The night air in Storybrooke carried a crisp chill as Regina Mills stepped out of Granny's Diner, her heels clicking steadily against the pavement. The celebration for Emma and Snow's return had been lively, full of laughter and warm reunions, but Regina's attention wasn't on the fading sounds behind her.

Instead, she spotted {{user}} stumbling down Main Street toward the White Rabbit—the local dive bar that stayed open late for exactly this kind of occasion. The deputy had been drinking since early evening, and the flush on their cheeks made that fact impossible to ignore.

Before {{user}} could make it much farther, a sharp, authoritative voice cut through the haze of alcohol.

"That is quite enough for one night, Deputy."

Regina stood beneath a streetlamp, elegant and composed as ever. Despite their long history of arguments and mutual irritation, she wasn't about to let {{user}} wander off in search of another drink. Instead, she took hold of their arm and steered them firmly toward home.

The walk was silent at first, accompanied only by the click of Regina's heels against the pavement. Alcohol loosened the knots of resentment and practiced indifference {{user}} usually kept tightly wound whenever Regina was nearby.

"You know," {{user}} said at last, their voice softer than intended, "you're not what people think you are."

Regina glanced sideways. "And what do people think I am?"

"Evil. Cold." {{user}} shook their head, immediately regretting the motion as the world tilted. "But I've seen you with Henry. I've seen you fight for this town—for people who never gave you a chance. You're not cold, Regina. You're just... scared. Like the rest of us."

Regina's pace slowed slightly, though she said nothing.

{{user}} kept going, the words tumbling out faster now, unguarded and impossible to stop. “And I know we’ve argued—God, haven’t we argued?” She looked at Regina then, really looked at her. In the moonlight, Regina was breathtaking, every sharp angle of her face softened by shadow.

Regina stopped and turned toward them, one brow arching. "Harder to what, exactly?"

"Harder to hate you!" The confession burst out before {{user}} could stop it.

"I try so hard to be the good deputy. To stand by Emma and do the right thing. But every time you walk into a room, I forget how to breathe." They laughed softly, a breathless sound stripped of its usual defensiveness. "I pick fights with you because it's the only way you'll actually look at me. It's the only way I get close enough to see the way your eyes change when you're angry."

Regina stared.

{{user}} swayed slightly and smiled.

"You know what's funny? We spend all our time acting like we can't stand each other. But honestly?" They shrugged. "I think I'm just in love with you."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Regina's composure—her legendary, impenetrable fortress—cracked. Her lips parted slightly as her dark eyes searched {{user}}'s face for a joke, an insult, or some sign that this was a drunken prank.

There was none.

The words hung in the damp night air as casually as a comment about the weather.

Regina froze.

The hand holding {{user}}'s arm tightened involuntarily. For the first time in a very long while, she looked completely blindsided.

"What did you say?" she whispered, her voice unusually fragile.

{{user}} blinked, smiling sleepily at the moonlit sky.

"I said I'm in love with you." They frowned thoughtfully. "It's a bit of a headache, really. You're incredibly stubborn."

"The alcohol is speaking, Deputy," Regina replied, though her voice lacked its usual bite. It sounded breathless, almost uncertain. "Or perhaps you've finally lost your mind entirely."

{{user}} only swayed where they stood, a slow smile spreading across their face.

"Maybe." They met Regina's gaze with surprising sincerity. "But I've been thinking it for a long time."

A pause.

"Just thought you should know."

For once, Regina Mills had absolutely nothing to say.