But… I thought you were going to-"

"What? Get pissed?"

"Well, I don't know… I just thought… I mean… I didn't actually intend to say that. It just sort of slipped out. I'm sorry…"

"Why are you sorry?"

"I… I…"

"What?"

"I just thought… that… you were… um…"

"What?"

"I thought you were… you know… with him."

"What?!" the brunette shouted, laughing even harder. "Me and Robin? Yeah right!"

"I… You're… You're… not… together?"

"Of course not! He's a complete imbecile!"

"Oh, wow. I could have sworn you guys were-"

"Nope. Never. I mean, he's made numerous passes at me, but it's never gonna happen. Nowhere outside of his wildest dreams."

The sound of her continued laughter – light and bright – gave Emma butterflies, and the information she'd just received only made them worse. Of course, she knew she didn't have a chance with Regina, but inexplicably, it made her feel better to know that the woman wasn't actually with her co-star. Jealousy had been building in her for a while, and it had only gotten more intense over the past few days. Finally, she was starting to feel better. At least… until she realized that the woman was probably with someone else.

"Are… Are you with someone else, then?" Emma blurted out on impulse, before she could stop herself.

Regina kept laughing and replied, "No way. No time, like I said. Absolutely NO social life."

"I'm… I'm kind of surprised, honestly."

"Why?"

"Like I told you, every guy knows how perfect you are."

"Even if that was true – which it's not – regardless of how they feel about me, I'm not interested in them."

"Maybe you just haven't found the right guy yet," Emma forced herself to say, shrugging as she looked away.

"Maybe I'm not looking for a guy."

"I'm sure you could make time if-"

"Let me try that again. Maybe I'm not looking for a guy."

Emma's eyes went impossibly wide as her head jerked up and she stared at Regina and her mouth fell open.

"W-What?"

"I'm gay," the woman laughed. "No one believes me when I tell them that. I guess I'm pretty fem. But it's true nonetheless."

"I…"

"Yes?"

"I definitely am… uh… surprised."

"The people I've told usually are."

"How many people know? I mean… I'm just asking because the entire cast and crew are clueless."

"Just a few close friends I used to have, and my parents. I try to keep my private life separate from work."

"Then why'd you tell me?" Emma asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

"I know you won't tell, and that you wouldn't care."

"What makes you so sure I'm not a total homophobe?"

"You're too sweet to be homophobic, Emma. You're probably the nicest person I know."

"What?"

"You do everything you can to take care of everyone and make everybody happy. You work hard to keep everything running smoothly, because you care about us."

"Except Robin," the blonde chuckled. "Don't give a shit about him."

"Sure you do. You've helped him tons of times. You're the only reason he'll make it through the show."

"Bullshit."

"What? You don't think he'll pull it off?"

"No, it's not that. I just don't think I'm the person that's gotten him there."

"You've run lines with him numerous times while I was practicing my numbers with Don. I've seen you."

"That's… I just… I don't care about him. I care about the show."

"Maybe so, but you do care, and I think that's really amazing. Most people don't care that much. Take John, for example. He doesn't really care. I mean, he's a pretty good stage manager. He does his job. But he's nothing like you. He puts in the bare minimum then gets the fuck out of here as soon as he can. He doesn't stay late to make sure we're all practiced like you do."

"I…"

"You're special, Emma. You give this your all, and I admire that."

"You do too."

"Then I suppose we have that in common."

"I just have absolutely no acting or singing skills."

"I've seen your resume."

"What?"

"I've seen your resume. You were Eponine in college too."

"Well, yeah… but I sucked."

"They wouldn't have cast you if you sucked."

"There weren't enough people who auditioned, and I was the only one who knew the lines."

"That's some serious bullshit. You went to fucking NYU. I know you fought tooth and nail for that spot."

"I'm a stage manager, Regina, not an actress or a singer. It was a one-time thing. They made me audition for it."

"But you got it, Emma. You got it, and I bet you nailed it."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I heard you sing when you were cleaning up back stage…"

"You what?"

"I heard you sing one night while you were closing up."

"I didn't… I didn't think anyone was here…"

"I was on the way out, but I heard you, and I… I sort of couldn't… move…"

"What?"

"You have a beautiful voice."

"You are so full of shit. You're just being nice, because that's who you are."

"I'm not saying it to be nice. I'm saying it because it's true."

"It's not true! I can't hit a note to save my life."

"You are so full of shit! Don't be so hard on yourself. If you'd auditioned, you could have gotten into the show."

"I did get into the show. As the production stage manager. And that's all I wanted. That's all I've ever wanted."

"I'm glad you get to live your dream. That's a beautiful thing. I was just saying… You're… You're very talented, in several ways."

"I…"

"Don't argue with me. Just accept the compliment, alright?"

Seeing the sudden stern look on Regina's face, Emma nodded her head reluctantly and went quiet, until finally, she said, "I should get going."

"Are you saying that to avoid this conversation, or do you actually have somewhere to be?"

"I need to get some sleep."

"Alright. You know… If you went out with everyone sometimes, you might be able to… relax a little more…"

"I went out with John the other night! Besides… You don't."

"I don't have time. I go home and run lines to make sure I don't fuck up when I get to rehearsal," the brunette retorted. "Wait… You're going out with John?"

"No! I… I mean… No."

"You sure about that?"

"I… I mean… We hooked up once, but it was just… just a casual thing…"

"Oh… Um…"

"It was stupid, and he was kind of lame anyway."

"I never would have guessed that you two had-"

"Like I said, it was dumb, and it didn't mean anything to either of us."

And I thought about you the whole time, Emma almost added.

"I'm surprised you're not going steady with someone."

"I'm not one to commit."

"That's fair. I'm sure you've got plenty of suitors to choose from."

"Not… Not really."

"Is that so?"

"I don't know. Maybe I just don't notice when guys are hitting on me. Well… Unless they're… you know… explicit about what they want…"

"I assume John was explicit, then."

Why does she even care? the blonde wanted to know, feeling confused and conflicted about sharing the information.

"Yeah. He was."

"But, uh… He was lame, huh?"

Suddenly, Regina was wearing a small smile, and it encouraged Emma to give her a matching one in return.

"Yeah."

"So what's your type, then?"

"Tall, dark, and handsome," the stage manager joked.

Regina rolled her eyes.

"Seriously."

"None of the guys I work with, that's for sure."

"Well, maybe if you went out, you'd find someone of a higher caliber. Lots of attractive bachelors in this city."

"Eh… I doubt it."

"You never know until you try."

"Well, then… Maybe… Um… Maybe we should both go out sometime… You know… to get rid of some stress?"

"You mean with everyone else?"

"Or… Or just us… Whatever you wanna do…"

Emma blushed when Regina raised an eyebrow at her and said, "That sounds good."

She gulped down the knot in her throat, but only managed to squeak out, "I…"

When the brunette took a large, slow step closer, their faces close together, Emma's heart stopped completely, and she felt as though she'd just died on the operating table.

"Get some sleep tonight," Regina said. "We'll go out later this week, if you want."

"That… That'd be okay…" Emma replied. "I mean… Great. That would be great."

"It's a plan then. I'll see you tomorrow, Em."

"Yeah… Goodnight, Regina…"