#devilinred

Melinda is unpacking her bag when the hesitant knock on her door comes- she waves a nervous-looking Laurel into her room. “Laurel? What’s wrong?”

“I have to...we have to talk,” she starts, hands fidgeting in a way they always have, ever since she was small. Melinda frowns, sitting on her bed as Laurel paces the room, swallowing.

“Okay- what about?” she asks, and Laurel crosses her arms, an out-of-character protective stance that causes the furrow between Melinda’s brows to deepen.

“So you know I’ve always....always had trouble with dating,” Laurel starts, and Melinda nods, shrugging her shoulders. “Well, I’ve been working with this girl on my final project- her name is Iris, and she’s- she’s amazing, we work well together, we hang out after class, we get drinks. And...after a few months, I’ve realized I’ve started developing...well, I’ve started developing feelings. And Iris thought that I should, maybe- talk to you about them. To help.”

“So you’re saying Iris is gay,” Melinda says slowly, and Laurel nods, fast and jerky. “And are you too?”

“I- I don’t know? Maybe? I feel so confused and overwhelmed by it,” Laurel replies, swallowing thickly. “But I- I don’t know what I would do if you were disappointed in me, Melinda. You or Joy. You’re...you’re both everything to me.”

“Laurel- Laurel you could never disappoint me, or Joy. Ever,” Melinda rushes to tell her, capturing her hands in hers and stilling the trembling before she reaches one hand up to brush away the tears in Laurel’s eyes. “You are our sister. First and foremost. Nothing you could ever do would ever make me disappointed in you.”

“I’m so scared, Mel,” Laurel confesses, tears leaking down her cheeks. “Of telling you, and Joy- Mama and Daddy. What if they don’t love me? What if they cast me out?”

“I will never let that happen,” Melinda says, cupping Laurel’s cheeks in her palms. “Never, ever Laurel. Joy will say the same. You have us until the very end. We’re the May sisters.”

At that, Laurel simply breaks, and Melinda gathers her into her arms as they collapse onto the floor. Joy finds them like that not long after Laurel finally calms, sitting on Laurel’s other side and stroking her hair.

“I’m sure Daisy will be very impressed when you show her your skills,” Melinda said, unthinking. Phil blinks, not wanting to break the moment; everything about this next step in their relationship was new, but he couldn’t help but already love Melinda’s daughter, simply for being half her. Melinda didn’t seem to notice, though, simply sighing and pushing herself to sit up. “I should shower.”

Phil’s fingers trail along her back as she rises; she takes the sheet with her, and when she reaches the bathroom door, looks over her shoulder with a heated look. “You could always join me, you know.”

There’s a gap left when she closes the door, and when the sound of the water starts, he’s out of the bed. Melinda’s under the steamy spray when he pushes the door open, and he opens the glass door, mouth going dry at endless pale skin covered in drops.

“Thirty seconds. Slower than I thought,” Melinda murmured as his hands slid to her waist, mouth brushing along her jawline. She hummed as he cupped a breast, the other drawing circles in her upper thigh; her hand twined in his hair above her head, the other adjusting the shower head until Phil could spin her, back against the cool tile wall.

Their mouths met as she arched against him; his hand kneaded her ass as she brought her thigh up to his hipbone. They slid together with a collective moan, Melinda’s head tilting back to smack quietly against the tile- Phil’s mouth left a sloppy trail as he licked up droplets from her collarbone, hips moving slowly as their rhythm built.

It’s slow-going, neither of them necessarily wanting to fall, and Melinda’s hand slid down her wet stomach to finger her clit, drawing a panting moan from her that vaguely resembled his name. He pushed harder, heat chasing up his spine- his fingers join hers to push her over the edge into her fourth orgasm of the day; she shudders around him, gasping his name in his ear in little high-pitched pants that made him want to spend the whole rest of the day with her, drawing that noise at until she was hoarse.

The drawing of her nails down his back and the continued spasms of her walls around him is what pulls him headfirst into his own climax; his teeth sink into her shoulder, leaving a mark she’ll smack him for later, but for now she’s too content in his arms. They cling to each other as they catch their breath, before the heat of the shower and each other is too much- Phil turns the water temperature down and pulls her under the spray with him.

“My water bill is gonna be ridiculous this month,” he murmurs into her hair, and Melinda laughs, hitting his shoulder weakly before she kisses the same spot.

Melinda continues to fight against the ties, but there’s notas much power in her movements; it’s merely a distraction, and Ward’s lips curlfurther into a smirk that’s almost a snarl.

“What is it about women in power that draws them together,hm?” he asks, hands behind his back as he paces in front of her. “Was it a latenight drink between the director of SHIELD and the head of the ATCU? Maybe itwas the burgers from that place down the street from her house that did it? Afew beers, talking too closely- what was it about Rosalind that broke your icyshell, Melinda? Do you mind if I call you that? Or is that for Rosalind only,now that Phil is dead and TAHITI is no more?”

When Melinda tugs at the ties this time, practicallychomping at the gag in her mouth, it’s not for show. Mentions of Phil stilltear at the gaping wound in her heart- it’s been nearly a year, but it stillstings like salt, the mere mention of his name.

Ward opens his mouth, sure to say something else scathingwhen his facial expression freezes, and as he crumples to his knees, Melindarealizes Hunter’s shot him with an icer blast. He falls to the floor, frozen,and Bobbi enters the room with her gun drawn, checking for anyone else beforeshe’s kneeling next to Melinda, undoing the ties.

“The stab wound on my left side is pretty deep, but otherthan that I’m fine,” Melinda tells her once the gag is pulled from her mouth,and she winces as Bobbi helps her stand. She leans on the tall blonde, limpingout of the room and nodding to Hunter; the Brit gives a half-smirk at herapproval before he goes back to securing Ward.

Rosalind is waiting outside, Banks at her side; she takesone look at a wounded Melinda and she’s striding towards her, taking her weightfrom Bobbi.

“I’ve got her, Agent Morse,” she tells the blonde, and Bobbilooks at Melinda a moment before nodding and heading back to the building tosecure the other Hydra agents they’d captured. “That was stupid, and reckless,Director May.”

“We got him, didn’t we?” she asks, letting Rosalind help hersit on the back bumper of a nearby SUV, wincing as the dark-haired woman probedat her bleeding side.

“This is really deep, Melinda,” Rosalind said gently,letting worry soften her features as she looks up at Melinda, free hand comingup to cup her cheek gently. “Let me drive you to the hospital.”

Melinda shakes her head, sitting up and wincing again inpain. Rosalind reaches forward, helpless.

“Just take me back to the Playground. Lincoln can stitch meup. I have to file the paperwork and get in contact with Talbot. I have to beDirector, Rosalind,” she says, and the ATCU head gives her a mild glare,frustration in her features.

“Fine. But I’m riding with you,” she says, and Melinda’s tootired and in too much pain to argue as she leans against the car until she’ssettled in the passenger seat. Rosalind drives, irritation radiating off of heruntil Melinda reaches over to twine their fingers together, thumb brushing overthe back of her gently.

They don’t talk during the drive, and Rosalind has to waitoutside while Lincoln looks over Melinda’s injuries and stitches up the deepgash between her ribs.

“You’re really lucky, Director May,” he tells her as hewraps gauze around her midsection, looking up at her seriously. “He just missedhitting some major organs and arteries.”

“That was the point. He didn’t want to kill me- he justwanted it to hurt like a sonofabitch,” she comments, shrugging as she pulls herruined shirt back down, frowning at the bloody, jagged hole in what had beenone of her favorite blue blouses. “Thank you, Lincoln.”

“Do you want the pain pills?” he asks, and she shook herhead, mouth twisting distastefully.

“They knock me out, and I have paperwork to do,” shereplies, put takes the vial of them he gives her.

“It’ll hurt more when you’re laying down. If you want, youcan just take them when you want to sleep,” he tells her as he sends her offwith his signature. Rosalind is waiting for her by her office, and she closesthe door behind them as Melinda starts to unbutton her shirt, wincing at themovement.

“Let me help,” she requests quietly, taking over the job ofgetting the small buttons out of their holes until the bloodstained fabric isfluttering to the floor, leaving Melinda in dark gray lace that Rosalind can’thelp but touch, caresses soft. Together they get her into a fresh navy shirt,Rosalind doing the buttons up except the last two; Melinda rolls her eyes buther smile is soft, and she kisses the other woman in thanks before they part.

Melinda gets through three phone calls and half a stack ofpaperwork before the pain radiating from her side is so blinding she can barelysee straight. Rosalind looks up from where she’d been scrolling through herphone at Melinda’s muffled gasp, and she’s on her feet at the spotting redblood oozing from Melinda’s wound, soaking her shirt.

“Come on, that’s enough. You need to rest,” the ATCU tellsher, tone brokering no argument, and Melinda is so tired she doesn’t fight her.Rosalind helps her stand, grabbing the vial of pain pills before they walktogether through the door to Melinda’s room. It still held remnants of Phil shecouldn’t part with, and Rosalind doesn’t comment as they take off Melinda’sshirt, and she undoes the bloody dressing. “The stitches look pulled but notundone- I’ll wrap them in new gauze and hopefully you won’t pull on themanymore while you sleep, since you are absolutely taking some of those painpills. It’s Oxy, the good stuff- your doctor doesn’t skimp.”

“Being allergic to hydros comes in handy every so often,”Melinda murmurs as Rosalind wraps fresh dressing around her midsection. Shetakes the two pills Rosalind gives her with a long drink of water before shetugs on an oversized, faded t-shirt and undoes her pants; she crawls under thesheets in just her panties and shirt, sighing at the coolness that covers her.

There’s some rustling and a pause before the bed dips besideher, and Rosalind hand tenderly touches her hip. Melinda’s fingers cover hers,and her words are a little slurred from exhaustion and the meds when shespeaks. “You don’t have to stay.”

Rosalind shuffles closer, kissing her shoulder through hershirt and letting her muffled words float over Melinda as she drifts off.

Melinda doesn’t sleep much- hasn’t since they lost the baby they’d been trying so hard to conceive. Years of being in the field, various injuries, and a couple of gunshot wounds had all added up to a less-than-likely chance they’d be able to have a baby, but against the odds, they’d gotten pregnant.

Six blissful weeks of happiness; his wife smiling, the house full of excitement and happiness. Until the night she’d woken up to a pool of blood and excruciating cramps. Until the night everything they’d been dreaming of had been ripped from their fingers just as they’d gotten used to holding them.

He climbs out of bed, rubbing the last of sleep from his eyes, and goes to find his wife. She’s not upstairs- he closes the half-open door to the nursery, unable to look at the half-assembled items they’d foolishly bought too early. The living room is also empty, but the light in the kitchen coming from the open fridge alerts him to where she’d taken refuge.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks quietly; Melinda shrugs, staring unblinkingly into the depths of their rather bare fridge. “We could talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk, Phil,” she answers tiredly, her loose sweater swamping her lithe frame. He swallows, head dipping, and tries not to let her words hurt as much as they do.

“I’ll be upstairs, then,” he replies in a tone that’s just as tired, and he’s turning to go as he feels thin fingers against his wrist. He pauses, waiting, and Melinda’s fingers slip into his in a hesitant grasp. He turns to face her and she slips under his chin, her loose arm wrapping around his waist.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers as they sway gently, cool air coming from the open refrigerator and wisping around them. “I miss her. We didn’t even get to meet her and I miss her.”

“I know,” Phil murmurs into her hair, his palm spanning her back. “I miss her too, Lin.”

“I just really wanted to be her mom,” she said in a broken voice after a moment, their swaying stopping as she finally broke down, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I was finally going to be a mom.”

One of the perks of being a Day Care teacher was that I could watch all my favourite children movies without judgement. Well except when we watch Snow White for the twelfth time in two weeks. Yeah there was a limit and I often pushed it.

“Afternoon, my little bunch of home skillets,” Ah yes, professionalism at its finest, but it often had a positive response except for that one prissy little girl who puts her hands on her hips and demands to be called ‘dear’; but one time we settled on ‘dudette’. It was a beautiful day for mankind. I kindly explained to her that ‘dudette’ was the female version of ‘dude’ so I think she was cool with it. Nonetheless, the sixteen children jumped for joy when I finally wedged myself through the gate into the classroom. Mary Margaret, my partner in crime (or co-teacher as the lady of this place calls her) sighed as I dramatically threw my arms up. A dozen or so pairs of arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me to the ground. I don’t understand why people hated on this job so badly, like damn, who doesn’t want to hang out, finger painting and watching movies while you subtly teach them actual things they will need in their lives.

  “Ms Emma, Ms Emma!”

“Hey guys,” I ruffled one little red haired girl whose father was my therapist; a ginger man who had a cute as hell Dalmatian called Pongo.

“Give Emma some space children; she’s going to be here the rest of the day, aren’t you?” Mary Margaret eyed my suspiciously,

“Yeah, yeah, I will. I’m sorry about before, it was just…family stuff,”

Mary Margaret softened immediately, “oh sorry, is it your Dad again?”

I peeled one particularly affectionate child off my neck, “yeah, he’s um, doing okay, just…a medical scare, nothing to worry about,” But hell, I was worrying hard core. She nodded knowingly and got herself out of one of the many small child sized chairs we had littered around the room.

“Okay, so we all happy that Ms Emma is back,” Mary Margaret beamed down at the kids and clapped her hands together, wringing them awkwardly. Everybody in this Day Care knew that I was, by far, the favourite teacher of them all; even higher than Ruby who was known to spoil her darlings with sugar cookies from her Granny before they went home.

The kids screamed out in joy and decided to dog-piled me once again. Mary Margaret laughed as one child felt the need to drape herself over my face as I lay scrabbling for purchase on the linoleum flooring.

“You can join in if you’d like Henry, we’re all family here,” I nudged some kid off of me and watched Mary Margaret lay a comforting hand on a brown haired boy I hardly spoke to. He didn’t pay her any attention as he read a thick book he had spread out on one of the tables. Before I could say anything, rather fat boy practically dive-bombed onto my stomach.

“Holy…” I seethed, “kid, no, that was not cool,” I rolled onto my front and the kids booed me as I stood up and brushed the dirt off my body.

“Okay well maybe you’d like to chat to Ms Emma,” Mary Margaret motioned me over to the boy, “Emma loves helping people and talking to people, don’t you Emma?”

Oh boy, we had a Mr Moody among us. I squatted down to Henry’s height and watched him keep his eyes trained on the book in front of him.

“Hey there Henry,” I offered him the biggest, most genuine smile I could muster. Mary Margaret quickly fell out the conversation and ushered the class outside for play time. I sat down onto the floor and crossed my legs.

“Hi,” he muttered as he flipped to the next page.

“What have you got there?” I wiggled closer and looked at the book in front of him. It was a massive book of fairy tales written in what looked like hand crafted calligraphy. It was beautiful.

“Fairy tales,”

“I love fairy tales,” I got to my knees, “which one’s your favourite?”

He kept silent.

“If I tell you mine, will you tell me yours?”

Henry looked at me like I was nuts, before shrugging, “fine; what’s yours?”

“Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,”

His eyes went to the size of saucers, “oh no,”

“What do you mean, ‘oh no’?”

Henry slammed the book closed and rolled his eyes. Wow, for like a seven year old, he sure had some sass.

“How old are you?”

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Just tell me…please,” He had the puppy-dog eyes down pat.

“Uh, I’m twenty eight, why?”

“Did you ever used to watch a show called Queen’s Castle?”

I almost passed out at the mention of my absolute favourite childhood show in this history of childhood shows.

“Oh my God, yes,” I gasped, “Wait, oh my gosh, yes, yes I did,”

“Oh no,” Henry smiled and shook his head as he shoved his book into his backpack.

“Wait, you still didn’t tell me your favourite fairy tale!”

“My Mum’s an actress…” Henry started like he hadn’t even heard my damn question.

“And,”

“She used to be a character in that show,”

I think my eyeballs were about to fall out my head at that knowledge. I wonder which one she was; Little Red, one of the Dwarfs, Ursula…Snow White herself?

“Really,” I probably sounded a little too enthusiastic because Henry shifted slightly out of reach. He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. Huh, I did that too when I was feeling awkward.

“Yeah, she was the Evil Queen,”

And at that moment, my life fell apart and was glued back together with the sweet, sweet knowledge of knowing that I was looking after the hottest woman on television. The woman confirmed my sexuality at a very young age and I even remember in my teens, sneaking in an odd episode of it just to fix my, well, fix.

“What!”

Mary Margaret looked incredibly confused as she glanced over her shoulder at my outburst.

“I mean,” I cleared my throat and calmed myself, “what,”

“Yeah,”

But before the child could get out another word, I scooped him up and chucked him over my shoulder.

  He giggled as I ran outside, “Mary Margaret! Mary Margaret, Mary freaking Margaret!”

“Emma! Unhand that child!” But Henry kept giggling as I spun him around.

“Kid, tell Ms MM what you just told me,” I face my back towards the pixie haired Day Care teacher as Henry leaned his head up to stare at my partner in crime,

“Um, my Mum’s an actress?”

Mary Margaret deadpanned, “is that all?”

I jiggled him a bit more and he laughed, “For what show? Tell her the whole thing,”

Henry sighed, “My Mum was the Evil Queen on Queen’s Castle,”

I squealed in delight as I threw Henry back onto his feet. Mary Margaret crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

“What? Why aren’t you squeaking loudly?” Henry disappeared out to the swing set. Mary Margaret watched the kids for about a minute before she answered me, “I already knew that,”

“Are you kidding me? Why didn’t you tell me we were looking after the kid of a mega famous, mega babe?”

“Mega babe to you, Emma. And she wasn’t famous; her show cancelled after like, season two,”

“Season three, actually,”

“Whoop-de-do, one extra season,”

“She was and probably still is a total babe,” I whined,”

“She is and I know you think she’s a babe, that’s why I keep her away from you,”

Suddenly everything clicked together, “so you put me on the morning shift so I don’t meet her when she picks up Henry in the afternoon?”

“Yep,” Mary Margaret waved a kid who was dying for her attention in the sandpit.

“You bitch,” I laughed, “But…gross, are you telling me she’s married to that arsehole with the cane, which drops him off in the morning?”

“Ah, no; the woman’s not married…that’s Henry’s grandfather; she’s a very busy woman,”

“I bet, being famous and all,”

“She’s not famous,”

“She’s hot though,” “Just because she’s hot doesn’t mean she’s famous,”

“Right,”

    The time was five fifteen in the afternoon and I was so hyped on caffeine and excitement that I practically jumped around the room. Mary Margaret, who had taken my early morning shift plus the afternoon one, sat on one of the desks, yawning.

“Your Mum should be here in fifteen minutes,” I flattened my shirt down for the umpteenth time and checked my reflection in one of the play house mirrors.

“Yep,” Henry sounded bored as he flicked through his fairy tale book again. He was one of the last ones here. I didn’t mind because that meant less audience.

“Do I look okay?” I whispered to Mary Margaret as she sorted out the toys from this morning playing with the energetic three year olds.

“For the last time, you look fine,” she growled,

“Yeah but like fine-fine or like ‘hey I’m gay’ fine,”

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes as she launched a stuffed panda into the toy box. There was a soft knock at the door followed by a pair of heels.

“Mum!” Henry grinned as threw himself towards the beacon of my sexuality. Her hair was shorter and she’d lost a bit of weight over the years, but my God, she was still as perfect as she was on screen.

“Henry dear!” she cooed as she bundled her son against her chest. The woman had impeccable taste, that’s for sure; a white blouse, grey pencil skirt, stockings and heels that even had me drooling at the mouth. She kissed him on the cheek and wiped away the smudge of red lipstick she left,

“How was your day?”

Henry turned around in his hot Mother’s arms and pointed to me, “I made a new friend; her name is Miss Emma and she says she knows you,”

“Miss Emma?” Henry’s mother’s brown eyes grazed over my body. Holy hell, she was so hot. I stood awkwardly in my jeans, white tee shirt and red jacket, clutching a stuffed bear. Her eyes zeroed in on the bear and I chucked it away behind me,

“Uh hi, hello, I’m Emma…Emma Swan,” I stumbled forwards and held my hand out to the woman. She smiled stiffly as she shook my hand. Oh her hand was so soft.

“Hello Ms Swan, my name is Regina Mills,”

“I, uh, yeah, already knew that…” I bit my lip awkwardly as Henry wrapped himself around Regina’s waist and giggled into her stomach. Regina lifted a single eyebrow at me, “Oh, how so?”

I scratched the back of my neck, “kind of a big fan of yours, just saying,”

“She used to watch you on tee-vee, Ma,”

“Yeah, kind of knew I was gay after watching your show every afternoon…just saying,” what the hell? Why couldn’t I just shut the hell up?

“What does gay mean?” Henry piped up. Good job me, now the woman had to explain to her son something she shouldn’t have to til he was like, a good few years older.

Regina didn’t take her eyes off me when she brushed her thin fingers through her son’s hair, “it’s something Mummy is, dear,”

Hold the phone. Hold the actual fucking phone.

“Oh, so Ms Emma knows you because you’re both in the gay together?”

“Apparently so,” But hell I wasn’t listening. Regina Mills was gay. Regina fucking Mills was into women and I was a woman and she’s into people like me…women.

“Okay, cool. Can we get McDonald’s for dinner?” Henry grabbed Regina’s hand and pulled her towards the front door. Regina gave me a quick once over as Mary Margaret threw a soft ball at my head.

“Oh my fucking God Mary Margaret, the woman’s gay!” I fist pumped the air and gleefully packed away the rest of the toys. A few minutes past before the front door flew open and a slightly breathless and dishevelled Regina Mills stumbled in.

“Did Henry forget something Regina?”

“No, I…” She stalked towards me and shoved a piece of paper in my hand, “call me, yeah?”

I glanced at the piece of paper and saw a string of numbers with a little kiss at the end. I grinned brightly as she smiled shyly and exited the building.