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Chapter Text

"We still have three root beer, half a pizza and about twenty dollars worth of candy left," Emma says, walking into the den. She stares down at Regina lying curled up on the couch, arms wrapped around her torso as she groans. "I take it you won't be helping me with the rest then?"

Regina groans louder. Emma shrugs and turns to their son, mouth open. She pauses on seeing that he's asleep, and closes her mouth, huffing softly. "Lightweights," she mutters, falling into the one lone chair left as she pops open a root beer and starts to nibble on her slice of pizza.

Halfway through it, she registers the eyes on her and forces her own from the TV. Her chest warms to the sight of Regina looking at her. Emma would swear to the Gods themselves that the affection in that smile could reach her very soul given the chance.

"What?"

Regina pouts. "Too far."

Sufficiently charmed, and expertly trained, Emma stands, shoving the remaining pizza in her mouth to hold between her teeth as she scoops up the bag of candy and snatches her root beer from the table. She meanders over to the couch and waits for Regina to create enough space for her before she sits.

"Down." Eyes rolling, she grins, popping the pizza from her mouth before she lies down. Regina wraps around her, head sitting comfortably beneath her chin when she demands, "Share."

"Bossy." Offering her the side without the crust, Regina grabs her wrist, teeth sinking into the piece previously in Emma's mouth. Emma grimaces. "That is… You are disgusting."

Shrugging, Regina pushes the last of the slice into Emma's mouth, then pats her cheek and lies back down. "Change the channel."

"Stop telling me what to do," she grumbles through her chewing.

Humming, Regina shifts enough to bite down on her shoulder. Emma squeaks. "Change the channel," she repeats. Emma rolls her eyes and summons the remote to her hand, changing the channel. "Good girl, but not this."

This, Emma notes, is True Blood and her face contorts in agreement as she tries a different channel. Stupid looking vampires.

Regina sighs and suggests, "Movie?"

"Let me guess," Emma drawls, "I have to be the one to get up and look through them."

Hand patting her stomach, Regina replies condescendingly, "And people accuse you of being slow."

Emma frowns, outraged, and demands, "What people?"

"Mom," Henry supplies, grinning at her as her eyes dart to him. The little faker. "She insults you with it all the time."

"Well, yeah." Emma shrugs. Duh. This is Regina, who has done a hell of a lot worse to people than insult them. They should be so lucky. "She's allowed, but who else?"

"No one," Regina chuckles. She slides a hand beneath her shirt to stroke her stomach and Emma relaxes, lids drooping, extremely tempted to start purring. "They wouldn't dare."

Henry nods, bringing a hand to his mouth. "Mom would end them," he whispers, then raises his voice. "Right, mom?"

"Mmm."

Sharing his grin, Emma kisses the top of her head and drapes an arm over her back. It's been a long day of just the three of them spending time together, eating double their weight in junk food because it's her birthday; the one day Regina will do whatever she wants and not argue with her. Much.

"Let's—" she says, flipping through channels until she lands on one with music. "…listen to this while we take a nap."

"Can I make a bed on the floor?"

Expecting Regina to answer him, Emma tilts her head when she doesn't and her grin widens. Regina has taken her suggestion to heart and, if not already, will soon be fast asleep. She gestures to the floor, nodding at the pile of pillows and blankets that appear in place of the coffee table.

"Make sure there's enough room for us."

"Sweet."

[The next morning]

Waking to a sound her brain hasn't quite registered yet, Emma groans. Silence immediately descends, causing her lids to flutter as she searches the room for the one responsible. They land on Regina in time to glimpse the slow, apologetic smile that spreads across her face.

"Sorry."

Emma frowns, noticing the keys and pair of heels in her hands. It's still too dark for it to be anywhere near time for either of them to be up. Throat dry from sleep, she rasps, "Where are you going?"

"I have work in a few hours," Regina explains quietly. She bites her lip and inches closer, almost whispering, "I need to go home to shower and change."

With another groan, Emma throws an arm across her eyes. She was woken up for this? "Just grab something from my wardrobe," she says, exasperated. "You've left enough of your clothes here, there's probably an outfit or three in there of yours."

In actual fact there are at least five but considering Regina can use magic and simply conjure an outfit from her own wardrobe, neither are particularly relevant in the moment; Regina is merely fishing for a reason to stay and Emma is more than happy to give her one.

"Oh."

Elbow shifting, she peeks out from behind it to ask, "Coffee?"

"Ready and waiting for you to drink it all," Regina replies, smiling when Emma finally gives up hope of falling back to sleep and pushes herself up.

She runs a hand through her hair, then down her face, pouting at the injustice of it all. Why she has to be awake just because Regina is, she'll never understand. "When did you wake up?"

"Four-ish."

"Jesus." The answer physically pains her. She hesitates, almost too scared to ask before she does, reluctantly. "What time is it now?"

"We can't all sleep til eleven, dearest," Regina replies, amusement in her tone. She drops her heels beside the couch and her keys onto a cushion, adding, "And it's just passed six."

"Ugh." It's not four, but it's still too damn early. "I'm best friends with a mental case." Regina stabs her in the side with her toes as she passes their makeshift bed. "Evil fiend."

"Lazy abomination," she playfully retorts, a smirk in her voice.

"Go shower," Emma counters. She wrinkles her nose and with feigned disgust teases, "You're tainting my house with your stench."

Regina scoffs and Emma grins as she dramatically flicks her hair back, throwing a glare over her shoulder. "Kiss my ass."

"Maybe later," she retorts, "when I'm more awake to enjoy it."

Chuckling as she leaves the room, Regina's voice travels from somewhere down the hall, "I'll remember that."

"Do!"

"Ugh." Henry rolls over onto his back, blinking up at the ceiling before he awakens fully and glares up at her.

"Sorry kid." Emma smiles down on him, brushing the hair from his forehead as she says, "Go back to sleep."

"You two need to get married already," he mumbles, yawning. "Then you can go on your honeymoon and I can have some peace."

"We'll get right on that," she replies, thoughts gleefully strolling down that well-worn path where she's considered life (sometimes married, sometimes not) with Regina innumerable times before. She shakes her head, still smiling when she adds, "Until then, sleep. I'll come wake you in an hour or two."

"Kay," he mumbles, rolling back on to his side as she stands and stretches before making her way to the kitchen.

Chapter Text

Emma has just finished making breakfast when Regina strolls into the kitchen. She stumbles and nearly drops her coffee when she turns and Regina is standing there, staring, dressed in nothing more than a towel, with panties hanging from the index finger of her left hand.

Emma clears her throat but, "Uh," is as far as she gets in terms of having anything to say to that particular image.

"Indeed," Regina agrees, cocking a brow. "Care to enlighten me as to why you are in possession of my underwear, Miss Swan?"

Her jaw snaps shut. She's in possession of them for the same reason her wardrobe is full of suits she wouldn't look half as good in as Regina does. "Oh, I don't know," she drawls sarcastically, "Maybe it's because you keep stealing my clothes every weekend and leaving yours here for me to wash."

Warm brown eyes sparkle back at her in amusement. "You're such a good little wife," Regina teases, laughing when her face screws up in offense. She leaves the kitchen before Emma gains the wherewithal to tell her she can fuck right off with that shit.

Recognizing that fact herself, she begins muttering to herself as she goes about setting out plates for them. If anyone is the wife in this relation— friendship then it is most definitely Regina, not her. Regina's the homebody, the mom. She likes cooking, and gardening, and doing dishes because she's a freak. Regina's the one who fusses over them when they're sick whereas Emma is more likely to flee in the opposite direction because sick people make her squeamish.

Regina hates spiders. She captures them and releases them outside.

Regina cooks most of their meals when they're together. She sits on her ass with a beer and watches whatever crap is on TV while she waits to be fed.

Regina gets annoyed and gives her the silent treatment. She brings her flowers and begs for forgiveness.

Emma scoffs.

If they were married, she'd be the one who ended up sleeping on the couch whenever they fought. She isn't even theorizing either. She occasionally does that now because even in her own house, Regina is somehow the one in charge and rather than go home like a sane person would, she likes to storm off to Emma's bedroom and lock herself in as though she has that right.

She does.

"Which of these are mine?"

Pausing her inner grumbling to glance up, Emma frowns, eying the almost identical blouses Regina holds up for her to inspect. "Neither," she replies after a moment. "The one on the left will fit."

"Hmm."

She rolls her eyes. "We both know you're going to wear it, just put it on."

Grinning mischievously, Regina's towel drops from around her chest. Emma blinks slowly, mouth drying as she takes in the sight of the electric blue bra.

Her electric blue bra.

"See something you like?"

Yes. "More like something you stole," she retorts, eyes narrowing.

Regina shrugs, sliding her arms into the blouse while reasoning, "It matches my underwear."

Pivoting, Emma shakes her head, shooing the mental image away despite knowing it will return sooner or later. She retrieves all three of their plates, now piled high with their food, and studiously ignores Regina's grin on her way to the dining room.

[That afternoon]

The images return around lunch time when she hears the rhythmic tap of Regina's heels strolling through the station doors and into the main office. Emma is leaning back in her chair, still trying to decide if she wants to put in the effort to go to the diner, and then bam; heels lead to legs, legs lead to panties dangling from a finger and an electric blue bra she might have taken more time to consider had her brain been focused on precisely how tight it appeared to be in the moment rather than now as it takes control of her thoughts.

"Good afternoon, Sheriff."

Her chair tilts forward, hands coming down on the top of her desk with a slight more force than she intended as she tries to shake the sting from them. Of course Regina immediately starts chuckling, the bitch.

"Shouldn't you be out there tormenting the masses?"

Regina snorts, purse and backside hitting her desk simultaneously. "Why bother with them when I derive far more pleasure from tormenting you?" Fingers snap in front of her face, drawing her attention from said backside to dark, upturned lips. "See? You're proving my point. You're a delight."

Emma flashes a lopsided grin and replies flippantly, "Thanks."

Gaze full to brimming with affection, Regina asks, "I don't suppose you'd consider entertaining me for lunch?"

Hand to her chest, Emma feigns surprise. Regina rolls her eyes and Emma grins, standing as she says, "I'd be delighted."

"Delightful," Regina purrs, playing along.

Emma smirks. "I'll be that too." Before Regina can do it herself, she snatches her purse from the desk, slides it to the crook of her elbow and lifts her chin as she waltzes out of her office.

"If that is your idea of mocking me," Regina growls lowly as she grabs the back of her shirt and warns, "I will beat you to within an inch of your life."

"Me?" Emma gasps. "Mock you?" She stills to turn to her, stifling a laugh when she questions, "Just who do you think I am?"

"I know exactly who you are, Emma Swan."

She nods. It's true. If anyone knows her better, then she's stumped as to who it might be. "In that case," she drawls, "you should know threats of violence turn me on."

"You sick bastard."

Head thrown back, she laughs as Regina's deep, husky chuckle follows her from the station.

Chapter Text

Attention focused solely on the last of her paperwork, the buzzing of her phone startles Regina and she jumps slightly. Removing the glasses from her nose, she rubs her eyes tiredly and looks up at the clock, frowning in realization that it's almost midnight. Upon glancing down and seeing the name flash across her screen though, her expression morphs into something soft and adoring.

Answering the call, she chides, "You do know what time it is, yes?"

"What's wrong, grandma? Passed your bedtime?"

Eyes rolling, she asks, "What do you want, nuisance?"

"I was just sitting here," Emma explains, her words slightly slurred. "Sipping this disgusting wine someone left in my kitchen," she adds, "when, out of the blue, I thought of you. Weird, huh?"

Tucking her lower lip between teeth, Regina feels her cheeks begin to ache from smiling too hard. Emma doesn't drink often, less so to the point of excess, but when she does it's almost guaranteed to be highly amusing. "Who said you could drink my wine?"

"I assumed you leaving it here was a hint."

It was; a hint she has been leaving for well over a year now that Emma hasn't once indicated any interest in taking. She would be delusional to think that it is about to change, but she would also be remiss to allow this opportunity to simply pass. "Does that mean I can expect something decent to drink the next time I come over?"

"Yeah," Emma says, drawing the word out before she snorts. "I'm not spending my hard earned money on this. Train your palate to like whiskey, then we'll talk."

Regina smirks. She likes whiskey just fine, she'd just prefer Emma not know quite how much. Yet. With a dramatic, woeful sigh, she murmurs, "I'm beginning to think my attempts to sophisticate you are in vain."

"Finally."

She laughs. "You are hopeless."

"That's me," Emma replies and breathes in deeply. On exhale, she drones, "Whatcha doooin'?"

Leaning forward, Regina sits her elbow on her desk and rests her chin in her hand. "Talking to you," she says, grinning. "You giant dork."

"You're so mean to me." Emma sighs, the pout in her voice obvious as she says, "I call to tell you I miss your voice and you just—"

Regina interrupts. "You never said you missed my voice," she says, nibbling her lower lip to stop herself from laughing again when Emma huffs.

"Why else would I call you," she retorts, her tone deadpan. "Your voice is the only not awful thing about you."

"And here I was thinking it's because you're a masochist who likes it when I insult you."

"Well…"

"Idiot."

"Ooh," Emma coos, "shivers. Do it again."

Shoulders shaking from trying to hold in her laughter, Regina obliges, "Imbecile."

What sounds suspiciously like a moan filters through the phone. "Oh yeah."

Head shaking, she chuckles and asks, "How much have you had to drink?"

Emma hums thoughtfully. "Enough to consider sending you a picture of how this bra is supposed to look on someone," she answers, "but not enough to actually do it."

"You tease."

No more than a minute later, her phone beeps and she pulls it from her ear, brow rising when she sees the text from Emma. She opens it and her mouth dries. Beneath the word; forgiven? Is an image of Emma from the ribs down that ends just below her waist where what looks to be a pair of black boy-shorts begin.

Warmth blossoms in the pit of her stomach. She'd known Emma was defined down there considering how often she falls asleep on top of her, but those abdominals are sublime and far superior to anything she'd been able to imagine simply from touching them.

Throat rumbling with her purr, she returns the phone to her ear. "Emma…"

"Hmm?"

Tongue darting from her mouth to wet her lower lip, she husks, "You're forgiven."

"Mhmm."

The simple knowing in the sound alone has her laughing again. "How is it you know my weaknesses, hmm?"

"The same way you know mine," Emma says, her amusement coming in loud and clear. "The only difference is that I look while you touch."

Grinning, she purrs at the thought that enters her mind and questions, "Is that a request?"

The silence lasts only for as long as Emma needs to consider it, which is long enough for her to swell with hope. "Not yet." Regina deflates with an audible sigh. "Unless you want it to be…"

Lids slipping shut, she teases, "A little groping every now and then wouldn't hurt."

Emma chuckles deeply before she says, "Duly noted."

It is a promise, if ever Regina has heard one, and it makes her smile once more as she suddenly looks forward to the next time they're together. She's starting to fall asleep though, which means, "I think it time for bed, dear."

"Eager to dream of me?"

Mouth quirked, she sighs softly and admits, "Very."

Chapter Text

Returning from the bathroom, the first thing Emma notices is confusion when she sits down. Gesturing to Regina's face, she questions, "What's all that about?"

"Miss Lucas just asked if we were married yet."

"Ah," she says, nodding before she picks up her coffee and glances around the diner. She spots Red behind the counter and flashes her a smile, laughing when the wolf wags her eyebrows comically.

"Ah?" Regina questions, drawing Emma's attention back to her.

"Henry keeps asking me the same thing," she explains with a shrug.

It's a subject she's long since been desensitized too. They're friends. That's not to say they don't have a future as something more but they're both still pulling the pieces of themselves back together after their last relationships. The problem with most fairy tale characters is that they think that once you find love again, you should jump into it head first the second you understand that that's what it is. Fortunately for them, she doesn't work like that and neither does Regina. It isn't willful oblivion that keeps them apart like her mother and their son think, they're simply going with the flow and enjoying themselves along the way.

"Oh?"

"Mmm. I've considered telling him we've eloped already and he missed it, but then I imagine him telling my mother and—" She shudders, her face contorting with a grimace. "…yeah, no one wants to deal with that."

Regina tilts her head. Brow furrowed, she asks, "They do know we're not together, yes?"

"I've tried telling them that but it doesn't help." Emma shrugs again. She's given up fighting with them at this point. They know who and what they are to each other, and that's all that matters. "They insist we're blind and in love, which means we should be wed and popping out babies by now."

Regina snorts and says, "You'll be carrying them."

Emma narrows her eyes. "If that's another dig at me being the wife, I swear I will…"

Amusement shines back at her from the depths of those warm, brown eyes. "I've learned my lesson after the last time," Regina assures her. Winking, she says, "The next time you spank me, I'd like it to be for a much more pleasurable reason."

"Comments like that are the reason people think we're doing the deed in secret," Emma points out slyly. She hadn't spanked her. She'd slapped her ass in passing when she handed Regina her newly laundered clothing and was once again accused of being a good little wife; big difference.

"Not," she's quick to add, "that I would be averse to fulfilling such an enticing fantasy, should that day come."

"Oh," Regina purrs, "it will come."

And so will you.

She doesn't say it but Emma can hear it in her tone and it's enough to send anticipation buzzing through her veins. Smiling, she dips her head, acknowledging the unspoken promise before directing them to a less entertaining, but more important topic at this time of day.

"Where the hell is my food?"

Regina laughs, teasing, "Smooth," and Emma grins.

Red appears at their table a few minutes later, arms full with everything Regina had ordered while she was preoccupied. Emma stares at it all as it's placed in front of them, appreciative but highly confused given the amount. "You know I'm not actually bottomless, yeah?"

"All the more for me…" Regina pauses and nods towards the door as the bell above it chimes, then adds, "And your father."

Emma turns slowly, disbelieving and, sure enough, there is her father. She spins back around. "You invited dad to lunch?" Not that she minds, it's just that David has a tendency to well—

"Emma! Did you tell Regina about the fight down at the rabbit hole?"

She winces. That. He overshares, with Regina, right in front of her. "No," she grumbles, deliberately ignoring the eyes now boring into her forehead.

Oblivious to their standoff, David launches into the story and tells Regina all about Hook and Robin getting drunk together last night, both of them hitting on anything with two legs and harassing the customers until the bartender finally got tired of them and called the station to have someone come and deal with them.

Emma shrinks more and more into the booth the deeper he delves into the story. She'd known not to bring him. Just like she knows she shouldn't have knocked both of the men out for their disgusting comments. They knew better than to direct any of them towards her, but she'd been standing behind them long enough to overhear the things they'd been saying to Belle and Kathryn who were just trying to enjoy a night out free of their husbands.

"Thanks dad," she drawls when he finishes. She can literally feel him beaming down at her like he couldn't be more proud of her and it's for that reason she can't mind despite the fact his inability to keep things to himself has gotten her into more trouble than she's capable of on her own.

"Are you alright?" Eyes lifting from the table top in surprise, she meets Regina's stare. She chews the inside of her cheek, searching for something beyond the mild concern she finds before she tips her head forward. "Good. David, sit."

He does, sliding into the space Regina creates beside her. Emma hides her grin. She still can't believe Regina is friends with him but they've been that way for a while now. Regina claims it's to make her happy, but Emma doesn't believe it. If it were true, then Regina would make more of an effort to tolerate her mother and she's fairly certain it will be a cold day in hell long before Regina does that.

What she thinks might be true is that David is so much like her, Regina can't help herself. He might not be as charming as his wife claims, but he's charming enough to have made it inside the walls Regina likes to hide behind to keep those she's less affectionate towards out.

"Wipe that chesire grin off of your face, Miss Swan."

Rearranging her face into something vaguely serious, she replies, "Yes ma'am."

Chapter Text

"You forgot pants."

Emma glances down at her legs, then back up. She didn't forget. She'd just gotten off work and was in the process of getting comfortable when Regina knocked on her door. "They're shorts?"

"If you say so," she says, brushing passed.

Emma closes the door and turns in time to catch the coat that's being thrown at her. "Oh sure," she mumbles to herself, "I'll happily take your coat, Regina. I'll just hang it on this here nonexistent coat rack for you."

"Much appreciated."

Rolling her eyes, Emma follows her through to the den and drapes it over the nearest chair, still not entirely sure why Regina is here. It's not unusual for them to appear randomly at each other's door, but it's usually because something has happened during the day and aside from lunch—

Lunch.

She groans. Regina is here to check up on her, and maybe yell at her for not telling her about her run-in with the men. She might have had David not beat her to it but it's unlikely, and Regina knows it.

"Regina…" She sighs when a glare is sent her way, confirming her thoughts. "Nothing happened and I'm fine. They're petrified of you even when you're not there, I promise."

Sniffing dismissively, Regina drops unceremoniously down on to the couch. Emma smiles at her expression, the dark, plump mouth on the verge of a full-blown pout. She sits beside her, slipping an arm behind her as a head falls to her shoulder and Regina sighs, the sound heavy and completely transparent.

Adorable as it is, it is never a good idea to deny Regina a chance to yell.

"I tipped the rest of your wine down the sink," Emma murmurs, chuckling when Regina's head snaps up. She grins and says, "See? You can yell at me for that."

"I will destroy you," Regina growls, roughly grabbing her by the chin. "That wine was expensive."

Emma shrugs. Whatever it cost, it hadn't been worth it in her opinion. "You wasted your money," she replies, freeing herself with a tug. "Next time try leaving behind some battery acid; it'll probably taste better."

"Only because you have such poor taste."

"I'm friends with you, aren't I?" They both wince when the hand meets her thigh. Eyes wide in shock, Regina opens her mouth to apologize but Emma laughs, cutting her off to admit, "Don't. I deserved it."

"Yes," Regina agrees while she traces the reddened handprint with a finger. Her eyes flicker up when Emma shivers, and she smiles softly. "Still— I didn't mean to do it quite so hard."

Mirroring the smile as the hand soothingly strokes her thigh, Emma presses their knees together and leans her head back against the couch. "Where's the kid?"

"He sent me a text after school saying he was going to go to Violet's to work on some project they're doing together." Emma snorts and Regina sighs but she also nods because neither of them were born yesterday like their son seems to think. "I know."

With a chuckle, Emma kisses her temple before she pats the hand on her thigh. Understanding the silent request, Regina retracts it and Emma stands. "Be right back."

She wanders off to the kitchen and returns a few minutes later, a beer in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. Regina frowns as she accepts the latter. "I thought you said you tipped it down the sink."

"I'm a compulsive liar," Emma offers, reaching for the remote before she sits back down.

Regina breathes out a laugh. "That's a lie."

"See? I can't help it."

Head shaking, she takes a sip from her wine and waits for Emma to lean back before returning her head to a shoulder. "I don't know why I put up with you," she says, gaze drifting to the TV when it turns on.

One hand holding the beer to her mouth as she drinks, Emma drops the remote in the other between her legs, then cheekily raises the hem of her shirt to reveal her stomach.

A hitch of breath followed by the mutter of, "Damn it," has her grinning. "You win this round, Swan."

Humming knowingly, she allows Regina to push her hand aside and savours the sensation of long, warm fingers gliding across her stomach.

Chapter Text

Neither Henry nor Snow know how to whisper. Despite their obvious attempt to remain quiet and not disturb them, their voices are loud in an otherwise silent house. Regina is the first to awaken from her slumber, face buried in a soft chest, warm from the head down with an arm wrapped tight around her waist and a hand… on her backside.

She grins, comforted by the knowledge that even while unconscious Emma is seeing to her needs.

Lifting her head regrettably, she blinks in an effort to adjust her eyes to the semi-darkened room, the realization that it must be getting late slowly filtering into her brain. Henry wanders in while she's still processing, half a sandwich hanging from his mouth.

"You're awake," he says, somehow forgetting that the sandwich is there. She watches it fall, vaguely relieved when he manages to catch it on the plate she only just notices in his hand. He glances at her, his smile sheepish as he offers a shrug and an, "Oops."

It is so perfectly Emma in execution, that she rolls her eyes rather than remind him to be more careful.

"Good sleep?"

She tilts her head, stretching her neck. Great sleep. "Yes," she replies, looking down on Emma briefly before temptation rears its head and she averts her gaze. She smiles at him and ignores his knowing look as she questions, "Have fun studying?"

Even without the light, she can tell he's blushing when his chin dips toward his chest. His tells when flustered are exactly the same as Emma's. She hums, satisfied to have put an end to the line of questioning she'd seen forming in his eyes before he could even begin.

Immediate concern for ensuring their son is happy and fed taken care of, she lowers her head back to Emma's chest, content to wait out whichever comes first; Emma waking, or Snow intruding on this peaceful moment where it's just the three of them, as per her usual.

Lids drooping, the rhythmic beat of Emma's heart is almost enough to lull her back to sleep. She sighs, readying herself for the inevitable fade to black when that ever present hand squeezes carefully and Emma jerks awake.

Regina shakes with quiet laughter.

"Stop that," Emma mutters, swatting her backside. She snorts. "Pain in my ass."

"That's my line," she murmurs, running the tip of her nose along Emma's jaw. Chuckling softly, she kisses her pulse, then raises her head once again. Emma smiles lazily up at her and her heart stutters before righting itself. She clears her throat. "Your mother is here."

Forehead creasing with her frown, Emma questions, "What is with the cruelty all of a sudden? First the poisoned wine, then the insults when I call you really late at night when we should both be sleeping, now this? My mother is here, right as I wake up— do you hate me?"

"Sometimes," Regina teases, gasping when a second squeeze precedes Emma's scowl. She lowers her voice to inform, "Your son is also here… in the room."

"As is grandma," Henry chimes in because of course he gets his inability to whisper from her, not Emma.

Regina narrowly avoids a head to the bridge of her nose as Emma sits up suddenly. Now straddling her waist, she raises a brow while that familiar sheepish expression appears. "Sorry," Emma says, raising a hand and stroking the length of her nose with a finger. "Didn't mean to almost mess up that pretty face."

Smirking, Regina threatens the finger with a snap of teeth as it brushes against her lips. As the hand drops between them, she asks, "What happened to my voice being the only not awful thing about me?"

Emma grins. "Compulsive liar, remember?"

Nodding sagely, they both turn to face Snow at the same time, their voices filling the room one after the other.

"Mom."

"Snow."

"Emma. Regina."

"Donkey?" All three turn to Henry, their expressions varying degrees of amusement. He shoves a piece of sandwich into his mouth, mumbling around it, "Shutting up."

Regina sighs and looks to Emma as she accuses, "He gets these disgusting habits from you."

"Well," Emma drawls, "you being so perfect and all, he has to get his flaws from somewhere."

Her chest warms. "Charmer."

"I try," she replies, smiling goofily before she rolls her head to the side, gaze firmly back on her mother. "Mom? Just come to drop Henry off and say hi," she guesses. "Want an invitation to dinner? Forgot where the bathroom is? What?"

Eyes rolling but with an affectionate smile, Snow replies, "The first one."

"Hi," Emma and Regina deadpan simultaneously before glancing at each other with matching grins.

"I don't know why I bother sometimes," Snow mumbles to herself, loud enough to be heard.

"It is rather baffling," Regina retorts, teasing playfully, "Really, Snow; how often do we have to gang up on you before you give up?"

"I'm sure we'll find out one day," she answers dryly. "Emma, I'll see you for lunch tomorrow," she says, turning to leave. "Assuming no villains decide it's been too peaceful lately and attack the town."

As the sound of the front door closing behind her drifts into the room, Regina settles her gaze back on Emma. Seeing her expression, Regina's smile instantly widens. "You're hoping someone attacks the town tomorrow, aren't you?"

"What? No," Emma gasps, surprise too exaggerated to be anything close to convincing. "It's like you don't know me at all."

"Mhmm." Placing a hand on her chest, Regina shoves her onto her back and lies back down. "Henry, decide what you want for dinner then order enough for all of us; your mother is hungry."

"No I'm—" Emma's stomach grumbles, jaw snapping shut. Regina waits but not for long before Emma huffs, insisting, "That proves nothing."

"Mhmm."

Chapter Text

Like the chaotic whirlwind that she is, Emma throws open her door and storms into her office. There is no hi, hello, or how has your day been? It's just Emma, indifferent to whatever she might be interrupting as she crosses the room and limply falls onto the couch with an extremely obnoxious groan.

It occurs so often now, Regina's secretary doesn't even bother trying to stop her anymore.

Luckily for them, Emma rarely interrupts anything too terribly important. Regina inclines her head to Leroy who takes the hint. She waits until he's out of the office before setting aside the project they'd been working on and providing Emma her full attention.

"To what do I owe this—"

"Mom wants you to come to dinner sometime this weekend," Emma interrupts, hand flailing out from her side, waving dismissively. "Headache. No talking."

Without taking her eyes from her, Regina reaches for her phone and sends Snow a text. Simple and to the point, it reads; no, thank you. Her weekends are reserved for Henry and Emma, should Emma feel like spending time with her. They are not for her busybody of a former step-daughter who asks too many questions and can't keep her opinions to herself.

Placing the phone back down, she ignores the buzz of Snow's reply as she stands and walks over to the couch. Gazing down on Emma, she searches for a space where she might be able to fit without ending up on the floor.

She finds it beside Emma's hip and sits, palm slipping beneath her tank to rest in the small of her back. "Did something happen?" She questions softly, stroking up and down Emma's spine, encouraging her to relax and sink deeper into the couch cushions.

"No." Emma sighs, rolling onto her side. The move is so sudden that Regina doesn't stop stroking until she feels the lace at the tip of each finger. She freezes, though she silently wonders why when Emma doesn't seem to notice and/or care as she continues, "Neal is just… really fucking loud."

Subtly sliding the hand back down, Regina offers a sympathetic smile and caresses her ribs. "You didn't run screaming from the diner did you?" If Snow shows up looking for her, she'll have to think of a sufficient punishment for Emma putting her through that.

The last time she'd hid Emma from Snow she'd had to listen to an hour long sob story about how hard Snow was trying and how unreceptive Emma was to her talk of love, and family, and every other nauseating thing Snow was able to manage to blubber about between the wailing sobs.

"I said I was sorry," Emma replies, reading the grimace on her face for what it is.

Regina sniffs. Emma was lucky she hadn't thrown her out the second Snow broke down on her doorstep. "Yes, well," she drawls, "don't ever do it again."

"Cross my heart," Emma promises, frowning when she removes her hand. "Why'd you stop?"

Intending to return to her desk, Regina stills with the question, shoulders falling as her body relaxes, no longer prepared to stand. "Don't you have work to attend to?"

Grinning, Emma captures her hand. "I was kind of hoping my boss might insist I take the rest of the day off," she admits, drawing the hand back to her side.

"Oh?" Regina questions, brow raised as she resumes her stroking. "And what form of gratitude might this boss of yours expect for such generosity?"

Her look thoughtful, Emma considers it for a moment before suggesting, "My undying loyalty and never-ending devotion?"

"Have I not earned both of those already?" As her mouth opens to respond, Regina digs a finger into her shirt and hooks it beneath the strap of her bra, warning, "I urge you to think carefully about your answer, Miss Swan."

Cheeks dimpled with her grin, Emma flutters her lashes innocently. She then shimmies herself into a seated position, hand dropping harmlessly beside her before she captures it again and entwines their fingers. "You could take the rest of the day off with me," she says, the offer more tempting than even she likely realizes.

Still, Regina carefully keeps her expression blank in the hope there might be more to Emma's suggestion.

Emma doesn't keep her in suspense for long. "We could take a walk down to the beach," she adds, "infuriate the town some more while we hold hands and rub our happiness in their faces— adamant that we are not in love when confronted by anyone who stops to ask if we've finally got our shit together."

"This fantasy of yours grows more appealing by the second," Regina admits, leaning in with a smile. She rests their heads together, simply taking a moment to appreciate the mischief dancing in the depths of Emma's eyes. "I insist we stop at the diner for coffee… and to expose our friendship to as many people as possible."

"Red will have the gossip spreading through town in no time," Emma murmurs, rubbing their noses together. "Your evil genius mind is just one of those things I don't love about you."

"And I am most definitely not thoroughly ecstatic about knowing that." Sighing, Regina pulls back before she gives in to her urges. The temptation to kiss Emma is becoming stronger with each passing day. "Would you like me to heal you before we put on our little show for the town?"

"My being in pain would give you an excuse to hold me and pretend you're just helping me stay upright."

"We've upgraded from holding hands to cuddling?" She gasps mockingly as she stands. "My, we're moving fast. Before you know it, you'll be moving in and hogging the covers."

Emma rolls her eyes, childishly grumbling as she joins her. "You could have just said you don't want to cuddle."

"You're the compulsive liar," Regina counters, her gaze fond as she raises a hand and threads her fingers through Emma's hair. Tapping into her magic, she tilts forward and kisses her cheek. "Last I checked, I didn't need an excuse to hold you."

The grin that gets her is worth all the petulance in the world, and then some.

"Come," she says, hand sliding to Emma's back before curling around her hip. "It's time to torment the masses, dearest."

Chapter Text

Having spent the past hour listening to her mother ramble on about the kids in her class while she flutters about the kitchen, Emma practically sprints for the door as soon as she hears knocking. She loves her mother but the woman gushes about everything and she's just so— so. There is no word to adequately describe the sheer level of crazy that is Snow White when she's happy.

It's disgusting.

Yanking the door open, her mind instantly goes blank. "Hi."

Regina smiles, looking her up and down, gaze appreciative, before she purrs, "Hi yourself."

Emma brushes a hand down the length of her shirt, cheeks warm. Regina insisted she dress up if she expected her to accept Snow's invitation to dinner. She'd been a little nervous about what to wear but after being hit with that expression, she's glad she didn't change her mind at the last minute and just throw on whatever was available.

Stepping aside, she holds open the door. Regina enters only to pause on her way passed. Turning, she fingers a button low on Emma's shirt. "You should dress for me more often."

Emma dips her head, flush deepening. Regina chuckles darkly before she turns expectantly, her back to Emma. Emma slowly removes her coat, mouth drying as more and more skin is exposed.

Snow is going to have a heart attack.

"Regina," she murmurs.

Turning as the coat slides free of her arms, Regina presses a finger beneath her chin, tipping her head back. "Yes, dear?"

Struggling not to jerk her head free so she can stare at Regina's chest for the foreseeable future, Emma squeezes her eyes shut when she questions, "Are you sure you're not still trying to kill my mother?"

"Fairly certain." Finger slipping along her jaw, she feels the kiss at the corner of her mouth, then a warm breath on her cheek. "You," Regina husks, "however…"

"No worries there," Emma confesses quietly. If her lack of thoughts is any indication; whatever remained of her brain cells have up and died on her already. "If I start drooling during dinner, be a good friend and flip the tablecloth over my head to spare my parents will you?"

"I shall consider it," Regina says with a puff of laughter. Emma's lids flutter open, a grin spreading across her face. There isn't a sight or sound in the world she adores more. Regina smiles knowingly, patting her cheek before she takes a step back. "Shouldn't you have offered to retrieve my drink by now?"

Sighing in exasperation, and exaggeration, Emma turns to hang her coat then beckons as she moves towards the kitchen. "Come, My Majesty." Regina gooses her. "Woman!"

Snow appears suddenly. "What… oh! Regina!" She blinks, eyes darting anywhere and everywhere at once. "Oh."

"Please don't die," Emma mutters. Swatting the hand from her backside, she says, "One trip to the Underworld was enough."

"I—" Snow shakes her head. "What?"

"If your jaw drops any further," Emma explains slowly, "we'll be tripping over it."

"Well…"

"I know," she says.

For at least a solid minute, Snow stares at Regina. Emma cringes at the sheer wrongness of it, side-eying Regina who has yet to stop grinning madly. Snow exhales roughly before looking her straight in the eye and questioning, "Can you blame me?"

"No, Mom." The dress is— not inappropriate, per se but it's probably not something you wear to a dinner with your best friend's family. "I know, as I just said."

"Why?"

Because Regina is a fucking tease, that's why. Emma shrugs, not in anyway willing to start that conversation, with her mother of all people. "Because she's hot and likes to flaunt it?"

"She is?"

Emma groans, "Even you're not that blind, or straight."

"Well…"

"You don't have to admit it," she interrupts, face scrunching at the mere idea of her mother admitting such a thing. "Knowing it is scarring enough." She shudders and walks passed her into the kitchen, flinging open the door to the fridge. She groans again. "I need alcohol for this. Why is there no beer in the fridge?"

"Your father promised to stop by the store on his way home," Snow replies, taking one last look at Regina before she shakes her head and returns to the stove. "He should be here soon."

Closing the fridge, Emma places her hands on the counter, fingers tapping the surface, considering. She's never going to live it down, but what the hell; it beats thinking about her mother and whether or not she finds Regina attractive. "Got any wine?"

Snow glances over her shoulder, brow raised. "Since when do you drink wine?"

"Since someone started bringing me a bottle whenever she drops by."

Regina smiles at her sweetly. She moves before Emma can and retrieves the bottle of wine from the cupboard Snow gestures to. "Bring the glasses, dear," she says, sauntering from the kitchen.

"Bring the glasses, dear," Emma mimics, oblivious to the look of amusement her mother shoots her.

"I think I'm just going to believe in my head that you two are already married," Snow comments casually.

Mid-reach for the glasses above her head, Emma freezes but, unexpected as it was, she shrugs and finishes taking the glasses down. If it means no more being badgered about their relationship, then Snow can think whatever she likes. "Fine," she concedes, turning around with a glare. "In that case, if you look at my wife like that again, I'll shoot you."

Offense, excitement, glee; Snow's expression filters through all three in a matter of seconds before she laughs and inclines her head.

"Fair enough."

Emma can't quite put her finger on it but something inside of her shifts for reasons not yet known to her. Content to disregard it for the time being, she walks over to her mother and kisses her cheek. "I'll be…" She waves in the direction of the lounge where she assumes Regina has disappeared to. "—if you need help or anything with... anything."

Snow smiles. "Go on."

Grinning, on a whim, Emma transports herself to the lounge via magic, and gasps. Regina smirks, swallowing as she lowers the bottle of wine and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "What?" she questions coyly. "You were taking too long."

Chapter Text

"Best. Idea. Ever."

Emma flops back onto the blanket underneath them and slides an arm beneath her head, legs stretched out. Regina watches her with ample amusement, the retort dying in her mouth when she takes note of Emma's smile. It was definitely an exaggeration; there have been better ideas, Regina is certain, but it's difficult to argue with her in the moment.

A lazy Sunday afternoon at the park with plenty of food, drink and her favourite Sheriff was a pretty great idea. For a flicker of a second, Henry had been with them too but as soon as he caught sight of Violet out for her afternoon run, his presence may as well have been imagined from the very beginning.

"They're at it again," Emma murmurs.

Imagined, except for that. Regina ignores her. She is still trying to erase the image of her son making out with someone after the last time she looked and Emma hadn't warned her about exactly what she'd be looking at.

No mother wants to see that, least of all one with her protective streak.

Emma had to hold her back the first time when she'd been overcome with the urge to march to the other side of the pond and rip them apart, now Emma is just trying to goad her. "You had your chance," she says. "If they wish to eat each other's faces off, then that is their business and we should leave them to it."

"It's just so…" Emma shudders.

Regina nods, willing herself not to think about it as she drinks her water. It is revolting, is what it is. If anyone had dared to kiss her the way Henry kisses Violet, she'd have ripped their tongue from their throat and stomped it into the ground. How either of them can be enjoying themselves, she hasn't the faintest idea.

With how Emma has been making fun of them, she's hopeful enough to assume it isn't genetic.

"That is what happens when you wait until you're 15 to have your first kiss," Emma comments, sitting up. She steals Regina's water and drinks almost half before she comes up for air. "Our son has no game, Regina."

"Good," she deadpans, snatching the bottle back from her. Emma pouts. "Get your own."

"But I want to pretend I'm making out with you by sharing your girl germs," she whines and Regina laughs, regretting her decision to try and drink again before Emma had replied, as she starts to choke on her water.

Emma reaches over and rubs her back until the worst of it dies down. Regina slumps, muttering, "I loathe you."

"You too." Emma pats her back hard enough to rock her forward but not hard enough to hurt, grin cocky. "Greatest of my enemies," she adds playfully, hand falling back to the blanket.

Her meaning clear, Regina reddens and looks away only for her eyes to land on their son and his girlfriend. "Dear lord," she says, then waves her hand, their squeals filling the air as a bucket's worth of water drops on their heads.

"The hell?" Henry shouts as he storms over, his face dripping.

His glare would be murderous, were either of them even remotely intimidated by him. Emma is still laughing by the time he reaches them and Regina bites her lip, oh so tempted to join in. She shares a look with Emma, knowing they're in agreement; their son is far too adorable for a gangly-limbed teenager.

"What," he demands, eyes jumping between them. Emma giggles, which would have been enough to get her to stop usually, but not this time. Henry growls. "Just because you two want to torture yourselves with this pretend bullshit, doesn't mean the rest of us have to."

That, however, is enough to snap Emma from her amusement entirely.

"You best turn around and march yourself away, boy," she warns. "You being okay with public displays of affection doesn't mean the rest of us have to be okay with seeing it. You wanna make out with your girlfriend? Do it elsewhere, and don't for a second think it gives you the right to talk about our relationship as if you know anything about it."

"Emma," Regina murmurs soothingly.

Reaching for her shoulder, she squeezes before glancing at their son. Face full of regret, Henry averts his gaze with a nod. He turns to go back to Violet and Regina watches him, smiling softly when Violet embraces him. She gestures toward them, drying their clothes, then returns her attention to Emma.

Eyes closed, Emma appears to be focusing on her breathing. Regina runs the hand along her shoulder, gripping the back of her neck.

A minute or two passes before Emma sighs. "Sorry."

Regina shakes her head. With a tug, she forces Emma to tilt to the side, bringing her close. She kisses her temple. "You're much better at controlling it," she assures. "He has your temper, you know."

Her grin slow to form but there, Emma replies, "The stupid kind, you mean."

"Yes," Regina admits, releasing her as she strokes the hand down her back. "You both get this look in your eyes and then… the most idiotic thing possible comes out of your mouths."

Granted, this time Emma was less idiotic and vaguely more terrifying but Henry should, and does, know better. Emma will tolerate the occasional comment here and there but directly attacking their relationship is a surefire way to remind them all of the residual darkness left behind after Henry broke the curse; a fact Killian and Robin both had learned the hard way.

Tilting more to the side, Emma places her head on a shoulder. "That was kind of mean… doing that to them."

"It was," Regina admits. She'll encourage Henry to take Violet on a date some time in future and pay for it to make it up to them. "Made you laugh, though."

Which is more than worth having to make it up to Henry for the embarrassment later.

"You always do," Emma breathes, chuckling as she shifts and presses a kiss to the underside of her jaw.

Chapter Text

Head in hand, Emma pushes her food around on her plate. Regina had been nice enough to make her something to eat while they waited for Henry to come home. She isn't hungry, but she hadn't the heart to tell Regina that after she'd gone to the trouble.

They've been through this many times before. She loses her temper a lot less now than she used to but the aftermath is never any easier to deal with. The guilt is the worst, more so because she knows it's senseless. No one holds it against her. Everyone understands and they're all capable of forgiving and forgetting minutes after it happens, but not her.

Rumple claims it's because her two natures are at odds; the Savior versus the Darkness.

Whatever it is, it's bullshit.

"Ma?"

Eyes lifting from the table, she smiles tiredly. She hadn't heard him come in, but that's not surprising; she doesn't hear much of anything when she's stuck inside her own head. "Hey kid."

"Ma, I'm s—"

Her gaze narrows as she interrupts, "Don't you dare." No apologies; that was the rule. It is the only rule, in fact.

He sighs, walking into the room and taking a seat across from her. "I know, but I shouldn't have—"

"No and neither should I," she interrupts again. This is not how this conversation goes. "I'm the adult, you're the kid," she reminds him. "You don't apologize to me. You didn't say anything that wasn't true and what your mom did was—"

She glances down at the table, the memory of it still vivid in her mind. It was entertaining, regardless of what happened next. "I'm not going to lie," she says, peering up at him. "It was hilarious, but also mean and we're both sorry, me especially. Just…"

Groaning, she leans back in her chair and rubs her face. It's all just… bullshit. "I have issues," she confesses. They're her issues. They're not his, or Regina's, or anyone else's. "It's not your mom's fault. We're working through them and I know it's frustrating for you… for everyone, but it's still between us."

He nods, his eyes slightly wide. His surprise is more than warranted. She doesn't like to admit it out loud— doesn't like that what she and Regina are, or aren't, is because of her. She despises the truth, but he deserves to know when he seems to take the brunt of these moments.

"It works."

"Yeah," she agrees, biting her lip as she stares down at her lap. Regina calms her but more than that; being close to Regina is enough to take it all away, to help her feel normal again and, somehow, they fell in love along the way. "It does."

"You're both happy."

She smiles because yes, more than she has ever been. "We are."

"So…" She looks up at his pause and sees his grin. "I was an ass?"

She chuckles, conceding, "Like mother like son, right? All is forgiven. You know that."

"Yeah."

Propping his arms up on the table, he nestles his head within and they fall to silence. Emma smiles at him, the guilt dissipating with each minute that passes and he remains. He's a good kid when he isn't being a melodramatic teenager, though even then she finds him more tolerable than most, teenager or otherwise. Even when all is forgiven, he sticks around to ensure she's okay.

He has a big heart, just like his mother. She's lucky to have them both.

Strolling into the room, Regina stills beneath the dining room archway. Speak of the devil, Emma thinks with a smirk. "Well this all feels positively cozy," Regina drawls, her sarcasm palpable.

"Mom?" Henry frowns, sitting back and angling his head uncomfortably to stare up at her. She moves towards him and grabs the sides of his head, tilting it forward again before she bends over to wrap her arms around him. "I thought you had a meeting?"

"I decided to keep your mother company and send your grandmother to deal with it," she explains, resting her chin on the top of his head. "I don't know how she tolerates those dwarves; five minutes with even one of them and I want to drink myself into a coma."

Watching them, Emma feels the warmth enter her chest. The way Henry leans against Regina's arm reminds her just how far they've all come since they met. "Drama queen," she murmurs, grinning.

Regina pokes her tongue out at her. "Annoying twit," she counters.

Grin turning coy, Emma replies, "Not with the kid in the room, Regina."

As she laughs, Henry shakes his head and huffs, "You two are weird,"

Emma nods agreeably. They are, but this is them, and them is perfect. "So is your face."

"Mom," he whines.

Regina straightens as she questions, "What," as though she didn't just hear Emma insult him.

"She just said my face is weird!"

"It's nothing compared to what she was saying about your kissing," she replies, patting him on the head.

"Hey!" Emma laughs, mock glaring at her when she accuses, "Traitor."

"Wait," Henry interrupts Regina's response. "What's wrong with my kissing?"

She blows Emma a kiss before she smirks and levels their son with a fond look. "Oh my dear, sweet boy," she says, "where ever would we even begin?"

Chapter Text

Coming home from work, all Regina wants to do is grab a nice big glass of wine, and maybe a book, and sit down somewhere nice and quiet to unwind. Life is rarely quite so simple, however, and when she passes by the den on her way to the kitchen, she freezes, wondering, a little concerned, a lot hopeful.

Shoulders rolling, spine relaxing, she backtracks and stares into the den. Or, more specifically; at her couch where Emma Swan has made herself at home for whatever reason has brought her here today— most likely waiting for Regina. Most likely here to annoy her because that seems to be Emma's sole goal in life these days.

As if being in love with the charming, idiotic, noble, impulsive, kind, infuriating, brave— as if being in love with her isn't annoying enough.

Before she can ask, Emma says, "We can elope now."

She blinks. Her ears must be playing tricks on her. They aren't even dating. She is definitely not marrying someone she still hasn't damn well kissed yet. "I'm sorry, what?"

Emma's frown has barely formed before it smoothens in realization. "Oh right, I didn't tell you; mom has decided we're married. She'd like to know when we're leaving for our honeymoon."

"We can leave," she questions in feigned surprise. "Why didn't anybody tell me?"

Emma smiles as she throws her feet to the floor and sits up. "It was a trap to keep you here," she says, her expression dead serious when she adds, "Everyone secretly loves you and wouldn't survive without you here to guide them."

Regina snorts. Ever since she stopped trying to make them all suffer, almost everyone treats her like she's suddenly their friend. She has no choice in the matter and it is often why her moods are— less psychotic (as Emma would say) in general, but not exactly warm or particularly welcoming once she drops the Mayoral façade. She is a public servant; friendly is her job, no matter what the Mayor of five—four—even three years prior might have lead everyone to believe.

"They're as terrible at keeping secrets as your mother."

"So humble," Emma teases.

"So stupid," she counters.

Emma pouts. "Mean."

Brow raised, Regina enters the room and walks over to the couch to sit beside her. "I thought you were a masochist?"

"Only on Friday's."

"It was a Tuesday," she drawls, eyes rolling despite the smile growing on her face.

Emma nudges her with a shoulder, then kisses her on the cheek, as has become her greeting this past week. She murmurs on pulling back, "Keeping track of all our wonderful moments together, huh?"

"Naturally," Regina says. "It helps me keep track of all the painful ones so I can abuse you for them later."

Emma nods sagely. "Smart," she says, twirling her wrist. She summons bottle and glass to hand.

"I thought so," Regina murmurs, accepting the glass as it's handed to her and Emma begins to pour the wine.

When full, she takes a sip and sighs, pleased with Emma's choice. She knew all those months of leaving her wine behind would eventually benefit her in some way. She closes her eyes and leans back, head dropping back against the couch.

She feels Emma shift as she places the bottle on the table and sits back, their shoulders brushing. "Rough day?"

"Not really."

Dull, monotonous; yes. Rough? Not so much. She never realized how much paper work she had until Emma wasn't there to distract her from actually doing it. She doesn't even know where it all comes from, never mind where it goes after she approves/denies it all. It is simply gone from her desk by the time she returns each morning, new forms and folders appearing in its place, her paper shredder tempting her from across her office.

"You?"

A shrug. "Eh."

Opening one eye, she turns her head and asks, "Awful eh, or mediocre eh?"

Turning her own, Emma smiles, their foreheads touching. "Mediocre. Nothing seems to happen anymore. It's kinda boring."

"Reminds me of those months when you first arrived," Regina confesses. Talk about boredom; she'd sought Emma out more often than not simply for something to do. Yelling at her son's birthmother for a few minutes each day was cathartic and amusing.

Raising a hand, Emma tucks a lock of hair behind Regina's ear and offers, "Want me to deface your tree again?"

"Do and I'll blow up your car," she counters, closing her eye and savouring Emma's gasp before she adds, "With you inside of it."

Emma chuckles and caresses her cheek. "That's a bit of an overreaction," she whispers, fingers trailing over her jaw and down her neck.

Regina hums, enjoying the sensation as a shiver travels down her back and prickles her skin. "Five years of dealing with you, I'd say it's well overdue."

"Hmm." The fingers fall away in exchange for soft lips and a nose that burrows into her skin. She hums again for obvious reasons, as Emma inhales deeply and sighs contently. "Missed you."

Her chest squeezes tight, heart threatening to give way right there. It's only been about eighteen hours since they last spoke, but it's the longest they've spent apart since— she can't quite remember how long. They have to be closing in on the first year by this point. Even when they have been apart, they've kept in contact via call, text, email or, when either were feeling especially playful; a spell, generally in the form of a magic mirror or some variation of that allowed them to communicate with each other across distances of which yelling couldn't quite suffice.

The town and its residence are free to believe whatever they like— friends with benefits, secret lovers, secret wives— but they really have become the cliché married couple joined at the hip.

"I missed you too, dear." She rubs her back and kisses her temple, lids fluttering open. "Now move, I can hardly drink my wine with you clinging to me like a monkey."

Emma does, flopping back. Regina winces when her head collides with the arm of the couch but Emma is unfazed. Instead, she stares, a pout on her lips and an aura of expectation rolling off of her.

Regina frowns after a few minutes, her attempt to ignore the ridiculous woman not succeeding quite as well as she'd have liked. She sighs. "What?"

"Hurry up."

Her frown deepens. "Why?"

When the grin appears and Emma's eyes flash, the mischief in them well beyond familiar to her now, she quickly swallows the mouthful of wine she'd just taken.

"Ooh ooh."

And somehow chokes on it anyway.

Chapter Text

"How do I look?"

"Ravishing," Emma responds without once looking up from the report she apparently decided to do while she waited for her. "I swoon whenever you enter the room."

Regina has to sigh, loudly, before her head finally snaps up. Emma blinks. "Oh, you meant now in the dress." Regina stares, silent as Emma's gaze slowly roves her body. She resists a shudder when the gaze darkens, but not the grin as the eyes settle on her chest. "Is that much cleavage necessary?"

"Given how your eyes continuously strayed to it during that extremely unnecessary session of leering? Yes." Emma twirls her finger and Regina turns, teeth clamping down on the corner of her mouth when Emma whistles appreciatively.

"Revealing," Emma notes, the drop of her pen and rustle of paper the only indication she's moved at all before Regina feels the heat at her back. Emma leans into her, hands on her hips, voice low as she murmurs, "Tight in all the right places, heart racing— as always, I want to drag you to the bedroom and tear it off."

Regina smirks. If Emma hopes to throw her off balance, she'll need to try harder than that.

"Good." She steps out of reach, inwardly chuckling to herself as Emma stumbles forward with a strangled protest. She saunters from her study, throwing an, "Off we go," over her shoulder.

In the car, they're silent. Regina's attention is half on the road as she drives while the other half struggles not to focus on the hand currently gripping a jean-clad thigh. She consistently fails, eyes darting curiously to it every now and then. It's more than obvious that Emma wants to touch her, and for some reason is resisting to the point her knuckles have turned an alarming shade of white.

Is she worried she won't be able to stop herself, because if so, then it is a new development in their glacially slow relationship. From the moment Regina told her she'd liked to be touched, Emma has barely kept her hands to herself. Aside from the occasional slap or squeeze to her backside in the privacy of their own homes, Emma hasn't yet strayed into what one might call inappropriate territory— inappropriate if the one being groped wasn't thoroughly looking forward to the day Emma finally does exactly that.

The thought that she might be close to doing so thrills Regina more than even she'd anticipated, and she had anticipated a lot of thrills when the time came.

"Problem, dear?" She queries with feigned innocence.

"Doubtful," Emma replies, the look she wears knowing when their eyes meet. Regina's mouth quirks, the grin only growing tenfold to the mutter of, "Fucking tease."

[Aesop's Tables]

Regina only makes it a few steps passed the car before she notices something, or rather someone, missing. Turning around, she sees Emma stood frozen beside the passenger door and rolls her eyes as she walks back. "What's wrong?"

"I just realized I'm probably going to get drunk in there," Emma says, inclining her head towards the bar.

Regina nods. It was a safe bet when bringing Emma here. "Yes, and?"

"And…" She gestures up and down, indicating Regina's dress.

Amused and a little more than touched that Emma seems to think she won't be able to control herself, Regina inches closer. "You're being an idiot, dear."

Emma tips back, gaze falling. Her nostrils flare before her expression turns sheepish and she sighs. "Am I?"

"Yes," Regina assures, grabbing the hand before Emma can retract it. She turns before reaching for the other, then uses them to pull Emma along behind her.

They're maybe a foot from the door before Emma resigns herself to the fact this is all going to happen with or without her cooperation. Regina smiles to herself when the arms wrap around her and they stumble into the bar.

"Hellooo ladies!" Red pops up in front of them, seemingly from out of nowhere. She eyes them both, and her face brightens. "It's not often we see you two out at night."

"That's because we're busy drinking at home and cuddling in front of the TV," Emma says with some amusement (enough to disguise the irritation, Regina notes) in her tone.

Regina half-expects the wolf to squeal when her eyes widen. "Are you—"

"No," they respond together, so accustomed to the question that neither need to hear its conclusion.

"Oh my god," she says, pivoting as she throw her hands up in exasperation.

"Leaving so soon?"

"I have to. You'll both drive me bat shit mental with this…" Red gestures in the general direction of Emma's arms around Regina's waist before she storms off, and they both laugh.

"Well," Regina drawls, "that's one way to get rid of your annoying friends."

"She is a bit of a busybody," Emma admits, placing a kiss behind her ear.

"No wonder she's best—"

"Friends with my mother, yes yes," she interrupts, the eye roll practically audible. She releases Regina and steps around her. "You find us a table and I'll grab the drinks. Wine?"

Regina shakes her head. "Old Fashioned."

Emma nods distractedly, turning, then turning again as she comes full circle. Regina smirks. "Wait, really?"

"Mhmm." Glancing around, she spots the perfect table for them. "Do hurry, dearest." Slipping passed Emma, she pats her backside and moves toward the table as a plan begins to form in her mind.

Chapter Text

"Um." Bright side to Emma's current situation; she now knows why Regina doesn't drink whiskey when they're together. Not so bright side; she knows why Regina doesn't drink whiskey when they're together, and she's really fucking turned on right now. "Regina, I think maybe—"

Her mind sputters for a beat. "—you've had too much to drink," she finishes a little breathlessly because Regina is nibbling on her ear, and Jesus H Christ.

It all started perfectly innocent enough. They chatted for a while, each nursing their first drink in order to extend the night as long as they could because they don't get to do this whole going out together often on account of the son they share who neither really trust not to invite his girlfriend over while they're away.

Red dropped by every so often but would leave sooner or later because they were 'too much' and 'so blind it's sickening'. Point being; there was nothing out of the ordinary. At least, not for them. Regina had picked a nice and quiet, out of the way table. They had their own little corner of privacy to enjoy and for the first hour, that is exactly what they did. They were themselves, not the Mayor or Sheriff, the mothers, the Queen or Savior.  They flirted a little, as they tend to do. Regina called her an idiot, often, as she tends to do and Emma pretended to get all hot and bothered, as she tends to do; innocent.

Them.

And then came the second drink, followed by a third. She was only halfway through the third when Regina ordered a fourth and— well, this began. First there were touches, which were nice; the occasional brush against her arm that led to holding hands beneath the table, or the squeeze of a thigh before Regina would rest her hand there and lean against her, head on her shoulder while they continued to talk.

Before Emma even knew what hit her, Regina had grown bolder— freer with her hands and her mouth. They still hadn't kissed, though not through lack of trying on Regina's part; Emma keeps having to dodge her every so often. It isn't that she doesn't want to. She wants to now more than ever, just… not like this.

Capturing the hand trying to inch its way beneath her shirt, she says, "We should dance." It probably isn't her greatest idea but with Regina drunk, she'll need to be the one to drive them home and she's in no state to do that just yet.

"Hmm?"

She clears her throat, then presses her lips to Regina's ear and whispers, "Would you like to dance with me?"

Regina nuzzles her jaw as she purrs, "Yes please."

Her heart races.

Definitely not her greatest idea.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she takes a deep breath before she opens them. "Up you get," she says, quickly kissing her cheek because this Regina likes to pout and returning her affection seems the only way to effectively combat it.

Climbing from her lap, Regina stands beside the table and looks down on her expectantly. Emma hides her smile as Regina sways in place; a testament to how much she's had to drink. Taking her hand as she rises, and placing her own in the small of Regina's back, Emma leads her to where a few others are entwined with one another.

Some of the faces are familiar but she isn't given time to catalogue most of them. Regina turns to her the moment they still and throws her arms around Emma's neck, bringing them as close together as humanly possible. Emma puffs out a breath in amusement and slides her arms around Regina's waist.

Her lids flutter and her breath hitches instantly as she relishes the sensation of Regina's body against hers.  They're rarely this close in public and, even more rarely, does Regina wear anything even close to her current attire. The warmth of the skin of Regina's back against her arms is a temptation all on its own; the desire to run her hands along the length of Regina's spine an overwhelming one.

Something thick and sudden claws at her throat but she swallows it back down and buries her face in the crook of Regina's neck.

It is neither the time nor the place.

Not yet.

Not yet, but soon.

Time passes and the music changes but their bodies remain the same. Regina clings to her like she's afraid to lose her and Emma does the same, knowing she never will.

Chapter Text

Regrets.

Emma doesn't have many of them, which one might think strange given the kind of life she's had up until this moment but it's true. A few boyfriends, one or two girlfriends, that one job she had in her early twenties that no one will ever know about…

She has them, and not a single one of them compares to this.

She knew, but when Regina said just one more dance, she'd said yes anyway and now…

Now Regina is torturing her.

Letting out a breath, she presses her head to the back of Regina's and tries, so very desperately, to get herself under control. If she'd been turned on earlier, then whatever it is she's feeling right now is beyond anything she has ever felt before. Her heart feels like it's trying to beat out of her chest, her throat feels like she's been screaming non-stop for —who the hell knows how long, and the heat— dear god the heat as Regina grinds against her; she's going to fucking melt at this rate.

"Regina…"

She hums, though to Emma it sounds more like a moan and— why, why does she even bother?

Sliding both arms around her, one hand on her hip as the other moves to her shoulder, Emma pins Regina's back to her front. "Regina," she murmurs, relieved when those hips finally cease. "I'm going to take you home now."

"But—"

"I'm going to take you home," she insists. She moves her head and places her mouth beside Regina's ear as she lowers her voice and explains, "Because if I don't, I'm going to take you right here, where everyone will see, and while the idea might excite us both now, you would hate me in the morning."

When her breath hitches, Emma slowly loosens her hold and Regina turns in her arms, Emma follows the tongue that darts from her mouth to wet plump red lips before they quirk with a grin. "It does," Regina confesses, voice husked. "You excite me, Em-ma."

Emma groans as her stomach flips. They're just words, words she already knows to be true, but Regina knows all too well how to use them against her when she's already struggling.

If this is what she has to look forward to on the drive home, there is no way she's going to survive it. Princess, Savior, Sheriff; one can throw as many titles at her as they like but even her nobility has its limits.

Head shaking, eyes closed, she presses her mouth to Regina's forehead and thinks of home, unsurprised when her eyes open and they're stood within the manor at 108.

She is also unsurprised when she pulls back to find those lips downturned in a pout, though it does make her smile.

"You are—" She chuckles. Raising a hand, she brushes her thumb along Regina's lower lip and says, "You are the most gorgeous, smartest, evilest temptress I have ever met…"

Eyes hooded, Regina bites down on the lip and waits patiently for her to finish. Emma smiles softly and cups her cheek. She leans in, lips feather light as she kisses the corner of her mouth. "But," she continues with a sigh, "you are drunk and no matter how desperate I am for you, I cannot, in good conscience, give you what you want."

Regina huffs and tries to pull away. Emma tugs her back, eyes narrowed as she searches her face. She frowns, uncertain, and questions, "You are drunk, aren't you?"

Regina looks away.

"Regina…"

Her eyes roll. "Yes," she admits from between clenched teeth. Emma blinks at the almost hiss before Regina slumps against her, muttering, "Take me to bed, you virtuous idiot."

"Um."

"To sleep," she grouses, arms sliding back around her neck.

Confused but compliant, Emma obliges by picking her up and carrying her over to, and up the stairs to her bedroom. "You could have used magic," Regina mumbles into her neck. "Idiot."

Emma sighs and sets her down on the bed. "Are you going to keep insulting me until we sleep together?"

"No," she replies, kicking off her heels as she falls onto her back. Staring up at the ceiling, she says, "I'm going to keep insulting you until, and long after, you die because you will always be an idiot."

Frowning down at her and seeking clarification, Emma asks, "Because I don't, and never will, want to take advantage of you?"

Groaning, Regina sits up suddenly and glares at her. "Why do you I think I got drunk, Emma?"

"You… want me to take advantage of you?"

"Ding ding ding," she deadpans, "we have an idiot."

"Yeah," Emma counters, "we do and I'm sorry to say but in this case, it's you." Dropping to a crouch in front of her, Emma eyes her scowl before she dismisses it and grabs her jaw. "If you want us to have sex, say the word, but I'm not going to let our first time be when you're drunk and most likely won't remember it in the morning."

Regina laughs abruptly, surprising her. "Say the word? You won't even kiss me when I'm sober."

"Why the hell do I have to be the one who kisses you?"

Confusion contorts her face. "What?"

Emma raises an eyebrow. She had assumed they were on the same page when it came to them. If they wanted something to change, they told each other; how was this any different? "Why don't you kiss me?"

"You know why," Regina growls, ripping her jaw from Emma's grip.

"You thought I'd reject you because I'm not ready?" She nods and Emma hangs her head, shaking it before she looks up. Even if she was completely sober, she doubts it would make any more sense to her than it does now. "Yet you thought getting drunk and coming on to me would somehow convince me to sleep with you?"

"I…" Regina raises a hand and pinches the bridge her nose. After a moment, she chuckles softly, hand falling to her lap as she admits, "It wasn't my best plan."

Looking her dead in the eye, Emma says, "It was a shit plan, Regina."

Head bowed, Regina silently concedes. Satisfied for the moment, Emma stands and looks around before making a decision. "You might want to put on something more… comfortable," she says as she turns towards the door. "I'll be right back."

Going downstairs, she makes her way to the kitchen and fetches a bottle of water from the fridge before searching through the cupboards for painkillers.

When she returns to the bedroom, Regina is already underneath the covers with her back to the door. Emma swallows back the disappointment and quietly crosses the room. "I'll just… leave these here," she murmurs, placing the water and aspirin she'd found on the bedside table. "I'll come by in the—"

"Stay."

"—morning." So we can talk would have been the end to her sentence had she not registered the word. "Um."

Regina rolls over and pulls the covers back in invitation. "Stay," she repeats.

"I don't think—"

"I won't try anything," she interrupts with the promise and smiles up at her softly. "Just… sleep, here, with me."

Exhaling roughly, Emma nods. Just sleeping isn't taking advantage. They do it all the time. Admittedly it was never in an actual bed, but anything that can happen in a bed could have happened on a couch, or in a car, or that one time they fell asleep on the floor playing with Neal.

Clearing her throat, she nods again and starts to undress, painfully aware of the eyes glued to her every move. Down to her tank and boy shorts, she hesitates, chewing on the inside of her cheek before Regina pats the empty side of her bed and grins up at her.

Eyes rolling at herself, Emma slips into bed before Regina throws the covers back over her. She tries to keep some space between them but then Regina shifts and suddenly her heart is racing again.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were afraid of me."

Head turning, her eyes fall to that still grinning mouth and what feels like a kaleidoscope takes up residence in her stomach. "You…" She inhales sharply as an arm slides across her waist, and squeezes her eyes shut as she groans, "are very close."

"I could be," Regina purrs, breath warm against her mouth, "so much closer."

Chapter Text

In the minutes since waking, Regina has decided that not doing so wouldn't have been the worst possible thing in the world. Her head hurts, her thoughts don't make any sense and if she isn't entirely mistaken, there is someone in bed next to her. She hopes it is Emma but she has yet to open her eyes to look for the sake of her corneas, as the sun on her face seems to be unusually bright behind her eyelids.

If it isn't Emma, then whoever it is is going to get a fireball to their face because the only way she can conceive of allowing anyone else into her bed is if something terrible happened to Emma, at which point this person must have drugged her.

She was sexually frustrated.

She was not that sexually frustrated.

Who else would even appeal to her?

Time crawls by. Her thoughts begin to right themselves but the incessant throbbing of her head renders the fact inconsequential. Figuring she can't feel any more miserable, she swirls her tongue around a horribly dry mouth and rasps, "Emma?"

When no response is forthcoming, she repeats the name twice more before she receives a groan, and smiles as best she can. It probably looks like a grimace, but she knows that groan and now she has at least one of her questions answered.

Forcing herself to roll over takes far more effort than she's expecting. She somehow manages it though and she's able to crack an eye open once her face is hidden with the fine gold silk of Emma's hair. She closes it again, taking a moment to breathe in as she smiles somewhat more genuinely.

If warmth and comfort had a scent, it probably smelled a lot like Emma.

"Morning."

"Is it," she mumbles, preoccupied with revelling in the small measure of relief Emma's proximity brings to her head.

"I suppose I could be mistaking the sun for the room being on fire," Emma replies, threading a hand in her hair. "I take it you're remembering last night?"

Regina purrs appreciatively. She doesn't bother asking what stupid thing she did that she should be remembering; there's more than one reason she doesn't drink whiskey often. "I'm far too busy wishing I was dead."

"Did you— never mind." The hand disappears. She's about to moan at Emma to give it back when something taps against her shoulder.

"No." Too look at whatever it is would require her to move, which she won't be doing for the foreseeable future. "Go away."

"You're dehydrated, Regina."

Grumbling as Emma moves instead, jostling her, there's the thump of something hitting the mattress between them before she feels the hand on her hip. Emma rolls her on to her back and her face screws up before the light again beneath her lids dims. She pries one open when there is another tap, this time against her stomach, and peers down.

Were her mouth not as dry as a desert, she imagines she'd have begun salivating then. She forces both eyes open and looks up at Emma's chuckle before the bottle is placed in her hand and she's ordered to, "Hold," as Emma sits up.

Emma is careful not to move her around too much but by the time she's done manipulating her limbs and rearranging the bed, Regina is as upright as she's going to get without any effort on her part, and humming as the cool water slides soothingly down her throat.

Lowering the bottle, she rolls her head back against the body now behind her and sighs happily. Emma snickers softly and kisses her forehead. "You'll probably want these too," she says, opening her hand.

Regina snatches the pills from her palm and shoves them into her mouth. Bottle halfway to her lips, she remembers something from last night and quickly takes a drink before asking, "Did we really dance together?"

"If that's what you want to call it," Emma replies wryly.

Frowning, she questions, "What would you call it?"

"Some would call it grinding, others— like me— prefer to think of it as dry humping someone's crotch." Regina smacks her thigh and Emma laughs as she grabs her hand. She assures, "It was all entirely appropriate for a bar… less so for the person wanting to throw you onto a table and do terribly naughty things to you."

"Hmm." If she knows Emma, and she's fairly confident she does, that was likely the point they made their way home. "And after?"

Emma brings her hand to her mouth, kissing her knuckles before she drawls, "I brought you back here and had my way with you, of course."

Regina smiles, both at the sarcasm, and in affection. "Such sweet lies you tell," she teases. She tips her head back and kisses her jaw, then demands, "Now, the truth. How embarrassed should I be?"

"Well, I now know whisky arouses you, and that you're very affectionate, extremely petulant, rude and incapable of keeping your hands to yourself when you're well passed intoxicated."

Regina nods before taking another sip of her water. She recalls how much Emma seemed to be struggling in the car with not touching her. She assumed it wouldn't be a problem and it sounds like she was right, but she can also sense there is more that Emma is reluctant to share with her.

"And?"

"And," Emma continues with a sigh. "You think I'm not ready for us to sleep together or even kiss, and rather than ask, you came up with a not-so elaborate plan to get drunk and drive me insane in the hope I would take advantage of you."

Emma falls silent when she doesn't respond and allows her the time to process. At any other time, Regina would be thankful. At the moment, all she can process is that her brain seems to be stuck on a loop of calling her an idiot with little else to distract her from agreeing with it.

Her original plan hadn't been quite as asinine as that.

"If it helps, we already had this conversation last night," Emma murmurs, pulling her from her thoughts. "I can wait until you remember it."

She shakes her head. It could take hours, she'd prefer Emma just tell her. "We did?"

"Yes," she replies, shrugging.  "We agreed it was a terrible plan, and in a bizarre yet highly amusing twist, we decided you were the idiot, not me."

"Excuse me?" Her plan may have been terrible, but in what universe was Emma allowed to say such things?

Pretending not to hear her, Emma adds, "You then convinced me to stay by promising not to try anything and when I climbed into bed, surprise surprise—"

Before Emma can tell her what she might have already guessed, the breath leaves Regina in a rush as the memories return to her the same. She would gasp if the image in her head was even slightly surprising. "I tried to kiss you."

"You did."

"You rejected me…" She frowns, a similar image coming to mind of a time earlier in the night. "Again."

"I did."

"But…" She was sweet— Emma was her usual big-hearted, beautiful, idiot self when she let her down, only the second time, she was so much more than that.

"Yes?"

Smiling, Regina prays to whatever higher power exists that she is remembering Emma's words correctly. Tipping her head back, she frees her hand from Emma's grip and uses it to reach over her shoulder and grab the back of Emma's head, tugging her down into a kiss.

"Kiss me when you wake, and I'll never say no to you again."

Chapter Text

Pulling the Mercedes into the driveway, Emma smiles as the front door opens before she even removes her seatbelt. Taking the keys from the ignition and climbing from the car, she makes her way up the footpath to stand before Regina, grinning as she extends her hand.

"As reque—" She clears her throat and corrects, "…commanded, your chariot has been saved from the clutches of a lonely morning in Aesop's deserted parking lot and now awaits the pleasure of your delectable backside, Your Majesty."

Regina smirks and holds her hand out before Emma drops the keys into her palm. As her fingers close around them, she raises a brow. "I do hope that look of anticipation on your face isn't in expectation of a reward, Lady Swan."

"Of course not." Emma grasps her chest above the heart, mock appalled as she declares, "I am but a faithful knight, awaiting my Queen's next command."

Tipping forward, Regina grins as Emma immediately reaches for her hips, preventing her from falling from the stoop. "You are a foolish clod who better kiss me before I have you whipped for shirking your duties," she threatens lowly.

"Oh, well, if it is my duty…"

Emma guides her back towards the door as she steps onto the stoop and continues walking forward. Just when they're about to enter the house, she changes her mind and presses Regina up against the wall with her hips. She leans in with her entire body, delighting in Regina's soft moan as she breathes, "I shall endeavor to devote my utmost attention and commitment to such now, and in the future."

"Do," Regina growls before gripping the back of her head.

Expecting it, Emma chuckles throatily and before Regina can beat her to it, she captures her mouth, sinking into the kiss much like she had earlier this morning; without any conscious thought at all.

Her draw to Regina's mouth is the same as the draw to her laugh, her heart, her body, or even her mere presence in a room full of people. She could try to resist it, but why would she want to when Regina is so willing to accommodate and give her exactly what she wants?

The wait was worth every agonizing second, and then some.

"I think I might be in love with your mouth," she murmurs, then deepens the kiss, tongue sweeping between pliable lips.

With equal fervor, Regina kisses her back, hands clawing at her scalp but, in a blink, it all stops and Emma is left reeling in an attempt to understand why when they were just getting to the best part. She half groans, half whines in protest before Regina loosens the grip on her hair and pulls her back in, chuckling softly as she bites down on Emma's lip.

"If you have any hope of returning to my bed for something more than sleep, Miss Swan," she purrs, teeth grazing her chin. "You better be in love with more than just my mouth."

Her tongue ties itself in a knot in order to stop her from blurting out that she is, and she's grateful for once that the rest of her body is in opposition with her brain. Admitting that now when she's high on pleasure and wanting more would mean— perhaps not nothing, but something close to it, especially after Regina has practically given her an ultimatum.

Even if the ultimatum is in jest, she has more tact than that and Regina definitely deserves more than a spur of the moment declaration of love brought about by her raging libido.

Humming in feigned thought, the squeak of the front gate saves her from having to think of something not stupid to say when Regina quickly pecks her on the mouth and slides out from between her and the house.

"You're home early."

Emma sighs quietly, relieved, and turns as Henry stomps up the path to them. "That's because Nick is a dickhead," he grumbles, brushing passed them.

Following him inside, Regina chides, "Henry."

Toeing his shoes off, his mouth twitches. "Sorry," he says as he faces her. "I mean Nick's head bears a striking resemblance to a certain part of the male anatomy."

Regina cups his cheeks and tugs him forward, dropping a kiss to his forehead. "Good boy."

He rolls his eyes, then kisses her cheek before shaking himself loose. Emma and Regina follow him to the kitchen where Emma comments, "You know knob works, right? As in the knob of…" Regina glares at her. "—forget I said anything. What did the walking genital do this time?"

She grins and so does Henry, and then all three of them are because Regina can't be mad at her when their son is happy. Right? "He answered my cellphone this morning when Violet called and when they finished talking, he wouldn't shut up about how Violet secretly likes him because she spent longer on the phone with him."

"You're right," she agrees. "He is a dickhead."

"Emma," Regina scolds, though she's trying not to laugh and Emma knows it.

She winks. "I know what I said," she replies, unapologetic as she takes a seat at the counter next to Henry. He lurches forward when she thumps him on the back and says, "It might be time to find some better friends, kid."

"What," she questions the look Regina shoots her that asks really, Emma? And scoffs. "We were both thinking it."

Chapter Text

"I'll be in in a moment."

"Kay," Emma says, not even stopping to greet the cricket. She'd seen Violet through the diner window. Archie's intervention to talk about— Rights for Insects, or whatever he was bugging Regina about today just meant she had a little more time to keep a promise to Henry without Regina butting in.

Entering the diner, she makes a beeline for the booth in the corner and throws herself into the seat across from the teenager. Violet glances up at her with a distracted, "Oh," and a, "Hi Miss Swan."

So used to most people calling her by name or by title, it stuns Emma momentarily to hear that name coming from a mouth that isn't trying to goad her into snapping one way or another. "Well that's weird," she says, shaking herself as she smiles and waits for Violet to look up again.

She does after a moment of scribbling. "Pardon?"

Emma shakes her head and replies, "Nothing, just… call me Emma from now on." She'd hate for the name to lose its usual effect on her and upset Regina in the process.

Violet frowns. "Okay?"

"Great." Emma beams, the girl's focus now entirely on her as she sets her pen down. "How's school?"

"Good?"

"Good."

"I don't mean to sound rude, Miss— Emma," Violet starts, the frown deepening, "but is there a reason you're… talking to me?"

"You're my son's girlfriend," she reasons, brow rising with her chuckle. "Shouldn't I?"

Nodding along, Violet says, "You never have before?"

That was true, but she'd never had a reason to before. Teenage romances, in her experience, were generally full of drama and angst. She has enough of that in her own relationships without adding others to it. She didn't need to know the girl to know that Henry was happy, and until now, that was all that mattered.

"Don't take it personally. I try to avoid interactions with people who aren't in danger," Emma explains. She thinks of Regina and with a grin adds, "Or capable of killing me with their minds if I ignore them. So how's that going?"

"That," Violet repeats, her confusion only growing.

"The girlfriend thing," Emma elaborates, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. What else would she be talking about?

"Oh." Violet smiles softly, affection filling her gaze as she says, "I adore Henry."

Emma nods and tries her best not to compare the way Violet looks while talking about Henry, to the way Regina looks in general, at her— there is absolutely no way she can jump up, run outside, pick up the mother of her son and kiss her soundly on the mouth, then return to the diner to sit back down and continue this chat without a lot of people noticing.

Probably.

Sniffing, she coughs, dismissing the thought and asks, "Anyone else?"

"What?"

"Sorry," she offers, grinning sheepishly. Regina would have been a lot better at this than she is. If only Henry had a spine and had asked her to do it instead. "Henry mentioned something about Nick the other day and I guess it's been bothering him recently."

"Oh." Violet makes a face like she'd tasted something foul and Emma brightens, intrigued. "Him."

"Well that looked promising," she says, chuckling. "Do share."

"I just…" Her expression reluctant, she trails off. Rather than prompt her, Emma waits her out, the silence only somewhat awkward before Violet sighs and says, "I don't understand why Henry is friends with him. He's…"

Brow raised, Emma suggests, "An idiot?" Henry has used the word more than once to describe his best friend and while Regina might use it to refer to her in a fond and exasperated manner; that was rarely the case when it came to their son and Nick.

"He's so… annoying," Violet admits, slumping back in her seat. "Every time Henry and I are together, he's there. It's weird."

"Ah." Emma nods in understanding. She's had a few of those kinds of friends in her time. Thankfully, she has never been one of them. "The third-wheel syndrome."

The bell above the door chimes and Emma glances up, an instant smile on her face when she sees Regina glancing around for her. Their eyes meeting, Regina lets her own smile blossom and walks over to them. "There you are."

Emma grins. "Here I am."

"Good afternoon Violet," Regina says, not taking her eyes from her, gaze adoring but also playful when she adds, "I do hope Miss Swan isn't bothering you."

"Not at all, Madam Mayor."

Smirking, she finally looks down at the girl. "I find that hard to believe but regardless," she drawls, "how is school coming along? Did you finish your science project in time?"

"Ugh," Emma groans, sliding out of the booth. They'd already been through this. This is probably why Henry didn't ask Regina. She'd go in with questions about Nick and return to their son with an offer of marriage and the precise number of children he will have fifteen years from now. "I'm going to get coffee."

"Good," Regina replies, taking her seat as she slips the purse from her shoulder and says, "order me one while you're there."

Already intending to as she makes her way over to the counter, Emma retorts anyway, "What'd your last slave die of?"

"Not obeying my orders," Regina calls after her.

"Funny," Emma mutters, grinning to her herself. She slides her phone from her jacket and fires off a text to Henry.

Sorry kid, your girlfriend hates your best friend.

Her phone beeps with a reply just as Red takes her order and she peers down at it. She said that?

She used nicer words.

She stiffens just as the sent message flashes on the screen, Regina-senses kicking in a split second before there are arms around her and a body pressing into her back. Regina purrs into her ear, "What are you doing?"

"Currently? Having a heart attack. Jesus, wear a bell or someth—hey!"

Regina snatches the phone from her hand, scrolling through her recent messages before Emma even registers the theft and turns around. "Miss Swan," she chides teasingly, grinning when she looks up. "Were you grilling our son's girlfriend for him?"

Emma flushes even as she glares at her. "He literally saved my soul, Regina, of course I was." Was there even a point in her asking? As soon as she had her phone, Regina knew exactly what she'd done. It was right there, in three simple texts.

Still grinning, Regina steps into her and slides the phone back into her pocket. She winds her arms around Emma's neck, bringing their bodies together. "What am I going to do with you two?"

Grabbing her hips, Emma's face softens with her smile. "I dunno about the kid," she murmurs, "but I have a few ideas for what you can do with me."

Chapter Text

As it turns out, Emma's ideas are… not as terrible as Regina first believed when she received the proposition. If anything, she suddenly finds herself wanting Emma to share her ideas more often, especially if they start anywhere near as well as this one has.

"You're wearing a suit," she says, the obvious the only thing her brain is capable of pointing out at the moment. The suit is so perfectly well-tailored that however the rest of the night goes, there is very little Emma can do to top it, or ruin it for that matter. "You look positively delicious."

Emma chuckles while somehow looking both flustered and cocky. Regina finds the combination to be having a rather profound effect on her. Not nearly as underdressed as she feels, she allows Emma to take her coat and immediately turns around, not quite done admiring the view.

When Emma dressed up for her for the dinner at her parents' house, she'd almost tripped over her own tongue. That night was nothing compared to this.

"Is this the point where you're overcome with desire and we forget about dinner in favour of you jumping me?"

Regina wets her lower lip, eyes making another slow descent down Emma's body as she considers it. She is most definitely overcome with desire, and the thought is certainly more in line with the idea she had hoped Emma was coming to her with this morning.

"That depends," she murmurs, no longer able to resist as she closes the small space between them. Hands on her chest, she drags them down along Emma's torso, delighting in the way Emma presses into her touch. "Would you reject me again?"

"I told you," Emma replies, taking her hands in hers. She entwines their fingers, then tugs Regina's arms up over her shoulders, their mouths a mere inch apart as she reaffirms her promise from nights ago. "I will never say no to you again."

The words rolling over her, Regina shudders and wonders if there is such a thing as liking a sentence too much. "Never?"

"Never," Emma repeats. She kisses her. It's slow and soft, and everything Regina has always thought a kiss should be, as has been their every kiss since, and including, the first. "Whatever you want, it's yours."

Breathless, she hums as the smile spreads across her face, mind filling with all the possibilities of them; what they were, what they are, what they could be. What they will be. She breathes, a slow, drawn out inhale and exhale before she closes her eyes and questions, "What do you want?"

It is, perhaps, the most important question to ever leave her lips.

"To be yours," Emma answers without hesitation. She sighs as their mouths come together once more and they share another, albeit shorter, kiss. When they part, she adds, "In every way imaginable."

That was certainly new but Regina opens her eyes, testing the waters as it were when she smirks and lowers her voice, growling, "You have always been mine."

"Yes," Emma agrees— no pause or delay of any kind, just a simple yes to remind them both exactly what this is between them.

The confirmation is enough to rocket Regina's desire up a notch, making what she is about to do at least ten times more difficult than it otherwise would have been. "And you always will be," she says, tone challenging.

"Yes," Emma insists.

Regina smiles sweetly, freeing her hands to run her fingers through Emma's hair. She kisses her, deeply, then shifts, stepping back before she gives in. "Then I believe we can wait a while longer," she says, eyes narrowing when Emma opens her mouth. She reminds her, "You did promise me dinner, after all."

Swallowing her protest, Emma squeezes her eyes shut, head shaking. "Would I be too terribly out of line to tell you how much I think you suck right now?"

Regina chuckles darkly. Given the way her own body is screaming at her, she will allow it this once. "If you feed me, you'll not only know how much I suck, but also how well."

"Jesus."

Teasing, she replies, "He won't help you tonight, dear."

Emma groans, "I'm going to die before you're done torturing me."

"I suppose then I will simply have to find a way to bring you back." Hooking a finger beneath her chin, she leans in as she guides Emma's mouth to hers and breathes, "You don't know me half as well as you think, darling, if you believe I will ever be done torturing you."

Chapter Text

Finishing her meal, Regina wipes her mouth with the napkin beside her plate, then reaches for her wine. Sitting back, she slowly sips while waiting for Emma to look up from her own plate. "I do believe I shall leave you to cook for us more often," she says when Emma does.

Emma swipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb, sucking on the digit before she questions, "Does this unending thirst for more end at cooking and playing dress up, or do I have that to look forward to when you're writhing beneath me as well?"

Regina chuckles. Over the lip of her glass, she teases, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Eyes rolling, Emma drawls, "That is generally why one asks a question, Regina."

With a smirk, Regina downs the rest of her wine before she stands. Gaze flicking to Emma's plate, she rounds the table. She hesitates barely more than two seconds before she gestures, forcing her chair out from beneath the table. She grabs the tie dangling from Emma's neck and winds it around her hand, pulling, guiding Emma to her feet.

"Rather than question and hoping for an answer," she purrs, tugging. Emma stumbles and grabs on to her hips for balance. "Perhaps you should take me to bed and discover said answer yourself."

Pale lips quirk. "I do love the way your mind works."

"I bet you do." Mirroring Emma's grin, she leans in and nibbles on her lower lip before she breathes against her mouth, "And I bet you'll love it even more in a few moments."

Intent on getting them to the bedroom as quickly as possible, she steps back and turns, missing the knowing smirk that passes over Emma's face. They make it as far as the hallway before the tie pulls taut in her hand and, with a speed that surprises her— and a strength that absolutely does not, Emma maneuvers her up against the wall.

Regina swallows thickly, reminded of that morning on her stoop and painfully aware of the way her thighs feel suddenly warm, and wet. Or, more appropriately given Emma's teasing throughout the night; wetter. "Something troubling you, Sheriff?"

Releasing her hips, Emma slides her palms down over the cheeks of her ass. "Curiosity," she replies and Regina closes her eyes as the hands squeeze.

"I should have known you were a cheat."

"Yes," Emma agrees, "you should have."

Finding the slit in her dress, she runs a hand up along the outside of her thigh. Regina makes a sound in the back of her throat that resembles something between a whine and a whimper. Her eyes snap open, torn between shock and the desire to demand Emma do something—something more than caress the cheek of her ass as though she's content if that's all she can do.

"Something troubling you, Madam Mayor?" Emma teases before Regina remembers the tie in her hand and yanks her forward, seizing her mouth.

Emma moans, practically melting into her. Regina gestures behind her back and then they're in her bedroom, slowly inching their way to the bed. With Emma distracted by her mouth, Regina easily controls their direction, turning at the last moment and shoving Emma onto her back.

Emma grins up at her. "I just had a… very naughty idea."

"Just the one?" A look of thought crosses her expression and Regina rolls her eyes, dismissing whatever ideas Emma has when she says, "Later."

"No."

Somehow, they switch places. How, Regina is at a loss but one minute she's reaching for the straps of her dress, ready to put an end to this hellish nightmare of forced celibacy, and in the next Emma is grinning down at her, eyebrows wagging.

She is so thoroughly confused that, at first, she doesn't notice the way that Emma is swaying, as though to a song only she can hear.

When she does notice, Emma has already rid herself of the tie and is carefully— slowly coaxing the dress shirt from the waistband of her trousers.

Realization dawning, Regina's eyes widen and if Emma's chuckle didn't confirm her thoughts, her next words certainly do.

"I always wondered," she says, the smile playing on her lips. "Did Sidney's file on me mention my time as a stripper?"

Chapter Text

"No."

One simple word, and it's like a punch to the gut— a slow, solid punch wrapped in the warm, aroused husk of Regina's gorgeous voice. Emma shudders as the heat of it races through her blood, regret filling her mind because this she can blame on no one but herself. She knows better and yet she chose to slow them down with this absurd idea.

She'd been cocky enough to believe she could handle it.

Never in her life has she been more wrong.

"Shit."

Dark lips curl, adding to the fire that rushes through her before she glimpses a movement further down. She forces her eyes away from the mouth to a hand, breath hitching, transfixed as she watches those long, slim fingers traverse over a breast.

Regina's dress is tight. Tight enough to be inappropriate in most instances barring ones like this. A groan pulled from the pit of Emma's stomach bubbles up, rumbling in her throat as she devours the sight of a very stiff nipple straining against the cloth.

Her first thought is mine, as is every thought thereafter.

"Ready to concede defeat?"

Yes.

Words, she finds, aren't quite as simple as they once were.

"Come here, Emma."

Her head shakes but she takes a step forward, the parts of her body from the waist down no longer obeying her. Regina was right; she is an idiot. To have thought she might be able to control any moment of this; she had to be an idiot, there was no other explanation.

"Surely we've waited long enough?" Swallowing, her eyes flicker up and her breath leaves her once again. As with every other emotion Regina ever feels, her desire is there in the depths of her eyes. Regina grins as she purrs, "You can seduce me later."

Later.

Emma nods, wetting her lips as she takes another step. Later, when there might be an actual need to work Regina up. Right now, she looks as though she's primed to surge up off the bed and rip the suit from her body, and Emma doesn't blame her in the slightest.

She's ready to set the damn thing on fire, assuming the heat she feels doesn't do it for her.

"Take it all off quickly," Regina commands, "I want you on top of me where you belong."

Like Regina had done earlier, Emma makes a sound she didn't even know she was capable of making. Unlike Regina, she doesn't let it faze her and she obliges without a seconds thought, well passed eager to please as she willingly takes a head dive straight into obedient.

She did say she wouldn't say no to Regina ever again, after all.

"I said all of it."

She freezes, one knee on the bed. She was trying to be considerate by leaving something for Regina to take off. "Don't you want the honours?"

"Another time, perhaps." Shrugging, she pushes off the bed and shimmies out of her boy shorts. Regina hums, then says, "Right now, the only honour I want is you sitting on my face."

Emma chokes on a laugh, more surprised than she is amused. That sounded a lot like something she would say, not Regina. However, "Your wish is my command," she murmurs, climbing on to the bed.

"Moment." Hand clasping her hip, she stills and looks down in time to watch her breast disappear into a hot, wet mouth, and groans. Regina releases it with a smirk and a flick of her tongue, easing her head back to the mattress. "You may proceed."

Words. Words are becoming a real problem. Yelping when someone smacks her ass with enough force to rock her forward? Not so much.

"F—"

"Now is hardly the time to test my patience," Regina interjects smoothly. "Your cunt. My mouth, Miss Swan."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Emma takes a breath before crawling the rest of the way. Regina is definitely trying to kill her but hell if she can think of a better way to go than this.

"Mmm, I do hope you taste as divine as you smell."

She glances down, their eyes locking between her thighs. It is the perfect place for Regina, she decides. She cocks a brow and says, "Feel free to find out."

With a firm grip and an evil smirk, Regina tugs and Emma gasps as a tongue wriggles between her folds. It's only a matter of seconds before Regina is seemingly everywhere at once. It all happens so fast and yet, somehow, not nearly fast enough. Regina licks and sucks on anything within reach and just when Emma thinks she can't take anymore, Regina stops, turning her attention to inner thighs that she marks with lips and teeth.

If not doing this for all this time was torture, then Emma doesn't know what the fuck this is.

Her head feels full and heavy, her stomach a mess of arousal, and her heart an even bigger mess as every emotion she assumes she's capable of feeling decides to rise up all at once.

Hands threading through hair, she guides Regina back to where she needs her, relieved when met with no resistance and even more aroused as a taunting chuckle vibrates through her.

"Wi—"

Latching on to her clit, Regina sucks it into her mouth and the word dies on Emma's tongue as her eyes flutter shut, a moan escaping instead. She clenches her fists and throws her head back, the pleasure building and building until, finally, she snaps, back taut and mouth open in one long groan as the orgasm slams into her.

Chapter Text

"Enough" became "Please stop" became Emma pinning Regina to the bed by her wrists. Regina grins up at her, unperturbed. Were Emma at full strength she'd be in trouble but after four consecutive orgasms, Emma has the grip of a wet noodle.

Regina could escape if she truly wanted to.

Fortunately for Emma, she truly does not want to.

"Witch." She bares her teeth with the widening of her grin and Emma chuckles, dropping a kiss to her mouth before she shakes her head. "How have you not taken this dress off yet?"

"I was a slight bit busy, dear," Regina replies, the taste of Emma still on her tongue. It turns out that she does indeed taste as divine as she smells. Better, even.

Emma nods slowly. "We should definitely fix that."

"We sh—"

"Or," she interrupts, releasing her. She shuffles backwards and slides down to the floor between her thighs.

Regina lowers her arms from above her head and folds her hands over her stomach, eyes closing. Her body thrums beneath the heated caress of hands on her thighs and she breathes slowly, anticipation filling her every nerve as, inch by painstaking inch, Emma pushes her dress up.

"Fuck. I forgot you weren't wearing panties."

With a smirk, she spreads her legs. She is soaked— swollen. Her cunt has been throbbing and crying out for relief for the better part of the past hour, ever since she watched Emma come the first time. She had denied herself; all for the pleasure of witnessing that sight three more times before she finally gave in and allowed Emma a sliver of control.

She can forgive her the forgetfulness.

Maybe.

"Do you intend to do anything besides stare at it?"

"You have a very pretty pussy," Emma states, her breathe warm against slick folds. "I'm savouring it."

Without opening her eyes, Regina reaches down and grabs her by the hair. Much as she enjoys the husked purr of her voice, there are far better things Emma could be doing with her mouth. "Savour later," she says, "Devour now."

"Bossy."

Despite the complaint— compliment? –Emma acquiesces by virtually burying her face between her thighs and Regina is not in the least bit disappointed. She lets go of Emma's hair to fist her hands within the sheets, back arching in pleasure as the first stroke of a tongue becomes numerous and Emma's beautiful mouth turns almost ravenous.

Emma is all over the place. She licks and sucks— Regina shudders violently –and probes wherever she pleases. Whereas some might consider the lack of direction a sign of inexperience, the unpredictably turns her on even more and Emma has her writhing in mere seconds.

The miniature orgasm does nothing to dampen her desire but Emma seems to know without her having to say anything. The fingers are sudden and far more direct than the mouth as they enter Regina, unrequested but more than welcomed by her cunt as it stretches to accommodate all three of them.

They curl, touching that place inside of her that turns her into a quivering mess— that few beyond her own hand ever bothered to pay attention to. She moans, conflicted, when they unfurl and begin to thrust, slow but deep as lips wrap around her clit and Emma sucks the stiff little bundle into her mouth.

It isn't long before Regina comes a second time. Her hand flies from the sheets back to Emma's head and she holds her there, body shaking with her release.

Once the warm, heavy sensation clears from her mind, she blinks her eyes open to the sight of Emma slinking her way up between her legs and back onto the bed.

Regina's mouth waters. Over the years, there have been plenty of adjectives she's used to describe Emma Swan; beautiful, annoying, idiotic, gorgeous. She's even used pretty before, as deplorable an understatement as the word is, but for some reason she's never thought of Emma as sexy.

Emma is, or at least was, too much of a clumsy oaf for such a word to apply but in this instance, Regina can't think of a single word more appropriate. Watching Emma's sinewy form move as she comes to hover above her on hands and knees is a breathtakingly sexy sight.

"Hi."

Adorable; Emma is that too.

"Hi yourself," she replies with a chuckle. She cups her cheek and guides her down into a long, slow kiss as Emma hums and lowers the rest of her body.

Parting, Emma says, "You're still wearing your dress."

"Was I wrong to assume you weren't finished?"

Grinning, she sits up, straddling her waist as she palms her breasts and claims, "Oh I'm nowhere near finished."

Regina moans and arches into her hands. "Then you have time to correct such a terrible oversight."

Emma chuckles, head shaking. "So it wasn't just me you were too lazy to undress."

"I wouldn't want to deprive you of the pleasure," Regina retorts, "You did seem rather pleased with what you've currently seen."

"Mmm." Emma purrs and kisses her again before she says, "You panty-less just might be the sexiest thing in the world."

"I beg to differ."

Emma nods. No hesitation, questions, challenge or request to explain herself. Just a simple, "You would," before she reaches up and slides the straps of the dress from her shoulders. "Wanna help me out here?"

Regina smirks. "Not particularly." Eyes rolling, Emma slips a hand beneath her head and tugs. She doesn't resist, silkily confessing as she rises, "I enjoy the way you manhandle me."

Emma freezes for half a second, then demands, "Stop distracting me," and yanks her dress down over her chest.

It tears but Regina doesn't care. She'd bought it for Emma, hoping for something like this. She leans back on her hands and grins as Emma stares, that beautiful pink tongue peeking out from her mouth and swiping her lower lip.

"Fuck."

Removing a hand from her shoulder, Regina places it on her breast and moans when it immediately squeezes. She teases, "You've been rather neglectful of them, Sheriff."

"I have," Emma admits.

When she leans in, Regina grabs her chin. Impatient for the mouth to be on her again, she questions quickly, "How do you feel about toys?"

Emma's brow furrows. "You mean like handcuffs and—"

"I mean cocks, Miss Swan," she purrs the interruption, body buzzing as she recalls the many, many fantasies she's indulged in. "You wouldn't believe how often I've come to the thought of you fucking me while you ravish my breasts."

Chapter Text

"Emma…"

Finger raised, Emma finishes signing her name on the form in front of her before she glances up. Taking in the thoughtful furrow of Snow's brow, she sets her paperwork aside and sits back, curious. "Mother."

Smiling, Snow takes a seat and without any kind of lead up, says, "Is it just me or is Regina's walk a little… odd today?"

Emma glances across the diner to the counter where Regina stands. Inwardly, she's grinning but she forces her face to remain blank. "Maybe she threw out her hip," she suggests, shrugging.

"Emma!"

Biting her lip to stifle the laugh, she says, "What? She's like sixty. It happens."

Snow huffs. "You do realize we're not that far off in age, yes?"

"Your point?"

"My point," she drawls, "is that physically the woman is healthier and more capable than the two of us combined."

Emma considers pointing out that Regina is also extremely limber for someone her age, but then; leaving her mother guessing is not only more fun, but also less disturbing than admitting the reason Regina is having trouble walking is because Emma fucked her a bit too hard.

Not that Regina had minded, today or last night.

Clearing her throat, she says, "I know, but it's nice you can admit it from time to time."

Hearing the comment as she saunters over to them, Regina interjects, "Admit what?"

Accepting the coffee she hands her, Emma replies, "Mom was just extolling your virtues."

With a glance between them, Regina rolls her eyes. She takes a sip of her own coffee, then smacks Emma's shoulder with the back of her hand. Emma shifts to make room for her. "Why do I get the feeling you're lying?"

"You're a very smart lady."

"As opposed to the old lady she called you before you limped your way over here."

Emma mock gasps, but it is solely for Snow's benefit. She's made fun of Regina's age often enough that it no longer fazes her, which was the point to begin with. Regina and insecure do not go together. At all. "She wants to know why you're walking funny," she explains. "I said you threw out your hip because you're old."

Head slowly swinging to face her, Regina deadpans, "Isn't it nice when you're such good friends you can insult each other without fearing a slap in the face?"

Emma smirks. "Yep."

"Emma is just being modest, Snow. I have difficulty walking due to how well she handles her duties as husb—" Cup against her lips as she speaks, Emma presses her finger to the bottom of it and tips it up, forcing Regina to either drink or choke on it.

Luckily, she chooses the former while staring daggers at her. Emma pretends not to notice, though she quickly regrets the decision because Snow is staring at her too. The only difference is their expressions; one, a promise of absolute torture while the other— is Regina annoyed with her.

"No."

"But—" Snow tries to protest.

Emma isn't having any of it.

"No," she repeats. "Whatever that look is; no."

Regina snorts. "You know exactly what that look is," she says and Emma groans because it's true. It's the look her mother wears right before she squeals in excitement and deafens everyone in the diner. "We're not together, Snow."

Watching her deflate, Emma follows suit in relief. She can always rely on Regina to happily disappoint her mother. In thanks, she kisses her cheek and earns herself a knowing grin before Regina continues sipping on her coffee.

"I just… I don't understand." Appearing on the verge of ripping her own hair out, Snow brings her hands down on the table in a fit of frustration. "I can't not meddle anymore. Do you two not see how good you are together?"

Emma laughs suddenly and turns to Regina. "Did she just imply she hasn't been meddling?"

"Mhmm." Reaching across the table for her report, Regina sets it in front of her and flips it open, reading as she says, "She also seems to think we're blind."

Although seemingly done with the conversation, Emma prompts her anyway. "Are we blind, Regina?"

She hums. "I don't believe so. I adore you, you worship me, our sex life is already fantastic and you're rather easy to train for a clumsy fool." Looking up from the report, she smiles at her and assures, "You'll make a fine husband one day, idiot."

Emma has zero doubt she's grinning like said idiot when she turns back to her mother. Snow's mouth opens and closes wordlessly, and then she makes that face again.

"Mom," Emma warns, eyes narrowing. They're getting there, day by day, inch by inch, but they're not there yet and if she ends up deaf because her mother can't control herself, she's going to be pissed. More so because it'll mean never hearing Regina's outrageously sexy voice again. "Don't make me strangle you."

Outrage replaces glee and she nods, satisfied. Most people would remember that hasn't always been an idle threat and instantly become fearful. She's glad her mother isn't one of them.

"We're friends," she reiterates.

"With spectacular benefits," Regina adds offhandedly. She closes the report and slides it back to Emma. "Satisfactory."

Emma rolls her eyes. "Gee, thanks."

Regina ignores her, directing her next words to Snow when she says, "Honestly, what does any of this matter, to you or anyone else? We're happy with the way things are. Accept it, as we have, and move on. What we are, or are not, does not concern you."

Snow sighs and she's nodding as though she agrees but her words contradict her. "She's my daughter, Regina."

"Yes," Regina concedes, "and as your daughter, her happiness should be paramount to all else." She gestures to Emma who is, again, grinning. "Does that not look happy to you?"

Head tilted, Snow studies her expression. "Kind of maniacal, actually," she replies wryly.

With a glance, Regina chuckles before she tips sideways and kisses the corner of her mouth. Emma softens instantly. "There," she says with a nod to herself. "How's that?"

Her smile just as soft, Snow admits, "Much better."

"She's doing it again," Emma murmurs, eying her mother's expression.

"My mistake." Regina waves her hand and Emma blinks as Snow suddenly disappears. "There. She can squeal to her heart's content at home."

Cheek dropping to her shoulder, Emma feels the press of a mouth against the top of her head. "Are you alright?"

Taking a moment to check in with herself, Emma nods. Surprisingly, she feels lighter than usual after spending time with her mother. "I'm good," she says. "Still hungry though."

Laughing into her hair, Regina kisses her again before she says, "Come on, then." Sliding from the booth, she extends her hand and tugs Emma to her feet. "We'll take the rest of the day off and I'll cook you something to reward you for improving your atrocious handwriting."

Emma grins goofily. "I knew there was a good reason to obey you occasionally."

Chapter Text

Hearing the familiar thump of the front door, and then the boots making their way to the kitchen, Regina smiles to herself. There's a soft thunk of a bottle hitting the island counter, followed by an even softer sigh before Emma says, "I brought wine."

Back to her as she slices the vegetables for tonight's dinner, Regina says, "My three favourite words."

Emma chuckles. "You need to expand your vocabulary."

"Now there's a joke; you lecturing me on my vocabulary." Given Emma's penchant for foul language and tendency to grunt more often than she speaks when she's tired, or hungry, or annoyed; it's a rather hilarious joke in fact.

Arms wrapping around her from behind, Emma murmurs into her ear, "You weren't complaining about my vocabulary this morning."

The reminder of the shower they shared causes her stomach to flutter with arousal. The things Emma had said to her while taking her from behind— Regina hums in pleasure. "Your crude mouth does have its benefits," she admits before setting the knife down and turning in the embrace.

In complete counterpoint to their conversation, Emma leans in and kisses her sweetly. Regina sighs against her mouth and slides her arms around Emma's neck, relishing the sensation that fills her as she wonders what it might be like to end every day like this. When Emma holds and kisses her like this, there isn't a feeling in the world she cherishes more and, with every passing day, it is becoming more difficult to keep the thought of them further moving things forward to herself.

"How was your day?" She questions, pecking her once more on the mouth before she turns back around.

Resting her chin on a shoulder, Emma replies, "Better now for seeing you." Regina grins, rolling her eyes fondly before Emma adds, "That was a lot sappier than I was going for."

"I confess a certain preference for your more vulgar side," Regina says, "but it wasn't too terribly nausea inducing."

"Good." Using her hips, Emma pushes her more firmly into the bench and breathes into her ear, "Sexy as you are, I doubt even you can make throwing up look attractive."

Regina laughs before a warm, wet mouth steals her breath and latches onto her neck. Her first thought is to ask Emma what it is she thinks she's doing but her mind is quick enough to dismiss the question as another, more important thought replaces it; why would she question it.

This is why she invited Emma over to begin with. Granted, she intended the fooling around to occur after dinner, but before can just as easily work.

She's about to suggest they take this to the bedroom when Emma suddenly stops and raises her head. "Kid?"

It takes Regina a moment to realize she's asking where their son is, and even longer to remember the message he sent her this afternoon telling her before she can respond. "Nick's."

"Seriously?"

Hearing the disbelief in her voice, Regina chuckles. "Mmm. It would seem you're a far better meddler than your mother."

Emma snorts. "Apparently not," she replies, "considering the point of my meddling was to get that little shit stain away from our son."

Regina turns her head to question, "Would you give up me so easily?"

Emma grunts, bringing a smile to her face. "No, but this is different."

"Nick is his best friend," she says, as she is hers— assuming Emma's claims of such are to be believed. "Violet is the girl our son loves."

"Currently," Emma mutters.

"Precisely."

"But you're…" She huffs. "It's not the same."

"Be that as it may, they are both important to our son for different reasons. If the three of them can compromise in a way that benefits them all, then we have no reason to interfere." Kissing her jaw, Regina returns to preparing their dinner as she picks up the knife and adds, "Besides, that wasn't always the case."

It wouldn't surprise her if, in the end, their son chose Nick.

Emma did.

"Sure it was." Stilling her hand with a touch to her wrist, Emma waits until she puts the knife down again before taking her hand and bringing it to her mouth. She kisses each knuckle. "I'm slow, remember?" She murmurs, "I didn't know it at first, but that doesn't make it any less true."

Regina smiles, chest warm as she presses her head to Emma's jaw.

"Does it…" Emma hesitates before taking a breath. She releases it in one long exhale through her nose, then asks, "Does my not saying it bother you?"

Swallowing, Regina closes her eyes and remembers.

Greatest of my enemies, said in a tone one might use when declaring someone the love of their life. I don't love you; a lie because Emma is a 'compulsive liar' and she likes to beat a good joke to death before letting it retire. There are a hundred more instances Regina can think of in which Emma has said the words a thousand different ways. Emma may not say them outright, but they're there; in her lies and deeds. In her smile, her arms, in her beautiful green eyes in the early hours of the morning when she feigns waking for the second time despite it having been her gaze that awoke Regina to begin with.

Emma fears, with good reason. Nothing bad will happen; of that, Regina is certain but like with Emma needing time to come to terms with her feelings, the certainty doesn't make her fear any less real. Every time she has opened her heart, she has lost the person that made it possible. Not always physically, but emotionally—mentally; Regina knows the fear all too well.

"No," she answers finally. "No, my love, it doesn't."

Chapter Text

In front of the bathroom mirror, Emma wears a frown as she stares down at her stomach. All these months of Regina cooking for her is starting to catch up. She swears she's gaining a pouch.

Laughter from behind causes her frown to deepen. "Would you stop?"

Lower lip jutting out, she glances up to Regina's perfectly gorgeous, amused face staring back at her from the glass. She whines, "I'm getting fat."

"Please," Regina says, rolling her eyes dismissively. "If I covered you in whipped cream, I'd have to spend the next few hours trying to lick it all from those abdominals."

Peering back down at them, Emma squints while trying desperately not to imagine that scenario. She isn't overreacting. She's been slacking. All these nights spent at either of their homes, stuffing their faces while cuddling in front of the TV. It was definitely worth a few extra pounds, but still; it doesn't mean she can't do something about it before it gets any more out of control.

Nodding to herself, she declares, "I'm going for a run."

Regina sighs. "It is the middle of the night and you can barely stand." To emphasize her point, she squeezes her hips to remind Emma why exactly it is that she is behind her.

"I just need a minute," she insists, frown returning. If anything that just proves her point, right? Where'd all her stamina go? Regardless of how talented Regina is and how thoroughly her mind had shattered with pleasure, this recovery time is ridiculous.

"You said that five minutes ago," Regina says before she tugs her away from the mirror. "Come… to bed with you."

"But—"

Guiding her through the bathroom and into the bedroom, she interrupts her protest. "Don't forget your promise, dear."

"That's not fair."

Had she known her promise to never say no meant never saying no to anything, ever, she'd have been a lot more careful with her wording. She meant kissing… and sex… and invitations to dinner and maybe, somewhere down the line, a request to move in together— not this.

"Nor am I." Arm around her waist, Regina reaches around her and pulls the duvet back. She then shoves her and says, "In you get."

Emma topples face first onto the bed. "You did that on purpose," she mumbles into the sheet.

Regina doesn't deny it. Instead she hums and admits, "It is a lovely view."

The husky purr of the comment sends a shiver down Emma's spine and a familiar heat spreads from her stomach, all the way to her cheeks. She groans. "Haven't you ruined me enough for one day?"

"Don't be so dramatic."

"Sorry," she says sarcastically, "I forgot that's your job."

Regina snorts. "Yes, the petulance suits you far better."

Emma tries to raise her hand but it refuses to move, limp and useless by her side. She huffs. "Just so you know, I'm giving you the middle finger."

"And yet; not a single twitch."

"Bite me," she mumbles, willing her body to do something— anything.

With a deep, husky laugh, Regina counters, "That slowly darkening bruise on your backside says I already did."

Reminded of what put her in this state to begin with, Emma's backside throbs. She manages to roll over and glare up at Regina. "That hurt." It's more uncomfortable than it is painful, but Regina doesn't need to know that.

"Good thing you're a masochist," Regina teases, lips curling with her amusement. She adds, "I doubt you've ever come that hard before in your life."

"Someone thinks highly of herself," Emma mutters, though her immediate grin speaks volumes. Regina is right, but that's hardly surprising. None of the other people she's slept with had a hope of even coming close to the kind of pleasure Regina brings her.

"Am I not perfectly justified in doing so?"

The grin grows and she concedes, "Little bit."

"Mhmm." Regina moves between her legs, smirking down at her. "Are you eventually going to get under the covers?"

"When I figure out how to without moving."

Eyes raking over her body, she purrs, "You're very naked."

"That tends to happen when you have a shower," Emma drawls, brow raised as she questions, "Did you not notice when you jumped me?"

"I was more concerned with other matters," Regina admits. She licks her lips, voice suddenly a little deeper than before when she says, "I have a lot less distracting me now."

"You're an insatiable witch."

Not that Emma is complaining; she's an idiot, she's not stupid.

"If you're content to sulk…" The effect is somewhat ruined by the towel obscuring her body but when Regina drags a hand between her breasts and down her stomach, Emma whimpers. "I suppose I could take care of this myself."

"Don't you dare," she growls

Grinning slyly, Regina drops her towel. She climbs onto the bed and straddles her, rocking against her stomach as she challenges, "Feel free to try and stop me when you can move again."

It is then, because of course it is, that her hands decide to obey her commands. Every inch of her is thoroughly in love with every inch of Regina, and her hands are no exception. If anything can motivate her, it is the thought of watching Regina come undone, over and over again.

Slick, wet heat steadily coats her stomach, drawing her attention back down to it. Regina moans, hips picking up their pace. "Maybe you should workout more," she breathes as she pushes a hand between her thighs and rubs her clit. "I'd hate not to be able to do this."

Nostril flaring, Emma grips her hips and summons every ounce of her strength to roll them. She comes down hard on the back of Regina's hand, ripping another moan from those soon-to-be kiss swollen lips.

"Oh I intend to," she says, reaching between them and replacing Regina's hand with her own as she shoves it aside. "Tomorrow, I run. Tonight…" She sheathes two fingers within clinging heat and as Regina arches, murmurs, "Tonight, you'll be my workout."

Chapter Text

"Regina."

Briefly taking her attention from a far more worthwhile sight, Regina glances up at the voice. "David," she greets him with a smile as she accepts the coffee he hands to her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He sits down and gestures his head to where Emma is making her way around the pond at a steady jog. "How is she?"

Regina sips, grateful for the added warmth the coffee brings her as she considers the question. Honestly, she's surprised he hadn't asked sooner. For the past week, he's joined her every morning. Emma invited him, to counteract any 'potential boredom' because she couldn't understand how watching her work out might be entertaining. It is and, if anything, David distracts from her enjoyment of it but Regina appreciates his presence (and Emma's sweet thought) all the same.

"A lot better than she used to be," she replies. Emma began therapy again after losing it with Henry the last time and although she moans (especially to her parents) after every session about her time being better spent with Regina and their son, it helps. She's working on it, day by day— they both are.

"Thanks to you."

"Well…" She's helped. Emma would be the first to insist she is the one and only reason for the improvements she's made. She has, in fact, made such claims to numerous people and, really, who is Regina to contradict her? "We both know I'm not modest enough to deny that."

His laughter is loud enough that Emma hears and glances over at them. Gaze having returned to her since David sat down, Regina gestures dismissively, silently telling her to continue rather than come over as she tends to when she feels like she's missing out on something potentially amusing. Neither of them are entertaining enough that it would be worth her missing out on what comes after Emma's work out.

If not for their showers together, Emma wouldn't have been able to convince her out of bed this early every morning to begin with. She'd still be wrapped up, nice and tight, waiting for her alarm to jolt her awake if not for the promise of warm, wet skin and those ever wonderful wandering hands.

That mouth…

That tongue…

Those teeth.

Inhaling sharply, Regina shakes her head. She should definitely not be thinking about that with the woman's father seated next to her. "How is the wailing banshee of yours?" She smirks, interrupting his response when she adds, "I mean Neal, not your wife."

He grins, more than used to her increasingly occasional snipes at Snow. Sometimes she misses the way his face would turn beet red in anger and he'd stumble through his words in attempt to defend Snow while at the same time trying not to offend her because, despite her belief at the time, he was smarter than he looked.

That he was able to show some semblance of intelligence in not pissing her off to the point she burned him to a crisp is genuinely one of the reasons she considers him… tolerable. She might even consider him a friend, were she someone who accumulated those willingly.

Like Emma, he'd endeared himself to her with his not-stupidity and she'd let him.

"He's still teething," David says, pulling her from her thoughts, something else for which she can be grateful.

Another minute and she might have had to set him on fire on principle.

"Still sleeping through his screams at night?" She asks, amused.

From the corner of her eye, she can see him bobbing his head. She knows if she looks, his cheeks will mostly likely be pink, that same sheepish expression his daughter and grandson wear painted on his face.

"Excellent," she says, grinning when he again laughs.

Emma veers off path a moment later, done with being out of the loop it seems. She jogs over, hands on hips as she comes to stand before them and demands, "What are you two over here giggling about?"

Regina lifts a brow. "The way you run," she deadpans.

"Har har."

Biting her lip, she stifles a smile and ignores the glare directed her way as she takes in Emma's outfit. From afar its effect on her was minimal but up close is something else entirely. When Emma works out, inside or out, regardless of weather, she wears these tight little shorts and this sports bra that does something rather magical with her cleavage.

Regina was never much of a leg woman, but there is also something about watching the muscles in Emma's thighs as she shifts from foot to foot, not quite satisfied with what little exercise she'd managed before becoming distracted by them.

"Regina was just taking shots at your mother while she isn't here to defend herself."

Attention drawn back to the conversation, she notes Emma's grin as she says, "And your response to that is laughter?"

David shrugs. "I can't help that she's funny."

Emma nods, wisely in Regina's opinion. She swallows and goes back to her staring, incapable of not when Emma won't stop moving. "She is pretty hilarious." Emma clears her throat and says, "My eyes are up here, Regina."

Why that should be in any way relevant to her; she can't quite grasp. "Yes, dear," she murmurs, eyes drifting from thigh to stomach but never quite making it passed her chest. "Your face, however, gives me nightmares."

Even though she should be offended, Emma laughs along with her father, and that's about the extent Regina is willing to pay them any attention before Emma is suddenly closer and— her stomach warms— touching her.

"I think we've lost her," Emma says. David hums his agreement. "I'll take her home. Thanks for keeping her company again."

"Don't mention it. Same time tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I might skip tomorrow—"

Snapping from her daze, Regina growls, "Don't you dare."

Emma stares, a little shocked but then she's laughing again and nodding. "Alright," she says. "Yeah, dad, same time tomorrow."

"Gotcha."

He gives them a thumbs up and then he's turning, jogging away to—who knows where. Regina doesn't care. All she cares about is that Emma is pulling her up and sliding an arm around her waist.

"This is familiar."

Head dropping to her shoulder, Regina says, "Shut up and take me home."

"So you can have your way with me?"

She hums. "Yes dear."

Chapter Text

As is the case ninety-nine point nine percent of the time, Regina is driving her mental again. There is, Emma has discovered, a fine line between fascination and obsession and, she's also discovered, Regina has tripped over that line, fallen flat on her face, and is content to remain there while she tortures her for the rest of— well, if the last hour has taught her anything, then the rest of forever likely isn't too wild an assumption.

Hands cling to her thighs as a warm, wet mouth marks patterns all over her torso, tongue caressing along each dip between her ribs and taking its sweet god damn time in reaching a nipple before avoiding it entirely and stroking the length of her sternum instead.

Regina's words from the diner have darted in and out of her head ever since she'd been thrown down on the bed and she almost laughs every time because if what she does to Regina is considered worship, then this— she doesn't know what to think of this, never mind what to call it.

She has tried everything she can think of to coax Regina into granting her mercy; promises, deception, threats, begging. Regina hasn't fallen for a single one. She did give her a few minutes respite, though. Enough time to catch her breath and hope Regina was done playing with her while the she-devil taunted her for that last one.

This is what she gets for trying to get in that strip tease she promised Regina all those weeks ago. They didn't even make it to the shower this morning before she was attacked.

"Fuck," she groans, feeling teeth against her breast. "Regina… baby… sweetie… honey muffin, I swear I will lick you into a coma if you just touch my clit or suck my tit— something."

A deep, warm chuckle vibrates against her skin, sending more heat between her legs. Regina raises her head and grins, teasing, "Rhymes now is it, dear?"

"I… I detest you," Emma gasps, squirming as nails rake down her inner thighs. No, she wasn't fucking rhyming. "I really do."

Regina nips at her breast. "I detest you too… cupcake."

Her face contorts with a grimace. It is obvious Regina is taunting her again but— honestly, coming from her, the nickname sounds somehow filthy and Emma is more disturbed that it actually turns her on even more, which she did think an impossible feat considering how many times she's had to shutdown her instinct to overpower Regina and take what she needs.

"Regina," she whines and she's so far beyond giving a shit any more that she completely overlooks the evil smirk adorning her lover's lips. "I need to come."

"What a fortuitous coincidence," Regina purrs, roughly gripping her thighs. "Because I need to feel you deep in my throat."

And just like that, Emma is sporting a rather impressive cock, eyes rolling into the back of her head as that once torturous mouth slides down the shaft and Regina, true to her word, takes her deep.

The throat closes around the tip and begins to convulse in imitation of swallowing. Spine arching with a guttural moan, Emma claws at the sheets in a desperate attempt to keep from grabbing Regina by the head and fucking her mouth raw until she comes.

Even in her current state, she knows there's no need. This isn't the first time they've done this. In truth, it seems to be Regina's favourite way of getting her off quickly because she never lasts long and unless it's late at night and they're in bed, they're usually in a rush when the desire to fool around strikes.

Hands clenching around her thighs, they soon flatten and inch their way towards her stomach as Regina pulls back. She drags her tongue along the underside of Emma's cock, swirling around the tip before the mouth pops off completely.

"I've changed my mind."

Emma groans in frustration, eyes fluttering open to stare down at her. Regina climbs onto the bed and straddles her waist, grinning as she wraps both hands around her cock. "Don't be like that, sweetpea," she teases, squeezing as she claims, "I'm trying to help."

Before Emma can even contemplate asking how, Regina is rising up and in one, swift thrust down, Emma chokes on a moan as Regina's clothes vanish and she's engulfed fully in the tight clenching walls of her cunt.

"Fuck."

"Mmm," Regina hums, rolling her hips. She falls forward, voice little more than a desire laced husk. "Tell me this doesn't feel better," she says, lips brushing against her mouth.

Emma shakes her head and grabs her hips. She could tell her that but it would be a bold-faced lie. She loves Regina's mouth, but more than this? No way. There is nothing that compares to feeling how much Regina wants her, to seeing the pleasure that transforms that gorgeous face into something beyond beauty that is easy to understand yet indescribable in the sheer amount of bliss that contorts it when she comes.

Regina claims her mouth in a heated kiss, thrusting a tongue between her lips as she grinds her hips. Emma squirms beneath her, eager to return the kiss but also eager to fuck her in a way that'll leave Regina staring up at the ceiling wearing that blissful smile she wears while trying to catch her breath.

When the kiss breaks and Regina murmurs, "Fuck me, Emma," she gets her wish within two seconds flat.

Emma rolls them until she's on top, hand clasped against the back of Regina's neck and an arm around her waist. She thrusts, her strokes neither slow nor long but quick and hard because she knows this is how Regina likes it. They might be in love— it might be true love, but this, this is not that.

Regina doesn't want to be made love to. She wants to be fucked, and she wants to be fucked hard, and Emma is only all too happy to oblige.

Moans and curses interspersed with hisses of yes and harder fill the air. Regina clutches at her back, legs loosely wrapped around her thighs as Emma pounds into her, the wet slapping of their skin joining the sounds, building to a crescendo that culminates with a scream as Regina comes undone.

With a groan, Emma stills, savouring the feel of walls clenching around her before it becomes too much and then she's coming too, hips jerking, thrusting as deep as she possibly can and filling Regina with her release.

When she falls limp, an arm joins the legs in wrapping her in their embrace and Regina kisses her anywhere there's skin she can reach; shoulder, jaw, cheek, temple, before a hand slips between shoulder and chin, fingers clasping her jaw and forcing her head to the side.

Regina kisses her and Emma sinks into it with a moan. She knows they're not done, not by a long shot, but damn, does she wish this moment could last— well, forever, if possible.

Chapter Text

The front door opens, announcing their son's return from school, and closes as Regina tries to stand. "I should—"

"No," Emma interrupts, elbowing her in the knee. "Five more."

Regina sighs before getting comfortable again and folding her legs, as well as her arms, huffing, "Fine."

Henry rounds the corner into the den just as Emma announces her forty-seventh push up. "Mom, what's for d—" He looks up from rummaging through his backpack, mouth open mid-sentence as he freezes. He blinks once, then twice more before shaking his head and asking, "Um, why are you sitting on ma?"

"She made a stupid bet with me," she replies, eyes rolling despite the small, affectionate smile she wears. She's already lost. She knows it. Emma knows it.

"Why?"

"49. I asked her to cook dinner tonight," Emma reasons and Regina has little doubt there's a scowl on her face when she adds, "She said no."

Regina chuckles as Henry questions disbelievingly, "So you made a bet that involves mom sitting on you?"

"I bet her I could do fifty pushups with her on my back," Emma reasons, announcing said fiftieth before she drops to her stomach, exhausted, and groans, "I was right."

"You know," Henry says, walking towards them. He throws himself on to the couch. "I sometimes wonder if I was switched at birth."

Emma breathes out a laugh and admits, "Me too."

"Unfortunately," Regina drawls, "he looks far too much like your mother for that to be true."

Face twisting with outrage, Henry protests, "I do not!"

"Do too," Emma counters. "You've even got the same haircut."

Eying said haircut, Regina nods. She was only joking, but now that Emma mentions it; they really do have the same haircut. She makes a mental note to be the one to cut his hair from now on and stands up, turning her gaze to the virtually dead weight between her legs.

"What do you want, dear?" Emma flips over onto her back with a grin. Regina sighs fondly down at her and elaborates, "For dinner. Mind out of the gutter, Miss Swan."

"Ew," Henry exclaims, wrinkling his nose. "Moms, could you maybe be gross somewhere else?"

Lifting a brow, Regina shrugs before stepping over Emma and making her way out of the room. She hears their son groan before Emma catches up with her, arms sliding around her from behind. She stops with a chuckle, a nose nuzzling her behind the ear.

"What did you say to him?"

Emma kisses the back of her neck. "I suggested he invest in some headphones if he wants to avoid hearing our grossness."

Grinning, Regina turns in her arms. A year ago and she'd have chided Emma for putting such thoughts into their son's head but as he grows older, Henry is becoming quite the smartass and Emma's idea of payback is more appealing than she would have once thought.

"You, my darling, are a terrible influence on me."

Emma smiles, lightly brushing a kiss against her lips before she replies, "You deserve it."

"Oh I do, do I?"

"Mhmm. Ever since we started sleeping together, it's all I can think about," she confesses, bringing their heads together. She releases a breath and asks, "Do you know how distracting it is to suddenly start thinking about your breasts when I'm trying to catch Pongo? I almost ran into a lamppost yesterday."

Incredulous, Regina pulls back and cocks an eyebrow. "And you don't think I suffer from these same distractions?" Emma stares at her, unblinking, and she laughs. "I was eating vanilla yoghurt this afternoon and suddenly I'm wondering how you'd react if I dropped by the station to have you for lunch instead."

Emma smirks. "Well wonder no more," she says. Lowering her voice, she admits, "Because I would react with a lot of enthusiasm."

Body warming with the beginnings of arousal, Regina cups her cheek. "I'll keep that in mind for any future urges," she murmurs, then kisses her.

It starts out slow and gentle, as she intends, but then Emma slips a tongue into her mouth and it becomes anything but. Hand moving to her jaw, Regina forces them apart with a breathless chuckle after barely more than a minute and slides a thumb over a slowly protruding lower lip.

"Any more of that and we'll have to send Henry to your parents." She presses the thumb against Emma's mouth before she encourages the idea and reminds, "Which we have done often enough as is."

At first, they had sex maybe four out of seven days a week. Since Emma started working out though, they're up to once or twice a day, which might not seem like much but for two people with jobs as demanding as theirs, a son to raise, and a not so ordinary town where quite possibly anything can happen; she isn't quite sure how they even find the time to begin with.

The fact they still live apart only adds to her confusion.

Not that she is even going to consider complaining. She's almost afraid of how exhausted they'll be once they do live together, but that doesn't mean she isn't looking forward to finding out.

With a grin, she trails her hand down Emma's neck, between her breasts and down her stomach. She slides her fingers into the waistband of Emma's jeans, slipping from her embrace as she tugs and starts to walk backwards towards the kitchen.

"You still haven't told me what you want."

Following obediently, Emma's shoulders rise and fall, a familiar husk to her tone when she replies, "I think I've made it pretty clear what I want, Regina."

Chapter Text

Wined and dined, and thoroughly taken in the most cliché way imaginable; in front of a roaring fire atop a bearskin rug after their not date, Emma sighs, content, full— satisfied, for the time being. "I've been thinking…"

Regina stops tracing nonsensical patterns on her stomach as she glances up. "Shall I fetch the aspirin?"

"Nah, the endorphins counteract the pain." She laughs and kisses Emma fondly. Emma grins and asks, "How would you feel about me moving in?"

Forcing her expression blank, Regina deadpans, "Wary."

"Oh."

She sees the flash of disappointment before Emma tries to sit up and she immediately regrets her teasing. She stops Emma with a hand on her chest and gently pushes her back until she's laid out beneath her. "You've broken three pieces of furniture this week," she states, cracking a smile as Emma's eyes widen in understanding.

"Hey!" She protests with a frown, swatting her hip. Regina laughs much more deeply this time and Emma pouts. "It's not like you didn't help… and you have magic!"

"I know." Regina strokes the hand back down to her stomach and rubs the spot she'd found a few weeks ago that makes Emma purr. "Teasing you is just too much fun."

Despite the pleased rumble that emits from her throat, Emma's pout deepens. "You're mean."

Regina considers lowering her head to bite at it until it goes away. It requires very little thought, already halfway there when she repeats, "I know."

"You'll have to make it up to me."

"I know," she breathes warmly. Another half an inch and her teeth will be sinking into that lip.

"Right now."

"I…" know but no, that's not right. Regina shakes her head, removing the desire before she becomes distracted. She bites down on the lip until Emma moans softly, then pulls back with the tang of blood on her tongue as she questions, "May we rid ourselves of the fire first? It really was too hot to have that going."

"But how will we see?" She waves her hand, extinguishing the fire, the warm glow of a few strategically placed candles bathing their surroundings. Emma smiles up at her and brings a hand to her cheek, caressing her softly as she teases, "You getting all romantic on me, Madam Mayor?"

Returning the smile, Regina turns and kisses her palm, then leans down and kisses her once more on the lips. "In your dreams, Sheriff."

Fingers trace her lips when they part. Emma continues to smile as she says, "Actually, my dreams aren't too far from reality."

"No?"

"You might even surpass dream you," she adds, "and she does some downright filthy things to me."

Brow raised, Regina licks her lips, intrigued by this dream version of her. She knew Emma dreamed of her. Emma had even shared a few of them, but she wouldn't personally describe any of those as particularly filthy. She purrs, "Is that so?"

Emma nods seriously, gaze dropping to her mouth. "Uh huh."

"I think I need to have a talk with this dream me," Regina growls, feigning annoyance. "Doesn't she know she's not allowed to touch what isn't hers?"

"She touches dream me… a lot." Emma smirks but her gaze is adoring and even when fake, Regina's annoyance doesn't stand up. "Totally not against any rules."

"Yes, dear, it is," she argues, because annoyed or not; there is a truth Emma seems to be forgetting. Sliding the hand from her stomach, down between her thighs, Regina nips at her mouth before she reminds her, "Every version of you, real or imagined, is mine."

Emma spreads her legs. "You're very possessive, you know," she says with a chuckle-cum-moan.

Well aware, Regina hums agreeably, fingers dancing through slick folds. "One of the many reasons you love me, I'm sure."

"Definitely," Emma admits breathlessly.

Reaching for her arm, she tugs and Regina takes the hint as she slides on top of her. Replacing her hand with a thigh, she raises it to her mouth and sucks Emma from each of her fingers.

Pupils dilating, Emma rocks against her thigh, lips parting with another moan. She grabs her wrist, pulling it away from her mouth before she captures the other and slowly, gently guides the hands above her head, entwining their fingers and forcing Regina to stretch out on top of her.

Head raised less than an inch off the floor, her eyes narrow and she breathes, "Fucking tease."

Regina grazes her chin with teeth, chuckling. She adds pressure to the thigh between her legs and feels Emma shudder before her head falls back to the floor with a decidedly solid thump, and winces.

"Ow."

"Poor baby," she coos, squeezing her hands and dragging lips over a pouted, pink mouth. "Want me to kiss it better?"

"I have something you can kiss," Emma grumbles, cutting off her laughter as she yanks her down and captures her mouth.

Tongue sweeping across her lips, Regina parts them with a moan. Emma shakes a hand loose and places it on her back, pressing down. Their lower bodies fit together perfectly, hand stroking down and over the cheek of her ass, squeezing as Emma starts to build a rhythm against her thigh.

Breaking the kiss, Regina nibbles on her jaw, her throat— wherever her mouth can reach while she savours the sounds of Emma's panted little moans as she shifts, straddling a thigh of her own. The sounds of Emma's pleasure heightens hers, the heat between her legs growing more and more intense, release threatening to overwhelm her, sudden and fast, almost too sudden, too fast.

Emma presses up into her with a knee and Regina moans, latching on to her throat. She bites down, hips rolling faster with clear intent, their bodies sliding together, growing slick with sweat as their activity adds to the heat of the room surrounding them.

Emma whispers things to her, breathless words of lust, panted affection, dirty little words of promise she knows Emma will fulfill to her utmost in time. And then, as she reaches her peak, she hears those three little words said without a hint of doubt, and her orgasm hits with all the force of an oncoming train.

"I love you."

Chapter Text

First aid kit in hand, Regina walks into the bedroom where she'd left her sulking lover a few minutes prior. "I knew it was too good to be true," Emma mumbles as she kneels between her legs and takes her hand.

"Hush," she says, not needing to ask. Emma has been acting paranoid for the past five days, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She thinks this is it, but this had simply been a consequence of living in a magical town.

Random creatures appear from time to time; it is hardly a rare occurrence, and it is definitely not the doom and gloom Emma is making it out to be.

"I got attacked by a fricken goblin," Emma whines. "You hush."

Regina chuckles. It wasn't a goblin, it was a brownie, and he'd attacked Emma because while she was packing up her things, she'd failed to notice he'd made himself at home in one of the cardboard boxes she'd been intending to use. It does explain how Emma kept her house spotless, though; brownies are notorious for their meticulous cleaning habits and Emma, as lovable as she is, can be a downright slob more often than not.

Smirking to herself, Regina questions, "Did I die? Did you die?" Because that is the other shoe. Emma says I love you and something awful and irreversible happens to either herself or the person she said it to; this counts as neither.

Given the amount of blood she's currently having to mop up, Regina has no doubt that it's painful and perhaps even a little awful, but it's hardly irreversible. As soon as she can see the wound, she'll be able to wave her hand and magic Emma all better.

"Yes," Emma snarks, lifting her hand and wiggling her fingers idiotically. "I'm a ghost. Oooh."

Regina rolls her eyes. "It's a comfort to know death hasn't made you any less of an idiot," she deadpans, slapping the hand away as it inches towards her face.

Emma pouts. "I'm wounded and you insult me? You were nicer when I was alive."

She snorts. "No I wasn't."

"Yeah," Emma chuckles, "you really weren't. You're kind of horrible, actually."

"At least now with you dead I can finally have a rest."

"Nope. Ghost sex is totally a thing."

"Not…" What she meant. Head shaking, she questions, "What?"

"Scary movie 2," Emma says matter-of-factly. "Chick gets molested by an evil ghost, then gets all obsess—"

"Please stop talking," Regina interjects, ashamed she'd asked. Emma has terrible taste in everything; why she'd think her choice of movies would be any different is a mystery. "I already question what I see in you."

"Whatever." When she leans forward, Regina peers up at her and Emma grins, wagging her eyebrows. "You'd love me just for my abs."

Brow cocked, Regina glances back down at her forearm. Seeing that the bleeding has finally stopped, she tosses the cloth she'd been using to soak it up onto the bedside table and murmurs, "That's the only reason I love you now, dear."

Emma gasps. "Oh such words doth rav— ow."

She tries to jerk her arm away. Regina holds it firmly but removes the finger she'd been running alongside the gashes. Brownies were helpful, but they were also territorial little assholes. "Sore?"

"No," Emma grumbles. "I just like to say ow... randomly… for no apparent reason." Regina deliberately presses her thumb beside the wound. "Ow."

"And that, my love, is what happens when you're a smartass."

Emma harrumphs, lower lip pouting, as it so often does, when she mumbles, "You're a smartass all the time."

"Yes, but when I'm a smartass, you laugh and tell me I'm mean— which, now that I think about it; is rather hypocritical." She flashes Emma a smile and says, "Your parents would be so proud."

"Bite me?"

"Not when you're injured," she chuckles but in the next moment, she raises Emma's hand and bites down on a knuckle.

Emma jerks. "Ow. Wha—"

"What," she interrupts, mock innocence in her expression. She inclines her head with a grin. "You're no longer injured."

Gaze snapping to her arm, Emma starts to smile.

"Thank you, Regina, love of my life, mistress of my body, ruler of my fantasies…" Regina pauses when she realizes Emma is merely staring at her in amusement. "Feel free to stop me any time."

"Why? You were on a roll."

With an affectionate scoff, she replies, "Because I'm running out of titles, obviously."

"Oh." Emma smirks before she leans forward and kisses her. Regina blinks back confusion when it ends before it had even begun as Emma murmurs, "You forgot star of my dreams, savior of my soul, and queen of my heart— to name a few."

Regina doesn't know what to say— she rarely does when it comes to Emma and those sorts of declarations. She stretches up and presses forward, capturing her mouth, ensuring this one lasts longer than the previous as she clasps the back of her neck and deepens the kiss.

Emma moans before she slips an arm around her and pulls her up from the floor. Regina sits astride her lap, willing the warmth in her chest to flow through her and into the kiss in the hope it might say the words she can't quite form.

By the time they do break away from each other, Emma is grinning the goofiest grin she's ever seen and Regina can't help but laugh as the warmth only grows stronger. She shakes her head and kisses her once more, incapable of not.

"There are more?"

Emma sighs, nodding. "Yeah," she says, the grin softening as she adds, "but we'd be here all month if I had to name them all."

"You're rather sweet for someone I'm so mean to."

"Right?" Emma gives her the look that says finally, someone gets it, and she laughs again. Expression mock serious, Emma says, "You should be nicer to me."

"I should," Regina agrees, thinking of all the way she might be nice to her.

Nice, filthy ways.

"You should bake me a cake."

"I…" The thoughts clear but she laughs again because— well, because this is Emma. Her beautiful, perfect, idiot Emma. She sighs and repeats, "A cake?"

Shoulders rising, grin now impish, Emma replies, "After the multiple mind-blowing orgasms, of course."

Much better.

"Mine or yours?"

"Yours," she replies, "then mine…" She tilts her head. "Then yours again."

Chapter Text

Hearing the commotion from the foyer followed by their son's surprised yelp, Emma and Regina leave the kitchen to see what all the ruckus is about. They find Henry sprawled across the floor amongst all of Emma's boxes.

He tilts his head back to look up at them when they enter, seemingly unperturbed by his predicament when he asks, "What's with the boxes?"

Emma frowns in confusion and glances curiously at Regina. "We didn't tell him?" Regina shakes her head.

"Tell me what?"

Emma hesitates. "I... moved in?" She braces herself, uncertain, but when his face brightens significantly, she relaxes.

"Really?"

"Yup," she says, nudging a few of the boxes aside until she's at his side. She extends her hand with a grin and pulls him to his feet when he accepts. "Sorry, kid. I probably should have listened when your mom told me to move them."

Scoffing, Regina drawls, "The day you listen to me is the day the world ends." She moves towards them and checks Henry over as she says, "I'm sorry we didn't tell you."

"It's cool." He stands perfectly still while she fusses over him, and shrugs once she's satisfied he isn't injured and steps back. "We've all kind of been living together ever since... Anyway." He grins at Emma. "Welcome home, ma."

"Thanks kid," she says, ruffling his hair.

He scowls, patting it back down. "Does this mean you guys are officially, finally, together now?"

"I suppose it could."

The lack of enthusiasm might have bothered anyone else but Emma wrinkles her nose, even less impressed with the thought than Regina apparently is. "It's kind of fun annoying everyone in town."

Regina nods and adds, "Especially your grandmother."

"She already thinks you're secretly married," he reminds, giving them the look. That same look Regina gives Emma whenever she calls her an idiot.

They are idiots, but still. "Yeah," Emma concedes, "but it still frustrates her when we deny it."

Henry sighs but then he's grinning at them again. "I can keep a secret?"

The offer comes out of nowhere, but they both laugh. Regina goes so far as to claim, "You're such a good boy," before the world rights itself and every thing makes sense again.

"I smell cake," he reasons and, yeah- Emma smirks -he is definitely her kid. 

"That's cute." she chuckles and turns to Regina. She says, "Regina, look at how cute he is when he thinks I'm going to share with him."

"Adorable," she agrees.

She's looking at them with so much love and fondness that Emma consciously has to stop herself from reaching out to her and traumatizing their son right then and there. She clenches her fists by her sides, inwardly chiding herself for having waited so long. Regina loves her, it's so obvious and she'd been such a coward, letting her fear take control, denying them this.

Love, family, a home. Together with their son, Regina is everything she's ever wanted.

"So…" Henry shatters the silence that had befallen them, along with her thoughts. He flashes them each a smile and says, "No cake?"

Eyes rolling with clear affection in them, Regina admits, "I made you muffins."

"Sweet!"

Emma wonders if Regina even feels the hug she gets before he's off dashing through the house like a mad person. She laughs softly, then moves in close, taking over from where he left off as she wraps her arms around Regina.

"Where's mine?" Regina blinks slowly then, equally slow, her brow rises, gaze suggestive. Emma understands perfectly, and cracks up. "Oh wow."

Regina's mouth twitches as she leans in, nipping at her lower lip. "As if you wouldn't have taken advantage," she murmurs, smiling.

Emma returns the smile, head shaking. "No, I would have," she admits. "I'm just surprised you did."

"I told you you're rubbing off on me."

"What a wonderful idea." Literally rubbing against her, Emma purrs, "I like it."

[The kitchen, precisely nine minutes later.]

"Oh my god," Emma exclaims when she saunters in and sees Henry.

Staring up at her with wide eyes and at least half of a muffin in his mouth, he mumbles around it. "What?"

"Your mother is going to kill you." And possibly her because this, this has her written all over it. He is her son in too many ways and they're both going to die.

"I've only had three," he protests as she yanks the muffin tray away from him and begins sorting them into the container Regina pulled out of a cupboard earlier.

"Yeah, and you haven't had dinner," she says, glaring at him over a shoulder.

Which is exactly why she hadn't stuffed her face full of cake yet. Regina would've killed her, then revived her, then killed her again just so she'd have something to complain about that wasn't the mutation growing inside of her after she'd eaten too much.

"I'm a teenage boy, ma," he drawls, his eyes rolling in perfect imitation of his other mother. "I can handle dinner."

"Remember that when you consider waking us in the middle of the night," she says, snapping the lid on the container and putting it with all of the others, each of them full; cookies of all kinds, shortbread and— damn it, now she's hungry.

Turning around, she retrieves the meat thawing in the sink to get started on dinner. "And," she continues. "After you've considered it, smack yourself over the head and clean up your own vomit."

"I did that once," he whines, forever embarrassed Regina keeps sharing these stories with her. "And I was 6!"

She looks back at him with a smile. "You remember it?"

He nods, his face falling all of a sudden. Quietly, he says, "Mom was really upset."

Emma grimaces. "Right."

"I felt really guilty."

She rubs at her chest in sympathy, then frowns. "As you should have," she says. "Eat your muffin and stop trying to depress me."

He cracks a smile. "Where's mom?"

"Uh, she needed something from upstairs."

"I'm not going to ask."

She snorts, returning her attention to their dinner. "Probably for the best."

Because then she'd answer and he likely wouldn't appreciate knowing she'd gotten a little handsy and ruined Regina's shirt in the process. It is enough that she appreciates the memory of Regina throwing up her hands in exasperation, hair mussed, blouse missing three of its buttons, and skirt skewed as she disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

It is a good, and not in any way, shape or form depressing, memory.

Chapter Text

Wiping the sleep from her eyes, Regina wanders downstairs in search of a certain blonde who should have been in bed with her. She'd woken up wanting to be held by very specific arms, only to discover said arms gone, along with the body they belonged to.

Pausing with a single foot into the kitchen when she sees Emma slumped over the counter, she waits, knowing it won't be long until Emma senses her, assuming she hasn't fallen asleep like that.

She hasn't, and Regina is right when no more than a quarter of a minute passes before Emma turns her head. "Hey," she says, mumbling into her shoulder. "What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep."

Emma sits up and turns on the stool. "Miss me?"

"Must have," Regina replies with a shrug, as if there could have been any other reason.

There couldn't. It has been this way for— she can't quite remember how long. Later, when she's had enough coffee, she'll know the exact minute of the exact hour, of the exact day that she stopped being able to sleep for any decent length of time without Emma by her side.

For now though, she's tired and all she wants is to be held by Emma as she falls back to sleep.

"Come here?"

She shuffles across the room, a hand to her mouth as she tries and fails to stifle a yawn. As soon as she's close enough, Emma hugs her thighs and burrows into her stomach. Surprised and a little confused despite it being what she wants, she lowers the hand to her head and strokes through her hair as she presses the other to her shoulder.

Concerned, she questions, "What's wrong?"

Emma shakes her head, breathing her in with a mumbled, "Nothing." Regina doesn't know whether to believe her or not, but Emma doesn't give her the chance to consider it before she says, "Weird dreams."

Suspicious, Regina stares at the top of her head, hoping she'll explain without having to be prompted.

She doesn't.

"Weird?"

Emma sighs. "Bad," she concedes, lifting her head. She peers up at her, chin digging into her stomach. "You were mad at me… dunno why, don't remember."

Regina smiles, caressing over her shoulder and up her neck. She cups her cheek, other hand scratching her scalp soothingly. Curious as she is, she knows the best thing for it is to not dwell on it, more so when it will only frustrate Emma to try and remember in order for them to talk about it.

Whatever it was, it was just a dream, of that she is certain.

"I'm always mad at you, my love," she teases. "All you need do is kiss me and I forget why."

It has worked for Emma so far. She sees no reason why it won't continue to do so as she traces fingers over a cheekbone and down to Emma's mouth. Emma kisses the pads of her fingers, and her smile broadens, her concern and curiosity fading just as she'd expected them to.

"See?"

Emma's eyes appear to brighten and darken at the same time. Her mouth twitches. "I'll be sure to inform my subconscious counterpart for future reference," she rasps before she rises.

Regina rises with her, surprised once more and inhaling sharply. She quickly wraps her legs around Emma's waist, feigning annoyance with a half-hearted glare. "You can't just go around picking people up when they're not expecting it."

"No?" Emma turns when Regina shakes her head, and sets her down on the counter-top. "What about this?" Gripping the tie keeping her robe shut, she tugs once to untie it, then slides both hands inside of it and leans in. "Can I do this?"

"This is one area in which you never need ask," Regina murmurs. Knowingly, she smiles coyly and kisses her on the lips before she purrs, "You will always have permission to take me, hard and fast or slow and gentle, anywhere… at any time."

"Shit," Emma curses, whining, "Damn it, woman."

Regina throws her head back and laughs. Why Emma continues to try and play this game with her, she'll never know. Emma never wins, and now that they are sleeping together, it isn't as if she couldn't simply throw her down on the nearest surface and have her way with her were Emma to succeed.

"Face it, Princess," she drawls teasingly, "you may be adorable and charming, but I'm the superior seductress."

"It's the voice," Emma agrees, tugging her forward by the hips. She rests their heads together and explains, "You go all… husky and queenie. Gets me every time."

With a chuckle, Regina kisses the tip of her nose, summoning that dopey smile she adores to her face. "If it's any consolation, my knees go weak at the sight of you in leather pants."

Emma leans back, brow high on her forehead in surprise but with a grin that says far more than her words do. "Oh really?"

"Mhmm." Regina hums, winding arms about her neck. "And I wasn't kidding about the permission."

"Yeah?"

She nods. "Yes."

"Whenever," Emma repeats, "wherever…" Her voice grows lower with each word and Regina swallows, arousal beginning to simmer in her gut. "—and however I want?"

"Yes," she repeats.

"Then how 'bout right here," Emma says, hands dropping to her inner thighs. "Right now, with my mouth?"

Regina shudders, more than tempted. However, Emma might worry if she isn't at least a little difficult. "That would be…" She scrunches up her face. "—unsanitary."

Emma squeezes her thighs, gaze darkening, voice throated. "But it's what I want."

"Then it is what you shall have," Regina caves easily and kisses her. It ends with simultaneous hums and she purrs, "After which, you will take me back to bed and hold me while I sleep."

Lips pursed, Emma frowns like she's considering whether or not it's worth it. Regina is on the verge of smacking her for daring when she finally nods. "Rough price, but I'll take it."

"Ass."

"I love you too," she says with an amused laugh. "Now lie down and let me show you."

"Bossy," Regina drawls but she kisses her again before doing what she's told, unwinding her arms from around Emma's neck and falling back onto her elbows.

Emma grins. "You love it."

Regina nods. She could lie, but why bother?

There are few things she loves more than giving Emma control.

"You know me so well."

Chapter Text

When Emma saunters passed and tosses something into her basket, Regina freezes in the middle of the store. She has rules, carefully crafted rules to prevent this very thing that Henry has managed to obey ever since he was five and tried to sneak a packet of those bland, poorly baked cookies into the cart. She learned to bake for him then and ever since has always made sure there are cookies in the house but she's kept the rule in place, just in case.

Like all of her rules, Emma completely ignores them and does whatever she wants. It's vaguely endearing in that Regina would very much like to murder her for it, but only a little, as opposed to the a lot she'd have wanted to murder anyone else outside of their little family unit.

Of course, everyone else has more sense and wouldn't really have reason to throw their food into her cart in the first place, but that is highly beside the point.

Emma turns when she realizes she isn't being followed. Regina waits patiently for her to return before glancing down at the atrociously multi-coloured box and back up again, glaring as she demands, "Put it back."

Emma has the audacity to smirk. "I would rather not," she says and Regina narrows her eyes because that sounded suspiciously like a 'no' and that simply won't do.

"Emma."

"I didn't say no," she says, understanding the warning perfectly and folding her arms, the smirk turning decidedly cocky.

Regina gives her the once over. Were they walking, Emma would definitely be swaggering right now, confident she'd found a suitable loophole in the promise she'd made.

It only took her, what? Three or four months?

Regardless, Regina huffs because it's Emma and this is what she does when she's been bested by an imbecile, even if she had expected it sooner. Emma is slow; some allowances have to be made to accommodate her.

"It was implied," she drawls.

"What you infer from my words isn't for me to decide, but I still didn't say it, therefore it doesn't count."

That was the promise. Emma would never say no to her again and she had, in fact, not said it. Impressed, Regina hides her smile and argues, "You don't need it."

Emma shrugs. "Sometimes I like cereal, Regina. Besides, it means you won't have to cook every morning."

"I don't have to," she counters, "I like to."

Arms dropping to her sides, Emma smiles as she moves in closer. "Wouldn't you rather sleep in sometimes?"

Regina raises a brow. "If you're downstairs eating cereal, what's the point?" The way Emma's smile grows and lights up her face is almost enough to have her concede defeat. Almost. "Unless you intend to make me another promise…"

Blonde curls shake back and forth and Emma quickly takes a step back. "Not happening." She points a finger at her and repeats, "Not. I'll promise to stay in bed with you, and the next thing I know I'll be going to bed at nine and waking up at five because you have the sleeping habits of a ninety year old."

As she continues backing away, Regina considers warning her but Emma's still muttering different versions of the word no, and really, what's a little embarrassment between friends as she retreats straight into Kathryn and Fredrick's shopping cart?

Emma apologizes profusely and Regina is still laughing quietly to herself when Emma glares at her. Fortunately, or unfortunately as the case may be given the topic, Kathryn saves her from having to make it up to Emma when she says, "Gods you two are adorable, please tell me you've finally figured it out."

The offense that paints Emma's face is downright hilarious and Regina's laughter goes from quiet and subtle, to loud and abrupt. She knows the offense has nothing to do with them being called adorable— Emma herself tells her they are all the time. They'd figured it out long before the town and the assumption they haven't tends to infuriate Emma far more than the town sticking their noses in where they neither belong, nor are they wanted.

Before she can blow everything and ruin their potential fun in the future, Regina moves towards them and places a hand in the small of her back.

"It is a sad day when friends can no longer playfully shop together without everyone assuming there's something more going on between them." From the corner of her eye, she sees Emma biting her lip and nodding, and stifles another laugh. "Really, Kathryn, I expected better from you."

Kathryn has the common decency to at least appear ashamed when she says, "Oh Regina."

If she were Snow, Regina imagines this would be the point where she'd be subjected to another hope speech about opening her heart to love and— Emma would likely have to drag her away to protect her mother as the urge to strangle someone overwhelmed Regina.

The fact she isn't Snow though means Kathryn only gives her a look and it's sympathetic but also knowing and, okay, so maybe they haven't been quite as discreet as they used to be, and there might be a chance that someone who knows her as well as Kathryn does might have figured out their little game by now.

That doesn't mean they have to accept it.

"It was a pleasure seeing you both, but Emma and I must be going," she drawls, pasting on a smile. "Teenagers can not be trusted to be left alone for long."

Kathryn rolls her eyes. "Of course," she says, a wry smile curling her lips. "Let us know when the two of you are available for drinks, we hear you can both be quite fun at parties."

Emma's nervous laughter turns into a squeak when Regina uses the hand on her back to pinch the cheek of her ass. "Certainly," she replies, her smile tight as she guides Emma off to the side so that Kathryn and Fredrick may pass.

"So…" Emma waits until they've crossed to the next isle before speaking, "She knows."

Regina hums. "Your fault, no doubt."

Emma snorts before reminding her, "You're the one that can't keep your hands to yourself." She glances down to the arm connected to the hand Regina has yet to remove from her ass as if to prove her point.

"You're the one with the lovely backside I can't keep my hands off," Regina teases with a squeeze, chuckling and kissing her cheek when Emma releases an indignant huff.

Chapter Text

Faced with the terrifyingly gaping maw of her brother's screaming mouth and the giant dragon tears rolling down his cheeks, Emma decides she's glad she didn't raise Henry. She passes Neal over to Regina and wipes her hands of the entire affair, not at all surprised when he quietens instantly, because of course he does. It's Regina; who in their right mind would have the time to cry when greeted by that perfect face?

Her brother has good taste, which is more than can be said for their mother.

"What is that?"

Snow glances up from the dish of what looks to be vomit and— more vomit, and frowns at her as though she's the one who's planning to bake the former contents of her brother's stomach.

"What?"

"It's a quiche," Snow replies slowly, which is vaguely offensive if Emma is being honest with herself. It doesn't look like quiche, at least not any quiche she's ever seen.

"If you say so." She grimaces and dodges the hand angling for her shoulder, calling back to the living room as she reaches the fridge. "Regina, Mom is being abusive!"

"You likely deserved it," she says, sauntering in with Neal on her hip. She looks down at the so-called quiche, and visibly shudders. "What the hell is that?"

Emma starts snickering as she pulls a beer from the fridge, the look of irritation her mother sends them both only amusing her more.

"You two are as bad as each other."

Ignoring her, Emma plops down at the counter and whispers loudly, "She thinks it's a quiche."

As Snow turns away from them, Regina leans down. "It looks like something your brother did in his diaper," she murmurs into Emma's ear.

Naturally, Emma has just taken a sip of her beer, and she proceeds to choke on it. Regina switches Neal to her other hip before she starts patting her on the back. If not for the permanent smirk glued to her mouth, Emma might have thought to thank her despite being the reason there was even a need.

As it were, when her coughing subsides, she mutters the word, "asshole," beneath her breath, and concedes that she probably deserves it when the hand turns hard and gives her one last, solid slap to the back… of her head.

"Ow."

"Regina," Snow chides, having stood aside to simply watch them after sticking her experimental vomit baby in the oven. "Friends do not hit friends."

"What would you know," Regina retorts. "You don't have any."

Emma snorts, stupidly she realizes, as she's hit with another bout of coughing. Regina sighs, though she rubs her back this time. She doesn't call her an idiot but Emma can hear the thought just as well as if she'd said it aloud and, well, she probably deserves that too.

Setting the beer aside since she obviously can't be trusted to drink it like a normal person at the moment, she props her head in a hand, elbow on the counter, and squints at her baby brother.

She recognizes the sensation in her chest the second it sets in. It is extremely childish, but she's a little bit jealous when he gets to be held by Regina while she sits on this highly uncomfortable stool that was probably once used as a torture device, back in the 1940s where her parents' apartment belongs.

Dismissing the feeling, she stands, rubbing her chest as she moves back into the living room before she decides to force her brother back on her mother and steal his place. She drops onto the couch between her father and son who barely take their eyes from their game long enough to acknowledge her.

The couch is more comfortable at least and she sits back, ready to attempt to enjoy watching Henry beat the snot out of his grandfather in one of the most boring video game genres in existence; wrestling.

Ten minutes in, and the attempt has already gone on for too long.

"Emma."

She shoots up off the couch before she even thinks to ask Regina what she wants, simply grateful for the distraction. "Yes?"

A crook of a finger and the gentle, mesmerizing sway of hips leads her to the front door. Regina opens it as she nears, and grabs her by the belt, tugging her out into the hall.

"Your mother is considering making this a family tradition," she says, and shoves her up against the wall. "I need… happy thoughts… and a nice… soft… wet… distraction," she purrs between nice, soft— not so wet kisses.

Emma decides to correct that as she captures her jaw in one hand and her hip in the other, claiming her mouth. Regina moans, melting into the kiss. Palms flat against her hips, she drags them up over Emma's stomach and cups her breasts, tongue slipping into her mouth.

It occurs to Emma that anyone could walk up the stairs and see them at any moment, or someone could open the door, curious about where they've gone. It's a brief thought, barely worth mentioning at all, but it's there… somewhere in the back of her mind, trying its damndest to emerge from the haze that kissing Regina creates, obscuring what little sense she has— if she has any to begin with.

Sometimes it's hard to tell. Like now, with the tongue and the sucking, and the teeth nibbling at her lower lip like Regina might be hungry but hasn't quite figured out how she's going to eat her without breaking the kiss.

"I think you might be too good of a distraction," comes the murmur against her mouth, and she's nodding but she's also grabbing the back of Regina's neck in case she gets the stupid idea to stop.

And then she gets an idea herself and they're switching places because Regina can't stop if she's pinned to the wall, right?

If she could just spend the rest of her life kissing Regina, everything would be perfect.

Unfortunately, everything is not perfect and someone chooses the precise second the thought crosses her mind to obnoxiously wiggle the door handle beside them. Emma sighs and Regina makes one of those sounds that might be a murderous scream, if she opened up her throat and maybe parted her lips a little, rather than deliberately strangle it.

Forehead dropping to her shoulder, Emma groans as the door opens and that's how Henry finds them when his head pops out. "Grandma asked me to remind you both that Ms Henderson will be home from the stables in about five minutes, so you have four to wrap things up."

Emma reaches out, a hand covering his face as she tries to push him back through the door. Regina chuckles. "Thank you, dear," she says, grabbing her wrist and freeing him. "Be a good boy and tell your grandmother to stick her head in the oven for me, would you?"

"Mom," he chides playfully. "That's not nice."

"No," she agrees and Emma lifts her head in time for the grin that appears. "But it might improve dinner."

Chapter Text

Waking to a familiar pounding in her head and the feeling of cotton balls in her mouth once more, Regina groans. One would think she'd learned from the last time, but no. "Not again."

"'fraid so."

"Why didn't you stop me," she grumbles, burrowing deeper into the chest beneath her. What is the point of a girlfriend if Emma just lets her do whatever she wants, terrible or otherwise?

"Hey, I tried," Emma protests. "You're the one that convinced me to loosen up by dragging me into a bathroom stall and unbuttoning your pants. What was I supposed to do, say no?"

Regina grunts. Figures she'd use that against her. "We did it in the bathroom of the Rabbit Hole?"

"No one saw," Emma tries, and fails, to assure her.

Someone possibly seeing them isn't the problem she has with that sentence. The kind of diseases they might've contracted from the filthy bathroom floor, however, is. Regina grimaces and mutters, "Public bathrooms are disgusting."

"If it helps your disgust any, you were standing the entire time…" She's torn between asking Emma what the pause is about and wondering if she might be able to fall back to sleep. Sleep is definitely the more appealing option before Emma says, "Well, until you shoved me down onto the toilet and demanded another orgasm while sitting in my lap."

And really, how can that not be more appealing than sleep? Amused, Regina questions, "What happened to you being all noble and doing the right thing?"

"You were horny and we're together now," Emma reasons with a scoff. "How was letting you come in my mouth, and then all over my hand, not the right thing?"

Regina laughs, conceding she has a point, but her amusement is cut short by her body. Her stomach rolls in reminder of the night before while her head virtually screams out in pain, and she groans miserably. She vows then and there that the next time Kathryn appears out of the blue and invites her and Emma out, she'll slam the door in her face and curse their friendship to Hell, where it belongs.

"This is your—" fault. She's levitating. Why is she levitating? She glares down at Emma. "What are you d—"

A wave and she's rotating, jaw snapping closed, glare now fixed to the ceiling as she starts to descend. She considers throwing up on Emma to teach her a lesson but then there are arms encircling her and a pair of breasts against her back. Emma starts to knead her stomach, her confusion no more than a passing thing before she registers the relief; the angry little bastard that must have formed in there from all the alcohol she'd downed last night seemingly soothed.

"Oh."

She closes her eyes, then snaps them open, relief not the only thing her brain finally registers and catches her up on. "You… we're naked."

"You don't think a double quickie in the bathroom satisfied you, do you?" With a chuckle, Emma murmurs, "You really aren't feeling good, are you?"

The cotton balls are no longer an issue, Regina notes. Mouth watering, her lids flutter and she allows her eyes to remain closed this time, swallowing. "Weren't," she confesses, basking in the sensation of the fingers massaging her body.

She might not be feeling good, but she's certainly feeling better.

Emma rubs lower, fingers teasing where the waistband of her panties would sit, were she wearing any. The warmth spreads within minutes, threatening to become something else entirely. "You're getting distracted, dearest," Regina murmurs.

"No, I'm not." One by one, feet hook her ankles and knees raise her legs, forcing her open for the hand that slips between them before Emma nips at her jaw and says, "I'm being thorough."

Regina shivers, releasing a shuddered breath. Her hips roll against the fingers of their own accord, though she gives no thought to stopping them. If Emma thinks this will help, she might wonder how but she's not going to argue and risk Emma stopping for anything. She runs her own hands along Emma's thighs in encouragement and turns her head, hinting, moaning when their lips meet.

Emma's tongue sweeps into her mouth at the same moment the fingers delve between folds, gliding along her slit and filling her in a single stroke. Regina latches onto the hand, holding it still as she thrusts against the fingers, feeling them curl and press inside her.

"You begged me last night," Emma whispers and sucks on her lower lip. The hand that was caressing her stomach moves to her breast, trapping her nipple between ring and middle finger as Emma squeezes roughly. "You got down on your knees… begged me… with your lips around my cock."

"Fuck."

"Mhmm," Emma hums agreeably, palm grinding into her clit. "Shame you were drunk."

"Bitch," Regina gasps. Bad enough that she doesn't remember, but now she has to suffer Emma rubbing it in? "I'm going to—" She trails off with an abrupt moan. "Fuck."

Emma laughs softly. "You're not going to do anything," she teases, lips skimming across her cheek to an ear, tongue tickling the lobe. "Besides come," she amends, "all over my fingers… maybe you'll gush again and cover my hand too."

"Oh."

She hadn't been that close, and now she is, and— god, maybe she should get drunk more often if it means Emma speaking to her like this.

Pinching her nipple, Emma adds casually, "I think I'll give you my tongue next."

That does it.

Hips jerking wildly out of control, Regina comes with a cry that reverberates around the room. Emma helps her ride it out, fingers massaging her inner walls as she whispers into her ear, telling her about all the things she'd begged for while drunk.

One in particular piques her interest. She's never wanted anyone back there before, but hearing Emma say that it was one of the things she'd asked for was almost enough to push her into a second orgasm.

Twitching, she buries her face in Emma's neck. Hesitant, she questions, "You didn't?"

Emma snorts. "Trust me, you'd be feeling it if I had."

"I'm not feeling much of anything at the moment," she admits with a quiet laugh that Emma echoes. She realizes then that even her headache is gone and murmurs, "So that's what you meant by being thorough."

"Told you; endorphins counteract the pain."

Chapter Text

"Moms?" Turning from the television, they grin simultaneously at the sight of Henry in his suit. He stares at them both, waiting, and then huffs when neither of them speak. "Well? How do I look?"

"Handsome," Regina replies in tandem with Emma's, "Gay."

His face falls and Regina chides, "Emma."

"What? It was a compliment," she protests, genuinely confused as she glances between them. "Have you seen the way David dresses up for a date with Snow?" Henry cracks a grin. "He wears flannel."

"You wear flannel."

"Not on a date," Emma scoffs. Admittedly it isn't much, but she does have some class, and a pretty great incentive for dressing up.

"Mmm." Regina gives her the once over and Emma knows she's remembering their date nights. After the first, she's had to wear a suit every time, which she doesn't mind; there is something extremely satisfying about Regina attacking her at the end of the night. "She has a point, Henry."

His sigh is a combination of exasperation and exaggeration, nature and nurture hard at work while he does his best to imitate them both. It's an 8 out of 10 at best because he's still grinning at them. "Why can't I have normal parents?"

"Sounds boring," Emma drawls. It's also a pipe dream if he's even remotely serious. Nothing has been normal for them since she drove in to town almost six years ago. "Where's your tie?"

He makes a face and tugs at his collar as if it were still there. "It was irritating me."

Youth. She snorts inwardly, then says, "Your loss."

"Emma, he is 15."

"Never too young to—" Regina glares at her, and it's one of those glares that says she should maybe regret the fact she hasn't sold her house yet because if she keeps it up, she'll be sleeping there for the foreseeable future. Maybe he is still too young to know about that particular benefit when it comes to ties. "Kid, forget this entire conversation."

"I'm trying," he deadpans just as the doorbell rings.

Emma raises a brow when he simply stares at the door, like he expects it to become sentient and figure out how to open itself before Violet decides she's being stood up and leaves. "Well? Answer it."

He frowns at her. "What if I mess up?"

"You're 15," she says, her eyes rolling. "You're allowed to mess up, enjoy it while it lasts."

He grunts. "Not helping."

"In my defense, I wasn't really trying to," she admits before she flashes him a smile and shakes her head. "Relax, dork; she adores you and unless you plan to curse her family, you'll be-"

Regina elbows her in the side. "As I recall; cursing your family worked out rather well for me."

"I'm unique," she says, bouncing up from the couch. "You got lucky."

She doesn't miss Regina's mutter of, "I intend to," as she waltzes passed their son and into the foyer. She grins.

"Guys."

"Hi Violet. You look very pretty," Emma says as soon as she throws open the door. "Sorry about our son, he's nervous and worried he's going to screw up your date." Ignoring his groan, she moves away, job done as she saunters back into the den and plops back down beside Regina.

"Ma—"

"Look, kid," she interrupts pre-emptively. "Sometimes parents embarrass their children. Be glad you haven't walked in on us doing the do and—"

"Ew."

She smirks. "Says y—"

"Emma," Regina murmurs, placing a hand on her thigh.

"Right." Priorities. "Run along, children," she says, draping an arm along the back of the couch, fingers playing with Regina's hair. "Try not to get kidnapped, or fall into any portals on your way to dinner."

Henry scowls before Violet murmurs something to him and Emma tilts her head, curious when their eyes meet. She cocks a brow but he shakes his head, a small, shy smile curling his mouth. "Bye Moms."

He's out the door before either of them can respond, closing it behind him as Regina leans into her side. "Must you torment him?"

Emma assumes it's a rhetorical question. If it's not, she has no idea how she's expected to answer as a wet, hot mouth takes to sucking on her neck. "It builds character." Regina laughs, the sound warm, rumbling against her pulse. She hums with a shudder, already unbelievably turned on. "What was that mutter about your intentions earlier?"

There's no mistaking the way the mouth contorts, or the intent behind the tongue that licks a path from neck to ear, teeth ensnaring the lobe and nibbling. "Take me upstairs and you'll find out," Regina promises huskily, and bites down.

Chapter Text

"Hey sexy, you in there?"

Startled out of her daydream, Regina quickly wraps a towel around her and opens the door to Emma's grinning face. "You're home early," she notes aloud, cheeks warm as she tries to step around her. "I thought you said—"

She bites her lip, an arm catching her around the waist. "Your hair's not wet," Emma murmurs, mouth pressing against her shoulder. "Warm, not hot." She inhales, nose sliding along her throat. "Hmm. I don't smell apple— which makes sense since you keep stealing my body wash, but I'm not smelling vanilla either…"

Regina grins. She'd wondered if Emma had noticed yet. "I didn't shower," she admits, capturing the hand slowly making its way toward the knot between her breasts. "Nor was it my intention to invite this unwarranted assault upon my person."

Emma chuckles before kissing her jaw. "Maybe not," she replies, "but you know me well enough to have expected it when you opened the door."

Regina tilts her head, conceding. If there is one thing she can count on when it comes to Emma, then it's being assaulted when she is anything less than fully clothed. Ordinarily, she doesn't mind. Truthfully, she doesn't mind now either, but for one rather embarrassing reason, and it's the same reason she's in this mess to begin with.

"Release me."

Emma hums thoughtfully, as though she's considering it. Regina knows she isn't going to, even before she says, "Not until you tell me why you're wearing a towel."

Not nearly as annoyed as she probably should be, Regina tries to fake it by growling, "Emma."

"Regina," she replies, mimicking her tone. She chuckles at her indignant huff, then asks, "It's something embarrassing isn't it?" Regina rolls her eyes, not at all impressed with the deduction. What else could it be? "Were you admiring yourself naked in the mirror? I wouldn't blame you."

"No." She is a lot closer than she likely thinks, but no, Regina isn't quite that vain. She hardly needs to be when she has Emma to constantly and quite wonderfully stroke her ego for her. "I was going to have a shower."

"So go have a shower," Emma challenges, letting her go.

"Fine," she snaps, turning around and walking back into the bathroom. She turns to close the door, only to find Emma right behind her, and sighs. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Where do you think?" Emma smirks and states matter-of-factly, "I'm going to join you."

"Maybe I don't want you to join me," she retorts grumpily. The thought is appealing. It always is and—

"Since when?"

She groans. Exactly.

"Fine," she growls again, only this time there's genuine annoyance in her tone and it has Emma frowning.

"I…" Emma takes a step back. "Never mind. I'm kind of hungr—"

She's turning to leave and Regina lunges at her without really thinking about it, grasping her shoulder to stop her. "Wait," she says, suddenly guilt-stricken. "It's… stupid," she adds because it is. If she's this embarrassed when Emma hasn't even seen it, then what was the point?

As Emma faces her again, eying her curiously, she reaches for the knot of the towel and pulls. Emma stares as the towel drops to the floor, and her jaw goes slack. "Wow."

"Wow?" Regina repeats, cheeks flaring hot once more. Emma nods, meeting her eyes briefly before they fall back to the red, lacey lingerie, and darken visibly.

When their eyes meet again, there is a very noticeable pout forming and her heart squeezes affectionately. "I can't believe you were trying to hide this from me," Emma grumbles, stepping in close and grabbing her by the hips.

"I wanted to see how it looked." Eyes rolling fondly, Regina drawls, "Forgive me for wanting a more romantic setting before I showed you."

Emma snorts and counters, "What's more romantic than ripping off your towel to stop me from leaving?"

Regina smirks. "Literally anything else," she replies before she kisses her, putting a stop to the protest she would see coming from a mile away.

As the kiss deepens, a hand slides from her hip and around to her back, fingers trailing her spine, slipping beneath the clasp of her bra. Her skin prickles in anticipation and the warmth between her thighs spreads, arousal igniting more swiftly, reminding her of what reality can provide that her imagination does not; one beautiful, loving and lusting Emma Swan, solid and warm, and so very handsy.

She'd have more trouble turning on a light switch.

Groaning, she breaks the kiss with a rasped, "God," and pushes Emma back with a hand on her chest. She grabs her jacket before Emma can question her, and shoves it from her shoulders, yanking it down her arms and throwing it to the floor.

Emma's shirt is next, followed closely by her tank, and then her bra. Regina groans again, less pleased when she realizes she still has Emma's lower half to do.

"Too many fucking clothes."

Emma chuckles, stilling her hand when she tries for her belt. Regina growls, eyes snapping up to glare at her. Emma simply laughs softly and suggests, "Magic?"

Regina frowns. Yes, admittedly, she'd forgotten she possessed it. It isn't unusual under the circumstances, but— she shakes her head. She likes undressing Emma, impatience be damned.

Freeing her hand, she says nothing, fingers working the belt buckle open with practiced ease. Moving to the button of Emma's jeans, she pops it open just as easily, then yanks down the zip before dropping to a crouch.

She peers up at Emma, grinning. This is why she enjoys undressing her; the feeling she gets, the way Emma stares at her when she's down here, like she's seconds from grabbing the back of her head and forcing something into her mouth.

It is enough to turn that warm arousal into a raging fire.

Jeans at her feet, she waits for Emma to kick them aside before rising slowly, dragging her body up, inch by inch, and delighting in the shudder Emma gives before they come together. Chest to chest, thighs brushing, breathes mingling, she slides her hands down into the back of Emma's shorts, filling her hands with the firm, pliable cheeks of her ass.

"We're not going to make it to the shower at this rate," Emma murmurs, tongue running along her lower lip.

Regina chuckles throatily before capturing the lip, nibbling at it. Humming as she releases it, she squeezes her ass, causing Emma to buck. "Is that a complaint, or a fact?"

Emma kisses her, forgoing an answer as she clutches her waist and leads her back towards the bath. She barely feels the porcelain against the back of her knees before she's bowing backwards, still locked at the lips as Emma reaches behind her and the sound of the shower turning on fills her ears.

Cupping the back of her head, Emma ends the kiss then, pulling back just enough for Regina to see her grin. "It's a fact," she answers before she dips forward, mouth caressing from jaw to ear where she lowers her voice and whispers, "that I want you as wet as possible while you're coming in my mouth."

Chapter Text

Regina is trying on a pair of jeans when it occurs to her; getting to know Emma, becoming friends with her, dating, caring and worrying about her, and having the best sex of her life— she has been drastically altered as a person. She used to be hard, and mean, and the thought of sharing anyone's clothes, especially those of the person she's seeing, had turned her stomach. It was cutesy and the sort of thing teenagers did because they were too young to simply throw their partner down and have their way with them, doing what they really wanted to do; feeling their partner against them in the most wild and passionate way imaginable. She'd have sooner walked through a burning building naked, than be caught dead in a pair of Levis.

Emma has ruined her.

What else occurs to her as she's walking down the stairs, her ass looking fantastic in these oddly comfortable jeans that are too long and keep slipping beneath her feet (because she couldn't be bothered putting on heels and Emma is a Sasquatch) is that she doesn't care.

What she does care about, and looks forward to more than anything, is the lopsided grin Emma flashes her when she walks into the kitchen. Emma pulling her in close, hands cupping said ass as they share a kiss, is a gigantic step up from how she used to react.

Sometimes Regina misses that goofy lust-struck expression Emma had worn in the beginning, but then Emma kisses her and she forgets it all. Nostalgia is appealing while she readies herself for the day, but the past cannot and does not compare in any way to coming downstairs to this every morning.

"Hello beautiful."

"Hi," Emma replies, her cheeks pinking slightly. "What happened to the potato sack I was promised?"

Retreating from her embrace and over to the coffeemaker, Regina smirks. She'd been a little more reluctant about the jeans while in the shower but in her defense, Emma had, for some asinine reason, decided to postpone her orgasm to make the suggestion and really, who the hell does that? Emma deserved to have her clothes insulted as she'd thrown her out of the bathroom.

Coffee in hand, she breathes in the steam and hums as Emma presses against her back. "I'm saving it for your next birthday," she replies, teasing, "given the difficulty you seem to have with buttons."

"You can't blame me for the things I can and can't do when you decide five a.m is the perfect time to wake me up for sex."

Turning in the embrace, she arches a brow at the pouted lips. "I can," she says, kissing it away between words. "Will… and do." Emma should be ready, always, at all times. "You know I find you irresistible, you should be more prepared for these things."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Your Majesty," Emma drawls sarcastically, arms draped around her waist. She nips at her bottom lip and murmurs, "I'll be sure to set an alarm for every thirty minutes just incase you get an itch in the middle of the night."

"You're so very thoughtful." Regina grins, chuckling softly as Emma rolls her eyes. She kisses her before pulling back and cupping her cheek, gaze stern as she warns, "But if your alarm ends up waking me every thirty minutes, I will definitely be more likely to kill you than sleep with you."

She pats her cheek, then slips out from between Emma and the bench. Sitting at the counter island, she takes her first sip of coffee for the morning, and groans. She really has trained Emma rather well.

"Henry not up?"

Emma snorts. "Unlike some people, our son isn't bat-shit crazy."

"I know I said petulance suits you, darling, but for someone who got laid not too long ago, you're laying it on a bit too thick."

Sighing dramatically, Emma throws her hands even more dramatically into the air and exclaims, "There's just no pleasing you."

"No," Regina agrees teasingly, "but you try so well."

Emma narrows her eyes. Regina flutters her lashes innocently, hiding her grin behind her coffee cup as she brings it to her mouth. Another sigh, this one resigned, precedes a shrug before Emma questions, "What do you want for breakfast?"

Placing her cup down, she arches a brow and says, "I assume that means you're offering to cook."

"No," Emma drawls. "I asked just so I could tell you that's not what I wanted before you cooked it."

"Smartass."

"Takes one to know one," she singsongs.

Regina smirks. "What are you, five?"

"And a half," Emma replies, sticking out her tongue. "Now answer the question before I order a pizza and leave you to starve."

"You wouldn't d—"

Emma holds out her hand, phone appearing in her palm before Regina can finish. She cocks her head to the side. "What was that?"

Regina considers giving in. It barely crosses her mind before she dismisses it but, brief as it were, she does consider it and that should count for something. "Go ahead," she says, calling Emma's bluff.

Smug face turning wary, Emma's glance jumps between her and the phone. Her forehead creases with her frown on the third pass, gaze settling on the phone as she stares down at it, muttering, "This is a trick."

Regina doesn't confirm or deny it. Of course it's a trick, the question is whether or not Emma can resist being her usual stubborn self and not do it in order to find out what her reward will be.

And there will be a reward.

She isn't a monster.

It only takes a few minutes before Emma sets the phone down with a roll of her eyes. "Eggs benedict?"

Smirking, Regina picks her coffee back up and replies, "That would be wonderful."

Chapter Text

"Regina."

She sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. This is precisely what she needed to end her hellish day; a visit from the wannabe mother-in-law. "Snow."

The chair in front of her desk shifts as Snow makes herself at home. She pinches harder, hoping to stave off the oncoming migraine. For once, it isn't Snow's fault she has one but rather the rest of the imbeciles in her town. "Any idea why Emma isn't answering my calls?"

"I'd suggest for the same reason I try not to," she drawls, "unfortunately she seems to like you."

"Funny."

Without looking up, she gestures to the mirror across the room with her other hand, reaching out to Emma through the glass. Despite her relief when she feels the answering call, she shows no outward sign of it and says, "Emma, dear, your mother would like to know why you're not answering her calls."

"Um."

"Emma?"

"I'm kind of… having a problem—" Regina's head snaps up, gaze jumping to the mirror. "—and, sorry mom, but I don't think you're the best person to… talk to about it."

Brow arched, Regina questions, "And your reason for not immediately contacting me?"

"I was trying to talk myself into it," Emma admits, smiling sheepishly.

Regina rolls her eyes. "What did you do?"

Emma hesitates. "It wasn't me, per se."

The relief vanishes. "Emma," she says, not quite growling when she repeats, "What did you do?"

Emma swallows visibly, eyes falling to her feet. "You know those portals that occasionally appear from time to time—"

"Emma," Snow interjects, "you didn't."

"Okay," she agrees, "I didn't."

"Oh Emma." Regina stands and moves toward the mirror as she tries to glimpse Emma's surroundings. The walls look familiar, but bare, and she frowns. "Where are you?"

"In the past, I think?" She looks up and the corner of her mouth lifts, the smile apologetic. She shrugs. "I mean, I've met you already… this you… I don't think it's too far in the past, although she is kind of glaring at me…"

Regina chuckles and reminds, "I still glare at you, dear."

"Well yeah, but this is all…" Emma flails, searching for the right word before she settles on, "murder-y glaring." Regina smirks. "She did bring me home though, so."

"Have you tried asking her?"

Gaze darting to something out of sight— the other her, Regina suspects —her eyes are slightly wider when they return to Regina. "No?"

"Emma," she sighs.

"Okay, please stop saying my name like that." Emma scowls. "I know, I'm an idiot. Could you just… help, maybe?"

"Of course I'll help," Regina snaps. Why wouldn't she? She can't very well leave Emma in the past, or wherever she is. Emma finally convinced her to let her move that hideous chair of hers into the den. All of her hard work in resisting the desire to set it on fire every time she enters the room will have been for naught. "You're still an idiot."

"I know," Emma says, face softening as she bites her lip.

Head shaking, Regina smiles. "I'll get started on looking for a way to bring you back," she promises. "Do try not to mess with anything."

"I learned my lesson last time."

"Good." The last thing anyone wants is a repeat of the Maid Marian incident, which reminds her. She grins, teasing, "Also try not to piss me off."

"Well that's asking a bit much," Emma drawls, "but alright."

[Somewhere, at an undetermined period in time but also at the Mayor's house.]

As Regina's image fades from the glass, Emma deflates. It was nice seeing her Regina after dealing with this one for the last couple of hours. The sarcasm and insults are a lot less fun when there's not even a tiny hint of affection hidden within them. She'd almost forgotten what it was like to have someone hate her guts. She has no idea how long reminding herself she's seen Regina naked is going to help her refrain from sniping back at this horrendous doppelganger of the woman she loves.

"Well?"

Grimacing, she turns away from the mirror to face the demon wearing a Regina skin suit. "You're standing right there," she says, huffing as she brushes passed her and walks back into the den. "You heard everything I did."

"And I suppose I simply have to put up with you until this clearly pitiful version of my future self comes for you?"

Emma spins around, nostrils flaring. "You can insult me as much as you like, but if you talk about her like that again, I'll…" Biting her tongue, she trails off and closes her eyes, taking a breath as she counts to ten.

She makes it all the way to three before she shivers, the dark little chuckle trailing down her spine. "Please, do go on," Regina goads, purring, "If I talk about her like that again, you'll… what?"

Emma growls and opens her eyes, meeting her glare with one of her own. "I'll kick your goddamn ass."

Chapter Text

Shock, Emma realizes, isn't an expression she sees all that often from Regina. In fact, she can't remember the last or even the first time. When she revealed she had magic (right before she wrongfully accused her of murdering Archie) comes close but that had been more wonder, and maybe a little bit of awe, more than anything else.

It makes sense. If this is early days Regina, which Emma assumes it is because Regina's hair is short (she also only just now realizes how much she misses that short hair) and she's kind of a bitch, then Regina isn't accustomed to people defending her; even when it's the her from the future, more especially considering she's probably also not used to past Emmas showing up at random and interrupting her day.

Which, she muses, makes a little less sense than if she was someone else. If anyone has been defending Regina since Emma had discovered magic and fairy tales, and the whole having parents that live in the same town as the son she gave up for adoption who was adopted by the Evil Queen of legend, then it's definitely her.

That she might one day show up claiming to be from the past should also, maybe, be somewhat of an expectation given the sheer amount of bullshit they've already been through together.

But…

Whatever.

It's all irrelevant. She's here now and if this Regina continues insulting her Regina then nothing good is going to come of it. Nothing good ever does; it is a proven fact at this point.

"Well… you're certainly not my Emma."

She raises an eyebrow. "What gave it away?"

Head shaking, Regina turns on her heel and leaves without an explanation or word of any sort. Emma frowns, watching her back disappear around the corner before she decides to follow. Regina leads her to the kitchen where it becomes obvious she'd expected her to follow as she starts talking while looking through her cupboards for something.

"You have a backbone for one," she states, retrieving two cups. "The last time she yelled at me was the day before her wedding. Coffee?"

Mouth gaping, Emma sputters. "I'm sorry, what?" Wedding? She got married? To who? And why? "Wedding?"

Regina hums, taking her lack of an objection as consent and filling both cups. She sets one in front of her and peers at her over the rim of the other. "Marriage not in your future plans, I take it?"

Emma grimaces. She clearly isn't married to Regina, so no, no they damn well are not in her plans and— wait; if she's married, and it's not to Regina then— she curses. This can't be the past. "I need to speak to Re… my Regina again."

Virtually running from the kitchen, she skids to a stop in front of the mirror. She waves her hand over the glass and bounces nervously on the balls of her feet while she waits for the spell to take affect, praying Regina is near a reflective surface.

[Back in the Land of Not Nightmares where Emma is definitely not married]

Emma needn't have worried. The moment Regina feels the familiar pull, she conjures a hand mirror from thin air and thrusts it at Snow, ignoring her gasp. "Answer that, would you."

"Um," Snow squeaks, "Hello?"

"Mom? Where's Regina?"

"I'm driving," Regina interrupts her response, peering over at the mirror.

Seeing the panic on Emma's face, she slams on the breaks. Lurching forward, Snow curses, hand smacking against the dashboard.

"Mom!"

"Regina!"

Waving dismissively, she snatches the mirror from her and stares down at it. Emma's panic has clearly worsened. "What's wrong?"

"What just happened?" Emma demands.

"I stopped in the middle of the road," Regina explains with an eye roll. That explains the added panic. "Your mother is simply being dramatic, now what's wrong?"

"She found out she's married," a voice eerily similar to her own replies as Emma's head jerks to the side.

"Married," Regina repeats, an unexpected yet familiar heat spreading through her. Her knuckles turn white against the steering wheel and she grinds her teeth, spitting, "To whom?"

"Doesn't matter," Emma says, cutting off the other Regina before she can respond. She presses a finger to the glass, right where Regina imagines her mouth would be. "What matters is I'm not in the past. Whatever you're planning might not work. This is some Doctor Who weird level shit but I must be in an alternate timeline or something."

The rambling helps, as do the words, and Regina finds herself smiling. "Weird level shit, indeed." Emma grins. "I'll speak with Rumple, see if he has an idea on how to bring you back. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, you offered me coffee." Emma teases, "She might be nicer than you are."

"I wouldn't be surprised if that's true." Regina narrows her eyes and warns, "She may seem even nicer if I have to come there to get you."

"Yeah?"

"Every version, Emma."

"I remember."

"Married," she repeats, head shaking. Something terrible had to have happened in that world for that to make even a modicum of sense. Emma married is one thing, but married to someone else? It is inconceivable. "Really?"

"Hey," Emma protests, "It's not me!"

Smirking, she teases, "Still…"

"You don't sound too thrilled about her marriage," the other Regina butts in before Emma can protest some more. "Why is that?"

"Yes, Regina," Snow adds wryly, "why is that?"

"Snow, do shut up."

Chapter Text

As Regina disappears for the second time that day, so does Emma deflate. She should never have gone anywhere near that portal. It hasn't even been half a day yet, and already she misses everyone. More importantly, she misses Regina— her Regina. If she'd stayed away, they'd be arriving home together around about now. Henry would most likely be pretending to do his homework, some sort of pause screen to a game on TV giving away the fact he's worse than his mothers when it comes to lying.

"You two are together, aren't you?"

For the first time someone has asked, she doesn't deny it. She silently turns from the mirror instead and walks into the den, wandering over to the couch where she drops down. She sinks back against the cushions and closes her eyes, the couch dipping beside her mere seconds later.

"How did that happen?"

Releasing a slow breath, her lids flutter as she replies, "Natural progression." From enemies to reluctant allies, to willing allies and then friends. By then, they were parenting their son together; best friends wasn't the greatest leap to make from there. "Becoming the Dark One for her opened my eyes to… a lot."

Regina hums in the way that she does when she has a question. Emma lets her head roll to face her, patient. "You weren't with Hook?"

She grimaces. She was, and then she wasn't. "Like I said, becoming the Dark One opened my eyes to a lot." Like how he treated her when she wasn't exactly who he wanted her to be. "You did a few questionable things during, but in the end I realized you were the only one who was really… there for me."

"I see."

She turns her gaze to the ceiling, debating. If her Regina comes soon, she might be able to escape being exposed to any more of this world's bullshit, but if experience has taught her anything, she knows the odds are probably against her.

Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she questions, "I married him, didn't I?"

"Yes."

Stomach rolling, she nods and closes her eyes again. It's as if her nightmares are coming to life. "Is that why she yelled at you," she murmurs, "because you tried to talk her out of it?"

"No." Her eyes snap open in disbelief, brow furrowing as she turns back to Regina. "She got angry because I refused to be her Maid of Honour."

"Oh." Well. "Good for you," she replies. "Anyone who supported that shit should be shot."

Regina chuckles darkly. "Careful, dear," she chides, "Our son is one of those people."

Emma wrinkles her nose, head shaking from side to side. If that's true, then this is one fucked up universe. Henry, supporting Hook? Her kid can't stand him. It had taken her a while to catch on, but when she had— oh boy. Henry had made his opinion of Hook loud and clear the day he'd walked in on them arguing and overheard Hook telling her no one wanted her.

Maybe when her Regina comes, they should just take this Regina with them and leave this realm of nightmares.

Maybe… "Is the Dark One curse broken here?"

"No. Rumple took it back from her."

"Huh." Okay, so she isn't screwed up here because she's the Dark One. Maybe Henry's counterpart is as fucked up as hers apparently is. "Henry ended up breaking it when he kissed me to prove a point."

The point being that she is wanted, and loved, and that Hook could "go fuck himself" for thinking he deserves her. She'd never been more proud of him. Confused, but so, so proud.

It wasn't until later Henry confessed to eavesdropping on Regina and Zelena that she understood his words weren't entirely his own. He admitted then that he'd only put up with Hook for her sake, but the words were all Regina. She should have guessed, and probably would have given the chance. She'd been stupidly defensive of him at the time, but she always remembered what Regina had said down in the Underworld.

She did deserve better, and now she has more than she had ever dreamed of— likely more than she deserves.

"I sincerely hope she's miserable right now."

Regina sighs. "Don't… don't say that."

[Over in Not Nightmare Land where Regina is pissed and not sad]

"What do you mean she has to fix what's broken before she can come home? It's an alternate timeline, it's supposed to be different!"

Retreating back behind the counter as she advances on him, Rumple backs straight up into a wall. "Some things are meant to be different, not all." He raises his hands at her scowl and protests, "I don't make the rules, Regina."

Her scowl deepens. "They're stupid rules," she snaps. "What the hell is Emma going to do? Change every single thing until she finds the right thing and it sends her back?"

"Chances are, she already knows what's wrong. It's usually something obvious—" Inching his way along the wall, he quickly darts forward and reaches for something beneath the counter, holding it out to her, his hand shaking as he explains, "You can use this… find where the portal she stepped through was. This will reopen it. You can go through and help her."

Growling, she snatches it from his hand and without word, storms out of the shop. Snow stares at her, wide-eyed as she drops into the driver's seat and slams the car door.

"I'm going to get your idiot daughter." Snow nods. "It might take a while. You will look after Henry, and if anything happens to him, I will—"

"Nothing will happen to him," Snow interrupts, eyes rolling. "There's no need for threats."

Regina huffs.

No need.

There is every need, but not for Snow. When she gets her hands on Emma, however, she's going to sate that need to her heart's content.

Chapter Text

The more Emma learns about this world, the more she wants out of it. According to this Regina, they didn't save Hook in the Underworld. Instead, he'd been brought back to life by Zeus. She suspects Hades killing Robin was a trade of some kind, a deal between the Gods; a soul for a soul. She is by no means any sort of friend to Robin Hood, but there is definitely something fishy about this story. Hook wasn't worth Hood, if only because Roland needed a father and Hood wasn't the worst possible candidate in the world.

She considers mentioning it, but ultimately decides not to. Regina is smart. If she hasn't questioned past events to the point of insanity yet, then she's probably not really Regina. Maybe she'd forgiven this world's Emma for indirectly ruining her life some more, or maybe she's just accepted this utter bullshit that is her life here.

Whatever the reason, it makes Emma sick to her stomach. She wants to find this world's version of her, and punch herself in the face, repeatedly.

[Somewhere in that same terrible, terrible world]

The portal spits Regina out onto Main Street and she stumbles, disoriented. It's been a while since she willingly went through a portal. She remembers now why she absolutely hates it; nausea. Nausea is the worst. Emma is genuinely going to suffer when she gets her hands on her.

Righting herself, she takes a deep breath, hand against her stomach as she glances around. The town appears decidedly empty, which she supposes is a good thing for the time being. The less people who see her, the less chance she has of seeing how truly screwed up this world has to be for Fate to suddenly interfere while relying on Emma, of all people, to fix it.

As much as she adores Emma, she's never met a person more hopeless than her bumbling fool of a lover. The fact she'd fallen into a portal as she attempted to close it, without help, is more than enough proof of that.

"Regina?"

Head swiveling toward the familiar voice, she blinks once, then twice more. It is definitely Emma, there is simply no mistaking those gorgeous eyes, but it is definitely not her Emma. The Princess curls, that beautiful hair she likes to run her fingers through— it's gone; short and flat, and truly, truly awful.

Giving her the once— twice over, she averts her gaze. Now she really is going to be sick. Along with the hair are the clothes; there are no skin tight jeans, tank, or gaudy leather jacket. Emma is wearing a dress and not just any dress, but one that looks like something straight out of Snow White's closet.

If Emma hasn't figured out what's wrong yet, one look at this absolute disaster will certainly clue her in.

"Are you okay?"

She laughs. She is so far from okay that, for once, it is actually humorous. "Oh my dear, I'm not the one you should be worried about."  Before this Emma can react, she sweeps a hand over them both.

They reappear on a familiar stoop. Regina knocks on the door, violent as can be, as this world's Emma sputters uselessly beside her.

When the door opens, it's to a happy gasp and a solid body smacking into her, almost bowling her over. She tangles her fingers within long, blonde hair with a relieved sigh and forgoes her anger for the briefest of moments.

"I missed you."

Emma suddenly jerks back and grabs her face, pulling her in for a kiss. It is one of those everything kisses that Emma is so good at; soft and sweet, and full of so much love it leaves Regina breathless for much longer than she'd like to admit.

She's meant to be angry at Emma, and here she is falling in love with her all over again.

"It hasn't been that long," she murmurs. It was around three when she left, which means Emma has been here all of maybe six hours, if that.

"I don't…" Emma's head swivels, having caught the same movement Regina noticed from the corner of her eye. Regina smirks at her gaping mouth, a multitude of expressions contorting Emma's face; confusion, realization— there's a brief flash of amusement, then undeniable outrage. "What the fuck?"

When Emma twists and the fist flies forward, Regina is too slow to stop her. In all honesty, it doesn't occur to her to try and it is, in a way, quite satisfying to see that Emma is as appalled with this version of herself as she had been, if not more so.

"Emma!"

Hand covering what Regina assumes is a now bleeding nose, the other Emma mumbles, "Wha?"

"Not you," her counterpart snaps, pushing her Emma to the side as she rushes forward and yanks the hand away. "The other one."

"This is going to get confusing," Regina drawls, amused. Glancing at her Emma, she sees her cradling her hand and holds out one of her own, fingers wiggling, beckoning. "Let me see."

Emma places the hand in her palm and Regina immediately taps into her magic, soothing the pain just as she has done in the past more times than she cares to count. Clumsy, lovable oafs tend to get injured a lot; it is one of those things she has come to expect from Emma, unfortunately.

"Better?" Emma nods with a goofy looking smile. Regina gazes at her with fondness before turning her attention to their counterparts. "I assume you're both on speaking terms?"

They share a look with each other before meeting her eyes. She sighs, doubting this 'fix' is as simple as getting them to talk to each other, though it is somewhere to begin, at least.

"Well, we have a few things to discuss that will involve sharing words with one another," she says, motioning them all inside. "So I suppose you'll simply have to get over whatever your problem is with each other and behave like adults for the time being."

Chapter Text

It has never been this difficult to be mad. Regina experiences the occasional struggle from time to time when it comes to Emma and Henry but generally she likes to think of herself as someone who is in control of her emotions. If she's angry, she's angry. If she's sad, then she's sad. Happiness, granted, hasn't always been her strong suit but even that, compared to this, requires far less effort to maintain for any significant length of time.

That Emma practically vibrates with laughter beside her is definitely not helping matters. Amused by the two bickering women across from them, Emma questions, "Is this really how we flirt?"

Yes. At least, it's how they used to flirt; arguments that never served much purpose. Now it's all affectionate insults, random touches, and an inappropriate comment here and there, whispered in the other's ear, the only real point to any of it being to rile the other up enough that the clothes come off the very second they're home.

From the moment their alternates sat down, they've barely taken a breath between hurling barbs at each other; so much for them not speaking. If Regina didn't know better, she'd leave the room, beyond certain of the direction in which this is heading. Had the level of sarcasm dripping from her alternate self's mouth come from her own, Emma would already have her stripped, demanding apologies while she pleaded for mercy. Or, more appropriately, while she threatened to destroy everyone and thing Emma loves, as pleas from a Queen are highly unseemly.

Such thoughts do not contribute to her anger in the slightest.

But…

Unfortunate as that is, she has a more pressing concern than what she should be feeling, or the juvenile back and forth going on between these two poor imitations. "Ignore them for the moment," she murmurs. "How are you?"

Facing her, Emma smiles a knowing smile. "Are you asking because you want to yell at me?"

"I am asking because I am genuinely concerned." While true, the look of suspicion Emma levels her with has her smirking. "Maybe a little," she concedes.

Emma nods. "I'm good," she says, inclining her head to the other Regina. "She's not as bad as I first thought."

Reaching for the hand on her thigh, Regina takes it in her own and entwines their fingers. "High praise considering you still accuse me of being awful."

"You are what you are, My Queen," Emma teases, "and I love you dearly for it."

Chest warming, Regina rests her head on a shoulder. If she can't be mad, she'll settle for this. For now. She sighs. "Cheat."

"You expect me to cheat," Emma counters, cheek settling against the top of her head. An arm slides between her and the couch, and curls around her waist. "I'm only doing my part in ensuring you are always right."

Bringing their hands to her mouth, Regina kisses the back of Emma's. Emma is, of course, completely full of crap, but it's the thought that counts.

Realizing it is quiet for the first time in what seems like hours, her gaze drifts back to the second couch where two sets of eyes are watching them; one curious but confused, the other also curious but far more wistful than she was expecting. "What?"

"You're getting along," her counterpart replies. "I'd almost forgotten what that looked like."

The other Emma jerks her head towards her with a frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It seems you do have something in common."

Her Emma chuckles. "We're both dimwitted?"

Humming, Regina says, "The fact you understand that pleases me immensely."

"As is my sole purpose in life," Emma replies and kisses the top of her head.

With an aggrieved sigh, Regina raises said head. She returns the kiss to Emma's cheek, then focuses her attention on the other two. Much as she'd like to remain in this little bubble with Emma for a while longer, she should probably get this over with before they start bickering again.

"I spoke with Rumple before I arrived here. He seems to think the reason Emma was pulled here is because something is wrong in this universe," she explains.

Emma snorts, muttering, "Understatement."

Regina squeezes her hand in sympathy and continues, "We need to find out what it is and fix it in order to go home, so I would appreciate your cooperation— both of you."

Her counterpart sits back and tilts her head, eying them both before she speaks. "I take it from your tone and the glare your Emma is giving mine that you both think we are the problem?"

"It is one possibility," Regina concedes. The most obvious to her, but she has yet to explore the rest of the town. "For all any of us know, you may be a mere symptom of a much larger problem, or it may have nothing at all to do with either of you."

"I see." Looking to her Emma, her counterpart questions, "Would you like to fill her in, or shall I?"

Regina is more than familiar with the sound of disgust Emma makes in the back of her throat. She waves a hand dismissively. From the look of this world's Emma, she can guess what this is about. Emma isn't aware of it, but Regina had spied on her the first time she and Killian went on a date. Regina had seen the dress, and she knows better than anyone what Emma is like when it comes to pleasing the people she wants to keep; the horrendous dress is a dead giveaway for just who Emma is married to here.

It is of little interest, or concern. Whether she is wrong or right in her assumption, by the time she is through here, the marriage will not exist regardless of the real problem this world faces. Every Emma, real or imagined, belongs to her, as every Regina belongs to Emma.

This world will learn, even if she has to tear it apart for it to do so.

Chapter Text

"She wasn't the same after the Underworld."

Emma frowns. Neither was she, but it didn't turn her into some reject from the Brady Bunch. Alternate!Emma left not long into their conversation, citing some emergency she needed to take care of at the station. Emma knew it was a lie but since it meant not having to look at the person she could have become any longer, she decided not to call her on it and stayed with Regina while the other Regina saw her off.

If her alternate self wanted to run off to her sleaze ball of a husband rather than spend time with two of the most attractive woman in any world; all the more for her.

The excuse or explanation— whatever one might call it –comes as the other Regina returns, retaking her seat across from them. She studies them, a question in her eyes that she has yet to voice.

"How so?"

Emma sits back, comfortable with Regina taking the lead. She has little interest in whatever this world's Emma's problem is. As far as she's concerned, this world's Emma is an idiot. She doesn't deserve this Regina let alone the attention of her Regina but, if Regina is curious enough to ask, then so be it. She doesn't need to be a part of the conversation to appreciate the company.

"When we came back, she seemed fine— sad that she couldn't save Hook but… accepting, like she accepts everything else." Picking at what appears to be invisible lint on her skirt to Emma, the other Regina explains, "When he came back, it was as if she were an entirely different person. She stopped coming by randomly. She barely spoke to me after what happened with Robin. I assumed it was because she felt guilty but… I don't know. One minute we're friends, and the next— I don't recognize her. I have no idea who she is anymore."

Frown deepening, Emma stares down at the coffee table as her stomach sinks. Regina sounds so sad, and lost, and it makes her want to track down this world's Emma just to hit her again. How could she have chosen Killian over Regina? In what world did that even make sense? Together or not, they're a team; the Queen and the Savior, Mayor and Sheriff, Mom and Ma. No one comes before them or their family, certainly not some wannabe Jack Sparrow who treated her and everyone she loves as expendable in his quest to relieve his manpain.

Fuck Killian and his woe is me bullshit. No matter the world, Regina is important damn it.

The thought barely has the time to cross her mind before she feels magic surge through her, and then she's somewhere else entirely, mouth falling open at the sight of one Killian Jones.

As it turns out, she isn't the only one who's different in this world. His hair is longer for one, and for two; he seems to have gained a pound, or forty.

His mouth curls upon seeing her, gaze drifting to the other Emma. "So this is what you were hiding?"

She sighs. "Killian…"

He ignores her, attention returning to Emma as his eyes rake over her. His tongue slithers across his lower lip and lust thickens his voice. "Hello love."

Disgusted, Emma grimaces. "Hook."

"Now now," he chides, grinning as he closes the distance between them. "I don't know where you're from, but here it's Killian."

"Well, Killian," she drawls, eyes narrowing. "I'm from an alternate universe and there, you'd find yourself on the floor if you came any closer."

"Good thing we're not th—"

One more step brings him within range of her fist and she doesn't waste it. His head snaps back with the force of her punch as he stumbles back and his cry of pain merges with the familiar, simultaneous gasps of her name. Rather than acknowledge the two new arrivals, she meets her own stare, and wonders if she imagines the flash of satisfaction before it disappears beneath a mask of concern as the other Emma tries to comfort her bleeding husband.

Ignoring Hook's sputtered curses, she turns to the Reginas. Despite their surprised protests, she notes the same satisfaction in their eyes, and smirks. "Hello my Queens."

Muttering under her breath, her Regina steps forward and grabs her hand while the other looks on, amusement clear in her expression. Emma sighs at the welcome warmth of Regina's magic as it engulfs her fist and soothes the dull ache that began to form.

"Thanks."

Regina shakes her head. "One of these days you're going to break it," she murmurs, running a finger across her knuckles. "I am not looking forward to that day."

"I am," Emma says, grinning as she leans in and whispers, "Your magic turns me on."

Eyes rolling, Regina drops her hand. "Now is not the time." Emma pouts and receives a glare for her trouble. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Emma shrugs. "I had an urge to punch myself again. My magic had a better idea."

Without even looking, she steps to the side as Hook attempts to take advantage of her distraction. He lunges passed her and she's content to continue ignoring him but his yelp has her turning. She laughs, abrupt and confused but amused nonetheless when she sees him sprawled facedown on the floor.

Turning back to the other three, she frowns. Both Reginas are staring at her counterpart; pride and surprise warring in their expressions. Perhaps she hadn't imagined the satisfaction, after all.

"Thanks?"

There's no acknowledgement, no words or small incline of the head to indicate that she'd heard. There's nothing at all as her counterpart turns on her heel and walks from the room, this other Regina quick to follow her.

"Okay, I'm confused," she admits aloud to an amused chuckle.

"You and me both," Regina replies as she glances over her shoulder and down at the floor. She turns, gesturing as she goes.

Emma doesn't need to turn to know Hook is no longer there. "Where'd you send him?"

"I dumped him on the steps of the hospital," Regina says before slipping an arm around her waist. "I think it might be best if this Emma stay with us for awhile."

Emma raises a brow. "Why?"

"Your disappearing act could not have been more poorly timed." Kissing her cheek, Regina adds, "Come. Myself and I may need help to convince her."

Chapter Text

They didn't need to do or say a thing to convince this world's Emma. One look at her and Regina knew her counterpart had already done it. It would seem that even with the apparent rift between them, Emma still trusts her despite her obvious confusion as this world's Regina takes her hand and transports them back to the mansion.

Perhaps the theory her counterpart shared with her just after her Emma vanished into thin air wasn't entirely wishful thinking as she'd first thought. A curse; it made a certain amount of sense. It certainly wouldn't be the first, or the craziest. She'd entertained the idea herself a number of times back in their world when Emma began behaving differently, though she'd discovered soon after that it was because of the feelings Emma had for her.

It may be far-fetched, but the theory is more than they had to go on previously. If her counterpart is correct, then the solution should be simple enough. Convincing the two of them of their feelings for one another and having them share True Love's Kiss, however…

Her world was so much simpler.

It does beg the question, though.

"Emma?"

"Regina," she replies distractedly.

"How much do you love me?"

Slowly, Emma turns her head, squinting as she drawls, "I wasn't aware there was a way to measure that. Is it the same as liquid? Can I love you in liters? Or is it more of a pound thing? Tons? I love you in three thousand tons?"

Stifling a chuckle, Regina rolls her eyes. She dismisses the sarcasm, deserved as it is, and asks, "Enough to break a curse?"

"Is that what this is?" Emma tilts her head, brow furrowing thoughtfully as she rambles adorably. "I know True Love transcends time and realms, but does that include alternate uni— wait. Why am I questioning this? Let's find out."

Emma flashes her a grin before she puckers up and leans in. Regina raises a hand, covering her face and effectively halting her in her tracks. "Although I enjoy making out with you, dearest, we've kissed already," she reminds her. "If there is a curse, then we likely aren't the ones meant to break it."

She feels the pout against her palm before something more distinctly wet, and she snatches it back, torn between amusement and vague disgust.

"Nom." Emma chuckles at her glare, then shrugs. "I love you a fuckton— more than enough to break multiple curses at the same time," she states, matter of fact. "You really think it's a curse?"

Considerably warmer than she'd been only moments ago, Regina wipes her palm across Emma's thigh. "It is not my thought," she confesses, "but nor is it something I'm willing to rule out."

Nodding, Emma shifts and drapes an arm along the back of the couch. "We should be all cozy when they come back," she suggests with a wag of her eyebrows. "Show them what they're missing in the hope they'll come to their senses and smooch already."

Regina smirks. Wonderful as that sounds, she has a far more entertaining idea in mind as she slides her hand up along Emma's thigh. Tipping sideways, she nips at her jaw and purrs, "I think naughty Emma will be more effective than sweet Emma."

"There's that evil genius mind again," Emma says, slipping a finger beneath her chin. She tilts her head back and captures her mouth, humming softly into the brief but loving kiss. She murmurs, "How does making you come so hard they think you're being murdered when you scream my name sound?"

Arousal turning her stomach, Regina gives a pleased little rumble in the back of her throat. "That sounds positively delightful," she admits.

"What does?"

Inwardly, she groans. Sitting back, she levels the other Emma with her stare and is about to tell her to mind her own business when her Emma says, "I was telling her about my fantasy of a Regina sandwich. Two Reginas, all to myself…"

Regina tilts her head. Emma may or may not be joking. Knowing her as well as she does, she'll assume not but that is not what has her curious. Thanks to her experience with her own Emma, she knows intimately the signs of arousal when they're presented to her. This Emma masks them well enough, but the little shiver that prickles her skin and causes those bumps on her arms are much harder to hide.

Deciding to play along, she hums, her interest in the thought much less feigned than it would have been had her mind not altered Emma's supposed fantasy for her and replaced one of her with another Emma. Not this Emma, though. This Emma is not Emma Swan but Emma Jones, and Emma Jones bares little resemblance to the woman she fell in love with. Her interest in this Emma, for the moment, is purely one of possession.

"You should proposition her," she suggests, mouth quirking as she side-eyes her Emma and sees the slow widening of those eyes. "All this time without someone warming her bed…"

Emma's swallow is wonderfully audible. Regina nudges her subtly, lips pursed to hide a grin as Emma jumps up from the couch and walks briskly from the room.

"Is she really going to…"

Regina raises a shoulder. It's possible, though she doubts it. If Emma does manage to work up the nerve and somehow survive, she isn't opposed to the idea but, more than likely, Emma has simply gone in search of her counterpart and is probably spouting some other nonsense in an effort to prevent herself from merely blurting out the thought and receiving a slap for daring.

"Doubtful." She smirks, offering slyly, "But if I suddenly disappear and you hear noise from upstairs, you might want to ignore it."

"You would really?"

"Why not? We're attractive women. I imagine she could do with a few more nice memories. I don't know about you," she adds, "but I can certainly attest to my Emma's abilities when it comes to making me happy."

It's a dig and it's delivered with about as much finesse as Snow White with a few too many drinks in her but it's also relief. She wants to be mad and has so far failed to be. She has no reason to be mad at herself and she can't be mad with Emma because Emma won't allow it.

That leaves her with…

This.

An Emma who is not Emma.

An Emma who is hers, who should be making her happy but is, instead, playing at happiness with a pirate who has, on more than one occasion, proven himself undeserving of the heart she knows beats within Emma Swan's chest.

If there is a truth that transcends realms, time and universes, then there it none greater than that. The only thing Killian Jones deserves is an unmarked grave, dead and buried with his one True Love; himself.

"Emma Swan!"

The shout is followed by a deep, throated chuckle that snaps Regina from her thoughts. She blinks, turning her head in time to catch the mischievous grin Emma wears as she rounds the corner, the other Regina hot on her heels.

"I swear, if you—"

"Her face went beet red," Emma interrupts, throwing herself down beside her. "Then she got all squeaky indignant and pretended she wasn't considering it."

Oddly enough the only thing Regina feels at this information is pride. Emma has, once again, defied expectation. "I'm amazed you asked," she confesses. "You're supposed to be insuring I'm always right, dear."

Emma shrugs. "Couldn't be helped," she says. "I was curious."

"She needs to be leashed," the other Regina interjects, exasperated. "And muzzled."

Regina places a hand over Emma's mouth when she tries to respond and pleads with her eyes for Emma to let her handle it. Emma's eyes narrow but after a moment, she gives a nod and Regina returns her attention to her counterpart, smirk playing along her lips.

"Emma isn't much one for pet play, but I'm certain we can come to some form of arrangement that will benefit us all."

Chapter Text

From the bed, naked as the day they were born, Emma and Regina stare at Emma's counterpart with smug expressions. The other Regina stands behind her, head shaking back and forth because she obviously knows and is appalled that her Emma hasn't figured it out yet. She laments disapprovingly, "I can't believe you fell for that."

"You—" The other Emma growls, spinning. "She screamed! I was worried!"

Brown eyes roll. "What worries me is the fact you cannot differentiate between a cry for help and pleasure…"

"Oh shove off, Regina. I've never heard you scream in pleasure."

"Truly one of life's greatest tragedies," Emma intercedes, fingers dancing the length of Regina's sternum. There is nothing she loves more than the way Regina screams her name mid-orgasm, except maybe these breasts, of which she has an overwhelming desire to wrap her mouth around and never let go.

"You, shut up." Her counterpart retorts, turning back around and pointing a finger at her. She frowns before changing her mind, hand slapping against her thigh. "No, actually. What the hell was the point of this?"

Emma smirks, brow raised as she meets her stare and offers innocently, "I like to start my morning by making Regina come?"

It isn't the truth but it is a truth, at least.

Gaping like an idiot, she realizes, is an apt description for the look of surprise that crosses her counterpart's face. Of course, she knows from firsthand experience that Regina is rarely wrong, so she should have taken her word for it from the start.

"I—"

"You should see her face," she continues, genuinely interested in how far she can push before this version of her snaps and actually does something that makes sense. "It's even more perfect than usual." She peers down at Regina with a murmured, "It's unfair, really."

Regina cups her face and pulls Emma down to her mouth, kissing her soundly. "I've seen your face when you come, dear," she replies, stroking her cheek. "Gorgeous does not even begin to describe it; you have zero room to talk."

"You two are—" A thunderous pounding from downstairs interrupts whatever this world's Emma was about to say. She scowls, glancing back to her Regina when she questions, "Who the hell is that?"

"I didn't suddenly develop x-ray vision in the time we've been standing here," she drawls, eyes rolling yet again. "Why don't you go and see?"

The scowl deepens. "Why don't you go and see?"

Blinking at the retort, she frowns, eying her Emma with a strange sort of affectionate suspicion. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing!"

The way this Regina looks at her counterpart is more than familiar to Emma and she chuckles as the woman deadpans, "Very convincing."

"Why don't you both go and see," she suggests, grinning down at her Regina. When Regina screamed, she hadn't been close to done with her; more time alone to finish what she'd only just begun would be nice.

"So you weren't serious about that threesome?"

Her head snaps up in surprise. "Well…" She may have been a little serious and if she's offering…

"Nuh uh," her counterpart interjects, grabbing this world's Regina by the arm and tugging as she turns away from them. "You're coming with me."

A hand slides into the crook of Emma's shoulder. She glances back down and smiles at the affection shining back at her from those eyes. "Was that jealousy, dear?"

"Mhmm," she hums, lowering her head to kiss along Regina's jaw. It wasn't quite the reaction they were going for, but it's a start.

Regina stretches her neck, head dipping back to provide her all the room she could desire. "You looked at me like that when I was with Robin," she continues breathlessly, combing fingers through her hair and clenching them into a fist.

Emma nips at her throat, and hums again. "Mhmm."

"You're cute when you're jealous," Regina adds, amusement and arousal deepening her voice.

"Mhmm."

With a chuckle, she tugs gently. Emma lifts her head, curious but also vaguely annoyed at having to stop. She was just getting to the good part—the part involving a lot of teeth and the aftermath of Regina threatening to dismember her for turning her neck into a Rorschach of bruises. "Are you going to keep humming at me?"

"If you stop talking and start paying attention," she says, teeth grazing her chin. "— I could be moaning for you."

Regina grins. "I like the way you think," she murmurs, gesturing, magic closing the door as she flips them. "You may start moaning for me," she purrs, thigh pressing between her legs. "— Now."

Emma does.

Chapter Text

"What was that?"

Nuzzling her neck, Emma replies, "Who cares?"

Regina frowns. She'd felt a ripple of some kind. It was definitely magic, and most definitively her magic but it wasn't a spell she recognized from feel alone. "Off," she demands, swatting Emma's backside. As Emma groans and rolls from on top of her, she slips out of bed. "Someone could be on the brink of death."

"Good," Emma grumbles. She buries her face in Regina's pillow and mumbles, "Ask them to die quietly."

Amused, Regina stares down at her for a moment. She truly does love this petulant child of a woman. Humming, content with the fact, she coos, "Emma."

"Mmm?"

"Turn over."

When she does, Regina places one hand on the bed and the other on her stomach, bending down. She captures her lips in a searing kiss, moaning into her mouth as Emma's own moan vibrates within hers. Her fingers skirt over a hip and down Emma's thigh, drifting inward towards the wet warmth she knows she will find there, still.

"I love you," she breathes. "More than words can ever hope to express."

Emma grins her trademark goofy grin. "I love you too." She raises her head and kisses her again before dropping back to the pillow. "Now go see who's dead, then come tell me if I should care… if not, I expect your sexy butt back here in bed with me."

"That almost sounded like a demand, Princess," Regina teases, eyes narrowing playfully. "You do not get to make demands of your Queen."

"Think of it as a strongly worded suggestion." Laughing softly, she straightens and waves a hand over her body, dressing herself. Emma whines, "That's like painting over the Mona Lisa."

Regina smirks. "Someone should," she counters while running a hand through her hair. "That painting is horrendous."

Lips parting in protest, Emma pauses. She closes her mouth, seeming to reconsider, and nods. "I can't argue with that," she admits.

"You could try," Regina disagrees with a teasing grin. "You'd be wrong, but when has that ever stopped you?"

"Yeah yeah. Get out of my face."

Reaching for her pillow, Emma throws it but by the time it leaves her hand, Regina is already appearing at the bottom of the stairs in a plume of smoke. Her grin vanishes the second she looks up to find the barrier blocking her way, Emma's counterpart only a few steps in front of her, trapped outside and looking in to where her own counterpart advances on Hook.

Her gut tells her to leave it, to take this Emma by the arm and lead her to the kitchen where they can pretend none of this is happening. Unfortunately, her annoying conscience has the better of her and she's tearing down the barrier before she can even think to stop herself.

She curses herself as soon as it dawns on her.

"What the hell is going on here?"

"You," Hook snarls, leveling his hook at her. "I demand you return Emma to me. She doesn't belong here. She belongs with me. She belongs to me."

Her nostrils flare in immediate anger.

"She doesn't belong to anyone," her counterpart retorts with a hiss, "If she did, it certainly wouldn't be to a useless, no good imbecile like you."

Hook sneers. "I knew you were in love with her, Regina, but this is pathetic even for you." He steps toward her, teeth bared in a mocking grin. "I won, Regina. She's mine. She chose me. She married me. You lo—"

Having had enough, Regina sweeps her hand through the air and sends him flying. "You are a disgusting piece of filth," she spits, shoving passed her counterpart as she follows him through the door and out onto the front porch. She ignores his shout of pain as his back hits a pillar and throws out her hand, catching him around the throat with her magic before he falls to the ground. "You aren't fit to be the manure stuck to the bottom of her shoe, let alone her husband."

"Mom! Mom!"

Eyes drifting to the gate where a slightly older than her version of Henry stands, her mouth twitches. Long hair suits him. "No dear," she says, using her freehand to gesture behind her. "That is your mother."

"Henry," Hook croaks. "Henry my bo—"

Regina clenches her fist, strangling him, sneering as he claws at his throat. "He is not your anything," she snarls. First Emma, now Henry? The nerve.

"Mom, don't."

A hand on her shoulder combined with the words has her tense. She growls a warning to no avail before glaring at the boy— man stood beside her. "This is not your concern. Tend to your mothers."

"But he's my d—"

"Do not." Henry steps back, wide-eyed. "He is nothing. Go inside. Now."

Henry would never. Much as it might infuriate her, Neal was his father. Dead or otherwise, he remains his father and cannot be replaced by someone so… lacking.

"Henry, come inside."

Slowly, slowly he inches away from her and closer to the door where his mothers stand. Regina turns back to Hook, face contorting with rage. "Whatever it is you've done to them, I will undo it," she promises, "and you will suffer greatly before I am done with you."

"Regina."

Looking over her shoulder, she freezes. She'd assumed it was Emma's counterpart, here to plead for her husband's pathetic life. Instead, her Emma stands there, hands on her hips. The scolding expression she wears would be comical, were it not annoyingly effective. "You should be in bed," she says, distracting herself before she actually considers releasing Hook like Emma clearly wants her to.

"I got bored without you."

Warm. It's always warm with Emma. She shakes her head, huffing as she returns her attention to the pirate and replies dismissively, "I will return in a few minutes."

"No, Regina." Arms encircle her from behind and a chin rests atop her shoulder. "Whatever you're planning to do to him, he isn't worth it." Soft lips brush her cheek before Emma murmurs, "Put him down and come back to bed with me."

"Emma—"

"Killing him won't fix what's wrong," she interrupts, the tip of her nose burrowing behind her ear.

Regina masks her sigh of pleasure for one of frustration, voice gravelly as she questions, "How do you know?"

"Because I know me," Emma says, nibbling the lobe of her ear before she adds, "and so do you."

Guilt. Whether this world's Emma loves her not, Emma is right; she does know. Emma would blame herself for his death, even if it isn't by her own hand. She would grow to resent her Regina for the toll his death would take on her conscience for not stopping it— for doing nothing but stand idle and watch it happen.

Regina grimaces, releasing him. Nothing would please her more than ending his wretched life, in this world and every other, but she can't do that to Emma, even an Emma she isn't particularly fond of.

Rubbing his throat, Hook half-smirks, half-sneers. "You've always been too weak to—"

A double crack of sound stops him cold, bone meeting bone, and then meeting marble as his head smacks against the pillar behind him and he slides, unconscious, to the ground. Emma must have hit him again but with how fast it happens, Regina can only deduce this from the fact Emma is shaking her hand, her expression pained as she turns to face her.

Noting her surprise, Emma frowns. "What? I said not to kill him. I didn't say you couldn't hit him."

Chapter Text

Looking down at herself— alternate self— whatever, Emma sighs. She should have stayed in bed. She should have ignored the yelling and stayed in bed, then Regina wouldn't have convinced her to talk to herself. Not only is it downright weird, but it's exhausting enough when talking to people she actually likes. She has no reason to do this other than because Regina told her to.

Again, she sighs because that is apparently reason enough. Folding her arms, careful not to flex or put any pressure on her tender knuckles, she rolls her eyes and asks, "What happened?"

Raising her head, her counterpart frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I dunno about your Regina," Emma replies, "but mine doesn't fly off the handle for no reason." Generally speaking. When it involves Hook, she doesn't really need a reason, but still; Regina is usually a slight more tolerant of him. "Something set her off, what was it?"

Her counterpart sits back, heaving a sigh of her own as she rests her head back against the couch and stares up at the ceiling. "Killian… claimed me."

"Ah." That would definitely do it.

"Ah?"

Emma shrugs, mouth quirked with her grin. "She's possessive." Not because she needs to be, or even wants to be, but because it is what Emma requires of her. She needs it, and Regina knows it better than anyone.

"So is Killian."

"Nah." She remembers what he was like, even when she doesn't want to. "He's obsessive; big difference."

"You don't k—"

"Know him? Yeah," she interrupts, "I do. He's selfish, self-centered and abusive— not physically, but verbally… mentally."

Sometimes physically, but not in the way most would mean it, or take it. Sometimes he grabs you, holds on tight; too tight. Eyes open, she no longer sees the things he did and said as love. She'd been so hungry for it that she'd willingly blinded herself to the man he really was, the way he held on when she tried to retreat. She'd made a mistake and in this world, it would appear she'd taken that mistake and run with it.

"He gets into your head, uses what he's learned about you— me— our weaknesses. He makes you think no one can love you more than he does but, in reality, he doesn't love anyone beyond himself. He doesn't know how to."

Relaxing marginally, she crosses the room and drops onto the couch beside herself. "Regina does it right— everything." She smiles, just thinking about Regina is enough to lift her mood. "She does everything right. She wooed me for over a year before we kissed, and we still weren't even dating."

Hook had wanted something from her before she'd known who he was. Looking back, she knows she should have paid more attention when they met. If she had, she wouldn't have bothered to even entertain the idea of them, and she definitely wouldn't have kissed him in Neverland. She didn't trust him and he'd used it as an excuse to change sides and lock her up rather than prove himself. He wasn't in danger, he didn't have anyone to protect; she did.

How did she become his wife from that? Everything that came after was no better. He didn't change. He didn't become a better person. He was still a pirate. He lied to her constantly and whenever she did something he didn't approve of, he threw a tantrum. "Why did you marry him?"

"I love him."

If she wasn't already convinced them being in love was a crock of shit, the dull drone of the response would have sent the alarm bells ringing.

"No you don't," she says. She is neither blind nor deaf. Not anymore. "I'm in love, I know what it looks like— what it sounds like. You look and sound miserable."

"I… I don't know what's wrong." Frowning, Emma watches her take a breath, counting the seconds between the inhale and exhale. It's not a sigh, or the kind of breath she takes before letting loose on someone. It's the breath before a confession, and now (damn it) she's curious. "I don't remember."

This is when the alarm bells go off and Emma groans inwardly. If there is a curse like Regina thinks and it's another one involving amnesia, she's going to kill the person who cast it on principle; the sheer unoriginality of these people is annoyingly tedious, and the process of breaking such a curse even more so.

"Remember what?"

"The wedding," quasi-Emma admits, head rolling to face her as she adds, "the proposal… any of it. I remember waking up married and—" She gestures to herself with a mild grimace of disgust. "—dressing like this."

Relieved she and Regina aren't the only ones appalled by it, Emma relaxes further and sinks back beside her. It sounds like a curse. It certainly looks like a curse. Really, short hair? On her? Curse or not, that is never a good idea. Maybe if she styled it, but no; it's flat and just plain awful, though she does enjoy the silver lining of Regina being unusually attached to her curls since she arrived— all that pulling last night, and this morning…

Remembering something Mary-Margaret said to her what seems like forever ago, Emma clears her throat and questions, "What happens when you try to remember?"

The silence is less uncomfortable than she thought it would be. Thinking is good, though. She doesn't do it often enough in most instances. She likes being just as surprised as everyone else is when the things come out of her mouth. She was spontaneous, unless you asked Regina; then, she was an impulsive idiot.

"It feels like there's a memory there but like it happened so long ago, it's…"

"Foggy?" She offers where her counterpart seems stuck. It's like her conversation with Mary-Margaret all over again, when she'd asked how long Regina had been Mayor and Mary-Margaret's face had screwed up in confusion. "Faded?"

"Yeah."

"You didn't consider a curse?" With everything she's been through, it probably would have been her first thought.

"Any time I've tried to… talk about it or think about it, it fades, you know?" Emma nods. It was the same whenever she tried to remember life before New York. "Like when you walk into a room looking for something but you forget what it is."

Exactly like that.

"Maybe just us being here is enough?"

The sound of another throat clearing steals their attention. "It sounds to me like it's weakening," Regina says, stepping into the room.

"You mean like when I first came to Storybrooke?"

She inclines her head. "Yes. It started with the clock tower, and then…"

Emma nods. And then Graham happened. They talked about it once. It wasn't an enjoyable conversation. She appreciates Regina stopping where she had despite the thoughts that made such consideration entirely moot. "Right."

Eying her counterpart, Regina closes the remaining space between them and crouches in front of them. Emma notes the concern bleeding into her expression the longer she stares, and tries not to smile.

She fails, of course, but Regina barely notices.

"When did you first break through?"

Her counterpart tilts her head thoughtfully and Emma knows from the wry smile what the answer will be before she even gives it.

"When she first hit him."

Chapter Text

When Regina's counterpart returned to the house, she sent them both from the den so she could speak to her Emma in private. Regina and Emma wandered off to the kitchen with little fuss, having decided together that whatever the two were going to talk about probably involved Killian and whatever Whale had told the other Regina when she arrived at the hospital with the unconscious pirate.

They'd agreed that dumping him on the steps with yet another broken nose in a period of 24 hours would likely raise some suspicion and none of them were ready for others to interfere just yet. If Hook can be useful for once in his life and stay unconscious, it will give them more time to figure out what's going on before they get anyone else involved.

Emma sits at the counter fiddling with the coffee Regina made her a few minutes ago, her brow furrowed. Regina waits, not curious enough to demand she spit out whatever it is she's thinking but enough to be patient. Thanks to Emma, she's already learned one thing today she hadn't known yesterday.

Emma's counterpart not remembering her own wedding or much of what came before is disturbing, though not all that surprising if she is indeed under the effects of a curse. Regina has the sneaking suspicion there is more to all this than either of their alternate selves are willing, or able, to share.

This world's Emma is fantastically ridiculous and obvious in what's wrong with her, but she's starting to see minute differences in herself as well— like the way her eyes glaze over whenever she says Emma's name. This Regina hides it well but not well enough, not from herself.

Absurd as it sounds, Regina wonders if perhaps she cast this curse. It wouldn't be the first time. She'd considered it a time or two back when she and Emma weren't dating. After that whole mess with Robin, she'd spiraled a bit. She didn't do it in the end, but in an alternative universe? Maybe she did.

It makes a certain amount of sense. What doesn't make sense is why she'd curse Emma to be with Killian. If what Killian said earlier is true, then in this world she is in love with Emma as well. Why not curse Emma to be with her? Granted, it wouldn't be real and she'd know it, but it would be better than watching Emma be 'happy' with someone else, surely.

The fact she was perfectly comfortable in making that threesome comment earlier suggests she isn't in denial. Could she have confronted Emma and been rejected? Is that the real reason they're fighting? Was their conversation about Regina being maid of honour real, or was it the curse twisting the conversation in their heads to explain away the rift that's grown between them?

Could she have resorted to cursing Emma in a fit of despair or out of anger? She thought she'd moved passed such petty emotions, but perhaps in this world she hasn't?

"If your expression falls any further, I'll need a mop to clean it off the floor." Gaze snapping up, she frowns at Emma. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Averting her eyes to over a shoulder, she stares out into the foyer and hums, considering. Either or both of their counterparts could walk in at any moment but— but Emma is right. The thought that she might have cast this curse because Emma rejected her is depressing.

If anyone can convince her she's being idiotic, then it'll be Emma.

Glancing down at her own coffee cradled in her hands, she sighs before taking a long, slow sip. Setting it down on the bench beside her hip, she then meets Emma's stare and asks, "What if I cursed you?"

Emma's head rocks from side to side. "On the one hand, I'll be extremely put out," she says, bringing her coffee to her mouth. Regina suspects it's to hide her grin when she adds, "On the other, I'll forgive you for it."

Regina sighs. "Emma…"

This is what she gets for expecting them to have a serious conversation. Then again, it is Emma. She isn't sure what she was thinking to begin with.

"I'm being serious," Emma says as if reading her thoughts. "I forgave you for trying once already."

"Trying being the operative word," Regina points out. If she'd done it this time, then she'd succeeded and stuck Emma with that cretin. "I failed then."

"Yeah," Emma agrees, "and I'm not trying to upset you, but it almost took our son from us." Regina flinches at the reminder and Emma groans. "The point is that I forgave you. I love you. I'm fairly certain when it comes down to it, I'll forgive you pretty much anything."

While sweet, it doesn't make Regina feel any better and she grimaces. Turning her back to Emma, she looks out through the window into the backyard. She hears the screech of the stool as Emma stands before feeling the arms around her waist and the heat against her back.

Emma's head rests against her temple. She leans into it, finding a small measure of comfort even if it isn't quite enough to drown out her thoughts, or the feelings they invoke inside of her.

"I don't think you did it," Emma admits, slow and soft. "But if you did, we'll find out why and we'll fix it." She kisses her cheek, lips lingering against her skin when she murmurs, "Like we always do."

It isn't anything new, Emma's belief in them, but it succeeds where her previous words failed and Regina breathes a sigh in relief, the tension slipping from her shoulders. She turns her head and kisses the corner of Emma's mouth, feeling it quirk in a smile against her lips.

"That almost sounded romantic, Miss Swan," she teases, easing back to look into her eyes.

Emma smirks. "We're romantic as fuck."

Chuckling softly, Regina kisses her again. "Indeed."

Chapter Text

Regina brooding is never a good thing. Emma knows. She tries to distract her but it's only occasionally that her distractions work, and those instances usually involve a severe lack of clothes. Being that it's the middle of the day, in an alternate universe where they're actually supposed to be doing something a slight bit more important, there aren't a lot of avenues open to her.

Instead of being the distraction, she lets Regina brood this time and goes in search of their counterparts. Surprisingly, she can only find one of them and it's not the one she expects, despite this being her house.

"Hey."

"Miss Swan."

Her nose scrunches up. She loves the name, but this Regina doesn't say it the way hers does. It's still fond, but there's also an undercurrent of yearning she hasn't heard in a while and it makes her heart do stupid things.

"Where's the oblivious one?"

That gets her a small smile as Regina inclines her head. "Study," she replies, eyes drifting up from the floor to settle on her. "She had to take a phone call."

"Ah." Emma guesses, "The leather-clad imbecile?"

There's another twitch and her heart does other, more tolerable and familiar stupid things like flipping and adoring. "Mother," Regina murmurs, gesturing to the cushion beside her. "You can sit," she says. "I don't bite."

Emma smirks and saunters over. "I prefer it when you do," she admits, sitting down. Olive cheeks flush before brown eyes flit away and she considers apologizing. She reconsiders. "This is crucial information, Madam Mayor."

A brow rises, perfectly arched in that way Regina has as she turns back to her. "For our threesome?"

"Obviously." Emma grins and it only widens when Regina blinks, caught off guard. Emma chuckles. "I've spent nearly every waking moment of the last year with my Regina, you'll need to try a lot harder to throw me off."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Do," she replies, excited to hear her next attempt.

Regina shifts, body turning more towards Emma as she rests her head against the back of the couch. She stares, that ever present question in her eyes. Emma wonders if she'll ask it this time, or if they'll be interrupted once again before she can.

"Where is—"

"Brooding," Emma interjects smoothly. Knowingly. She tacks on, "In the kitchen."

Regina nods, lower lip tucking between her teeth. Emma chooses to stare at that, enjoying the butterflies that swarm in her stomach at the sight. She imagines leaning in, just a little, enough for Regina to let it go, breath hitching in anticipation as it tends to when this is her Regina and she does just that, the hopeful but expectant look drawing her in further until she's taken that same lip into her mouth.

A throat clearing has her blinking slowly. The lip is visible now, and slightly puffy— quirked at the corners.

"Sorry," she offers, not sounding sorry in the slightest as her own mouth quirks. She reasons, "We haven't made out in a while."

A slow, amused chuckle thrums in the air and her lashes flutter, a small sigh escaping her mouth unbidden.

"Lust looks good on you, Miss Swan." She hums. "Have we been together long?"

It's not the question, she doesn't think, but it sounds like an important one nonetheless. "A few months," she answers truthfully, gaze hooded. "You tortured me for over a year before we finally kissed."

"I highly doubt that."

She smiles. "You should," she confesses, shoulders rising when those eyes narrow on her. "We tortured each other, really, but we liked torturing everyone else a lot more. We had the entire town in a tizzy before you finally decided to try and seduce me."

"Try?"

That one word, said with a mountain of disbelief, causes her to laugh abruptly. "Oh, you seduced me just fine, Regina Mills," she explains, "but that night you'd gotten a little bit too drunk and I, painfully had to decline."

Head shaking, Regina questions, "Then how?"

"I'd told you the night before that if you kissed me in the morning, I'd never say no to you again." And she's still paying for it. Emma grins as she says, "You remembered."

"Hmm."

"I'm an idiot," Emma laments with an exaggerated sigh. "I know."

Another chuckle. Another smile. "I'm still allowed to insult you, then?"

"She gets off on it."

Her head jerks up but Emma's remains, gaze fixed to this Regina as her Regina walks into the room. Emma sensed her before she spoke and there is nothing to deny, no reason to glance over a shoulder to argue what is so blatantly true; she does get off on it. A small, muttered idiot here and a murmured imbecile there, and she's on Regina in seconds because the smallest slight against her is always said with an abundance of fond, affectionate love and nothing cheers Regina up quite like being ravished.

"It's true," she says, unashamed as those eyes return to search her face. For what, she doesn't know, but it doesn't matter, whatever it is. "You're a giant butthead, but you're my giant butthead."

"This butthead is going to beat you to death," her Regina coos as the couch dips behind her and a hand fists in her hair, tugging in reprimand. "Nuisance."

"Do you two need a moment?"

"Only if you've got hours," Emma says, lashes fluttering innocently as both Reginas chuckle.

"Confident," this world's Regina drawls.

"She has every reason to be," her Regina replies, the rumbling purr of her voice sending a shiver down Emma's spine.

A look of surprise crosses the other Regina's face before her eyes flick up from Emma and over her shoulder. "She likes that?"

Emma's nodding before Regina can respond. Her appreciation for the Evil Queen and, more importantly, the sexy voice is a well-kept secret from all but Regina herself who uses it whenever the opportunity presents itself. She likes— loves a lot of things about Regina that might turn others off, or even frighten them. She can't help it, and she no longer bothers to try.

"I've always wondered…"

"You guys fought a lot, right? Before all this, I mean." Regina nods and Emma grins. "That's why." One of the reasons, at least. Being glared at like she was about to be devoured whole, was another. "I bet she twitches," she continues, smirking at the thought. "I bet she twitches a lot."

Resisting.

Always resisting.

God is she glad those days are over.

"Is that rel—"

Frowning as she trails off, Emma twists to follow her gaze, and promptly groans.

"Apologies for interrupting your gossip, ladies."

Eyes rolling, she snaps, "What do you want, Rumple?"

Chapter Text

At Emma's outburst, Regina runs a soothing hand down her back. After her experience as the Dark One, the two have never seen eye to eye. Emma thinks him weak for being unable to resist the lure of power— for choosing it rather than fighting for what she deemed more worthwhile, more important; love, family, friendships.

Her sweet, loveable oaf can be rather naïve at times.

"Rumple," she repeats Emma's greeting far more sensibly. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

His gaze shifts from Emma, furrowed brow smoothing as he turns his attention on her. He studies her with minor curiosity, eyes flitting between the two of them before a smirk settles on his lips.

"Well well." Regina rolls her eyes, hiding a smile at his knowing look. He giggles. "Well done, dearie."

"Honestly," she says, less concerned that he knows than the fact he genuinely just giggled at her. "I thought twenty eight years under the curse had removed that habit."

"Oh, it did," he admits with a grin. "I have to do it on purpose now." He waves a hand dismissively when she opens her mouth to question why he would, and she closes it again. "I'd almost given up hope the two of you would show."

"You were expecting us?" She knows the question idiotic the second she's asked it and concedes to his dead stare a moment later. "Of course you were."

"Of course I was," he agrees, mouth twitching. "Do either of you realize how much energy is required to open that many portals?"

"I assume as much as was required to close them," Regina supplies, brow slightly arched.

His head tilts to the side thoughtfully. "Likely less, if I'm being truthful."

She smirks. "Are you ever not?"

"Honesty does tend to prove more entertaining." Tone playful, he shrugs and, like she'd known it would, Emma's spine relaxes beneath her palm. "How are you finding our quaint little version of Storybrooke, Your Majesty?"

"I haven't seen much of it," she answers truthfully. "What little I have is rather…"

He raises a brow at her pause. "Disturbing?"

She hums. It is certainly that but not quite the word she was looking for. "More… lacking, I think."

He nods before looking back to Emma and inclining his head. "Miss Swan."

Regina strokes her back, further soothing her temper and desire to antagonize the imp. "Rumple," Emma grumbles, shifting until the hand slides to her hip and she presses back against Regina's arm. "You're why we're here?"

He holds up a finger before stepping aside, Emma's counterpart appearing behind him. "Sorry," she offers, sheepish. "I let him in but mom wouldn't stop…" She glances to her Regina. "Was that—"

"It's fine," she interjects, her smile soft. "Everything settled?"

"Yeah."

She crosses to the couch and Regina tugs Emma closer, making room for their counterparts to sit together, knowing it'll be tight but also knowing each other well enough to know neither will mind despite what their heads might be trying to tell them.

Once she's seated, Rumple claps his hands together. "Now that we're all here," he says, flashing them a grin. "Shall we?"

Regina shakes her head. "You still haven't told us what brings you here."

"Not in so many words, perhaps," he concedes, sighing mournfully. "But if I must spell it out…"

She snorts, never not amused by his theatrics. "You must."

"Something is off," he states, leveling her with a stare she interprets to mean he'll be disappointed if she hasn't figured that out yet. She dips her head forward, letting him know she had and would like him to continue. His silence lasts only briefly before he nods. "I believe we are under the effects of another curse."

Blinking slowly, Regina repeats, "We?"

"The town, dearie." He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. He gestures to Emma's counterpart, then her own. "Surely you've noticed?"

"Well," she drawls, side-glancing the two. They're not together and this Emma is certainly wrong in numerous, disturbing ways, but all of them? Cursed? "Everyone?"

"Everyone," he confirms, eying her curiously.

The relief is sudden, but not entirely unexpected given the thoughts she'd been having earlier. If they're all cursed, then it definitely wasn't her that did it. She might take a potion once in awhile to erase a little unwanted knowledge, but to mess with her own memories on this large a scale was too much of a risk. The pieces of her childhood spent with her father were too precious to lose, not to mention all the wonderful memories she'd gained since with Emma and, more especially, their son.

"Oh thank god." Beside her, Emma chuckles knowingly. Regina squeezes her hip, chiding. "Hush."

"Hushing," she murmurs with a teasing smile. "My Queen."

"Wait." Emma's counterpart sits forward as all of their attention falls on her. "If we're cursed, why didn't you come to us?"

"Whichever curse this is, it seems hell bent on keeping you two apart," he explains patiently— far more patiently than Regina would've thought him capable. "You could barely stand to be in the same room for more than two minutes at a time. I knew I needed a more sensible version of you both before I brought it to your attention."

Emma— her Emma, snorts. Regina lifts the hand from her hip and pokes her in the side, causing an abrupt burst of laughter to spill forth. She grins, smug, when Emma glares at her.

"Mean."

"Childish," she retorts to Emma poking her tongue out.

"You were saying?" Regina's counterpart drawls, amusement clear in her tone.

"I may have… slightly overestimated them," Rumple concedes, sounding just as amused. "However," he adds, becoming serious once more. "It would appear my assumption was correct, as neither of you seem surprised."

"Kinda hard to be surprised when you can't remember what's supposed to be the happiest day of your life," Emma's counterpart mumbles.

"And you live with a bunch of fucked up fairytales," Emma adds before a mildly offended Regina huffs. Emma sighs playfully and kisses her cheek, leaving the tingle of her mouth behind. "You're a wonderful, unfucked up fairytale all of your own, and I adore you beyond measure, promise."

Warm.

All over.

Everywhere.

"You better," Regina says, sniffing as she turns back to Rumple. "And what do you propose we do about this?"

His shoulders rises. "Find the one responsible and torture them relentlessly until they tell us how to break it?"

"I think I might like this one," Emma murmurs and Regina hums.

She definitely likes this one.

Chapter Text

Throughout most of her life, Emma has lived by two phrases. The first is that you define who you are; your words, your actions, your deeds— both heroic and idiotic. People can assume, but it's up to each individual to decide for themselves, no one else. The second, which she came up with in fourth grade, is that school is the worst.

The second is much less relevant than the first, most of the time. When relegated to studying, because Rumple is a jerk and neither Reginas are much better when he's around, she is taken back to a time in which the single moment she looked forward to the most each day, was the time in between the last bell and arriving at whichever home had claimed her for the season. Teachers were boring, friends were only friends when you possessed something they wanted, and lunch was awful because cafeteria food was awful and so were her at-the-time foster parents.

With the exception of the third, which isn't in any way relevant to the point. The Swans were fine, but school still sucked.

As an adult, it sucks even more.

With no real leads to go on, they've spent the rest of the afternoon and a good portion of the evening scouring every magical book/tome/scroll they could get their hands on in an attempt to pinpoint which spell/curse this messed up version of her world is under.

And after all these hours, they've managed to come up with a grand total of nothing. There are similarities, even with the curse Regina cast all those years ago, but nothing specific. It could be any number of things, or it could be something entirely different. Beyond what appears to be some form of amnesia on her counterpart's end and Rumplestiltskin's extremely unhelpful bad feeling, they're no closer to answers than they were before she'd thrown the fifth book clear across the room.

Rumple sighs as it lands an inch shy of crushing his foot. "Miss Swan."

"Bite me, baby snatcher."

He scowls, meaning she brightens instantly. "That is a gross misrepresentation of my story."

"You did help King George obtain her uncle as a baby, and then her father," Regina says without taking her gaze from her own book.

"That was a deal made with their mother," he defends, scowl deepening. "Whose side are you on?"

Finally looking up, she smirks. "My own but sometimes I like to branch out and support the love of my life."

"Love has made you nauseating, dearie."

Regina shrugs, closing the book and setting it aside. "That would mean something had I not caught you and Belle in some horrifyingly compromising positions these last few years."

"Ew," Emma's counterpart interjects. "Can we not?"

"Seconded," Emma agrees, nose wrinkling. She heard enough each time it happened, she didn't need to relive those moments.

"I think," the other Regina drawls, "it might be time for a break. A light dinner, perhaps?"

"I could eat."

"She is definitely you," Regina murmurs, leaning into Emma and nudging her with a shoulder.

"The words are right," Emma concedes, watching their counterparts rise. Glancing in their direction, Rumple is quick to follow the two women and Emma grins as soon as the study door closes behind them. "Wrong context."

"Emma…"

"What?" She replies, slowly turning towards Regina. "It's been forever. I can't help it if you're so sexy I can think of nothing else." Leaning in, she rubs lips and nose along a cheek, nuzzling as she adds, "Besides, you called me the love of your life; you know it turns me on when you're being all gross and sweet."

"Dearest," Regina chuckles, "my very existence turns you on." She turns her head and quickly pecks Emma on the mouth. "I have yet to figure out how to turn you off."

Emma pushes out her lower lip in a mock pout. "Why would you even want to? Are you not attracted to me anymore?" She forces the lip to quiver, eyes growing wide. "Am I unfulfilling in the bedroom? Should I do something more? Tell me how to be better. I'll do whatever you want. Love me."

Laughing, Regina brings a hand to her face and cups her cheek. "You are ridiculous." She kisses her again, only this time it lasts long enough for Emma to sigh, content, against her mouth. It ends with twin hums and a breathy promise, "I'll certainly remember you saying that, however."

"Tease," she murmurs, giddy. It's almost enough to erase these last hours of complete and utter boredom. Almost. She sighs and rests her head on Regina's shoulder. "I say we go to bed and let them figure this out themselves."

"Enticing as that sounds—"

She groans, not needing to hear the but that follows. It'll be something logical and responsible sounding, she's sure. Maybe something along the lines of 'the sooner we figure this out, the sooner we go home'. She knows, she just wishes she didn't, for a couple of hours, at least. Hours in which she's naked, and Regina's naked, and they forget they're not home because that damn meddling imp decided they were not only the saviors of their world, but his as well.

The bastard.

Regina kisses the top of her head. "Dinner and a couple more hours of this, then you can have me all to yourself," she says, fingers playing along the skin of her neck before dipping down inside the back of her shirt. "Nothing short of my passing out will stop me from having my way with you."

Emma hums thoughtfully. "What if I pass out first?"

Another chuckle, this one much deeper than the first, sends a shiver through her. "While preferable," Regina purrs, "I hardly need you to be awake to use you, Princess."

Chapter Text

It's nearing midnight before they all agree they need to rest before they can continue. Emma is already asleep, snoring lightly, by the time her counterpart shows Rumple to the door. Regina can no longer resist the urge to just stop and stare at her, chest warm, as always. The thought of simply laying down and pulling Emma into her arms before falling asleep right here with her is more than tempting. Fortunately their talk from earlier has her on edge enough that she isn't quite ready to call it quits yet.

Rather than cuddle up with Emma, she reaches out and strokes her face, waiting for the inevitable flutter, and smiling softly as Emma blinks up at her sleepily.

"Hey. Find 'nthing?"

Head shaking, her smile grows along with the warmth in her chest. It still amazes her; how adorable she sometimes finds Emma Swan. She's even more taken when it's entirely unintentional. "No, my love, but it is time for bed."

"Oh." Emma pushes up on her elbows before drawing a hand down her face and back up through her hair. She tries and fails to stifle a yawn, then stretches her neck. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Regina replies dismissively, standing. She was honestly surprised with how long Emma did manage to last given the number of sighs she'd heard before the snoring started. "Come on."

Taking her by the hand, she pulls Emma to her feet. Within such close proximity, the desire to hold Emma is much stronger and with almost no thought, she gives in, winding her arms around Emma's neck.

"You're cute when you're asleep."

Emma grins goofily. "You're cute all the time."

"This isn't a competition," Regina chides playfully.

"Good. I'd lose, and then I'd be sad and you'd have to cheer me up."

She chuckles. "Oh I would, would I?"

"Uh huh. I'd have lost to you, so it'd be your fault."

Smiling widely and shaking her head, she replies, "You're sounding far too reasonable for someone who was asleep and drooling only moments ago."

"I was dreaming of you naked, couldn't help myself." Emma bumps their noses together. "Where're the twins?"

Peering over her shoulder where she'd caught movement a few seconds prior, Regina smirks. "Behind you," she replies, "watching us with ample amusement."

"They've been doing that a lot."

She nods. She'd noticed whenever she bothered to look up from whichever book she'd been engrossed in at the time. "We're very amusing."

"Too true."

There's a snort before Regina's counterpart admits, "I'm hoping one of you will eventually spill some deep, dark secret that this saccharine behavior might finally make sense."

"Really?" Emma's counterpart questions. At her Regina's nod, she says, "I figured it was a ploy to mask the deep-seated shame of their kinky bedroom habits."

Twisting to meet her gaze, Emma grins. "Well Regina does like to su—"

A hand finds its way to her mouth and Regina scolds, "You'll spoil the surprise, dear."

Although, now that the idea is in her head, she hums appreciatively as her stomach fills with heat. Hand remaining firmly against Emma's mouth, she slides an arm around her waist and presses into her back.

Looking their counterparts up and down, she smirks. "Goodnight."

Her magic whisks them to the guest bedroom a split-second later and Emma releases a loud 'oomph' into Regina's hand, hitting the bed on her stomach. Regina entangles their legs and slowly, lazily begins to grind into Emma's backside as she moves the hand from her mouth, to her chin, and tugs her head back.

Emma groans, bringing a smile to Regina's lips. "I hope you had a nice nap," she purrs into her ear, nibbling the lobe. "It will be hours before I allow you another."

Their clothes disappear with her words and the warmth of Emma's backside against her groin has her moaning her appreciation. Releasing her chin, she draws the hand down her neck and over her shoulder, nails scratching down the length of her back before she buries the hand between Emma's body and the bed, burrowing between her thighs, fingers molding to her cunt where Emma is already so wet, warm and needy for her.

Before giving in to the temptation of slick heat, she pauses to recall Emma's words, and hums, chin dipping forward to settle in the crook of Emma's shoulder. "Shall I summon that delicious cock of yours?" She moans softly, torn as her fingers slide through moist heat. "Shall I wrap my lips around it? Let you watch as I enjoy having you lodged deep within my throat?"

Emma groans, louder this time, hips rising with the words. Her body says one thing but her mouth says another. "No." Regina pauses, confused, before Emma adds, "Yours."

A shudder runs through her. Emma so very rarely asks for hers. "Mine?" She repeats, receiving an empathetic nod in reply. "As you wish."

Chapter Text

Feeling the long, thick shaft between her legs and the heavy breath against the back of her neck, Emma grins, hiding her face in the pillow beneath her head. As much as she loves Regina in control, there is little that compares to Regina when she can barely restrain herself. Already, she's shaking with the effort not to thrust into her, to fill her and take her.

Emma doesn't ask for this often. She's too tight for Regina to simply fuck into oblivion like she wants. At least at first. Regina needs to build up to it, but before she can, she needs to fight her instincts and just knowing that—knowing the reason for the head that settles between her shoulder blades and the warm puffs of breath against her back, makes Emma slick.

Turning her head so she can speak, she closes her eyes and murmurs, "You feel good, my Queen."

Regina breathes a shuddered sigh. It takes her a moment but eventually she replies, "As do you, my love."

The time between the battle with herself and when Regina starts grows shorter each time but so does Emma's patience, she's realized. It's only been a few minutes but she already wants to beg for it, walls clenching at the thought of being full and tongue heavy with the effort not to plead.

When Regina finally starts to move, Emma groans, lids fluttering; the sound joined a mere second later by a gasped growl as her magic lifts Regina into the air and Emma flips onto her back.

Regina lowers herself back down, eyes narrowed. "I told you to st—"

Emma claims her mouth, needing the distraction far more than she needs the reminder as the cock nestles within her folds. Regina groans into the kiss, forgetting or simply dismissing the desire to yell at Emma for using magic on her as her hips pick up from where they left off.

They moan into each others mouth on every pull and Emma grows slicker as the head of Regina's cock rubs her clit each time. Emma spreads her legs, thighs almost touching her hips as she tangles a hand in hair and uses the other to grab a fistful of ass.

Regina makes a sound against her mouth, whether a whimper or a moan in appreciation or protest, Emma can't be sure but neither does she give it much thought. Tight or not, she wants to be full. "Fuck me," she mutters into the kiss before thrusting a tongue into her mouth.

There is no mistaking the next sound. The growl travels through their kiss, her breath hitching as Regina positions the tip against her entrance and slowly, achingly pushes. Emma brings her knees up, pinning them to Regina's sides, groaning as inch by inch, she becomes increasingly full until finally, mercifully, Regina is buried deep inside her.

Letting her adjust, Regina breaks the kiss and moves to her jaw. She bites and sucks, and licks. Lips, teeth and tongue leaving their mark; claiming her— adoring her in the only way Regina knows how when her mind is hazed and her every action oozes clear, unmistakable lust.

Emma tips her head back, offering up her throat, happy to drown in the sensations for as long as Regina is willing to continue. It won't be long. It never is. Regina will go until she feels Emma relax, and then she'll overwhelm her, incapable of not when it is exactly what Emma wants— what she'd asked for in far fewer words.

"Ready?"

Barely audible against her throat, Regina's voice is gravelly and strained. Emma's skin prickles pleasantly, a smile stretching her mouth. "Are you?"

Deliberately, she clenches and Regina jerks, thrusting deeper before groaning. "Don't tease me." Somehow, she manages to chide, whine, and threaten her in the same sentence.

Emma bites her lower lip. "My Queen?" She waits for Regina to look up before she flashes her a grin and challenges, "Do your worst."

"Oh no," Regina rasps, smooth and warm and— god, so sexy. Teeth nipping at her chin, Emma shudders. "I intend to do my absolute best, Princess."

With the words come thrusts and each thrust is faster and harder than the last. In barely any time at all, Emma is rendered both thoughtless and speechless, head heavy and body light as Regina gazes down on her, eyes dark, mouth quirked. Simultaneously aroused, confident and satisfied, Regina grins outright, no doubt thrilled to be the one to have brought Emma to this; brain-dead and mute.

The longer her silence lasts, the darker those eyes get and the wider the grin grows. A rush of heat knots in Emma's stomach. She expected Regina to lose control, but this— no. She may not understand a lot of things, but that look she knows and she moans not a moment too soon as that chesire grin becomes a knowing, torturous little smirk.

"No fair," she breathes, Regina's rough-throated laughter unwinding the knot and sending the heat right between her legs.

"Whoever told you I was fair," Regina purrs, tongue sliding along Emma's lower lip. "Lied to you, my dear."

Emma twitches. Fucked to death by the Evil Queen; it's almost as if Regina was inside her head while she'd slept earlier. The thought is enough to put her at the edge, teetering— waiting for a mercy she now knows won't be coming any time soon.

"Oh god." Slowing. Slower. Slow. She groans, cursing in her head. "Fuck."

And out.

Regina's chuckle crawls right under her skin.

"Worry not, Princess." Ensnaring her lower lip with teeth, Regina bites down, drawing a whined-moan before sucking away the sting and raising her head. She grins. "You will come," she promises, "Over… and over… and over again."

Chapter Text

"I overheard something… last night."

Peering up at the reflection in the mirror behind her, Regina manages to keep a straight face. Preoccupied as she is with applying her lipstick, she doesn't want to have to start again after cackling like she so very much wants to. She can't think of a single thing funnier than the thought of her eavesdropping on herself and Emma last night, and that is precisely what the other her meant by overheard, as it is exactly how she'd have described it were she to admit it to anyone else.

"And?"

Eyes drifting from the mirror, her counterpart studies the bathroom as if this weren't her house and she hasn't been in here a thousand times or more.

It is thoroughly amusing; seeing herself so flustered.

Faking interest in her usual morning routine, an interest she'd lost the second those words left the other Regina's mouth, she purses her lips before trailing a finger beneath the lower one, wiping away a nonexistent mistake.

"She likes more than the voice."

She hums, feigning indifference. She is anything but. Any interest this version of her shows in Emma can only be a good sign. All she need do is focus that attention on the right Emma.

"From what little I've seen and heard, I doubt she's alone in that." As far as she can tell, the horrendous cursed fashion ensemble aside, this Emma is almost as giant a helpless puppy as her own. Who knows where their similarities begin and end? "She did imply an interest in kinky bedroom habits."

"I believe her comment was more about your Emma asking her if she'd brought her handcuffs with her rather than any real interest."

Regina smirks, shrugging. Emma certainly had a different take on the events and since she isn't the one cursed, Regina is more than happy to take her word for how this world's Emma truly feels about a certain Madam Mayor being handcuffed.

"I had no idea my eyes went black like that."

Regina inwardly purrs, reminded of what came after that particular observation. When Emma is aroused, there is absolutely no hiding it whatsoever.

"Hmm."

Shame Emma is still asleep. She wouldn't mind walking back into the bedroom and reliving the memory.

"How?"

Blinking, she shakes the thought from her head. Another time, perhaps. "How what?" She questions, turning from the mirror and leaning back against the sink.

"How did she forgive you?"

An interesting question. There is no forgiveness for the things she has done but even if there were, that isn't how Emma Swan works, though that isn't to say Regina isn't curious. She tilts her head, brow raised. "For which part?"

"All of it."

She nods, expecting something along those lines. She has never been able to do it, how could anyone else? "She didn't." It is an unusual sense of baffling that overcomes Regina when she attempts to understand it. She doubts she ever will, but the simple truth is that, "She accepts it and moves on… She has suggested I do the same on many occasions."

Too many occasions to count. She got mad at Emma once for it, but only once. Another heart to heart like the one they'd had that day, and she'd have to rip out hers to keep herself from feeling the mess of conflicting emotions she'd felt the first time. They'd only been friends at the time, and they'd shared their first hug afterwards. It was awful and wonderful, and so horribly confusing that she'd had to throw Emma out of her house.

"I wonder sometimes if that's the reason we never got anywhere."

Doubtful. She will accept a lot of reasons, but not that one. More than likely, it's because they never broached the subject in a way that resolved anything. Or they did, and they simply don't remember it.

Could that be it?

Had someone cursed them to keep her and Emma apart?

Ridiculous. Who, besides her, would do something so drastic? Even Hook can't be that pathetic.

Sighing, she dismisses the thought for the time being and returns to the matter at hand. "Emma doesn't hold grudges. Not like we do. I don't think—"

"We are from alternate universes," her counterpart interrupts.

Regina inclined her head, conceding, "True," she says, "though from what Rumple told me before I arrived, that matters very little."

"Oh?"

"He said that some things are different, but not all," she says, head tilting in consideration. In her short time here, she has given some attention to the details. She confides, "I'm starting to wonder if the similarities might be the people. Hook is an idiot in both worlds. You and I are not so different, nor are our Emmas, though I imagine mine would disagree, loud and vehemently."

Emma still can't get passed the haircut while she's moved on to having ideas. Ideas that, love or no, will probably result in Emma trying to kill her. She has yet to decide if her death will be worth it while the ideas remain, simmering in the back of her mind until she comes to a decision.

"Um."

Speak, or rather think, of the devil. Regina smiles. "Good morning, my love."

"Morning."

Emma kisses her counterpart on the cheek, then squeezes passed, oblivious to the shock that paints her face as Regina stifles her chuckle and leans forward, welcoming those lips against her own.

"Your breath is awful," she murmurs playfully, nipping her lower lip.

"Yeah well," Emma drawls, "I'm more concerned about peeing my pants at the moment. Get out."

Gaze drifting down, Regina's brow quirks. Long as the t-shirt Emma had found is, she's fairly confident Emma is, in fact, not wearing pants. Grinning, she raises her hand but Emma captures it before she can lift the shirt and see for herself.

"You're right," Emma assures, knowing her well enough to predict what she was about to do. "Leave," she adds, "before I pee on you."

Regina wrinkles her nose before laughing softly. She steals another kiss and, ensuring it lasts long enough to take back her hand, she slips it beneath the shirt and pinches Emma's butt cheek.

"Woman!"

With a chuckle, she slides out from between Emma and the sink. She pecks her on the cheek, then saunters over to herself, still stood in the doorway with somewhat of a dazed look on her face. Regina smirks. "Come, Irene, let us find the other nuisance and our freakishly hairy son."

Nodding, her counterpart steps back, murmuring as she turns, "I see she ruined your love of Jim Carrey too."

"Oh yes."

From behind them, Emma claims, "That is a fantastic movie, and you both suck." She slams the door before either of them even think to argue, their laughter echoing back to her from all the way down the hall.

Chapter Text

"For the last time, they're not married."

"I'm not convinced."

"Do you see any wedding rings?"

Highly entertained with the back and forth occurring in front of them, Emma muses aloud, "We're good at this."

Having been sipping on her coffee while attempting to hide her own amusement, Regina lowers the cup from her mouth, sucking on her lower lip before she agrees, "Who knew we'd be able to infuriate ourselves."

Emma grins. "I wonder what other hidden ta—"

"Rumple," her counterpart interjects, "tell her they're married."

Understandably surprised at being dragged into their conversation, his mouth opens and closes a few times before he composes himself. He shakes his head, unusually contrite sounding for the Dark One when he replies, "Apologies, dearie but, rare as it is, when I happen to be wrong, I prefer it when it's an accident."

Quasi-Emma blinks. "What?"

"They're not married," he says slowly.

She huffs, folding her arms as she slumps against the couch. "How do you know?"

His mouth tilts upward. "While not my main concern, it is one of the reasons I chose them," he explains. "Their dynamic in spite of their marital status is… useful."

"Useful for w—"

"Wait," Emma interrupts this time. She'd noted the shifty eyes and the way he'd said the word just as well as the other her had, but that could wait. This was more important. "We're married in other worlds?"

"Realities," he corrects, head bobbing up and down. "Yes."

She tries to imagine it, not at all surprised by the ease with which the images fill her mind. There is definitely something appealing in the idea of her waiting at the altar while Regina walks (saunters, more like) down the aisle. "I bet you'd look hot in a wedding dress."

Understatement.

"Tuxedo."

Oh man, even better. "Really?"

Regina sniffs. "I can't have you outshining me at my own wedding. What kind of Queen do you take me for?"

"So in this fantasy of yours, we're both wearing tuxes?"

"Mhmm."

Mind filling in the little detail, she adds a touch of her own in the form of Regina's hair slicked back, and almost salivates at the end result. "Sexy."

"Very," Regina purrs.

"Keep it in your pants."

Squinting at her counterpart, Emma shakes her head and turns to Regina. "There is definitely something wrong with her if she's telling you to keep in your pants."

"Some things are more important," quasi-Emma defends.

Emma snorts. "Maybe for those of us who don't know any better." More important, than Regina naked? Damn; this curse is even more horrifying than she thought. "Rumple? Please tell me you found something."

His face says everything. "No, unfortunately." He sighs. "I can sense the magic in the air but my attempts to trace it have proven annoyingly fruitless."

Grimacing, disappointed, she questions, "So what now?"

He spreads his hands wide. "I don't suppose either of you have any ideas?"

"You mentioned the other day the curse seemed to want to keep us apart," Regina chimes in. When he nods, she asks, "Rather than a mere symptom, might that be its entire purpose?"

"I suppose it possible," he replies, brow furrowing in thought. "If that is the case, then it doesn't solve our immediate problem in narrowing down the list of suspects."

"Not true," Emma counters. "I mean, we haven't ruled anyone out yet but if that is the point, then we can. Me, Regina, Henry and my parents are in the clear—"

Rumple frowns. "How do you figure?"

She shrugs. Isn't it obvious? "We all want the same thing."

"Family," Regina supplies.

Emma shoots her a smile. "Exactly," she says, "and like it or not, my mother is head over heels for Regina, in any world."

Regina sputters, choking on the sip of coffee she'd just taken. She thumps a hand against her chest and croaks, "Please don't phrase it like that."

"Obsessed?"

She shudders. "Still a terrifying thought, but better."

With a grin, Emma nudges her shoulder and leans in, kissing her on the cheek. "So," she adds, sitting back, "keeping me away from Regina kinda puts a wrench in her own plans of reuniting us all as one big, happy family and, much as I love him, dad is a pushover who'll do whatever mom wants."

"It's true," her counterpart confirms.

Taking them at their word, Rumple inclines his head. "Why rule out you, or Regina?"

Emma's grin widens as she confesses shamelessly, "I'm as obsessed with Regina as my mother is." Maybe even more. This Emma can deny it all she wants, if she feels like it, but she's not fooled and neither should anyone else be. "And despite my desire to please everyone around me; Hook is not husband or father material."

She's watching herself when she speaks and she sees the flash. It's the same glazed look Regina described when mentioning her to this world's Regina. Emma waits for the defense— the demand she not talk about Hook like that, but then it passes, their eyes meeting and holding.

She wasn't the only one who noticed. "She's fighting it," Rumple says. Their gazes shift to him, expressions expectant. "Conscious or subconscious, Miss Swan?"

"Both," she replies, frowning. "I think."

"Good."

Emma raises a brow and drawls, "An explanation would be nice."

He smirks. "It would, wouldn't it? Regina," he continues. "We have yet to hear the reason for why you should be excluded from the suspect list."

"I would sooner kill the pirate than burden Emma with him."

"Even if you thought he was who she wanted? Who she would be happy with?" Regina grimaces but Rumple simply smiles. "I thought so. However, I wasn't speaking to you. We already know you two didn't curse us."

All eyes fall to her counterpart who scowls at each of them. "Rather than ask why I wouldn't, perhaps you should concern yourselves with why I would." Her face falls, her voice softer when she asks, "What could I possibly gain from it? I lost my best friend and my son calls that… that cretin…"

"She didn't do it."

Unclenching her jaw, Emma sinks back into the couch in relief. Another minute and she'd probably have gotten herself killed in an attempt to beat the snot out of Rumple for upsetting Regina. Either that, or she'd have killed herself, literally, for not defending her.

"You believe me?"

Her counterpart nods. "You didn't lose me, Regina." Grimacing, she gestures down at herself. "You lost this, whoever the fuck she is and if we really are cursed, then Henry… he's not himself, okay? You haven't lost him either."

A huff next to her has Emma turning and she stifles a grin upon realizing Regina is glaring at Rumple.

"Now look what you did."

Rumple merely winks at her, surprising them both. "Progress, dearie."

Chapter Text

After lunch, the day goes about the same as the one before. Emma won't ever get used to it, she's decided. She prefers to read when it's not against her will, and also when it's not boring. She likes the mystery and gore of crime novels. Reading spell books is a lot like reading a recipe book, only there's no delicious, delicious food at the end. In short, it's entirely pointless and not worth the effort in the slightest.

The one difference tonight is that when Rumple stands and says his goodbyes, heading for the foyer, Emma follows him. She's been thinking, and the longer she leaves the idea unshared, the more idiotic she thinks it is. In a town like Storybrooke, though, idiotic isn't the worse possible thing. They've been through a lot, and most of it has been many layers of stupid upon ridiculous.

"Rumple."

Slipping smoothly into his coat, he turns, not even bothering to hide his surprise. "Miss Swan?"

She chews her lower lip, conflicted. If he laughs, she's going to punch him. "What if it's a God?"

"A God."

"Yeah." No laugh, but a frown that says he might actually be considering it. Huh. "Could it?"

He doesn't respond immediately. Watching his frown deepen, she has no idea if that's a good thing. Not knowing makes her nervous and nervous, as anyone who knows her will attest, means babbling. "I just…"

Rumple, as it turns out, is one of those people. He doesn't look surprised that she's spoken again, nor is he annoyed when she trails off. He honestly looks interested in what she has to say and prompts, "Go on."

In a rush of breath, she says, "When I first got here, Regina— the other one –told me about Zeus resurrecting Hook and…" She pauses, needing that breath back. "Robin died, right? But why?"

A shrug. "He interfered with Hades' plans to takeover Storybrooke."

Head shaking, she changes her mind; her idea wasn't stupid. That is. "Really," she deadpans. The almighty God of the Dead wanted their shitty little town in bumfuck nowhere? "He's the God of the Underworld, and he wanted Storybrooke? How would that even work when he's bound to the damn place?"

Rumple grins. "Good question."

Exasperated; with him, with Gods and magic and— and this stupid world, she groans. "None of this makes sense."

"I have that same thought at least twice a day," he agrees. Leaning on his cane, he tilts his head curiously. "If you have a theory, Miss Swan, I'm willing to listen."

"I dunno," she admits. "I don't even know if it makes sense, but Gods are supposed to be pricks, right?" That's how she remembers them from the books and movies, and Hades when she met him didn't exactly do anything to dissuade her of the notion. "They interfere even though they're not meant to?"

"It has been known to happen from time to time."

"Did anything happen in the Underworld?" She frowns as soon as the question slips free because plenty happened in the Underworld and really, how unspecific could she possibly be? She amends quickly, "I mean, when we were there, Regina talked to her father and her mother tried to kill her again, but—"

At that, Rumple straightens, interrupting, "Cora tried to kill Regina?"

Eying him, she drawls, "Uh, yeah?" What the hell happened here that that is what catches his attention? "She was a shitty mother, why do you sound surprised?"

He gestures dismissively, questioning, "Did she have her heart?"

"Yeah?"

He frowns again, though this time it's without the awkward silence as he explains, "When she regained her heart here, she was different. She told Regina she was sorry and that she would have been enough."

Yeah, okay. "Well that's a crock of shit," she says. Fucking Cora. "Bitch knew what she was doing the whole time, with or without her heart."

"Perhaps that is where our worlds differ. In the Underworld, Regina forgave her and Cora ascended…"

Strangling an indignant sound, she squeaks, "To heaven?"

"Elysian Fields," he corrects, head dipping forward. Heroic and virtuous, my ass, Emma thinks. "Hmm."

She rolls her eyes. "What?"

"Half-formed theories at best." He waves a hand, like swatting a fly; an annoying blonde fly with her annoying blonde questions. Emma narrows her eyes but he ignores her. Typical. "I'll need time to consider this. Did something else occur in the Underworld while you were down there?"

"You uh…" She hesitates, struggling to find the right word. "Re-killed someone?" She tries. Was it murder if the person was already dead?

"I did that here as well," he states, oh so casually and— well. What did she say here? Okay then? "What about Zelena and Robyn, her daughter? Were they down there?"

Ugh. Robin? Really? Sure, the guy's dead but naming their cheat baby after him like Regina losing him wasn't bad enough? Also, the fuck? "Why would anyone bring a baby to the Underworld?"

"Belle…" She stares, willing him to just try and defend that idea as anything other than terrible. He shakes his head, seemingly thinking better of it as he says, "Never mind. It's a long story."

"You're all seriously messed up."

He smiles, coy. "That is why you're here, dearie."

"Yeah?" She smirks as she questions, "So it wasn't so you could play matchmaker with Ms. and Miss. Oblivious in there?"

He taps his nose knowingly. "True Love, Miss Swan, is a powerful thing."

Her chest flutters tellingly— curiously. "Are we?"

"In every world, and every life."

The relief that hits her is borderline knee-buckling. A grin spreads across her face. "Cool."

He chuckles. "Succinctly put."

Nodding, she clears her throat. "So… time?"

"Time," he repeats.

"Guess I better contact the family then."

"Miss Swan?" Turning to retrieve Regina so that they can speak to their son together, she pauses. "If it's any consolation, I apologize for burdening you both with this."

"Eh, we were due a vacation anyway," she says, walking away. "Later Gator."

"Crocodile," he corrects, opening the front door.

"Don't care," she singsongs, disappearing into the den with the sound of his laughter in her ears.

Chapter Text

"Why didn't you come to me?"

As soon as the door to the guestroom closes, Regina pushes Emma up against it and asks. She's not mad. She's finally starting to accept that trying to be with Emma is futile— a waste of time when she forgives so easily. She is disappointed though, disappointed that Emma hadn't seen fit to speak to her, that she would go to Rumple with her theories first.

Emma doesn't question the position or the mouth on her throat as she tips her head back. "I thought it was stupid," she admits a little breathlessly. "If he'd laughed, I could have hit him."

Regina rocks back with a frown. "You thought I'd laugh at you?" Emma bites her lip and— yes, now she's mad. She smacks Emma's chest. "I have been nothing but supportive of you and your ideas, no matter how ridiculous I thought they were. You—"

"I didn't," Emma interrupts, grabbing her hand and pulling Regina against her. "I didn't think that, not really. I just… I want to go home, Regina. I figured we'd end up talking to him anyway, so why not skip a step? I didn't mean to upset you."

Searching her gaze, Regina sighs. She knew it wasn't a lie but really; the speed at which her anger abates with Emma is absurd. "It's not stupid," she concedes. "It's a good idea."

An idea she hadn't even considered despite their own dealings with Hades. He was a cruel son of a bitch, and she wouldn't put it passed him to be the one messing with their lives. He wasn't fond of them in their world, especially not after they'd tricked him to save Hook. There was no reason to think him any different in this one.

A slow smile spreads across Emma's face as she asks, "Yeah?" Regina nods as Emma pushes from the door, guiding her back towards their bed. "Does that mean we're not going to fight about it?"

"And provide you an opportunity to dig yourself into a hole?" Regina teases. Taking her hand back and sliding it up over Emma's shoulder, she lowers her voice and purrs, "I much prefer the direction you appear to be leading us in."

Emma smirks. "This is pretty standard fair for us, sure you don't want to do something different for a change?"

Grinning, Regina turns them and pushes her down onto the bed. "With our imaginations," she replies silkily, settling in her lap. "I'm certain we can come up with something to break apart the monotony."

[The next morning]

Seated at the kitchen counter, Regina is downing her second cup of coffee when this world's version of her storms into the room. She can almost picture the steam coming from the ears when her counterpart glares at her, and she grins, more than pleased with herself.

Angry as this other her might be, she isn't blind. She's tempted to tease her for the pink in her cheeks but she is far more curious of whether or not the woman will confront her for what she and Emma had done last night.

So she waits.

It takes a little while longer than she thought it would but eventually her counterpart sighs and sits down across from her. Regina sips at her third cup, brow slowly rising higher and higher on her forehead. She's at the point where she fears losing it altogether in her hairline before her counterpart actually speaks.

"Why did you do that?"

Her brow drops, forehead creasing with her frown. Why she thought would be obvious. Aside from being easily amused, neither her nor Emma have even attempted to hide what it is they're trying to do. "I thought you'd appreciate a glimpse of what you've been missing," she reasons.

"I saw… everything."

There's awe but also disbelief and— something else. Disgust? Shame? She isn't quite sure but rare as it is for her to feel either, she assumes it must be one of them. "No one forced you to watch," she retorts, annoyed.

Her counterpart scowls. "You did when you spelled my bedroom mirror!"

"Do I not posses magic in this world?" Regina counters sarcastically. "Perhaps a blanket, or a towel?" Honestly, if she hadn't wanted to watch, there were plenty of ways she could have avoided it.

Glare dropping to the cup in her hands, they fall into silence. Regina grimaces and averts her own gaze to the counter. Maybe they shouldn't have done it, but it sounded fun at the time and, honestly, is it really that big of a deal? It isn't like they put on a show for a complete stranger, or even a third party.

"Does Emma know?"

Peering up at her, Regina cocks her head to the side. The thought of doing something like that without Emma's permission is inconceivable but, "It was her idea," she replies.

"And you went along with it?"

She chuckles as she questions, "Did I go along with allowing myself to watch me have sex with the woman I love?"

"I'm not you."

The words are practically spat at her and she blinks, head shaking slowly. "No, you're far more prudish."

"I am not a prude."

"You turned down a threesome," she retorts, smirking. "You're a prude."

"She isn't mine!"

Leaning back, more in surprise than anything else, Regina frowns. "You would honestly rather sleep with the other one?" Sure, day by day, she was improving but next to her Emma? This world's one doesn't stand up. "Why? She's so…"

"I love her."

It's said quietly but with enough feeling to halt her in her tracks. Well then. "In that case, why aren't you together?"

"I…" Her counterpart sighs. "I don't know," she says with a groan. "I remember telling myself I was going to tell her, but I don't… I don't know if I did."

When the realization hits, Regina almost hits herself for forgetting the curse. For all anyone knew, they were together in this world before everything that's happened, happened. She blames the pathetic excuse for coffee, glaring down at it as she says, "Then I suppose we have even more reason to find the one responsible for this curse." If they're not, then— Emma is, after their son, the best thing to ever happen to her. She wants that for herself; for every version of them. She looks up. "Promise me something."

Prompted by a raised brow, she continues, "When we do, when this curse is broken, if you haven't already, promise me you will tell her."

"I…" Hesitating, her counterpart glances back down as she fiddles with the handle of her cup. She takes a breath, then a sip of her coffee before she lifts her gaze and nods. "I will."

Regina smiles, knowing not to doubt that look in her eyes. "Good."

Before her counterpart can reply, they hear a scuffle from behind and both glance over Regina's shoulder. Emma stands in the doorway, poorly stifling a yawn as she attempts to rub her eyes and talk at the same time. "What's good?"

"She enjoyed our show," Regina lies easily, chest clenching with affection.

Arms falling to her side, Emma stares for half a second before the grin slowly begins to spread across her face. She's beaming by the time she seeks assurance from Regina's counterpart. "Yeah?"

"Yes dear."

Chapter Text

"You sure about this?" Emma questions.

"Yes, darling." Regina leans in and kisses her on the cheek. Smiling, she teases, "Don't fuss, love, that's my job."

Emma rolls her eyes. She's not fussing, she's just… worried. Regina was bound to get bored and tired of being cooped up in the house eventually but maybe pretending to be her counterpart and going into the office isn't the best way to relieve said boredom.

"You'd be the same if I decided to play Sheriff for the day, and don't even bother trying to deny it."

"Why would I?" Stepping into her, Regina caresses her cheek with the back of a hand. "The difference being, I can pretend to be this version of myself. You'd snap after an hour and likely end up hitting someone."

Emma grins because it's true. Everyone she's met so far, she's either snapped at or been on the verge of snapping at. Her counterpart, Hook, Rumple. Hell, she'd even threatened to kick Regina's counterpart's ass after only a few hours in her presence. There is something about this world, more than the curse the town is under, that sets her off far more easily than she'd ever been set off in their world.

"Well, you don't need to worry about me," she says and presses forward, kissing her on the mouth. It's slow and sweet, just as she knows Regina likes. "I'll be on my best behavior… here… with another you."

Regina smirks. "You can be as bad as you like, sweetheart. Just as long as she's still breathing when I return."

Feeling the heat in her cheeks, Emma laughs and shakes her head. "Don't you go putting ideas into my head, I might take you seriously and get myself fireballed."

"That, my dear, would be a crying shame," Regina teases, patting her on the cheek before she backs away toward the door. "I expect dinner waiting for me on the table, little wife."

Her cheeks burn more hotly as she scowls. "I will murder you, I swear."

Regina chuckles, throwing a playful wink over her shoulder before she opens the door and disappears out into the cold, wet morning. Emma swings around on her heel, jerking back as she comes face to face with the other Regina.

"Uh, hi?" With a smirk, she beckons and Emma follows her to the kitchen, taking a seat at the counter with a frown. "Something wrong?"

"Not at all," Regina replies, dismissive as she retrieves two cups from the cupboard and crosses to the coffeemaker. "I simply thought I might take advantage of this rare time we have alone. It is, after all, why she's taken my place this morning… or would you prefer to believe the reason she gave and pretend otherwise?"

Emma shrugs. If Regina said she was bored, then she probably was but that doesn't mean there weren't other reasons for her decision— reasons Emma suspected but didn't bother to bring up. She can read between the lines, especially when those lines are so awfully thin.

Regina tries to be subtle, but sometimes she isn't as good at it as she might otherwise believe.

"I had a hunch," Emma says. It was the same hunch Regina confirmed with her parting words. She can be bad, for the right reasons. "I'm sure the fantasies in her head make an exciting story, but we both know where they lead in reality, yeah?"

Regina hums, smiling as she sets a cup in front of her. "I've always known there was a big brain in that head," she murmurs, sliding onto the stool beside her. "She is far freer than I ever imagined possible for me."

"She's happy."

"That she is," she agrees, the smile softening. "I've always thought we would be good together."

"We are," Emma assures, reaching for her hand. Their fingers entwine and she squeezes gently. "We're going to fix this, Regina. You deserve to be happy too."

Staring down at their hands, Regina's smile turns sad and she sighs softly. "I fear fate may disagree with you."

Emma grimaces. "Screw fate." Fate said they were mortal enemies and that she would be Regina's down fall. "I've said it once, I'll say it as many times as I need to; fate can go fuck itself. We decide where we go in life, and who we go with. I chose you in my world, I'll choose you in this one."

"You are very…"

Emma wags her eyebrows and suggests, "Charming?"

"Sweet," Regina corrects with a quiet laugh. The look she gives her is so familiar, Emma feels the warmth of it spread through her. "I am uncertain how it is that I deserve you in any world."

"You think she's any different?" She counters. If anything, her Regina is worse. Fortunately, she'd found a way through to her not long after they agreed to be friends. "Maybe it's not about what you deserve."

A sculpted brow rises high on a forehead in disbelief as Emma stifles a laugh. Apparently it's okay for Regina to doubt her own importance, but if another does it; watch out. "No?"

"Ever think it might be what I deserve?"

Regina snorts. "If you think I'm the best you can do, dear—"

"No," Emma interrupts with another squeeze of her hand. "I think you're what I want… and if I deserve what I want, then you're stuck with me in every world, doomed to live your every life by my side."

"Doomed, hmm?"

"Doomed," she repeats, drawing it out as she leans over and kisses the corner of her mouth. "Forever."

Heaving an exaggerated sigh, a fond smile stretching her lips, Regina drawls, "How dreadfully terrible."

"There's the horrible, awful woman I fell in love with."

Chapter Text

Waltzing into the station at lunch time, Regina almost runs straight into David. Her eyes widen in surprise but by the time he looks up to apologize, she has adorned the mayoral mask that she's perfected over the years, and she cocks an imperious brow.

"Regina." He grins, completely unfazed. "New hairdo?"

She sniffs, flicking the hair from her shoulder. Everyone and their mother has commented on it since this morning. "I thought I'd try something different. Is Emma here?"

His face falls. "Yes, but—"

"Splendid," she interrupts, ignoring his attempt to stop her as she slips passed him and through to Emma's office. Her other half may have resigned herself to being avoided, but she is not her. "Always a pleasure, Charming."

"Re…" Emma glances up when she walks through the door, obviously having heard her voice. "—gina. You're not my Regina."

She smirks. "Your Regina, hmm?"

"Well—"

"No no." She holds up a hand, halting the words as she says, "Don't backtrack and ruin the moment."

Emma rolls her eyes, smiling. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," she drawls, slipping the purse from her arm and dropping it on the desk before she takes a seat. "I thought since my Emma is spending time alone with your R—"

Eyes growing wide, Emma gasps, "Oh my god, why would you leave them alone together?"

Regina frowns. If her Emma was ever this oblivious, she isn't sure she noticed before she fell in love with her. "Why wouldn't I?"

"What if they…"

Ah. Right. Her Emma doesn't get jealous. At least not since they became friends. The only time she'd ever seen it was when she was with Robin, and even then it was small— barely noticeable unless you were looking for it. She's still getting used to recognizing it.

"Then good for them," she replies.

Emma gapes at her like some sort of demented fish. "Seriously?"

"Miss Swan," she starts, but then she sighs. Growling and calling her names, she knows, isn't going to help. She wants Emma to like her—to love her, not give her more reason to distance herself. "I realize the two of you aren't in a relationship yet but—"

Emma chuckles and repeats, "Yet?"

"Yes dear. Don't interrupt," she scolds. "It's rude."

"Sorry?"

"I realize you two aren't in a relationship yet," Regina continues, "but my Emma and I have a…" She pauses, searching for the right word. "An agreement," she decides. "We may be of two different worlds, but we are the same; same soul, same bodies, same minds, same personality. She is you and I am her, therefore you are mine and she is hers."

Face contorting with a scowl, Emma rises and leans over her desk. "I don't belong to anyone."

"No," Regina concedes. Neither of them are possessions, but they are what they are. "But you are mine regardless."

Staring down at her, Emma slowly shakes her head and releases her breath. "Yeah, okay." She sits back down, expression surprisingly serious for her next question. "So what, you're here to seduce me?"

Regina almost laughs. She has never, not once, needed to seduce Emma. In fact, she could have had her any time she wanted, if only she'd asked. It is a regret that haunts her to this very moment, but not one she will share in this case. "Truthfully, I wouldn't bother." She leans back in her seat, getting comfortable as she crosses one leg over the other and admits, "I don't particularly like this incarnation of yours. Perhaps it's the curse… perhaps you've always been this obtuse and infuriating—"

"I'm infuriating?" Emma does laugh, mockingly. "You claim you're both in love and yet you don't give a shit if she cheats on you. If that's the kind of relationship we have, I don't want it."

"Let me make one thing clear, Miss Swan," Regina growls, sitting forward with a glare. "Whether my Emma does or does not give your Regina the greatest fuck of her life, I know and trust she would never cheat on me." Swallowing down the budding anger, she exhales roughly and sits back. "She loves me… every piece, every version, just as I love every piece and every version of you."

"But you just said—"

"I don't need to like you to love you," she interjects, "idiot. As I said, you are mine, it cannot be helped." She would know. She has certainly tried not to feel anything for this shell of her lover. "The reason I came here is because she has already accepted everything I just told you. You're behind, Miss Swan."

Sighing, Emma slumps back, running a hand through her hair.  "Could you…" Dragging the hand back down, she rubs it over her face and sighs into it before letting it fall to her lap. "—stop calling me that. Please?"

Regina inclines her head. "Emma, she loves you."

"I know."

"You know," she repeats with a frown.

Emma nods. "I know. I know I was kind of… blank after she hit Hook, but I heard what he said to y— to Regina," she explains. She averts her gaze and murmurs, "She didn't deny it."

"And?"

Groaning, she throws her head back. Staring up at the ceiling, she asks, "And what if I married him before we were cursed?"

Regina bites the inside of her cheek, holding back the so what? on the tip of her tongue. Hook could be King, and she sworn to his service, it wouldn't make a god damned difference. "There is such a thing as divorce," she reminds instead.

"B—"

Better yet, she interrupts, "I could kill him for you."

Head tipping forward, mouth twitching with the beginnings of a smile, Emma chides, "Regina."

"Tut." She wags a finger. "I am not your Regina; that tone does not work on me."

Biting her lip, Emma shrugs. "I'll tell your Emma, then."

"Go ahead." Regina smirks. Her Emma would volunteer to do it herself. "You saw what she did to him… twice."

"You're right, she'd just encourage you."

There is that.

Falling forward, elbows against the desk, Emma clasps the back of her neck, sighing as she rubs at the muscles there. Her head lifts, peering up at Regina from between lashes. "What'd he do to her?"

Not expecting the question, Regina purses her lips. There is no easy way to answer that and even if there were, she isn't sure she should. If Emma wants her to know, then surely she should be the one to tell her.

Still, she supposes she can give her something in the way of an answer, unhelpful as it may be. Decision made, she says, "He tore down her walls and drove a bulldozer through the remains."

"Oh." Crossing her arms against the desk, Emma sets her chin on top of them. She's quiet, staring, but it doesn't last long enough for Regina to consider it annoying before she says, "I got a call from the hospital this morning."

"Is that what that was?" She'd stormed out of the house this morning in a huff and without word to anyone.

"Yeah. Whale says he's woken up and is asking for me."

"Are you going to see him?" She questions, genuinely curious.

"I don't think I want to," Emma admits, "but something tells me I should."

"Probably part of the curse."

She smiles widely, laughing softly before she sighs and murmurs, "Yeah, maybe."

"I won't tell you to stay away from him, it's your decision, but I will urge you to be cautious."

"I was kind of hoping you or… or my Regina might come with me."

"Oh." She's touched, but no. The next time she sees Hook, if ever, she likely will end up murdering him. "Well, take yours," she urges. "I hear you have a fair bit of friendship neglect to make up for."

"I thought maybe it might upset her."

Regina chuckles. As much as they are different, there are a few occasions here and there where this Emma reminds her of her own. This clear regard for her wellbeing is one of them. "Dear, it would upset all of us but trust me, she'll appreciate the inclusion more than I."

"Okay."

Rising, she retrieves her purse and tucks it under her arm. "I should get back to work."

"Regina, wait."

Turning enough to glance at her over a shoulder, hand on the door, she raises a brow. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

I didn't do it for you.

Dismissing the thought, she offers a faint smile and a, "Welcome," before she leaves. Catching sight of David at his desk, playing on his phone, she smirks. "Charming."

He starts, jumping slightly as his eyes snap up. "Regina."

"Get back to work, deputy."

With an exaggerated sigh, he opens a drawer and shoves his phone inside. "Slave driver."

"Idiot," she retorts, grinning to herself as she makes the walk back to the office, his surprised yet delighted expression firmly in her mind.

Chapter Text

Confused, Emma watches their counterparts leave for the hospital after dinner. They had eaten quicker than she thought possible, and coming from her that's saying a lot. She's never met a plate of food she hasn't demolished in under ten minutes, two less and they'd have beaten her current record.

Eager didn't even begin to describe the swift exit.

"Keep doing that with your face and it'll get stuck like that," Regina teases a few minutes later, retrieving their plates. "Come. Help me with the dishes."

Standing, Emma gathers their glasses and follows her into the kitchen. "You didn't find that odd?"

"What?"

Stacking the dishes on the bench, Emma nudges her away from the sink as she says, "When's the last time you remember eating that fast?"

"Ah." Regina smiles and hands her the dishwash before slipping an arm around her waist. Chin on her shoulder, she asks, "You mean do I find it odd that even in another world we want to deal with Hook as quickly as possible and get it over with?"

Well. "When you put it like that…" Emma drawls. It does seem like a pretty good reason to almost choke on one's food. "Tell me if I'm being an idiot."

"I always do." Regina nuzzles her cheek, then kisses her jaw. "You're being cautious, my love. Which, I might add, is rather refreshing given your propensity for impulsiveness."

"Mhmm." Turning her head, Emma kisses her softly on the mouth before returning her attention to the dishes. "How was the office? Good idea?"

"Terrible," Regina murmurs, slipping behind and wrapping both arms around her waist. She sighs, laying her head against Emma's back as she says, "Everyone seems to like me here for some reason."

Emma chuckles. "Everyone likes you everywhere. You're very likeable when you're not trying to kill people, and even then…" When those homicidal tendencies are the only reason not to love someone, she wonders how anyone can consciously choose not to love Regina.

"Charmer."

"You love—"

Phone ringing, Regina interjects, "Hold that thought," and summons it from its cradle in the foyer. "Regina Mil— you're rambling, dear… Just a moment."

Frowning as she hangs up, Emma asks, "Who?"

"You," Regina replies, transporting them in the next second.

Emma glances down at her hands, suds dripping from her fingers and onto the hospital floor. "Uh."

Regina tsks. "Honestly, your inability to predict me lately is worrying."

"Less sass, more towels."

Just as she conjures one and throws it at her head, the door opens and Whale steps into the room. All four of them turn towards him and he freezes, blinking stupidly. "I can come back?"

The words are barely out before he's thrown across the room. Emma winces as he slides, unconscious, to the floor. Regina has never liked him. Truthfully, she isn't all that fond of him either, but— "Was that really necessary?"

"We still don't know who cast this curse," Regina reasons. "The less people who know we're here, the better for everyone." She tilts her head after a moment, brow raised as she asks Quasi-Emma, "You said he mentioned mother?"

She nods. "He was mumbling her name," she explains. "Whale said he might be delirious from the drugs." Eyes sliding to Emma, her counterpart informs, "Apparently your punch did more than knock him unconscious."

"Good," she replies. If he happens to have a brain hemorrhage and die— well. It might be a bit much, but it wouldn't be undeserved as far as she's concerned.

Ignoring them both, Regina questions, "Why would he mention mother?" Shooting her counterpart a suspicious look, she says, "I thought you said she accepted you and ascended?"

Quasi-Regina scowls, snapping, "She did."

"With extreme offense and no respect whatsoever," Emma chimes in, "the woman was manipulative, a liar and a colossal harpy bitch." She shakes her head at them both before she adds, "I wouldn't take her at her word if she'd grown wings and the angels started singing her fucking praises."

"Very colourful," Regina notes, an edge of sarcastic amusement in her voice. "Vivid."

Emma smirks. "Thanks."

"So what," her counterpart says, "You think a ghost cursed us? We're being haunted?"

"Don't be absurd." Seeing the flash of hurt, Emma assumes Regina saw it too as she goes on to explain, "We lose our magic when we die and, despite popular belief, ghosts do not linger because of some moronic unfinished business. We all die and no one cares if you forgot to turn the stove off when it happens..."

"Oh."

Emma hides her smile.

"Gods, on the other hand…"

"Yes," Regina confirms the thought, smiling faintly at her counterpart. "I wouldn't put it passed mother to—"

"Maybe," Emma interrupts because seriously? "I know this is a long shot, but maybe he just misses her… or was thinking about her… or—"

Strange as it would be, he is drugged and they did have some form of relationship. What type of relationship, she's perfectly content not to guess at, but jumping straight to the assumption that Cora's ghost is somehow working with one of the Gods in the afterlife just because Hook said her name is a bit of a stretch, even for Emma.

"You don't think it's related?"

"I mean… it could be," she concedes with a shrug. It is Storybrooke and weirder things have happened, but this seems like they're clutching at straws more than anything else. "But it could also… not be?"

"And if you're wrong?"

"Then I'm wrong and we deal with it. I'm not saying don't think it, I'm just saying…" She sighs and admits, "It's a bit too much, right? I mean, what was the point? Hook's happiness? Why would a God, or for that matter, your mother give a shit about that?"

"If you are wrong," Regina's counterpart intercedes, voice soft, "then I think it would have more to do with my misery than anyone's happiness…"

"Oh." That would make a little more sense, assuming Cora is the same toxic old hag that, upon failing to kill them all, tried to have them imprisoned in the Underworld. "Okay," she says slowly. "Assuming I am wrong and you're both right… where does the God come in?"

"Good question— of which, we have in abundance." Glaring down at Hook, dark lips begin to twitch and Emma has a bad feeling as Regina drawls, "Let's find us some answers, hmm?"

Chapter Text

"No way."

Emma snorts to herself. It was naïve to think her refusal to do this would persuade Regina. "It's a simple procedure, a blind monkey could do it; she said. Great! Send one in; I said. Ugh," she groans. Why she even bothers arguing anymore is anyone's guess; one look at that face and she caves like a goddamned ski lodge beneath the weight of an avalanche.

They went from no way to do it for me to what's in it for me? And then Regina gave her that look that said you know what's in it for you. The very next second she was nodding, and then Regina was bippity boppity booping her the fuck inside Hook's gross subconscious.

Or, what she assumed would be his gross subconscious. In reality, it appears to be nothing more than an endless sort of darkness, save for a flicker of something in the distance. What, she won't even try to guess. It could be an oncoming train for all she knows, and won't that just make her day all the peachier?

Like she doesn't have better things to do.

She should have demanded her reward in advance.

Groaning once more for good measure, and making a mental note to whine at Regina a lot when this is over, she pats herself down and begins walking toward whatever the thing in the distance is.

As she walks, she starts to wonder if she is, in fact, in Hook's mind or if Regina somehow screwed up the spell. Maybe she's really trapped in limbo and the thing she's walking to is that light everyone mentions when talking about death.

If it is, she isn't too worried. If she ends up dying, Regina will go to the ends of the earth to figure out how to bring her back. She would, of course, kill her again afterwards, but it's a thought that keeps Emma occupied for what seems like hours.

When she starts to wonder if she's even making any progress, shapes begin to form in the distant image. She squints to try and make out more but it's pointless. "Stupid darkness," she mutters, boots scuffing against… wood?

She glances down with a frown that deepens upon recognizing the floor and when she looks up, she freezes. There, on a familiar couch, sits Hook. In front of him is a television, and on that television is what looks to be a movie of them, together, being domestic and in love.

 "Jesus Christ," she groans in disgust. Of all the things his subconscious could torment her with, it went with this. Why couldn't it be something sleazy; like a bordello full to the brim with naked women pawing at and cooing over him?

That would make sense, and likely nauseate her far less.

"Emma?" His face lights up when he says her name. She'd pity him if she didn't loath him. Instead, she grimaces. "Ah." He nods, mouth quirked. "You did a right bang up job on me, love."

"You deserved it," she counters, stepping around the couch. She falls onto it beside him and tries her best to ignore the TV.

"Aye." He sighs. "That I did."

Wait, what?

"Huh?" He laughs and reaches down beside him. He comes back with a beer that he passes to her and she frowns, the bottle solid in her hand. Dismissing it, she says, "No, seriously."

"Our wedding day, I thought I was the luckiest man alive."

"Funny," she drawls, snapping the lid off the bottle and taking a sip before she adds, "She doesn't even remember it."

His head whips around to face her, mouth open. "What?"

She cocks a brow. "Did I stutter?"

"She doesn't remember our wedding day?"

"Please." She snorts. "Like you didn't know."

"How would I know?" Voice rising, his jaw clicks shut and he takes a breath. Calmly, he questions, "What are you talking about?"

She huffs, not fooled for a second. "The curse, Hook. Don't play dumb."

His face contorts, the anger hidden beneath a thick layer of confusion. "Curse? What curse?"

Taking the moment to study him, to recall the things she knows about him; his lies, his tells. She frowns, and then scowls because, she realizes, this is the first time since she'd met him— any version of him —that he actually seems to be telling the truth. "You're not that good of an actor," she murmurs. Maybe with words, but she has more than that; not once did her lie detector ping. "You really don't know?"

He growls, "Know what?"

"The entire town is cursed, that's why I'm here," she explains, "to break it."

"And you thought I had something to do with it?"

"Uh, yeah?" Eyes rolling, she questions, "What? You think I don't know you're a piece of shit?"

Surprisingly, he doesn't take offense. His expression is that of someone resigned when he says, "I didn't do it."

And fuck it all, she actually believes him.

Nodding, she takes a drink of her beer, and then another before she sits forward, slamming the bottle on the table. "Maybe not," she concedes, somewhat. She's trusted her gut her entire life, she isn't about to start mistrusting it now. "But I bet you know who did."

"No, I…" His shoulders slump, words tapering off, and she knows she's got him.

"Who?"

He doesn't answer right away, his brow furrowed as he appears to think something over. Her patience grows shorter the longer his silence lasts, and just when she's about to seriously consider punching him again, his head rolls against the back of the couch and their eyes meet.

"Zeus."

"Zeus," she repeats slowly. At his nod, she frowns and asks, "Why?"

"Cora." Fuck. "She's the one that convinced him to resurrect me. She said she had plans and she needed me…"

"Let me guess, it was a plan to ruin Regina's life?"

"I wouldn't put it passed her."

Answers received, she rises, Regina's words repeating themselves over in her head; return to where you began, and I'll know.

"Wait, where are you going?" When she doesn't answer and starts to walk away from Hook, he shouts, "Is that why she married me?"

At that, she stops. Loathing him, as it turns out, doesn't trump pity. "Like I said," she calls back, "you're a piece of shit."

Chapter Text

When Emma opens her eyes finally, Regina breathes a sigh in relief. She thought Emma would wake up the second she pulled her out. Instead, it's been hours— so many, in fact, she'd started to question herself, wondering if she'd somehow gotten the spell wrong despite having recited it straight from the book her alternate retrieved from the vault.

Head propped in one hand, she caresses Emma's cheek with the other, smiling when those sleepy green eyes fall from the ceiling to alight on her. "Hey."

"Hey," Emma croaks before her lids flutter shut and she releases a sigh of her own. "Tired."

Leaning down, Regina brushes their lips together, reassuring her. She'd had to draw from Emma because the spell never would have worked otherwise, too powerful for her magic alone. "I may have taken a little more than necessary," she confesses. "If you need to sleep, anything you learned can wait."

"Wasn't much," Emma slurs, rolling onto her side and burying her face in Regina's chest.

Regina clasps the back of her neck, squeezing lightly before drawing the fingers through her hair, nails scratching her scalp. Patiently, she waits, either for Emma to continue or until her breathing deepens to signal sleep. It being passed midnight, she'd be lying if she said she wouldn't prefer the latter after the day she's had.

"You were right," Emma mumbles a few minutes later. Groaning, she then flops onto her back, surprising Regina when she grabs her by the shirt and practically heaves her on top of her.

No more annoyed than she would have been had she expected it, Regina gets comfortable in her new position, entwining their legs as she kisses her lightly, humming. "Am I about to be punished for it?"

Emma's mouth twitches. "If I punished you any time you were right, we'd never leave the house."

Throat rumbling, flattered, Regina purrs, "Trying to butter me up, Swan? Did you do something bad while you were in there?"

Eyes popping open, Emma grimaces. "With Killian? Don't be disgusting."

Regina chuckles and kisses her again, pleased with the response. It would be absurd for Emma to think she were truly serious, but just in case, she murmurs against her lips, "I was only teasing."

Draping an arm over her, Emma seems to melt beneath her and murmurs back, "I know," before she deepens the kiss.

With a moan, Regina slides one hand under her shirt and presses the other to her jaw, keeping Emma right where she wants her, and losing herself within the multitude of sensations that Emma's kisses always seem to fill her with.

By the time they part, their breathing is labored and their bodies have already begun to respond to one another, hips rocking together in a familiar motion. Shifting, Regina straddles Emma's thigh and reclaims her mouth, shooting straight passed slow as she frees the hand from her shirt and unbuttons her jeans, shoving the hand into them and into the slick, wet heat that awaits her.

Emma groans into her mouth and clutches the shirt on her back, then thinks better of it. She yanks the shirt up to her ribs, hands gripping her flesh as blunt nails rake along her spine, down to her ass where her skirt goes the same way as her top; hiked up to her waist, fingers burrowing beneath her panties to grip and squeeze in encouragement.

They rip and Emma stills, no doubt expecting the worst but Regina is too far gone to care. She pauses, forcing the hand from Emma's jaw with a familiar gesture before returning it. Magic whips around them, taking her panties along with her skirt and Emma's jeans, and she moans, hips rolling, pussy rubbing the length of a now bare, hot thigh as Emma mimics the pleasured sound, much deeper in her throat.

"Fuck," she swears and Regina jerks, vaguely confused because never has her clit throbbed that hard from hearing Emma swear. Much as she loves that wonderfully crude mouth, she prefers begging and vivid detailing of what Emma intends to do to her when the strength returns to her limbs post-orgasm.

Thrice more and her little bud pulses every time. She gives into the last, briefly extracting her hand from those ridiculous rainbow themed boy-shorts to grab Emma's wrist and shove those lazy, idle fingers between her legs.

They're not idle for long, and she groans deeply into Emma's mouth, biting down on Emma's bottom lip, the tang of copper on her tongue as Emma rubs her clit, rough and hard, and so so right. She's close, teetering somewhere near the edge but she loathes the thought of it all ending so soon and decides she needs a distraction, thrusting into Emma with three fingers.

Gasping, breaking the kiss, Emma swears for the fifth time before following suit, sliding into her— filling her. Regina whimpers, the distraction a failure; Emma knows her too well, seeking and finding that perfect spot inside of her that will have her coming in seconds with only the slightest pressure.

Barely five pass before she stiffens and Emma is grabbing the back of her head, crashing their lips together to stifle the cry that escapes her mouth.

Wanting Emma's release even more than she thought she did, Regina turns her head, burying it in the crook of Emma's neck. What little strength she has while her body tries to recover, she forces into the hand between Emma's thighs, thumb on her clit, rubbing in circles, fingers thrusting, in and out, hard and fast until Emma is moaning and whimpering, shuddering beneath her and begging her to stop.

"I love making you come," Regina murmurs when she finally does stop. She draws her hand up over Emma's mound and onto her stomach, shirt riding up as she admires the wet, glistening trail of pleasure her fingers leave on pale skin.

"Had no idea," Emma mumbles, the sarcasm slight but there.

Regina reaches up and pinches her nipple through her shirt before a hand comes down on her ass, hard enough to be felt but not to sting. She wiggles her hips and teases, "You can do better than that."

"You're lucky I can even lift my hand right now," Emma replies, head turning so that her cheek rests against Regina's temple. "That was definitely worth the trip to Skeezy Central."

Nuzzling her neck in silent apology, Regina questions, "How was it?"

"Disturbing."

She smirks before lifting her head and kissing Emma sweetly, languidly. She hums as the kiss is returned, and sighs softly, ending it reluctantly to prompt, "I recall mention of me being right?"

"Mmm."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Cora…" Pausing to yawn, Emma then sniffs and adds, "Zeus."

"Not Hades?"

Head shaking, she repeats, "Not Hades."

Frowning, Regina lies back down, chewing the inside of cheek thoughtfully. Not as bothered by his death as her alternate had been, she is still curious, especially after hearing Emma's earlier theories. "So Robin…"

The shoulder beneath her head lifts as Emma attempts a shrug. "Dunno," she says, "might be unrelated, might be Zeus needed an exchange for Hook..." She pauses again, only this time it's with a sigh. "He didn't know about the curse."

Regina nods. She'd gathered that much in the hospital when he'd woken up before Emma. She'd left the room to give them some privacy, but not before she overheard the words that had shocked them all. "He woke up before you."

"Yeah?"

"Yes," she murmurs, breathing Emma in before she closes her eyes and shares, "Apparently he wants a divorce."

Chapter Text

Emma is not a morning person. It's something that anyone who knows her knows. Those who didn't know, found out the moment they tried to contact her before eight. Regina sometimes wakes her before then because occasionally she has a sadistic streak a mile long and likes to torture her, but other than that and the mornings she runs, she's been able to pretty much consistently sleep for as long as she likes for a good couple of years now.

This morning, though, she's up before dawn. She has no idea why. Usually if she wakes up and it's still dark out, she'll roll over and go back to sleep but this morning she'd gotten out of bed and made her way downstairs without so much as a question of why before she reached the coffeemaker.

Regina, she was unsurprised to discover, is a morning person and when she walks in twenty minutes later, her eyes widen at the sight of Emma sipping her coffee and humming along to some tune playing on the radio behind her.

"I assumed you'd been abducted," she teases, recovering from her surprise as she crosses the room.

Emma smirks. "I like how saving me is less of a priority to you than coffee."

"You're a survivor," Regina counters dismissively, "I knew you'd be fine."

"Mhmm."

"Besides," she adds, cup in hand as she slides onto the stool beside her. "We both know I'm barely a person without my caffeine. What if I came to your rescue, only to accidentally get you killed… or worse, get myself killed? You'd never forgive me."

Chuckling, Emma shakes her head before she leans sideways and kisses her cheek with a murmured, "You're a horrible person."

"And to think, I'm all yours," Regina coos as she turns and pecks her on the mouth. "Aren't you lucky?"

Very, Emma thinks. She says nothing aloud, smiling instead as she takes another sip of coffee. Lids fluttering with a hum as the bitter warmth slips down her throat, she lowers the cup. Regina nudges her, but doesn't pull away, resting against her as Emma's head drops to her shoulder.

They're like that for at least ten minutes before the other Regina wanders in. She pauses when her eyes meet Emma's, brows rising high on her forehead before she looks to her Regina. She gestures between them and questions, "I take it we've been through the shock of this already?"

Emma grins. "You were perfectly on top of it; as witty and as awful as always," she assures, dropping her hand beneath the counter to still the one that's decided to stroke her inner thigh. From the corner of her mouth, she mutters, "Quit it, you perv."

Regina laughs lowly, lips pressed to the top of her head as she retorts, "Make me."

"Later," Emma murmurs, fingers curling around her hand.

Not missing their little moment, the other Regina coughs softly, brow cocked when they look to her. "Shall I leave you two alone?"

Emma's grin widens. "You could join in."

A faint blush appears and Regina nudges her again. "If you don't stop that, the other one won't stand a chance," she warns lightly. "Not that I don't enjoy the sight of myself flustered."

Sighing mournfully— dramatically, Emma mock whines, "Always ruining my fun."

"You weren't complaining last night," she counters.

Emma takes a special kind of delight in the way her counterpart flushes then. Squeezing Regina's hand in silent thanks, she hides her grin behind a smile and stands, downing the last of her coffee. "Any special requests for breakfast?"

"She cooks?"

"She does," Regina confirms, swatting her backside as she moves to the fridge. "Rather well, in fact."

"You are just full of surprises, Miss Swan."

Glancing over a shoulder, she wags her eyebrows and replies, "You should see me naked."

Rather than blush, Regina's counterpart looks her over thoughtfully, then questions, "Not what you seem? Secret tattoos?"

"Hairy," Regina chimes in and Emma cracks up, almost hitting her head on the top of the fridge as she backs out. Regina eyes the ingredients in her arms, smile curling her mouth. "Omelets?"

Emma shrugs. "You like 'em," she reasons, grinning when the smile grows and practically lights up the room. "So," she continues, setting everything down on the counter. "What are we doing about this curse business?"

"I contacted Rumple last night," Regina says. "Assuming we can keep any Gods from interfering, this curse is no different from any other."

Emma nods, checking to be sure she understands. "True Love's kiss?"

"Mhmm."

"Well." She turns her attention to breakfast. "I already removed one obstacle—" She pauses, inwardly cringing before she says, "Time to up your game, Mills."

"Obstacle?" Regina's counterpart questions, "You mean Hook?"

Emma peers up at her, disbelief in her voice. "What else would I mean?"

"Why?"

Lips parting, disbelief growing tenfold, she shakes her head. "Are you serious right now?"

"I—"

"You're her True Love," she interrupts. How that was even in question at this point, she couldn't fathom if she tried. As for Hook— "and he's an egomaniacal douchebag who treats her like a possession." She scowls. "Why the fuck wouldn't I?"

Regina— her Regina, sighs. "Emma…"

"No." Holding up a hand, she asks, "Seriously, what is wrong with you? You love her. She loves you. You want a happy ending? Fucking take it instead of sitting on your ass and waiting for it to fall into your lap."

Jaw clenching in anger, quasi-Regina's nostrils flare before she growls, "And how would that make me any better than him?"

"How?" Emma laughs humourlessly. Unbelievable. Never in her life would dense be a word she used to describe Regina. Not until now. "She wants you, that's how."

"She's right."

Only one head turns to the voice as Emma and Regina share a look, their mouths twitching. "Em—"

"Can we talk?"

There's no hesitation or acknowledgement of them still being there as Regina's counterpart stands. "Of course."

Emma waits patiently for them to leave, then smirks. Regina barely spares her a glance before she picks up her coffee and takes a drink. "Four stars."

The smirk falls as Emma frowns. "Out of what?"

Regina grins, rising. She sets her cup down and rounds the counter as she answers, "Five."

Emma huffs. "Where's the fifth?"

Pressing against her back, Regina nuzzles her jaw. "You resorted to swearing."

"What bull," she murmurs, grasping the arms that wrap around her waist as she leans back into the warmth. "I want a different judge."

Regina chuckles. "Too bad," she purrs, arms tightening. "I'm all you've got, Swan."

Chapter Text

Now that the curse part of their problem is a simple waiting game, they're free to spend most of their day however they like. Why, then, Regina decides to invite Rumple back to the mansion is a mystery to Emma but as he is growing on her, she chooses not to protest. It's just after lunch when he arrives. They're seated in the den, waiting for Regina's counterpart to return from the kitchen when the other Emma sighs, breaking their silent and vaguely awkward stare off with one another.

"Do we know why would Zeus help her?"

Emma shrugs. She's been asking herself the same question since Hook told her. So far, the only conclusion she's come to is the one she's held since she first met Hades. "Gods are dick bags."

"Not quite how I would have phrased it —" Rumple chuckles, smiling faintly when Emma flashes him a grin. "— but she's not wrong."

"Yeah," her counterpart adds, "but I mean… all the stories about him says he's the type of guy who only does things that benefit him in some way."

"I dunno about you, but if I had to put up with Cora for the rest of eternity," Emma starts, only for her counterpart to interrupt.

"He doesn't though. He could just send her back to the Underworld if he wanted to."

Realizing she has a point, Emma considers it for a moment. The thought that occurs to her not a minute later has her expression twisting in disgust. "Could they be…" Yeah, no, she can't say it.

Rumple smirks, easily deducing her line of thought. "From the look on your face, I assume you were about to ask if they could be True Loves." Emma shudders but nods and he shakes his head. "Unfortunately, I believe that honour is mine."

"Isn't Belle your—"

"Soul mate."

"If I recall the story correctly —" Regina drawls, fingers sneaking beneath the hem of Emma's shirt. "— Mother ripped out her heart to prevent herself from loving you; that doesn't sound much like True Love to me."

"I dunno," Emma counters. "I mean mom took a potion to forget she loved dad. Are you telling me you doubt they're True Loves?" If there's one story she knows better than all the others (with the exception of Regina's own) then it's the one about her parents. There was no escaping her mother when she wanted to reminisce about the good old days.

Fingertips skirting lower and into the waistband of her jeans, Emma bites her lip as Regina inclines her head. "Good point."

"So…" Emma's counterpart drawls, "Basically, we have no idea?"

"Unless Zeus intends to come down from the clouds and tell us," Regina replies, "I don't think we'll ever know for certain."

"I'm surprised he hasn't already," the other Regina comments upon entering the room. She places the tray of drinks in her hands on the coffee table between them, then sits down beside her Emma.

Emma frowns. "Can he?"

A silk-clad shoulder rises, then drops. "I don't see why not."

"Well, I know they're assholes and all, but aren't there like… rules?" Greek mythology isn't exactly her strong point but there are some things she remembers reading. It all made about as much sense as her being a Princess does but in their cases, nonsense is a lot closer to the truth than anything resembling logic. "Like Hades can only leave the Underworld once a century or something?"

"They do tend to stick to their own domains," Rumple agrees as he sits forward and retrieves his cup of tea.

"Whether or not he steps in to interfere," Regina says with a demanding pinch to Emma's hip. "I know my mother, and she will find a way to do it herself if she has to."

Emma leans forward to retrieve their cups, handing one to Regina before she sits back. "So we banish her like we did in our world," she suggests. Easy pea—

"That would require a trip to Elysian Fields."

She wrinkles her nose. If her trip to the Underworld has taught her anything, then it's that they're all better off keeping their distance from Gods and the realms they inhabit.  "I don't like the sound of that."

Regina nods, her smile small but fond. "Me neither," she admits, "but as I mentioned yesterday; ghosts do not exist. There is no other way of reaching mother beyond that."

"Intriguing as all of your thought processes are; perhaps it is time I point out one very obvious solution to the problem."

All four turn their attention to Rumple. "If you're about to suggest we spell the town to close off access to outsiders," Regina drawls, "I already considered that."

He raises a brow. "Oh?"

"It hasn't worked so far," she reminds them. "Emma, August. The Darlings. Greg and Tam—"

Rumple raises his hand. "As the Savior, Emma was always permitted to enter the town. Every other name you have listed are people who arrived after her; the curse was either breaking or broken, and the line merely kept people from leaving, not entering," he interrupts. "It did both, however, when Emma was the Dark One."

"Are you suggesting—"

"I am suggesting we recreate her curse without the stolen memories."

Face screwing up in confusion, Emma questions, "Wouldn't breaking the current curse just break that one?"

"Each curse has their own stipulations," he explains. "Though any and every one of them can be broken by True Love, the type of True Love is, generally, specific."

Curious, Emma repeats, "Generally?"

"The original curse, for instance," he continues, "required a True Love of yours; Henry or Regina would have worked. Just as the second curse was specific to Regina; you or Henry could have broken it."

Emma blinks. This is the first she's hearing of this. "The first curse? Even then, we were—"

"Always," he interjects, fixing her with a look that clearly says we've been over this. "In every reality, Miss Swan."

Regina sighs, clearly tired of being out of the loop as she looks to her and demands, "What is he rambling about?"

"He's reminding me that you're stuck with me…" Emma flutters her lashes, mock sweet. She lowers her voice, whispering dramatically as she leans in, "Forever."

"How terrible."

Wide and bright, she grins, gesturing to the other Regina with a nod as she says, "That's what she said."

"Naturally." Regina nods, mouth twitching. "You are a thorn in our side, no matter your incarnation."

"But a cute thorn."

"Adorable," she agrees.

A sound, somewhere in the vicinity of disbelief and disgust forces their attention from one another and across the room to where their counterparts sit, Emma's questioning Rumple, "You sure we're the ones cursed?"

"Nauseating as it is to watch, I'm fairly certain."

Chapter Text

After Emma tells him everything she remembers about casting the curse that kept their town safe from outsiders, Rumple leaves with promises to return sometime tomorrow afternoon with what they need to replicate it. It isn't long after that that someone begins knocking on the door, nor after that that they figure out who it is. The banging is thunderous and all four of them refuse to move to open it for the irate woman on the other side. Emma cringes beside Regina whenever this world's version of her mother shouts her name, not because Emma bares any significant fear of Snow White, but because hearing the name Jones in combination with her name is clearly bringing up some understandable feelings of homicidal rage.

Feelings Regina herself knows all too well.

Perhaps she should warn the other Emma? "How fond are you of your mother?" She queries with a tilt of her head, because if this turns out to be Emma's breaking point, she's going to kill Snow White herself, alternate reality be damned.

"Now, or in general?"

Her mouth twitches. She's starting to appreciate this Emma more and more each day. Her appearance remains dismal, but her sense of humour seems to be returning bit by bit. If there is one thing Regina loves about Emma above all else, then it is her ability to make her smile when she least expects it.

"Either way, dear, you may wish to do something about her." Another shout of Emma Jones through the door causes the knee beside her to jump and she places her hand over it, squeezing gently as she adds, "Sooner, rather than later, if you please."

"I…" Gaze darting between the two of them, Emma's counterpart frowns. "What am I supposed to do? She's going to want an explanation for—"

"Yes," Regina interjects. She is well aware of Snow White's innate knack for sticking her nose in where it doesn't belong. "As long as it shuts her up and gets her away from here, tell her whatever and however much you wish."

"I— yeah." Quasi-Emma stands, running her hands over jean-clad thighs. She gives them another once over, eyes lingering on Emma a moment before she nods. "Yeah, okay."

As she leaves, Regina redirects her attention. With another squeeze, she leans in and kisses Emma's cheek, then her jaw and across, up over her chin. Emma's lids flutter and they both sigh as their lips meet in a soft, sweet kiss.

A throat clears, drawing them apart. They both look up, the sound far closer than Regina expects it to be. However long they were kissing, it was evidently long enough for her counterpart to move closer without either of them noticing. She stares down on them, seemingly debating something with herself before her eyes settle on Emma and she sits down on the opposite side of her, hand mirroring Regina's as she places it over Emma's other knee.

"Are you alright?"

Emma's chuckle is more an expulsion of air than an actual laugh but she covers both of their hands with her own and squeezes them back, leveling them both with an adoring smile. Regina's heart clenches in her chest. Surprising as her counterpart's gesture is, it isn't entirely unexpected; it is Emma they are attempting to comfort after all. That smile, though. If all it takes is a second her to have Emma gazing at her in such a way, she'll gladly steal away all the alternate versions of herself and happily drop them in Emma's lap.

"I'm alright," Emma assures them, brushing her lips across Regina's before she turns and does the same to the corner of her counterpart's mouth. "Hearing that name just…" She shudders as she sits back, and they both chuckle. Emma wrinkles her nose and says, "I'm good— desperately hoping they aren't about to walk into the room, but good."

Smirking, Regina releases the grip on her knee. She strokes her leg, fingers curling around her thigh, and offers, "I can set fire to them for you if they do."

"See why I love her?" Emma questions her counterpart who tips her head forward with a small smile, face visibly warm.

Emma reaches up and brushes the lock that slips free back behind her ear. Regina watches them, mind screaming at her counterpart to react when the woman leans in to the touch and Emma caresses her cheek, that adoring smile growing impossibly wider.

Sighing, Emma's hand falls back to her lap after a moment. Regina offers comfort and understanding in the tender kiss she presses against her jaw. If it were her, Emma would have kissed her then but after finding out that this Regina is in love with her counterpart, she's been more resistant to trying anything. Despite her claims to the contrary, Regina only feels relief when considering this. If something were to happen, she thinks she would be okay with it but she's content in not finding out she might be wrong, and thanks to Emma (annoyingly) ignoring her many hints since she arrived, the possibility seems more and more abstract as time passes.

A few minutes of silence goes by before Emma stretches her arms above her head, then drapes them across the back of the couch. "Wouldn't it be nice," she says, her tone wistful, "if every day was like this and we weren't a bunch of fucked up fairy tale characters?" Twin, amused hums are her answer and she glances back and forth between them. "What?"

"Really, Emma?" Regina questions, grinning as she gestures to the arm not at all sneakily moving towards her shoulder.

"Uh, this is my personal space," Emma claims, mouth twitching, fingers teasingly sliding over her neck. "It's not my fault you both like to invade it all the time."

"A punch to the face would be more subtle than you are."

"Well," she drawls, "you did look like you wanted to tear my clothes off when I tried that, so…"

Regina smirks. It had been a passing thought. She always has been a bit of a masochist. "I did."

Emma gasps, like she didn't already know. "You fiend… I wonder if that actually happened in one of our realities— one of the married ones." Both Reginas chuckle. "What? I bet it did. I bet you ravished me in the cemetery, decided you couldn't live without my sweet bod, then dropped to a knee and proposed right there."

"Yes, I'm sure that's what happened."

"Ah." Emma nods at her counterpart, conceding, "You're right; I probably declared your breasts a crime against nature and threatened to arrest you if you didn't marry me."

"While more likely, I hold significant doubt either of those scenarios occurred." Regina reminds, "I hated you then."

"Nothing brings two people together like hot and sweaty, mind-blowing sex," she sing-songs.

"It was cold that night," her counterpart murmurs.

Scowling, Emma turns to Regina in feigned outrage and questions, "What is this; destroy Emma's imagination day? Do I constantly poke holes in your fantasies?"

Hiding a grin, Regina raises a brow. "If you ever allowed me to finish any of them before jumping me, you could certainly try."

Emma sniffs before haughtily mocking, "I hold significant doubt—" Regina strangles a chuckle and backhands her stomach. "Ow."

Regina grins at her pout. As much as she'd like to pretend to be annoyed with her, the fact Emma remembers the things she says enough to later repeat them back to her is just another one of those things that brings the warmth to her chest and she leans into her, wiping the pout from her mouth with a kiss.

Humming as Regina pulls back with a nip to her lower lip, Emma removes the sting with the tip of her tongue and purrs, "Keep doing that and we'll end up giving yourself another show."

Regina starts to laugh when her counterpart immediately groans and shoots up from the couch, cheeks crimson as she makes the quickest exit imaginable. Emma doesn't look at her or even attempt to call her back but when Regina meets her gaze, her mouth quirks knowingly.

"Or not."

Chapter Text

Emma saunters from the den with an obvious bounce in her step. After their counterparts disappeared and she heard the front door close without the reappearance of either, she'd happily taken advantage of her time alone with Regina who, not a minute prior, demanded sustenance to replenish her strength from her sprawled position on the couch.

Grinning to herself, Emma enters the kitchen and heads straight for the fridge. Like her Regina, this one keeps a veritable feast of leftovers inside, each container labelled with the exact contents of what she will find upon removing their lids. She grimaces at a few, words like tuna and hummus causing her stomach to roll and almost put her off the thought of eating entirely.

She has never been more glad for the times Regina has asked her what she likes. Regina still cooks whatever the hell she wants, but she's nice enough to exclude the things Emma doesn't like from her plate, and Emma loves her all the more for it.

"Oh my god!"

Breath hitching, she yanks her head from the fridge. There is only one possible reason she can think of for why she'd shout something like that, in that tone of voice. She bites her lip, and sure enough, she hears the husked laughter she expects to follow the exclamation.

She'd had a sneaking suspicion when she left that Regina was up to something.

Shaking her head, she returns to the fridge. Her alternate self is a big girl and, who knows? Maybe seeing Regina in all her glory will be enough of a kick in the ass for this Emma to get her act together and finally do something about the fact she is so glaringly in love with this Regina that a blind man with dementia would be able to spot the dopey look of pining on her face at the sight of Regina, from space.

With a grimace, she grabs the nearest container (spaghetti and meatballs) and shuts the fridge with slightly more force than necessary. Whatever the two had talked about yesterday when the other Emma led her Regina from the kitchen, it clearly hadn't been that.

All she wants is to go home but no, those two would rather piss about and pretend they're not desperate to have their mouths all over each other. One little, meaningful kiss and she could be back in her own world, with her own Regina, in their own bed doing beautifully depraved things to each other.

"Assholes," she mutters, practically throwing the container into the microwave and jabbing in frustration at the buttons. She'd been under the horribly mistaken impression that once they were together, the torture would be over— or at least she would be suffering from a kind more tolerable than this; Regina being the lovably sadistic woman that she is.

Snorting, Emma turns around to lean back against the bench while she waits, and freezes. The rise of an eyebrow is all she needs to know her little slip hadn't gone unnoticed.

"I take it that was meant for us?"

She winces. If it was her Regina, she'd have announced herself and then proceeded to tease her for her petulance. She's pretty sure she'd prefer that to the vaguely amused, yet also sad expression being directed at her now.

Sometimes she hates how well she can read those eyes.

"I… didn't mean it?"

"Yes, you did."

She sighs and concedes, "Yes, I did."

Regina smiles faintly. "I'm sorry," she says as she leans against the counter in front of her and crosses her arms. "You must miss your family… your son."

"Yeah." Emma shrugs but with a wry smile, she admits, "I miss our bed more." She waves a hand when Regina opens her mouth, sure she knows what she wants to say, and explains, "Don't get me wrong; I love our son, but he's almost sixteen now and he has his own girlfriend to fawn all over, you know? I like spending most of my time with you— with her."

"In bed…"

"Well..." She grins and Regina snorts. Emma then shakes her head and says, "Definitely don't get me wrong here; I love having sex with her and I fucking adore falling asleep wrapped around her, but it is… so much more—"

"Regina!"

Jerking at the shout, Regina stumbles forward. Emma catches her in time for her counterpart to storm into the room. Seeing the familiar, determined expression on her counterpart's face, Emma turns Regina around and gives her a solid nudge towards the other woman.

"Emma, wh—"

Quasi-Emma kisses her and it is—

It is…

It's pathetic, Emma realizes. It lasts no more than five seconds and she is stunned for at least a solid minute after, her mouth gaping open at the sheer stupidity of it. She finally, finally grows a back bone and kisses her, and that's it? It was barely more than a peck on the goddamn mouth.

"For fuck—"

Cutting herself off with a growl, she steps around Regina and grabs her counterpart by the arm. She tugs her forward and crashes their mouths together without a second thought, grasping her chin when she instantly tries to pull away.

Resigned to holding still, her counterpart remains stiff and refuses to kiss her back. Emma smirks against her mouth and guides the hand from her chin, around to the back of her neck where she begins to stroke the spot behind her ear that always makes her weak at the knees.

It works, and then her counterpart is moaning into her mouth as Emma deepens the kiss. She is amazed at how easy it is to lie to herself and pretend she's kissing Regina. Their mouths are nothing alike, and this version of her is far too soft. Sweet as their kisses can be, Regina isn't patient enough for them to ever last that way.

"Oh my."

Eyes opening wide as she feels the words like a familiar caress down her spine, she breaks the kiss with a hand against her counterpart's chest, and swallows thickly. "Next time," she rasps, "kiss her like you fucking mean it."

Not waiting for a response, she turns from them both and grabs her Regina by the hand, the two of them vanishing in a cloud of thick, white smoke. They materializes on the guest bed, her on top of Regina as she grins down at her. "That turned you on, did it?"

Regina hums and arches beneath her, purring, "Oh yes."

"I should do something about that then."

"Oh yes," she repeats, vehement as she grips the back of her head and pulls Emma down onto her mouth.

Chapter Text

Resigned to getting her own damn food now that Emma is asleep, Regina sighs as she makes her way back downstairs. In the kitchen, their counterparts remain, silently staring at one another while sharing a container of what looks to be spaghetti and meatballs. Regina narrows her eyes, certain she'd smelled something similar when she appeared the first time.

"Surely you both have more interesting things to be doing with your mouths."

Her counterpart smirks up at her. "Your Emma was nice enough to heat this up," she says, "we thought it a shame to let it go to waste."

Feeling the grin threatening to take over her face, Regina bites the inside of her cheek. Her ability to adapt to new situations is not amusing in the slightest. "You're feeling better," she mutters before giving Emma's counterpart a pointed stare. "I hope you at least took advantage of your free lesson before deciding to stuff your face."

When her cheeks flare red, Regina nods to herself and moves towards the fridge. Some good came of their thievery, at least. Shoving multiple containers aside, she reaches for the macaroni, suddenly ravenous for pasta.

"Where is Emma?"

"Passed out," she answers, crossing to the microwave. "Naturally."

Quasi-Emma coughs in a poor attempt to hide her laughter. She clears her throat and says, "I didn't know you had a tattoo."

Regina grimaces. The abomination on her hip was another ridiculous idea she thought was good while drunk. Peering back at her over a shoulder, she replies, "Neither did she until she got me naked." It's not a complete lie. Emma knew because it was her stupid idea. She was, however, naked at the time of said idea.

Delighting in the returning pink of those cheeks, she not-so-innocently flutters her lashes; if she can't fluster herself any longer, at least she still has her lover's counterpart to rely on.

As she places her food in the microwave and sets the timer, it occurs to her then that something should have happened if they'd kissed again. Quickly, she turns to face them and, as she considers them, a scowl slowly begins contorting her face.

"You didn't."

"We did," the other her counters. "There was simply no… magic."

Regina blinks. No magic? When kissing Emma? She scoffs. "No magic," she repeats. "You really expect me to believe that?" She laughs humourlessly. "We're true loves, you insip—"

"Regina…"

"Don't you dare," she growls. She knows that tone, has seen that look a hundred times or more. If Emma Jones thinks she can calm her down, she has another thing coming. She snarls, "You may look like her, but you are nothing alike."

"Well I'm sorry I don't live up to the great Emma fucking Swan, but it's true; we kissed and nothing fucking happened." Rising as she spoke, her eyes widen and she falls back into her seat. "Oh wow."

"Indeed," Regina agrees.

Someone swearing at her, twice in a row no less; not even her Emma would dare. She frowns before moving closer and looking her in the eye.

There is something. Something wrong— no — something different.

"Hmm."

Emma eyes her warily. "What?"

"Brighter," Regina's counterpart murmurs, as if sharing a well-kept secret.

Regina nods in agreement before leaning down and tilting her head, transfixed by the sheer colour in those eyes. Yes. Definitely much brighter than she's become accustomed to with this Emma. There is so much green now, she breathes without entirely meaning to, "Gorgeous."

"Um."

Sniffing, she snaps upright and gestures dismissively. "Yes. Well." She returns to the microwave as it beeps, and tugs the container from within before turning to look at her counterpart. "Anti-climatic, much?"

Pure, knowing amusement gazes back at her. Never in her life has she wanted to hit someone as much as she does in this moment, though she's at a loss for who she wants to hit more; her counterpart, or Rumple. All that reading she made Emma do for what was, apparently, no reason at all; she's going to be paying for that for a long time to come if she doesn't think of a way to make it up to her, and fast.

Hand poised, magic ready to take her back to the bedroom where she hopes the food might entice Emma into forgiving her sooner, she levels them both with a glare and says, "I hope you are aware that I greatly loath the both of you."

Emma is awake, wearing a smile that could, and does, melt the hardest of hearts. Regina rolls her eyes at herself and silently threatens to rip it out if it doesn't desist throwing itself against her chest.

"Hello, my love," she purrs as she climbs onto the bed and settles down beside her. Emma throws an arm and leg over her, head burrowing into her side. "Nice nap?"

"Ask me again in an hour."

Regina shrugs and peels the lid from the container. If it means more time to figure out how to break it to Emma that, as it turns out, the town isn't cursed and her counterpart is simply an idiot suffering from issues with repression, then she's content to let her sleep some more.

Perhaps she'll think of a way to word it nicely while still being able to express the exasperation the discovery warrants. If she's lucky, she'll even come up with a plan to torture Rumple without bringing the Dark One down on their heads.

As the smell of bacon and cheese fills the air, Emma raises her head. Regina meets and holds her stare as one minute elapses, followed by another.  She pops a piece of pasta into her mouth, smirking as she chews and Emma blinks at her sleepily.

"Weren't you going back to sleep?" She questions lightly, conjuring a fork to hand and sparing it through the food. She brings it to Emma's mouth and Emma screws up her face. "Humour me."

With a sigh, she opens her mouth. Regina shifts the fork at the last second, struck with a far better idea as she bends down to capture the warm, soft lips in her own, drawing a longer, much sweeter sound from Emma's mouth.

Under no illusions about exactly how Emma will punish her once she finds out the truth, Regina decides that this is what she'll miss most. This is what she'll remember and yearn for when Emma is prancing about in those too-tight jeans and well-cut tank tops… driving her crazy… on purpose… because she's a wonderfully, awful tease when she wants to be.

It is in this very moment, thinking of the nightmare that is to come, that she also decides she's going to burn this town to the ground before they leave, while cackling.

A hand slips effortlessly beneath her shirt, distracting her from the thought. "And what—" she purrs, breaking the kiss, "—pray tell, do you think you're doing?"

"You're being sweet." Stroking her stomach, Emma kisses a trail from her mouth and along her jaw as she murmurs, "You know what that does to me."

Considering, Regina gazes longingly down at her food and wonders if she'll ever get to eat a full meal again. Then, she heaves an exaggerated sigh and moves the container to the bedside table before gripping long, blonde hair and tugging Emma up and back onto her mouth.

If this is the last time Emma deigns to sleep with her for the foreseeable future, then she'll be damned if she misses the opportunity before she's put through that celibacy hellscape again.

Chapter Text

"You're joking."

Lips pursed, Regina shakes her head.

"She repressed everything," Emma repeats because maybe she'd heard wrong. Maybe— Regina nods. "Are you f—" Emma pauses, her face screwing up as she groans, "I did all that reading for nothing?"

With a sympathetic smile, Regina nods again.

Emma twitches and averts her gaze to stare across the room at the wall. They're still in bed. Regina had decided to tell her while she was trying to recover her breath. She'd like to be mad, for a number of reasons, but so far the exasperation is winning out; she knew her counterpart was an idiot, but really.

"Repressed," she says it again like maybe she can change the meaning of the word if she just keeps repeating it over and over.

Regina pats the duvet where her leg is in a way she assumes is meant to be comforting. It's not, much as she'd like it to be. It can't erase the fact they've spent somewhere around two weeks waiting for those two to man the fuck up and kiss so that they can go home. It doesn't make the fact Rumple lied to them any easier to swallow, or the fact she went in to Hook's subconscious and subjected herself to that disgust fest for absolutely no reason.

She mentions that last bit when Regina squeezes her knee and finally speaks. "Actually, he did ask for a divorce when he woke—" Emma glares at her and she sighs, not bothering to finish the sentence but instead adding, "I am merely trying to point out that it wasn't all for naught, and you did in fact help them, likely more than you want to consider at this present point in time."

Grimacing, Emma still relaxes a little, the words serving their purpose. Mad as she wants to be, Regina is right in that and she supposes that likely has a lot to do with why she can't be mad. Not right now, at least.

"Fine," she grumbles, willing to concede given the far more pleasant thought that enters her head. "When are we leaving?"

The silence she's met with is almost deafening. It creates a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach and she debates asking, not wanting to know the answer when it clearly isn't the one she wants. She closes her eyes and lets her head fall back against the headboard, and asks anyway, "We're not leaving?"

"Well…" Regina hesitates, prompting Emma to open her eyes and look at her.

"What?"

She bites her lip. "I thought you might like to get back at Rumple for tricking us."

The suggestion is pure evil in tone and the sly grin that appears once it's out there is-- warming. "Oh." Emma swallows. "Alright."

The grin widens. "Are you sure?" Regina teases, "We can leave now if you like."

"No no, your plan is better."

"Okay…"

The tone is softer now and she has to look again to make sure but— yep, the grin is gone in place of a frown. She's prepared for it though, fairly confident she knows where Regina's thoughts had gone when she first found out. "I'm not mad at you."

Regina looks at her disbelievingly. "You're not?"

Emma rolls her eyes fondly. "Not your fault she's a moron."

"I made you read."

She shrugs. Rumple was the one that brought them here, so really he's more at fault than any of them. "We can blame that on the imp."

"Oh thank god."

The declaration comes as a rush of breath and Emma smirks. "Worried?"

Regina nods, admitting wryly, "I was wondering what colour chastity belt would go well with my skin tone."

Emma laughs because of course Regina would assume she'd deny her sex as punishment; it was exactly what she would do. Denying Regina though was a hell of a lot easier when Emma had no idea how good she is in bed. "Red… or black," she offers, "you were right about it being your colour."

Regina hums while leaning in and brushing her lips over a cheek. Emma slides an arm behind her and tugs her closer, returning the kiss to her mouth. Regina purrs when they part and questions, "Shall I make that the colour of your new handcuffs?"

"Definitely." With one more kiss, Emma taps her hip and says, "Pass the food. I'm starving."

"It's cold," Regina counters even as she reaches for the container and places it in her lap. Emma raises a brow, the question of so? In her expression. Huffing, Regina snatches the fork from the container before she can and adds, "And mine."

"You're mine," Emma retorts and kisses her again. Regina moans into her mouth, the fork slipping from her fingers so she can tangle them in Emma's hair. Emma grins as she retrieves it, and allows the kiss to reach its natural end before she says, "Ergo; everything you own is also mine."

Breath warm against her mouth, Regina nips at her lower lip and purrs, "I would love to argue, but I do so love it when you claim me."

Arousal fluttering in her stomach, Emma hums. "I know," she replies, "which is why you're going to let me eat this."

A brow rises. "Am I?"

"Mhmm. You're very smart."

Quite clearly stifling a laugh, Regina leans back, amusement dancing in her eyes. "And what does my intelligence have to do with anything?"

"Well," Emma drawls, feigning disinterest as she stabs the fork into the pasta. She sniffs. "As a very smart person, you know that I need all of this energy here—" Her eyes flick up and she lowers her voice. "—to claim you over and over, and over again."

A pleased rumble vibrates in Regina's throat and then she's leaning back in, eyes dark, words husked, "That's your plan is it?"

Emma shrugs, hiding a shudder as she brings the fork to her mouth and takes her first bite. She chews, swallows and then, with a devious grin, questions, "What else would we be doing until tomorrow afternoon?"

Chapter Text

True to her word, Emma kept Regina occupied for the better part of eighteen hours. They managed the occasional nap here and there, and at some time around midnight, Emma had wandered downstairs to get her some food before she starved to death, but for the most part, their time was happily spent within the confines of the guest bedroom. That neither of their counterparts had tried to interrupt them, Regina took as the first real sign of intelligence, thinking that perhaps all hope for them wasn't lost after all.

She could only speculate on how they spent their own time together, but if what Emma told her on arriving back in their room last night is any indication, then she's confident it wasn't entirely wasted.

"I think I heard moaning from the den."

"You were probably eating—" Emma's eyes started twinkling before Regina was done teasing. Her eyes rolled. "Juvenile."

"Love you," she replied, grinning as she handed her a plate piled high with fresh-cut fruit, then climbed onto the bed.

Popping a piece of strawberry into her mouth, Regina cocked a brow when hands gripped her knees. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Snacking," Emma offered before spreading her legs and falling between them.

Biting her lip, Regina shakes her head at the memory. It wasn't for another hour or so later when Emma finally fell asleep that she was able to eat, but she hadn't complained. For the pleasant ache in her thighs and the warm, slightly sore sensation between her legs, she'd forgo food for the rest of her life if she had to; short as it might turn out to be, considering.

Exiting the kitchen, breakfast/lunch— she isn't quite clear on the actual time –in hand, she wanders into the den. She half expects one, or both, of their counterparts to be there, and is relieved to find the room empty. Emma arrives a few minutes after she sits down, sporting a grin that might have made Regina wary had she not spotted the difference immediately.

"Nice try," she drawls, "but it's not quite long enough."

Emma's counterpart pouts as she runs a hand through her newly lengthened hair. It looks good, Regina concedes silently to herself. Not quite as good as it would were it the proper length, but nowhere near as atrocious as it was.

"You need another three inches or so," she supplies helpfully as Emma falls into the chair across from her. "I enjoy having something to wrap around my hand when you're on your knees."

"If what your Emma says is true, I'm not generally the one on my knees."

Regina stares at her with wide eyes before the delighted laugh erupts from her throat. It shouldn't surprise her like it does, but after seeing this Emma hiding away in her shell for these past couple of weeks, it both surprises and thrills her in equal measure. "A comment like that when you entered would have distracted me from the hair," she admits playfully.

Emma shrugs, commenting, "Live and learn," just as someone knocks on the front door. "That'll be Rumple," she says, rising to answer it.

Regina growls softly, not only annoyed with the interruption but also because the conversation had served as a temporary distraction from what she intends to do about the conniving little imp. If she were to take Emma's comments from last night seriously, nothing short of his head on a platter will satisfy her love.

A slow, mocking clap pulls her from the pleasant thought. "Well done, dearie."

Head jerking up and to the side, her upper lip curls. "You have a surprising amount of nerve for a coward."

"Now now," he drawls, "there's no need for that."

"No need," she repeats, incredulous. "You practically abducted Emma, which forced me to come here to get her, and then you preceded to lie to us for—" Now that she thinks about it, she hadn't even begun to try and understand his reasoning. "—what, exactly? Your own sick amusement?"

Sighing, he enters the room and takes up the chair Emma's counterpart previously sat in. "I confess not all of my motives were selfless, but no, my amusement had little to do with it," he admits. "You may not believe this, but what I did to you— to her has never sat right with me; the things I forced her to endure for my own selfish gains. I thought perhaps her life would improve once the curse broke and she met Emma, but it only seemed to get worse, and then… well, that is where my selflessness begins to weaken."

"Hook proposed and you figured out a way to ruin his happiness while alleviating your guilt." Regina twists to find both Emmas standing in the doorway, watching them. "You needed a way to balance the good with the bad to satisfy the darkness," her Emma continues. "You weren't lying about us being True Love?"

"No," Rumple says, genuine confusion in his tone. "In every alternate reality I have seen, you two are together, one way or another." He looks to Emma's counterpart when he says, "I was confused when you said yes to Hook. I thought it was only a matter of time before…"

"Hook has a way of getting under my skin," Emma interrupts, smacking her counterpart on the shoulder before she walks over to Regina and drops to the cushion beside her. "I guess my kick in the ass came a lot sooner than hers." She turns to Regina then and explains, "I had some time to think about this while you were sleeping."

Regina's cheeks warm at the knowing look in her eyes. All she managed to do while Emma slept was think about what they would do when she next woke; a fact she'd happily shared with Emma the first time it happened, to her own detriment, it seems.

"Well." She clears her throat and turns her attention back to Rumple as she says, "It seems, yet again, I am denied the pleasure of brutally murdering you."

His self-satisfied expression says it all.

She's tempted to toss a fireball at him for it alone.

"What about Robin and Hook?"

All three heads turn to look at Emma's counterpart, varying degrees of confusion on each of their faces. She rolls her eyes and clarifies, "Robin dying and Hook's resurrection? What was all that about, if it had nothing to do with a curse?"

Rumple shrugs. "Perhaps Emma—" He gestures to the one on the couch. "—was right; Gods often meddle in the affairs of mortals for no other reason than because it amuses them."

"Or perhaps she was wrong," Regina adds. "Maybe mother did change in this reality."

Emma's stare threatens to burn a hole in the side of her head. "I'm sorry, what?"

Regina smirks at the incredulity in her voice and meets her stare. "Perhaps she thought bringing back Hook would make you happy, thereby making me happy as you were my best friend. Perhaps she knew I could never be happy with Robin—"

Emma's head begins shaking and she interrupts, "You give your mother way too much credit."

"You don't give her nearly enough," Rumple informs, drawing her ire away from Regina. "I imagine it is rather easy to forget given all the similarities, but this is an alternate universe, dearie. If you knew the woman at all, you would realize you are underestimating her, rather significantly in fact."

Emma opens her mouth to argue, but he holds up a hand. "Cora was a terrible woman," he admits, "in no small part thanks to myself, but she was an intelligent, conniving woman who would stop at nothing to get what she wants. Manipulating two of the most powerful Gods in existence is no small feat, but nor was she a small woman, Miss Swan, and as much as you would like to refute the fact; having her heart returned to her did change her in this reality regardless of what it did in your own."

"Excuse me if I find it difficult to believe the woman miraculously became someone else just because an organ not connected in any way to her thoughts and beliefs was returned to her," Emma replies, huffing as she sits back and folds her arms over her chest.

Regina bites the inside of her cheek. She knows, better than most, that Emma's absolute loathing of her mother is in no small part connected to Emma's protectiveness over her and it is that knowledge that overrides the small, inconsequential desire hidden deep down Regina has to defend her mother.

Day by day, the desires grows smaller while her love for Emma grows deeper.

As the two of them stare at each other, both refusing to relent on their judgment of Cora, Regina leans into Emma and purrs, "You're making me feel things, dearest."

Immediately, those beautiful green eyes she adores so snap to her and she grins at the way they darken slightly. Emma breathes in deeply, then blinks and glances back at Rumple. "Agree to disagree?"

He inclines his head. "Likely for the best." Rising, he reaches into his coat and pulls a device Regina instantly recognizes from within.

"Is that—"

"Yes," he admits with a smirk as he crosses the distance between them and holds it out to her. "I took it the first time we met. I've reversed the spell your Rumple placed it on; it will allow you to reopen the portal from this side."

Scowling, she snatches it from his hand, then conjures a small flame in her own and flicks it at his head. Catching it in his palm before it can set his hair alight, he deliberately giggles as he extinguishes it in his fist, and she shudders at the sound.

"I despise you, imp."

He winks. "It was a pleasure meeting you both."

"The feeling isn't mutual," Emma replies and Regina nods in agreement. He giggles again before lifting his hand in farewell, and he vanishes in a puff of black smoke.

"So… I guess you'll both be leaving now?"

Regina and Emma share a look, the conversation between them silent. Emma sighs, but she nods after a moment and Regina smiles as she tells her counterpart, "We'll be staying for dinner."

If not so Emma can say goodbye to this world's Regina, then for the brightness of those eyes and the smile that lights up her counterpart's face.

Chapter Text

Their return, like many of their returns, was heralded with little fanfare. As it turned out, not much time had passed in their world but their absence still caused enough gossip to amuse them during their welcome back drinks at the diner. Snow delighted in sharing with them the town's varying theories, which mostly revolved around the two of them having run off to elope, while Emma shared the horrors of meeting their counterparts.

Henry had gotten up out of his seat when she talked about his, demanding his mother turn over the device to open the portal so that he could "go back there and kick his dumb ass."

Through her laughter, Regina forgave him the language and baked him a cake the next day.

Emma whined, a lot, before she caved and baked her one too.

The proposal came a few months later. It consisted of Emma asking Regina if she wanted to be hers forever, Regina responding, "Naturally," and then having a ring shoved into her hand.

It was the most romantic thing Emma had ever done for her.

[6 months later]

Looking out over the park where the entire town has gathered to congratulate them on their big day, Regina spots Snow heading her way. She considers teleporting herself to the other side of the park, but then she notices the drinks and resigns herself to the inevitable.

"And you said we were all imagining things," Snow says, handing her a flute of champagne.

Regina sniffs. "You were," she replies before downing the entire thing. Watching Emma dance with David has had a rather appalling effect on her. Any time 'Emma' and 'dance' is involved, she has flashbacks to the night at Aesop's.

"Regina, you just married my daughter; you can stop pretending."

"Who's pretending," she counters. She makes a mental note to finally let Emma give her that strip tease before she says, "We're friends; we always have been."

"She's your wife." The little squeak Snow gives at the end there causes her mouth to twitch. Snow huffs. "I heard the vows."

Tearing her gaze from the love of her life as she makes her way over wearing the most delicious tuxedo, Regina raises a brow. "Did you hear the part where I called her an insufferable abomination?"

"You said it fondly."

"Do you ever listen to yourself talk?" Mock exasperated, she shakes her head. "Honestly, I don't know how Charming puts up with you."

Snow simply stares at her. Unrelenting, Regina waits and Emma arrives just as her mother begins to sputter. "I can't… you…" Snow turns to Emma and throws up her hands. "My god, you are both just— gah!"

Arm sliding around her waist, Regina reaches down and entwines a hand with the one that settles on her stomach as Snow storms off. Humming, she kisses Emma's cheek, then purrs, "You owe me thirty naked sit-ups."

Emma chuckles. "I told you you didn't need to give her an aneurysm for those."

"I know, but this way is far more entertaining for me."