Chapter Text
Chapter One
Holy Matrimony?
When Emma Swan was seventeen years old she fell in love for the first time.
With a car.
But not just any car.
A 1972 Volkswagen Super Beetle Type 1.
A yellow Bug.
The yellow Bug.
That’s what she named it. Not any fancy female name. Just ‘The Bug’.
Emma treated The Bug well. She polished it regularly, changed out bits and pieces that needed changing and made sure the tires always had the correct pressure.
Yes, Emma Swan loved her Bug very much.
And when she got a little older, she decided to involve The Bug in her career. She loved driving, and she loved showing off her car, so her choice of career was quite obvious. At least to her.
Emma was a wedding chauffeur.
No, that wasn’t the original job description, but that was what her friends and family called it. She decked out her pretty little yellow Bug with flowers and sometimes silk sashes, and then she picked up blushing brides from their location and took them to the church so they could be joined in holy matrimony. Often, her job entailed sticking around and waiting for the newlyweds to finish up in church so she could drive them to the location of their celebration.
Emma loved her job. She loved meeting the brides. Some of them were nervous chatterboxes, while others were more subdued and quiet. No matter the type, Emma was great at adapting. If it was a quiet bride, she did not say much, and vice versa, if it was a chatty bride, Emma chattered right along with her. You could learn a lot about someone just by listening to them. Emma had heard her fair share of proposal stories. She wasn’t a particularly romantic person, but it was hard not to get at least a little swept away by some of the romantic stories the brides told her when she drove them to church (or whatever location they had picked for their union) some of them had some crazy romantic stories. Who wouldn’t want to be proposed to on a rooftop in the moonlight?
Yes, Emma did indeed love her job. And her job loved her, too. Emma Swan’s Wedding Bug had only five star ratings online, and she was proud whenever a new bride-to-be contacted her and requested her service. It was undoubtedly a dream job, and Emma couldn’t imagine doing anything else for a living.
Maybe she didn’t earn millions, but at least she had a job that she actually enjoyed. And she was pretty sure that was a rarity these days. She was often tired when she came home at night, but she was also satisfied with yet another successful day.
Yet another happy bride.
Every year, Emma encountered a bride she knew that she would remember. Someone who had made an impression on her.
But she hadn’t expected that it would happen today.
The day had started normally enough.
As scheduled via her website, Emma arrived in her faithful Little Bug in front of The Peninsula hotel. She whistled quietly. Never would she get enough money to even get near that hotel. Only the finest in New York could go in there. Best Emma could do was park outside and wait for the next happy bride in line.
And it did not take long before said happy bride showed up. A very self-serious bouncer (or whatever you called those guy in suit and tie standing outside the hotel) opened the door for her and out she came.
Emma whistled quietly to herself. She wasn’t trying to be creepy or anything, but it couldn’t be denied that that was one good looking bride.
The bride’s dress consisted of a full skirt that shimmered and twinkled whenever she moved and had a sneaky slit up her right leg. Ivory white and embroidered with dreamy flowers. The bodice was sheer- or so it appeared- and covered in beading in the bust area. The sleeves were those flimsy ones that dangled halfway down her elbows.
The woman’s dark hair was swept up in a bun and above the bun, a delicate lace veil was fastened. One of those long ones that would drag across the floor. Emma pictured her walking down the aisle in all her glory. Whoever married that bride, was a very lucky person.
Anyway, that was enough staring. She got out of the car and opened the door to the backseat so the bride could enter without trouble.
“Hi,” she said and smiled at the bride when she approached. “I’m Emma, your chauffeur.” Of course the bride already knew that, Emma’s name was written on the website, but it was always a good idea to introduce herself. It created a positive, safe environment.
“Hello,” said the bride. “Would you mind giving me a hand?”
“No, not at all.” Emma had given many hands during her time as a wedding chauffeur, and now she carefully helped the bride-to-be inside the yellow Bug, careful not to slam the door on either the veil or the dress. As she did so, she noticed two things. One: the gigantic lump of a diamond ring sitting on the woman’s finger. and two: the fact that the bride-to-be was covered in goosebumps. She briefly caught herself wondering if the dress truly was sheer. That had to be cold on a day like this.
She cranked up the heat as she started the car. They were going to St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Six minutes away from here. In Emma’s humble opinion it was a complete waste, but what did she know, she wasn’t filthy rich. Or a bride.
She glanced at the bride in the mirror and frowned at what she saw. Uh-oh. Not ideal. But she had seen it many times before. She could handle this.
“You alright back there?” she asked lightly and maybe it was because the bride was particularly beautiful, but she goofed up and said: “you look a bit peaky.”
Shit.
The bride did not get offended, though. “Do I?” was all she said as she adjusted an already perfect curl brushing against her cheek.
“Do you want me to pull over?” Emma offered. She had done that many times before. She was used to jittery brides.
“No, that’s fine,” said the bride. “I’m alright. Just a bit nervous.”
“I get it. Big day and all.”
“You have no idea,” the bride said, and Emma saw the tip of her tongue come out to quickly lick across ruby red lips.
“How long have you and your fiancée been together?” Emma asked brightly. She knew from experience that it often helped to talk about the future husband when a bride was nervous.
“Six years.”
“Damn.” Emma whistled lowly once more. “That’s longer than my last relationship.”
The bride let out a chocolate-y, rich laughter. Immediately followed up by: “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be laughing. That’s not nice.”
“I’m not offended,” Emma said and remembered that the bride’s name was Regina. Somehow she had blanked on the name for a moment.
“Good. It wasn’t my intention to offend you.”
“What’s your fiancé’s name?”
“Robin. Robin Locksley.”
Regina. Regina Locksley. Mrs. Regina Locksley. Yep, that did have a nice ring to it. “Well, I hope he knows how lucky he is.” She wasn’t flirting. She was just being friendly, that was all. Honestly.
“Thank you.” Future Mrs. Locksley shifted in the backseat, and Emma noticed that she kept pulling at the flimsy straps, trying to get them to stay on her shoulders. Which they of course not did.
Is she uncomfortable in her wedding dress? Emma immediately felt sorry for her. Regina was not the first bride she had encountered who was uncomfortable in her wedding dress. Poor thing. Maybe she was regretting her choice of wedding dress right now. Even though she looked fucking amazing in it.
Emma wondered if the future Mrs. Locksley was the type of woman to put on sweatpants after a long day. Was she longing to put on sweatpants right now?
The bride plucked at the strap again. It immediately slid down her arm again..
“There we are,” Emma said a few minutes later as she parked in front of the impressive St. Patrick’s Cathedral. First step of her job was done. She had transported the bride safely to her location. Next step was to wait for the ceremony to end and then transport Mr. and Mrs. Locksley back to the hotel where the celebration would take place. Waiting around was boring, but Emma had brought her kindle, so she reckoned she would be fine.
“Do you need any help with-“
Future Mrs. Locksley opened the car door and stepped outside.
“-Getting out of the car,” Emma half-heartedly finished the sentence. “I guess not. Okay then.”
The bride strode up to the church where an elderly man- her father, most likely- was waiting for her, and Emma tilted her head in curiosity when she saw the future Mrs. Locksley make the oddest little gesture. She rolled her shoulders. No. Squared them. As though she was giving herself a mental peptalk. A nudge. You can do this, kind of thing.
Emma chuckled to herself. She hadn’t seen any bride make that gesture before. She had seen many nervous smiles, a few tears, and even a few incidents of dry heaving, but never a bride who squared her shoulders like Regina just had.
She watched as the bride went up to her father and exchanged a peck on the cheek with him. Then she disappeared inside the church and Emma made herself comfortable behind the wheel. Found her thermos full of hot coffee. Took a sip and prepared herself to wait for a long, long time. She was kinda curious about the groom, to be honest. Curious to see what kind of man Regina had chosen for her life partner.
She tipped the seat back and fumbled around under the seat to locate her kindle. She was in the middle of a particular scary thriller written by one Darcy Coates, and honestly, she was just dying to see what happened next. Particularly, to see who bit the dust next.
But she didn’t get to read a thing. Because her normal work day took an unexpected turn when the door to the church suddenly opened wide and Regina appeared. She hoisted up her skirt and bolted. To the nearest bench where she to Emma’s surprise retrieved a small backpack. With the backpack in hand, the almost-Mrs. Locksley came sprinting towards Emma’s yellow Bug.
“What, uh-“ was all Emma managed. That and turning around in the driver’s seat, observing and gaping as Regina climbed onto the backseat.
“Drive,” Regina said sternly.
“Is this a joke?” Emma squeaked.
“It most certainly is not, miss Swan. Drive.”
Emma opened her mouth to say something. Possibly make a joke about Runaway Bride, but she was distracted by the commotion from the church. The door had just opened, and a woman had just poked her head outside.
“Please,” Regina added, and Emma saw a hint of fear in her deep brown eyes.
One thing to know about Emma Swan was that she was absolutely useless when it came to beautiful women needing her help. So she started the car and did indeed drive.
Regina looked out of the back window in the car, and as they left the church behind, her breathing seemed to ease a little.
“Where am I going exactly?” Emma asked after a beat of silence.
“The airport.”
“Oh, come on!” it bursted out of Emma. It felt like she had landed in the middle of some romcom. “Look, if this is some gag or hidden camera-“
“It’s not,” Regina interrupted. “I swear.”
Emma still wasn’t entirely convinced. “I’m really not in the mood for-“
“500 dollars.”
“Huh?” Emma blinked.
“If you drive me to the airport, I’ll pay you five hundred dollars extra.” As she spoke, Regina unzipped the backpack and retrieved a wallet. She unzipped it and held up a bundle of money. “See? I’m not fooling you, I promise.”
Five hundred dollars was a lot of money. And Regina seemed genuine enough, so…
“Okay,” Emma said. “Okay, I’ll take you to the airport.” Who wouldn’t wanna make an extra five hundred dollars? And besides, forty minutes wasn’t that much of a drive, was it?
Ugh. Why was it that she never could resist a beautiful woman in need?
“Thank you,” Regina said. “You’re saving my life.”
“I hope that’s not to be taken literally,” Emma muttered and peered at the not-bride in the backseat. Regina was currently reaching back, and it took Emma a second to realize that Regina was loosening the veil. A moment later, the expensive lace veil landed on the car floor.
Regina didn’t seem to care about it. She was busier rummaging through the small backpack.
“What the heck, Mary Poppins,” Emma blurted when Regina to her utmost surprise retrieved a pair of tightly rolled up jeans from the backpack.
Regina gave a little chuckle. “I like coming prepared.”
“So…. Running away from your own wedding wasn’t just an impulsive decision, huh?”
“No. I’ve been planning it for a few months now.”
“What happened? Not that it’s any of my busi-“
“My fiancée cheated on me.”
“Ouch. What an absolute assho-“
“With my sister.”
“What the fuck?” Emma barked.
“Yes, so instead of marrying him, I decided to humiliate him in front of our friends and family instead,” Regina said lightly. “I’m fairly certain that I’ve just ostracized myself from my entire family. But you know what, I think I’m alright with that.”
As she spoke, she wiggled about in the backseat, and Emma’s eyes widened to double their original size when she realized that Regina was in fact unzipping her wedding dress. Well, at least the skirt.
“Uhh,” she said meekly. “Do you want me to pull over or…”
“No, just keep driving, please. I got it. Changing clothes in the back of a car is not the most difficult thing I had to do today.” There was a soft clink sound, and Emma saw the poofy skirt fall onto the car floor. She also got the faintest glimpse of smooth, golden legs. And white lace. Some kind of wedding lingerie, probably.
Emma quickly looked at the road. Pretended not to care as Regina elegantly shimmied into the pair of jeans she had found in the backpack earlier. The brunette gave a little grunt, a little wiggle. Then she settled in the backseat again. Ran her fingers through her hair a few times. Raven black locks fell in soft curls around her face.
“Let’s see,” she said as she rummaged through the backpack once more. “A change of clothes, a jacket, and… my passport. God. Thank you, Kathryn!”
Emma didn’t know who Kathryn was, but she assumed that it was a friend, and that Regina wasn’t talking to herself.
“Where will you go?” she asked the run away bride as said woman indeed retrieved a trench coat from the depths of the backpack.
“Paris. I think,” Regina said and shrugged on the coat. She looked mighty fine in the sheer wedding bodice, jeans and trench coat. “Do you want to come?”
“Huh?” the yellow Bug wavered just a little as Emma pulled onto the 1-495 E.
Regina laughed softly. “That was a quip. Relax, miss Swan. I’m not completely crazy. Yet.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Emma heard herself say. “I mean, your fiancée cheated. Who wouldn’t cancel the wedding.”
“Maybe I should have cancelled it sooner,” Regina mused. “But I just wanted revenge, you know?” she yanked the huge diamond ring off her finger and opened the window. Without a second thought, she threw the engagement ring out of the window.
Damn, Emma thought to herself. What a beautiful, vengeful thing!
Forty two minutes later, the yellow Bug pulled up in front of the John F. Kennedy airport. Regina thanked Emma profusely as she exited the car with the backpack slung over her shoulders.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Emma asked.
“I’ll be fine,” Regina smiled. “I promise. And…” she opened her wallet and handed Emma five hundred dollars. “Here. As promised.”
“Nahh,” Emma shook her head. “I don’t want your money. It was a privilege to be your get away chauffeur, Runaway Bride.”
Regina laughed softly. “I bet you’ve been dying to call me that, haven’t you?”
“Kinda, yeah.” Emma wanted to say something more, but before she could, Regina’s cellphone rang noisily from the backpacks front pocket.
Regina plucked the phone out of the pocket and glanced at the screen. “My mother. Time to switch off my phone.” She stabbed at the button on the side of the phone, and the screen went black.
“Well,” she said, glancing at the airport behind her.
“Good luck, Runaway Bride.”
Chocolate brown eyes got an amused gleam in them. “Thank you, chauffeur Swan. I’ll make sure to rate your service five stars before my plane takes off.”
With that as her epic farewell, Runaway Bride turned around and walked into the airport, wearing her wedding bodice, a trench coat, jeans and six inches of high heels. She hadn’t changed out of her bridal stilettos and into something more comfortable.
“Damn,” Emma said, leaning against the side of her car as she stared at the place Regina had been in a moment ago.
No, this definitely wasn’t just another day at the job. Emma had met another (not) bride she definitely would remember for a long, long time.
But not just that.
For the first time in her life, Emma had gotten a teeny tiny bit smitten with the bride.
Ahem. Not bride.