A/N: This fic has already been posted on AO3, I'm simply cross-posting here for consistency. A few things about this fic:
1. This is an Alternate Setting, so some things will be OOC naturally.
2. The entire fic will be from Regina's Point of View only, but it is written in third-person not to worry.
3. Mentions of prostitution, and insomnia will be present in this chapter. Insomnia will be a major theme throughout the fic.
Sleep is for the weak some say— how many times has she heard the phrase I'll sleep when I'm dead from those with too much to live for? It's all a farce, a face of bravado that Regina doesn't have when she's nothing more than a walking corpse in expensive heels and a pantsuit that hangs off her frame.
Regina needs her sleep, needs it badly enough that she's parked in a dingy street with her knuckles white around the steering wheel. There had been some consideration for a professional cuddler, what with her mother looking on at her in pity and passing on a shiny pretentious card— but Regina had gagged at the idea of cuddling up to the same stranger her mother did at night, tossing the card in the trash instead.
What she needs, Regina thinks, whilst eyeing a low end brothel with trepidation curling around her chest, is something discrete and far away from her mother's interference as possible. The last thing she needs is Cora Mills advertising that her daughter requires someone to hold onto at night to get any shut eye, no doubt adding another feather in Mother's cap as she continues to compete with her—
"Hey," a voice says, cutting through Regina's thoughts as she startles, hand flying to her chest. It's beating too fast to hear anything, Regina's fight or flight instinct clearly broken as she finds herself frozen in her Mercedes, wide eyes taking in the sight of a blonde woman with hands raised in surrender. "Take it easy," she reassures through the glass, laidback smile on her face.
Whether this is a prostitute Regina had been too scared to hire or someone crossing the street, she can't be too careful when it comes to trusting anyone crawling out from this part of town; and yet Regina finds herself switching her car on to roll her window down just a crack, button sticky under her fingers as she sweats nervously. "Yes?" she asks, clearing her throat, "is there something you need?"
The woman laughs, a dimple barely visible in the dim lighting of the street. Regina feels mocked at the mere implication of the sound, a scowl forming on her lips. "Are you looking for someone?" The woman finally asks, green eyes not unkind as she stares at Regina through the slightly rolled down window.
"Maybe," Regina answers cryptically. She doesn't owe anyone an explanation, especially someone who thinks threadbare tank tops are appropriate outerwear.
Raised eyebrows accompany the chewing of a pink bottom lip, gaze darting from this side to that before the woman looks back at Regina with a slightly concerned expression. She has the audacity to ask, to question Regina's motives with a surprisingly serious, "are you being blackmailed?"
"W-what?!" The spluttering response escapes her before she can stop her reaction, a lack of sleep dulling her self-control as she angrily adjusts her seatbelt to prevent it from cutting into her shoulder. "I don't know who you think you are Miss—?"
"Listen, if you are being blackmailed, just blink once."
Regina grinds her teeth together, staring the woman down without blinking. How many episodes of CSI has Miss skinny jeans watched to come to such a ridiculous conclusion? "I am not being blackmailed," she says evenly, stretching up to speak through the gap in the window. Obviously, this woman has no sense of what proper manners are, not when she hasn't even answered Regina's silent question of a name, jumping instead to being a cop in a situation that doesn't need policing.
One arm on the roof of Regina's Mercedes, the woman leans down with such casualty, that Regina finds herself swallowing thickly for absolutely no reason at all. "Then what are you doing here?" she asks with narrowed eyes, Regina jerking back as if burned.
"None of your business." It's as quick a retort as Regina can think of, closing the small gap in the window with a swift press of a button to end a conversation that's rapidly becoming uncomfortable. Switching on the ignition, the Mercedes roars to life, making Miss wannabe cop step aside as Regina drives away, muttering under her breath about what a bad idea this had all been in the first place.
"Oh my God." The disbelief is evident in Zelena's voice, eyes following Regina as she moves seamlessly in the kitchen.
Lettuce and cucumbers are sliced, cherry tomatoes washed and placed in a bowl for a Greek salad that looks a tad bit too red. "I didn't do anything wrong," Regina says, picking out some of the tomatoes to add in a bit of feta cheese.
Clicking her tongue, Zelena pops a tomato in her mouth and chews with the delicacy ingrained upon the Mills sisters by Cora. Even with their mother currently in another country with her professional cuddler, the off chance that she might just show up will never surprise them enough to drop the well-bred act. "The only thing you did do wrong was not ask her for a shag. You've had that stick up your arse since Mal—"
"That's enough." The cheese crumbles in Regina's hands, the tendons in her neck straining where she keeps her well-guarded anger to herself. It had already been a few months, enough time to move on from needing another body in bed beside her, but Regina has always had a bad habit of not letting go. "We're not turning this into something crass."
Zelena huffs, curling her fingers under her chin as she rests her elbows on the kitchen counter. They're only two years apart, but Regina acts like she's twenty years Zelena's senior by holding the weight of the world on her shoulders. "You should consider someone to… cuddle," she says tentatively, picking at another tomato, "for one, you look horrible without beauty sleep, and—" she cuts in before Regina can speak up, "you can shove it to both Mummy dearest and Mal the dragon all in one go." Finally putting the now bruised cherry tomato into her mouth, Zelena raises an eyebrow at Regina as if to say, well?
Wiping her hands down on a dishtowel, Regina must admit that she is intrigued. She says, "I think you've officially lost it," but Zelena knows her aching need for revenge more than anyone in this world. It was Zelena who helped her release all Ursula's new fish into the pond by the park when they were in high school, the girl stealing the lead from a school production that should have been Regina's in the first place. That was years ago, and the only thing that's changed is the tactics of getting even— preferably subtler methods that don't involve security cameras, and Cora Mills dwindling down their punishments to collecting back all the lost fish (and essentially buying back the few that they couldn't find).
"You need sleep, sis," Zelena reminds her softly, reaching across to squeeze her palm. "And if you need a prostitute to do it, then who am I to judge?"
Slapping her sister's arm, Regina huffs as Zelena wiggles her eyebrows, chuckling against her better judgement. "Way to ruin a moment, sis."
"Not if I made you laugh, I didn't." And that at least they both can agree on.
"Professor? Professor Mills?" Regina turns toward her name, blinking slowly as she tries to concentrate on the person standing in front of her desk. She had only gotten about an hour of sleep the night before, her limbs sore and mind drifting from here to there. "Professor Mills, your class started fifteen minutes ago?"
Fifteen minutes? She checks her watch, the numbers blurry but definitely well into her lecture time. The morning had been hazy, a stumbling mess of her body wanting more sleep but unable to drift off when she set aside time to do so. Now isn't the time to take a nap, not with a class of over enthusiastic undergrads looking to her for explanations of the chapter they should have read before the lecture. "Right," she says, gathering her laptop and textbook, "stuck in a meeting was all."
There was no such meeting, but the class rep that stands tall and proud in her office (that she did not invite him into) doesn't need to know that. Resisting the urge to rub at her eyes to clear her vision as she walks, Regina wonders how much of a kiss-ass this boy is to run across to the cafeteria and get her a coffee.
Looking over at his slightly rumpled shirt and too tight formal pants, she swallows down her question and turns into the lecture hall. He might be a kiss-ass, but he looks like a loud mouthed one too; one that sits right in front to have the perfect view of her legs as she attempts to stand in four inch heels and try not to drone on about—
"Fundamentals of communication."
"Professor, this is the second year class."
"I meant, Organisational communication." Smartass too then, huh?
She brought the wrong textbook, can't find the slides, and seethes when the class grumbles as she dismisses them early. There is going to be an entire day of this, of students who adore her and that will expect her to be at her best, but she's so damn tired.
Picking up her stuff with every intention of going home, the excuse of being sick already armed and loaded, Regina has come to understand one thing: she needs sleep, no matter the cost.
Sleeping pills, white noise, counting sheep, a damned body pillow—there isn't anything Regina hasn't done, and yet she refuses to seek out the one solution that makes her seem weak in the face of people who don't really care.
That's a lie. People care; people care about where she went for holiday, whether she's dating anyone new, why she's essentially boycotted social media ever since Mal—
They care about the wrong things, and Regina hates to admit that she values their opinions of her— never mind the fact that in a few weeks time she'll be dropping herself head first into a situation that will blow everything wide open.
It's something she won't miss for the world, but also something she doesn't want to attend with pitying stares and a wide berth at a wedding no less. Marian has been her best friend since college, the one to stick her fingers down Regina's throat in order to throw up all the cheap alcohol consumed at frat parties, and the one to pull Regina away from girls with bad reputations before she got herself hurt. This much she can do for Marian, even if insomnia threatens to break her, and she's sitting in her idling car at ten in the evening trying to defeat it.
Willing her eyes to close and sleep to come, Regina hopes the vibrations of the car will help mimic the drive that used to put her to sleep as a child. The pretence lasts approximately three minutes before Regina huffs out an angry breath and fiddles with the radio instead, the soft tones of a woman's voice deceiving enough for Regina to try once again to fall asleep. It's sufficiently dark outside that the atmosphere is almost romantic, crickets chirping and a lone bird chirping back, everyone in suburbia oblivious to Regina's frustration as they live their lives wrapped up in perfection.
Perhaps that is what makes Regina angry, the one thing to drive her over the edge as she sits in her stationary car, upper lip curling in a furious rage that she chokes back tears at. She had a plan in place, a checklist of things she wanted to achieve in life that had been turned upside down; and she wonders, for not the first time, if she was the cause of it all.
Finally putting the car in reverse, Regina backs out of her driveway with the lights still off, fighting back tears with deep breaths as the song from the radio gives way to a too loud advertisement.
"Hey," Regina hears, her fingers still gripping the steering too tight, staring out at nothing in particular through the windshield as the third person for the night approaches her. Her first instinct had been to pepper spray anyone who would so much as dare talk to her, but in order to avoid any lawsuits, she'd taken to shooing them away like pigeons. Picking her head up to fend off another idiot, Regina pauses when she sees that it's the woman from a few nights ago.
Hitting the button for the window to go down two inches this time instead of one, Regina glares at the blonde, wondering how someone can be so brave to attempt another conversation when the last one had been disastrous.
The woman asks, "here again?" and Regina bristles at the judgement in her voice. She hadn't intended to drive downtown, but who is Miss tank top to question her?
"What's it to you?" Regina snaps back, eyes flashing with anger and chest constricting with the tell tale sign of rage that's too quick to rear its head without proper rest these days. Exhausted beyond measure, her bones creaking as she turns to face the woman completely, Regina doesn't bother with niceties when every part of her aches.
One neatly plucked eyebrow raises in response to Regina's outburst, the woman backing away from the car in defence. How many people must've treated her like this, Regina doesn't know, but she can clearly see how the blonde's muscles tense in response to possible danger. Exhaling, Regina hits the button for the window to roll down entirely, throwing out an olive branch of trust. "I'm looking for someone," she says softly, taking in the skin tight jeans, black tank top, and luscious curls of the woman who inches closer to the car.
Muscled arms cross over her open window, two sharp elbow points invading Regina's space. The woman finally speaks with a hint of interest, "well, maybe I can help you. Do you know their—"
"That's not what I meant," Regina cuts in, agitated again as she fails to formulate a proper answer to a perfectly innocent question. She doesn't even know what she wants, maybe she never has, and that realisation has cold dread settle at the bottom of her stomach. "You know what," Regina rasps, "I think this has been quite enough."
"Listen," Miss skinny jeans hisses, leaning in too close to Regina, "I'm trying to help you, alright? So if you don't want my help, then say so without that attitude."
Attitude? Attitude?!
Pushing back from the car, leaving Regina stunned inside, the woman walks down toward the busy part of the street with a sway to her hips that Regina does not watch. "You—you bitch!" she lamely yells, the woman turning back to her with a smug smile fixed firmly on her face and her middle finger up in the air.
Regina has only had about three hours of sleep in the two days after her run in with Miss luscious locks. This time her lack of shut eye is blamed solely on the woman who doesn't leave Regina's thoughts no matter her attempts to distract herself. She's starting to notice permanent frown lines on her forehead, her lips always screwed up in a scowl.
The sad part is that her students have to bear the brunt of it, Regina disorganised and lacking in the usual teaching fineness that captures the attention of everyone in the room. She loathes to admit it, but Regina has become one of those lecturers who reads a PowerPoint presentation out loud and hopes the class occupies themselves by taking too many notes.
Thankfully, the semester break gives her enough time to sort through her insomnia and still use it as an excuse during Marian's wedding as to her impending bad mood. It's during days like these that she tries to find her anger, but it only ends in the pathetic feeling of despair. The night is cool and bright enough to warrant a romantic picnic out in the garden, two glasses of wine and a plate of cheese before serving a main course that won't be eaten.
Wrapping her arms around herself, her heart clenching with the loss of something severe, Regina gets into her car in the dead of the night and drives.
She ends up in the same street, wondering if going into that brothel will help her forget her worries for the night; it's tempting, what with the promise of something—something empty, but something nonetheless.
There's a tick in her fingers when she considers driving forward, gaze darting from side to side as a cold sweat breaks across the back of her neck. A figure catches her eye in her side mirror, Miss skinny jeans scoffing when she spots the black Mercedes, indecision written across her features as she approaches the car. There's a moment when she flips her hair over her shoulder and begins to walk in the opposite direction, but a stomp of a boot down onto the tarmac and Miss tank top makes a beeline for Regina's car with a scowl on her face.
This time, there isn't a polite greeting, not when there's an incessant rapping on Regina's car window instead. "What?" Regina asks over the crack of the open window, feeling wounded and vulnerable enough to lash out.
"Are you," Miss muscle arms bites out, "looking for someone?"
Glaring in response, Regina hates the fact that she has to resort to nicknames that enhance the beauty of this woman. Any other attempts to think up something scathing falls flat when faced with someone who doesn't deserve her rage, not when Miss tank top has been the only decent person to try and help her get somewhere she doesn't need to be. "What is your name?" Regina asks instead, rolling the window down halfway.
Frowning at Regina, the woman licks her lips as she looks to be contemplating whether giving up this piece of information will hurt her in the long run. "Swan," she finally answers, a name to a face that gives her the privilege to rest her arms on a now slowly opening window.
"I am looking for someone, Miss Swan… was it?"
Nodding her head, Miss luscious locks Swan leans down further into a comfortable position to cock her head curiously, looking uncannily like a puppy. "Who are you looking for? Maybe I can—"
"Help, I know." Miss Swan glares at Regina's mocking tone, her jaw clenched and arms on full display as they flex with anger. Regina's eyes are immediately drawn to the muscles there, a surge of fear washing over her. She's been parked here too often, her movements traceable by anyone who wants to know where she lives if they just follow her home— Regina doesn't know what she's even doing here, only that she needs to sleep, and Miss Swan is an anomaly that she can't let go of, not until she's proven a point that hasn't yet taken form.
Temper flaring, Miss Swan asks, "What the hell do you want, lady?"
The abrupt question causes Regina to think on her feet, the most absurd and the most obvious statement rushing past her lips, "I want you to sleep with me." On the exterior, Regina is surprisingly collected, the only thing giving her away is the redness to her cheeks and the way her eyes dart to the side before returning to Miss Swan's face.
Miss Swan responds with a grimace on her lips at Regina's ineptitude of finding the right words to explain her needs to a stranger. Running her fingers through her hair, she sighs out a tired, "listen," and Regina knows she's lost her.
"I mean literally," Regina breathes, just a hint of desperation in her voice. "Just sleep." Now that she's said it, nothing else makes sense. She'd get to have another body in bed, just until she can wean herself off the habit of having someone, and surely Regina can afford Miss Swan's rate?
Scrutinising Regina for a moment, Miss Swan shakes her head and stands to her full height, Regina craning her neck to keep the woman in her sights. "Ever heard of professional cuddlers?" she asks. "They hug you in the night for a fee I'm sure you can afford if this car is anything to go by. And besides," she says evenly, "I don't trust a woman with too much money looking to buy someone on the cheap."
Regina isn't rich, not by her mother's standards anyway, but she's got a comfortable life, one luxurious enough to be a little offended at Miss Swan's words. The scathing remark that sits at the back of her throat is swallowed down when Miss Swan moves away from the car, making her way down the street as Regina fumbles with her seatbelt to try and follow. "Miss Swan!" she yells out, choking out a cough when her seatbelt only manages to strangle her, the damned device only unclipping when Miss Swan is a good way down the road. Stumbling out of her car, the seatbelt zipping back into place without a hassle, Regina stands in the middle of a dingy street with no other options, and no other form of hope.
"I just need to sleep," she rasps out, tears prickling at the corner of her eyes as she thinks about the horrible year she's had, of the plaguing insomnia that only grows worse with every attempt to combat it. She doesn't know if Miss Swan is going to help in any way, Regina doesn't even care at this point, not when the prospect of winning against this one little thing makes her want to sob in relief. "Just for a few days," she adds, "I can pay you."
Miss Swan pauses at that, golden hair shining under the dim lighting as she turns to face Regina, a frown on her face that only deepens the longer she stares at a woman who has for the first time since parking here, stepped out of the luxury of her car. "Maybe I don't care about the money," she says, the volume of their conversation above average with the distance between them, "maybe I care about you throwing your money in my face."
Regina barks out a laugh, a few tears escaping through the corner of her eyes that she swipes at. She wants to ask what money? but her life in comparison to this street is worlds apart, a thought that has her sober up and look down at her new shiny heels. "What do you want?" Regina asks instead, because that's better than arguing over nothing, not when Regina is defeated enough to allow this one argument to slide past.
Miss Swan contemplates the question for a moment, hands on her hips and chin raised as if she's the one with the upper hand here— and for a moment Regina wonders if she really is. They know nothing about each other, and the assumption of Miss Swan being an employee of the brothel across the street doesn't seem to hold so true when skinny jeans and tank tops aren't exactly the dress code the other girls seem to be wearing. "Why me?" she asks after a long moment, voice too soft.
Shuddering under the weight of that price, Regina's fingers curl and uncurl into a fist, gaze searching through the sidewalks and light poles to find an answer that isn't written there. She knows why it would be easy to turn over in bed and see Miss Swan there, golden locks splayed out across Mal's side of the bed, a lie to herself that can work for the few minutes between asleep and awake. "You were the first person to talk to me when I parked here," she lies, biting down on her lower lip and soothing the sting with her tongue, "I believe in fate."
Regina is looked over once, twice, and then Miss Swan nods as if Regina should be grateful she's agreeing. "Just so you know," she says, thumbs tucked into her belt loops, "I'm still taking your money."
And that, Regina doesn't doubt for a second.
Miss Swan is far too comfortable for her liking, and Regina questions her judgement for the umpteenth time as she drives them back to her house. They've only just joined the highway when the silence that's been pressing down on them finally breaks. "Where are we going?" Miss Swan asks, one elbow on the open window that blows cool air onto Regina's face, dark locks whipping in the wind until Regina purposefully hits the button on her door to roll the window back up.
"My house," she answers easily. Miss Swan scoffs, a demeaning chuckle churning the insides of Regina's stomach.
"Can you see that shopping mall there?" Miss Swan asks, pointing in the general direction of a very large, very lit up mall. "Go there and park."
Regina looks toward Miss Swan with a raise of her eyebrows and scoff of her own. "I am not sleeping in the car. And besides, I don't take orders from the likes of you." The desperation from earlier is replaced with agitation, her mood swinging from one end to another as she focuses all her energy on driving in a straight line. She's constantly tired, exhausted to the bitter point of resorting to snapping at every little thing.
Miss Swan shakes her head, hitting the button on her door for the window to roll down again, just to have Regina jerkily curl her hair behind her ears to stop it from flying into her face. "You don't even know what you're doing," she says, rolling her eyes like the child that she is. "Just go and park there, okay?"
"Get out."
"What?"
"I said," Regina grits out between clenched teeth, pulling over onto the curb "get. out."
For a moment, no one moves, no one dares to breathe as they stare each other down. Regina counts the seconds in her head, and watches the way Miss Swan's upper lip curls in a sneer that mirrors her own. The car door opens, and Regina is rightfully startled when Miss Swan places one foot outside, intent on leaving her behind to salvage this scare tactic gone wrong. Had Regina been grappling with a little less than this insomnia, she might've appreciated Miss Swan's sass, engaged in friendly banter perhaps, but instead, Miss Swan is left with a sleep deprived Regina where they're locking horns on the simplest of things.
"You're a real bitch, you know?" The crassness of the statement has Regina jerk back affronted, staring Miss Swan down who has half her body still inside the car and the other half spilling out onto the road. "You want help but won't accept it, you want to sleep but won't do anything about it. And I'm pretty sure you wanted me the first time we met, but you're the most cowardly person I've had the displeasure of knowing."
Regina splutters out an, "excuse me," properly insulted. "At least I don't go around asking strangers to sleep with me, or pile my problems on someone else when I can solve it on my own. At least I have a sense of dignity."
"Or pig-headed pride," Miss Swan shoots back with, Regina growling low in her throat. She hates Miss Swan, hates her with every fibre of her being, and yet there's something in Regina that latches onto her new nemesis with a desperate fervour that she doesn't quite understand.
Crossing her arms over her chest and staring straight ahead at the road, Regina sits with a scowl on her lips and eyes narrowed in anger. Miss Swan is right, she doesn't know what she's doing, and she hates that she's fumbling through this problem that every damned website has told her is easily curable. It also doesn't help that the one solution to this—or an attempt at one, is sleeping next to a stranger at night. Regina doesn't trust easily, but here she is, putting everything on the line.
The door to the Mercedes closes, and Miss Swan sighs in a way that sounds too much like a tired parent. "You're exhausted, I get that," she begins, Regina folding her hands around herself even tighter at the words, "but you can't snap at me for no goddamned reason. I'm only trying to help you, make this easier on the both of us." When Regina only harrumphs in response, Miss Swan continues, "taking me to your place is a bad idea. I don't know if you're going to tie me up to the bed and feed me only chocolate buttons for the rest of my life—it's not like you'd agree to come to my place if I offered."
Regina glances over at Miss Swan with a shameful look, gaze cast down as she unwinds her hands from her frame. "Then what do you suggest?"
"Somewhere neutral— and I was going to have this conversation with you in the parking lot, but I suppose the middle of the highway is just as appropriate." When Miss Swan throws a smile in Regina's direction, Regina deflates just a little more. A neutral location she can do, somewhere safe and secure for them both.
"There's a hotel if we keep driving and take the first exit. It's decent, and has security cameras. That okay?" At Miss Swan's nod, Regina switches on the ignition and indicates to get back onto the lane. Once they're driving however, Miss Swan's window still rolled all the way down, Regina grumbles as she clumsily pushes her hair behind her ears, wayward strands obscuring her vision.
There's a gentle touch, affectionate almost, and Regina nearly swerves off the road when Miss Swan helps her push her hair back. There's a small understanding smile, something that makes Regina want to run in the opposite direction and fly toward it like a moth to a flame at the same time. This is not the deal, not when Regina has no intention of getting attached to someone who might represent an idea that had been shattered just over a year ago.
"Thank you," Regina rasps, swallowing past the lump in her throat. Miss Swan's answering shrug puts Regina somewhat at ease, the hotel looming before them as Regina turns into the parking lot. When she presses the button for the window to roll back up, Miss Swan's reflection staring at her through the glass, Regina feels the familiar sense of dread prickle at the back of her neck, the car switching off to plunge them both into darkness.
"I didn't think this through," Regina whispers, keycard clutched in her hand as she stands in a standard hotel room: One double bed, one couch, one flat screen television, and one en-suite bathroom.
She sees the obvious flaws in her plan the moment Miss Swan sets foot into the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed to test its bounciness. The expectation to follow through with this, for Miss Swan to help her sleep… it presses down on Regina's chest until she clutches her car keys to ground herself, the metal cutting into her palm as her vision focuses once more.
Getting up from the edge of the bed to reach for one of the chocolates on the pillows, Miss Swan shoots Regina a knowing look. "What's wrong?" she asks, unwrapping the chocolate to pop into her mouth, having only the bare minimum decency to offer the other one to Regina who shakes her head at it.
"I don't have pyjamas," is the first thing that comes to mind, and all Miss Swan does is swallow the last bits of her chocolate to begin unwrapping the other one. Regina wonders if she's hungry, wonders whether this Miss Swan will bring a pimp to her door asking where his girl is; why she's out so late sleeping with a woman who has only offered her the concept of money. "How are you going to sleep in jeans? How do I know you won't strangle me in my sleep and steal my car? How do I—"
"You don't," Miss Swan cuts in, discarding the chocolate wrappers. "I guess you're just going to have to trust me."
Regina says drily, "I'm a little low on trust lately," shoving her car keys in her pants pocket for safekeeping.
Miss Swan smirks in response, sitting down on the edge of the bed with such patience that it astounds Regina as to why this woman hasn't left yet. "You have a lot of excuses," she says, "and if I didn't pity you, I might be more annoyed by them." The touch of affectionate doesn't bypass Regina, but she darts her gaze elsewhere and wills the warmth in her chest away.
It's been too long since she's taken out the romantic side of her, and it itches when she finally sits down on the edge of the bed to remove her heels and place it neatly to the side, her jacket pulled off her shoulders to be placed on the bedside table in the event that she finds the need to run out quickly. Miss Swan shifts beside her, their bedside lamps switched off as they climb under the duvets that feel cool to the touch.
Minutes of silence ticks by, Regina's fingers clasped over her abdomen above the duvets, eyes staring at the grey ceiling that becomes lighter as her vision adjusts to the darkness. "Do you want me to hold you?" Miss Swan asks in a whisper, Regina closing her eyes when the voice beside her is different from the one it ought to be.
"This was a bad idea," she finds herself saying, her voice broken in the darkness where the only company she has is a stranger with the name of a bird, and her insomnia that's been the most loyal thing in her life so far.
Miss Swan turns toward her in the dark, a warm body that she could lean into should she truly want to get lost in the idea of something again, but Regina resists. "I…" Miss Swan struggles with her words, and Regina can see from the corner of her eyes how she hesitates to cross too many lines that haven't yet been drawn. "Talk to me," she says at last, "tell me what's wrong, what I can do to help."
It's more than anyone has offered her in the past year, and something that Regina wills herself to resist taking lest she become addicted to the value Miss Swan might have in her life. There is no room for romance, not anymore, not with a stranger of all people who seems too eager to call Regina out on her bullshit. "I don't know you," she answers, keeping her muscles tense, her gaze still trained on the ceiling. "This isn't something I do often—or at all. I can't… this feels wrong."
"Not even a one night stand?" Miss Swan asks in a breathy whisper.
"Not even that," Regina answers, turning toward Miss Swan in the dark. She can make out the outline of hair that shines golden, a square jaw that's partially hidden by the pillow, and the jut of a high cheekbone that makes the image before her a surprisingly pretty one. The hopeless romantic in her wonders why Miss Swan hasn't found anyone to sweep her off her feet, why she's currently in a hotel bed with a grumpy woman trying to fight off insomnia.
Regina's staring is cut short when Miss Swan slides out of the bed, pale legs on full display. She's taken out her jeans, Regina realises, sitting up on her elbows with a frown. "Where are you going?"
"You're uncomfortable," Miss Swan answers easily, reaching for her jeans, "this isn't going to work."
Dropping back down onto the bed, Regina runs her hands over her face in frustration. "It started about a year ago," she says softly, the other figure in the room pausing her exit as she listens to the faraway voice of her companion. "I was happy, I was—I was on track with everything I had planned for myself. Then it all went to shit, and now I can't sleep at night because… just because."
There's a story there that Regina refuses to talk about, but Miss Swan approaches the bed again, sitting down on her designated side with hundreds of questions written across her face in the dark. "I can sleep on the couch if that helps?"
Regina can feel her heart beating twice it's speed at very prospect of not being left alone, the lump in her throat growing larger the longer Miss Swan looks down at her, waiting for her to say something. She wants to ask why Miss Swan won't just leave, why she won't find employment elsewhere when the hourly rate hasn't even been discussed between them yet, instead she says, "that will be fine," and effectively distances herself once more.
A pillow and a blanket are dragged over to the couch, the piece of furniture scraping along the flooring as Miss Swan spins it around to somewhat face the bed. "So you know I haven't stolen anything and run away," she explains, just a hint of sass back in her voice as she sets her makeshift bed. Regina watches with only mild interest, going back to staring at the ceiling as she wills sleep to come.
Hours pass, hours. Regina has been staring up at the ceiling the entire night, trying to take solace in the fact that there's someone else in the room with her, but every time her eyes close, she awakes with a jerk and blinks rapidly to keep the sleep out of her eyes. The unfamiliar surroundings doesn't seem to help her trepidation, nor does the guilt of using someone like this in exchange for money.
Eventually, the ceiling changes from dull grey to white as the day begins, birds chirping in the distance. When she chances a sneak at Miss Swan on the couch, Regina finds her completely asleep. The feeling of guilt intensifies in the pit of her stomach at making Miss Swan sleep on the couch whilst she rests on a bed she doesn't even use; still, the sight of Miss Swan unconscious eases the tension in her shoulder blades just a little— a sleeping stranger is not a threatening stranger, and Regina hadn't been lying when she said she had been a little low on trust lately.
Reaching across to pull her phone out from her jacket pocket, Regina squints at the time. It's only five in the morning, and they have enough time to check out if Regina just gives into her body this one time for a quick power nap. Picking her head up to make sure Miss Swan is still asleep, Regina shoves her phone back into her jacket pocket and turns on her side to get comfortable, the view of the ceiling giving way to the back of her eyelids.
When she comes to, her vision blurry and limbs lethargic, Regina notices that the sunlight streaming into the room is at full force. Lifting her head up to try and make out her surroundings, she sees the couch made up and turned back into its original position, no sign of Miss Swan anywhere.
Panic begins to set in, the feeling of cold betrayal familiar as she pats down her pockets to find her car keys intact. Her jacket is still on the bedside table, Regina turning the pockets out to show her phone and credit card exactly where she left it. Even her shoes are still in place, Regina left alone in a hotel room with a few hours of sleep that didn't leave her feeling like death, but the loneliness with Miss Swan's obvious departure sure does.
By the time she freshens up and pulls on her shoes and jacket, it's closing in on eleven in the morning, hotel keycard clutched in her hand as she scans the area to check for anything that might've been left behind. She hadn't come with much to begin with, but she still feels like she's leaving with a lot less.
Pulling on the door, the sudden movement making a page flutter by, Regina bends at the waist to pick up the scrappy receipt with a scrawl in blue pen behind it. There's a landline number with a note;
Call me if you need someone to sleep on a couch again
– Swan :)
For some unknown reason, the note makes her smile. Against her better judgement, Regina pockets the old receipt, still believing that this would be a one time thing, no matter that she can see straight today and that her severe joint pain has lessened to somewhat moderate. There's something of a smile on her lips as she checks out of the hotel, driving away with her windows rolled all the way down.
A/N: There are 10 chapters in all, I will post on a schedule of one chapter every Thursday and Monday.