Inkfiction

Anam's (dresdens) fanfiction blog. Will include fics from: -Fringe -Once Upon a Time (Show/RPF) -Bleighton RPF -Misc. Others I'm a slow writer. I like taking prompts but I procrastinate a lot, and am incredibly lazy. If you want to leave a prompt, I'll try to write but I can't promise. That's all for now, I guess. masterlist || about || main blog

[inkfiction]

Anonymous asked inkfiction: are you going to finish Every Inner Inertia?

Good God, I have so many of these piled up *whacks self*

Yes, I absolutely intend to finish Every Inner Inertia. It's the stupidest thing but for the past few months I've been stuck on one extremely stupid point in Chapter 4 while 5, 6, 7 are all written and ready. Le Muse is being mighty cruel about it :/ but as soon as the chapter gets together around that one very stupid point *sighs* I'll put it up.

[inkfiction]

Anonymous asked inkfiction: OMG you wrote another happy Morrilla fic! I can't even.. Keep writing please! And for the sake of god (an my well being) write more of them if it's possible! Please please please! I love you. ~ a secret fan of yours

Omigosh, a secret fan!

I have another very silly one all half-written and ready (well, almost). Hopefully you'll see it soon. And maybe some not so happy ones but let's cross that bridge when we come to it okay. 

Love you too <3

[inkfiction]

Anonymous asked inkfiction: Thank you! I've been waiting for Morrilla fics after the weekend we've had. Please write more if you can. You're fantastic :)

Thank you, you are fantastic!

Definitely have more Morrilla stuff in the works. If only I could finish them! *hits self with a hammer*

[inkfiction]

Four Benches and a Bed — a Swan Queen fic

Title: Four Benches and a Bed Fandom: Once Upon a Time Pairing: Swan Queen (Emma Swan/Regina Mills) Spoilers/Warnings: Not really. Summary: Bench No. 1 is at the docks. There have been other benches before; Storybrooke is littered with them after all. They are in parks and hospitals, in gardens and diners, and by the roads. There are lots of them. But Bench No. 1 (yes, capitalized) is at the docks. Disclaimer: This is purely fictional. I don’t own any of this.

AO3//FFNET

…

A/N: Yup, this is me jumping on the bench bandwagon. Although I’m pretty sure the episode is going to crush all and any hope, but who cares. Have some bench fluff.

…

Bench No. 1 is at the docks. There have been other benches before; Storybrooke is littered with them after all. They are in parks and hospitals, in gardens and diners, and by the roads. There are lots of them. But Bench No. 1 (yes, capitalized) is at the docks.

Actually it’s two benches.

The wind blows in their faces, disarranging Regina’s carefully coiffed hair, making the tip of Emma’s nose cold and red. Emma glances at the already cold cup of coffee sitting forlornly beside her, and Henry’s book, and pulls her feet up to the bench, crossing her legs and hunching over a little in order to calm the sick, twisty vortex of worry that is making her stomach writhe.

Regina paces in front of her. Four steps to the left, twist, turn, four steps to the right, rinse and repeat.

“How can you be so sure, Miss Swan?”

“I don’t know, all right,” her voice sounds alien to Emma’s own ears, all weird and hoarse. “I have this hunch, I have this feeling that something bad is going to happen.”

“You mean other than all the bad things that have already happened?” Regina’s tone is harsh and skeptical.

“Yes, something even worse.”

“And his book says nothing about it?”

“Nothing. Zilch. It’s a big, fat, five hundred page nada.”

“Have you tried asking him?”

“Yes,” Emma’s tone is emphatic. “Repeatedly.”

“And?”

“You know him. He still hasn’t forgiven me for lying to him. He has his shiny, new father. Nothing else matters to him right now.”

“I cannot say why but I just had the strongest sense of déjà vu.”

“Yes, all right,” Emma throws up her hands in defeat. “Now I know exactly how you felt when I came to Storybrooke.”

Regina smirks, triumphant but humorless.

“Well, what goes around.”

“Can we focus?”

“Of course, dear. Now, if Henry hasn’t told you — are you sure you aren’t projecting? Because he is ignoring you in favor of a man you loathe?”

“I don’t—” Emma sighs. “I’ve seen these odd, scared looks he keeps giving Gold. Not to mention the other day when I entered the room, he looked totally freaked out, and Gold had this really ugly look on his face. But when they saw me, they both went really quiet.” Emma frowns. “And then there’s the things that Gold keeps muttering to himself when he thinks he’s alone, about seers, and boys who need to be taken care of, and what would Bae say, and he gets this really crazy look in his eyes — I don’t know!”

“Yet nothing implicitly suggests—”

“Maybe I’ve been a mother for all of five minutes, as you said—”

“I apologized for that!”

“No, but it was still true, wasn’t it? And maybe I am being melodramatic, but I think there’s some truth to what they say about mothers knowing when their child is in danger.” She looks up at Regina who stopped pacing a while ago. “You don’t believe me.”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Regina begins pacing again.

Emma snorts. “It can’t be my winning personality.” And then she remembers the situation, and her face falls again. “What do you know about seers?”

“Not much. My mother might’ve known but, well.”

Emma looks at her bleak expression. “I’m really sorry about that, Regina, if I’d known that Sn—”

“Yes,” Regina cuts in sharply. “Let’s keep it civil, shall we? Let’s not mention names that might take this in some direction other than civil, please.”

Emma nods, miserable. “So, we know nothing.”

“I’m afraid we’re at a dead end right now, unless one of us goes and asks Rumplestiltskin.”

Emma suddenly feels like crying as she wraps her arms around her stomach. She wants to rock back and forth like a scared child. Instead, she says, “Regina.”

It is a little whiny, but mostly it sounds like something hot and salty is burning through her throat, and Regina pauses in her pacing to look at Emma’s pasty white face, and limp blond hair, and green eyes huge and unnaturally bright with moisture.

She steps forward carefully, silently, and sits on the edge of the other bench, facing Emma, hands clasped in front of her.

“I will not let him hurt our son,” she says in that tone which brooks no argument but Emma just stares straight ahead before staring down into her cross-legged lap. Regina notices the way she has her arms wrapped around herself, and how her whole body is trembling lightly, and she reaches forward to lay a hand on the other woman’s elbow, a little surprised at how easily the gesture comes to her.

“Emma. Look at me,” she waits until Emma does, and then she leans forward a little, earnest. “I won’t let anything happen to Henry.”

“I am a terrible parent.”

“No,” Regina says, the fingertips of her other hand lightly touching Emma’s chin. “Because I know you won’t let anything happen to Henry, either. We can protect him together. I don’t think even the Dark One can beat the Savior and the Evil Queen’s combined powers.”

And Emma tries really hard but a choked sound and a tear somehow escape, and her hand tangles with the one on her elbow, her grip strong, and she nods.

Regina lets her hold her hand and offers her a tissue from somewhere inside her coat.

“We’ll do it together. For Henry.”

“For Henry,” Emma echoes.

The wind whips at the pair of them, and the benches are hard and uncomfortable, but they stay like that, both of them, for a long while.

... 

And, see, it is that pact which leads to Bench No. 2, which is in Regina’s garden, beneath her apple tree — well, one of her apple trees. It isn’t the one Emma butchered all those months ago. This one is in the neat little side garden on the left side of the house, surrounded by pretty shrubbery.

The battle is over, they foiled the Dark One’s plans to hurt their son, and Emma has left their little boy safe in the arms of his grandparents for the time being, before getting out of the house. For some reason she finds her feet making their way towards Mifflin Street, battle weary and exhausted as she is, she lets them wander on. And somehow she knows that she will find Regina here, under this tree, alone and hunched over. She straightens when she sees Emma.

“You look terrible.”

“You say the nicest things,” Emma says. “You were supposed to get yourself looked over by Whale.”

“So were you.”

“I’m fine.”

“So am I.”

“Yeah?” Emma points at the numerous scrapes, cuts, and bruises in sight. “What are these? Fun marks?”

“How gauche. I shall wear my wounds like a medal of honor and all — isn’t that what people say?”

Emma steps closer. “Some of them need stitches, Regina. This one is absolutely hideous!” she points to a large, diagonal gash on Regina’s forehead; Regina scowls.

“Have you looked in a mirror lately? You are no beauty today, and you look ready to pass out!”

Emma chuckles as she sits down beside her. “I am a little exhausted. And do you mean I am a beauty on other days?”

“I never gave you permission to sit.”

Emma rolls her eyes before reaching for and taking Regina’s hand. Regina’s eyebrows climb towards the gash in her forehead.

“Miss Swan, what do you think you’re—” she begins, but then there is a warm, tingly sensation on the skin of her hand, and she looks down to find Emma’s fingertips tracing a large, shallow cut in her palm, soft, little tendrils of magic emanating from them and gathering around and over.

Emma’s magic is white — not blinding, silver white, but a gentle, comforting one — with flickers of green and gold here and there. The cut in Regina’s palm is healed, and Emma moves on to the large, egg-shaped bruise above her elbow.

“Emma,” Regina says as fingers trace a gentle circle over her forearm, but, “Hush,” Emma says. “Let me concentrate, I’m not an expert at this.”

Regina is quiet; there isn’t a lot of conversation after that point, actually.

There is only Emma’s thumb tracing the gash on Regina’s forehead; all the painful sensation that had gathered in the wound flaps dissipates like helium from a balloon, and Regina sighs with relief as she feels the skin on her forehead smooth out.

“Not too much, too fast,” she warns gently, because she knows this magic is coming from inside of Emma who is already working with depleted reserves.

“It’s fine,” Emma mumbles, concentrating on running her fingertips over every cut and scrape on Regina’s cheeks.

Regina can feel the cool, ornate, wrought iron handle pressing into the small of her back, and she can feel the light wind that carries the gentle pine scent, and Emma’s scent which is a little sweaty and a little bit smoky from the battle, with something underneath that is as sharp as adrenaline, yet so very gently sweet. Emma’s wrist smells vaguely like lilacs, purple blue veins standing out, her fingertips rough, callused and blistered: she hasn’t healed herself.

Before she can comment on this observation, Emma cups her cheek and closes her eyes, and Regina can feel a warmth that courses down and through her whole body, dissolving knots and dissipating tensions. It is a wonderful feeling, and she wonders as her own eyes flutter close where the hell did Emma even learn to do that, unless she is doing it instinctively which is a feat in itself. She opens her eyes when she feels Emma sag a little against her, and she gently but swiftly disengages the hand on her cheek.

“That’s enough, Miss Swan. No need to burn yourself out.”

Emma mumbles a sleepy okay, not opening her eyes. And then she collapses in Regina’s arms.

... 

Which of course brings us to Bench No. 3 but in time, in time, because the interval in between is filled with Regina’s wordless cry, or maybe it is a full word, maybe it is even “Emma!”, and a hurried but failed attempt at revival, and a sudden, bone-crushing fear in her heart, and Regina Mills never did scare easy, but in those few, in between moments she is so scared she can barely breathe, and furious.

She is furious with Emma for expending so much energy doing so much magic in so short a time, but mostly she is furious with herself for not stopping her sooner. She gathers the unconscious woman in her arms and magicks them both into the ER, appearing right in front of a sputtering Dr. Whale — who, to his credit, stops sputtering at once and takes Emma from her as soon as the smoke clears.

Exhaustion, they say. Acute exhaustion.

Snow and David and Henry and Ruby traipse in after a while, and the room is so full, Regina thinks there won’t be any space for her. So she steps away into the hallway and sits on a small bench that is made of unforgiving little planks with too much space between them so that it pinches her thighs every time she moves, and one of the wooden legs is shorter than the other three so that it makes the whole thing rock unsteadily. That’s where Regina sits and stares angrily at her unblemished, healed hands, and for some reason feels like punching them clean through the teal grey, sloppily painted wood of the bench. There is a half broken, rusty nail poking out of one of the handles where her sleeve gets caught again and again, and she is sure the bottom must be full of old, moldy wads of chewing gum. No, Bench No. 3 is not a bench Regina will be particularly fond of reliving.

“How’s she?” she asks Whale when he comes out of the room, throwing back a deceptively casual smile towards Ruby. “Is she all right?”

“She’s going to be fine. Shouldn’t over exert herself for the next few days is all.”

Regina nods and sits down and rocks the bench as her sleeve gathers new tears.

The Charmings and Ruby leave after a while; Henry strays to the bench for a goodbye hug, and a kiss to her cheek, and to say that he is glad that she is all right. Regina’s heart is suddenly so, so full.

The corridor empties out but Regina sits on her bench, and well — just sits, until the buzz of the fluorescent light is deafening in the silence around her, and then she gets up and walks into Emma’s room.

Emma is sleeping.

For a long moment Regina watches from the doorway: the rise and fall of the thin hospital blanket, the steady drip of the IV, the soft shadows gathered in the curves and corners of the other woman. Emma looks completely out of place in the sterile room of whitewashed walls and chrome cabinets. This isn’t where she belongs, Regina thinks. Emma belongs — but that really is a whole other debate, isn’t it? Because Regina can’t really find a place where Emma belongs completely, destined always to be an interloper. In this they are both the same. And maybe, well … she takes that maybe and shoves it somewhere far away. She steps forward towards the sleeping woman, contemplates magicking herself out of there, and sits beside Emma, almost at the edge of the bed. She starts with the hand that has the IV in it, smoothing over the cuts and calluses and blisters from wielding a sword, and a long, flat bruise that wraps around the wrist, before moving to the other hand.

She is good at it, she has years of practice, but instead of just hovering over the wounds, she can’t help but trace them with the tips of her fingers, just like Emma had in her inexperience.

She traces the features she has seen reflected so many times in her son’s, smoothing a cut in a dark golden eyebrow, and softly taking away the swelling from a puffy eye. Her fingers trace a downward path on one pale cheek, cup it gently, and then she pours her magic into the other woman, a thumb unconsciously stroking the chin.

Emma opens an eye, the one that hadn’t been puffy to begin with, to look at her.

“This feels kinda nice,” she rasps. “I’m all … tingly.”

Regina’s glare is sharp as lasers, but she doesn’t remove the hand or move away.

“In all my years,” she says, “I’ve never met someone so supremely idiotic. What were you thinking?”

“Wasn’t.”

“Do you ever? I should’ve left you there to rot!”

Emma nods sagely. “Humus for your apple tree.”

Regina looks like she is about to make a scathing remark but takes a deep breath instead, and doesn’t say anything, though the sound of molars grinding against molars is clearly audible.

After a while Emma presses her cheek into her hand, indicating it is enough. “Okay, stop now,” she says. “I can do the rest of the healing on my own.”

“Shut up.”

“Really, Regina, I don’t want you to exhaust yourself and—”

“Unlike some idiots I know, I’m well rested and healed. How do you expect to look after my son if you keep indulging in such foolhardy things?”

Emma pouts.

“You scold like a grandma!”

Regina’s eyes twinkle suddenly. “I am, you know.”

“Oh, please! Not you, too!”

“The topic has been breached before, I presume?”

“I don’t care a fig for that!” Emma raises an IV infused hand to touch Regina’s cheek lightly. “You are not my grandmother!”

“My, what turn of expression! You don’t care a fig!”

“Mary Margaret has a stash of Regency romances hidden behind the encyclopedias.”

Regina’s lips twitch. “You don’t say.”

Emma nods, and then frowns. “Enough! Don’t make me yank your hand away from my cheek!”

Regina checks the flow of magic. “Nothing’s stopping you,” she says placidly.

“Well, maybe I like having it there.”

Regina’s eyebrows journey upwards. They look at each other for a moment before Emma says, “I think without the pain, the morphine is going straight to my head.”

“Or it’s just your penchant for speaking without thinking first.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m hopeless, aren’t I? Did you meet Henry?”

Regina nods, suddenly smiling widely. “He kissed my cheek.”

“Now there’s progress for you!” Emma says, and then before she can stop herself, “Care to demonstrate?”

Regina looks at her wide pupils, and thinks of the things she might care to demonstrate with this woman, and shakes her head.

“You should sleep,” she says, releasing the gentle suggestion from the fingertips of the hand still cupping Emma’s cheek.

“No, but…” Emma says, or tries to; her eyes grow heavy and eventually flutter close. “No’ fair,” she mumbles sleepily.

Regina waits till her breathing evens out into the smooth rhythm of slumber before tucking the blanket around her sleeping form. She sits there for a bit, delaying her departure, thinking over Emma’s last, sleepy request, her hand lingering in the ghost of a touch over a pale cheek and soft, blond curls, until a familiar and unwelcome step rings in the empty corridor outside.

And then, just for the heck of it, she waits until the pixie-haired woman is right at the door, before bending down, placing a kiss on Emma’s cheek, and vanishing in a suspicious puff of smoke.

She is pretty sure there was an enraged gasp in her wake.

... 

Bench No. 4 now, that is a little problematic. It’s a little after No. 3, and it involves a very warm and bright spring day, a stout, little bench in the Mossbury Park, surrounded by lots of pigeons and doves, and maybe a couple of crows, dew slippery grass, and hydrangeas towards the end. It involves Emma Swan in a white tank top, and a checkered button down shirt that once belonged to her dad, but that she claimed as her own not long after her return from her sojourn in fairytale land, and a pair of jeans that are the color of faded evening skies and not painted on for a change, and sneakers. Sitting there on the bench like that, hair blowing every which way, she looks years younger.

“Hi,” she waves when she sees Regina. “You came.”

Regina can’t wave back. Regina’s hands are full of pale blue and pink sachets of sugar and creamer, and two cups of coffee she picked up from Granny’s on her way. Up until the moment she saw Emma, she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to see her at all or not. But then it’s Emma, and she is smiling, and for a moment Regina forgets the reasons she’d thought it would be a bad idea, and, instead, thrusts a cup of scalding coffee in Emma’s face.

“Oh,” Emma says. “I thought we could grab some later at Granny’s, but okay. This is better.”

Regina still has enough presence of mind left to produce a tissue, wipe the bench before sitting beside the Sheriff, and wipe the bottom of the cup before putting it down. Emma laughs and unceremoniously dumps sugar and creamer in her coffee and stirs.

“So why did you call me here?” Regina says as she carefully tears a sachet of creamer.

“Because,” says Emma.

“Because?”

“Don’t you get tired of being coped up in there all the time? What do you even do? Watch movies? Read? Cook?”

“I have ways to occupy myself,” Regina says stiffly.

“Well,” Emma says, takes a big sip, and burns her tongue. “Ow. This is hot! Well,” she says again. “I don’t care. You’re having coffee with me right here, right at this time, every day now.”

“Am I? And why?”

“Because.”

“Your reasons are impeccable, dear.”

“Aren’t they just!” Emma beams.

After that they just sit for a while, sipping their coffees, talking about their son, commenting on random things. Eventually Regina makes to put down her empty cup when Emma leaps in.

“Here, let me!” She takes it.

The air around both the empty cups is suddenly alive with green and gold flickers as they are levitated towards the dustbin standing between two sturdy little shrubs. Emma looks so very proud for a moment.

“You shouldn’t be so cavalier about it,” Regina says.

Emma’s smile falters a little. “Well,” she says sullenly. “Maybe I was trying to impress someone.”

“Me?” Regina’s tone is incredulous.

“No, Gepetto!” Emma points to the old man walking serenely on a trail some distance away.

“You know you’re just an overgrown silly child,” Regina says, but she is smiling.

Emma shrugs, suddenly pink.

“Who’s teaching you? Blue?”

“Nah,” Emma makes a face. “She said she would but I asked Nova — you know, Sister Astrid?” Regina nods. “Yeah, I asked her. Blue sort of … creeps me out. Her pictures in Henry’s books are hardly PG. Mother Superior indeed.”

“Indeed,” Regina says, eyes laughing.

“Yeah. Sister Astrid it is.”

“I never realized Sister Astrid was such an expert at magic,” Regina remarks.

Emma’s response can be classified as an undignified giggle as she pulls her legs up and sits cross-legged on the bench. “No. We’ve had some hilarious incidents! But we make do. It’s all quite all right,” she gives a lop-sided smile, and Regina feels her heart flutter a bit. “I’m mostly working to control it, not become an expert at it.”

Regina nods, and then cautiously, hesitantly, she reaches for the hand that’s resting on soft, blue denim; Emma quirks a questioning eyebrow, but does not immediately retract the hand.

“So what else do you do all day?” Regina says as her thumb traces the luck line from Emma’s wrist to the top of her palm.

“I, uh—” Emma suddenly finds it hard to speak; Regina’s grip is gentle enough that she can take her hand away any time. She chooses not to. “I still have the Sheriff’s duties,” she eventually says. “And David’s teaching me how to fence.”

“Well, well. So that’s how you got these?” Regina says, now tracing the calluses on the hand. A flick of her thumb and they’re gone.

“Hey!” Emma protests, though she kinda likes the shiny, smooth skin. “I earned those!”

“I’m sure you did, dear,” Regina squeezes her hand soothingly, “but I’d rather you didn’t keep them.”

That makes Emma shut up and look again at her unblemished hand.

“It does look nicer, doesn’t it?” she seeks confirmation.

“Yes, it’s a very pretty hand,” Regina says, and Emma beams at her.

And perhaps it’s that delight, coupled with the effect Regina’s hand holding is having on her heart rate and adrenal glands, that causes an unwitting burst of magic, and Emma finds herself levitating a few inches above the bench, and going rapidly higher.

“Seriously, Emma!” Regina exclaims as her arm is yanked unceremoniously in the air.

“Uh oh,” says the airborne Savior, peeking down.

“Control your emotions!”

“Shouldn’t I control my magic, instead?”

“Whatever makes you stop imitating a hot air balloon faster, dear,” Regina squints up at the Savior’s haloed head, a teasing glint in her eyes.

Emma’s eyes suddenly widen in panic as she casts a glance at the wide blue yonder with nary a cloud in sight, and imagines herself floating away à la Marjorie Dursley.

“Don’t let me go!” she squeaks.

“I won’t. Unless you plan on dangling me in your wake all over Storybrooke, in which case I’m afraid I’ll have to put my foot — or hand — down, dear.”

Panicking very much now, Emma closes her eyes and thinks with all her might of the ground. The result is instantaneous and somewhat dramatic: Regina’s hand is yanked from her grip, and Emma finds herself sprawled ass first in the hydrangeas, very unsure how it all came about. Regina stands up to check and almost doubles over with laughter.

...

And this is where we come to our bed.

Now, see, you might have been misled to believe that the bed in question is of the four-legged, headboard-and-foot, mattress laden, blanket covered variety, but I’m afraid that assumption is incorrect — this bed inclines more towards the  soil-filled, grass-edged, plant-strewn, very organic type. The one good thing, perhaps, are the hydrangeas which are pretty to behold, even though many get unceremoniously crushed under the Savior’s unsavory bottom, it is still a sight to look at: Emma Swan, prone, perplexed, and very, very pretty amongst bunches of pale blue hydrangeas.

Regina has a sudden, overwhelming sense of where Emma belongs.

Surprisingly it’s not on her knees in front of the Evil Queen (though in a fashion … but that’s for later, I suppose). No, Emma belongs in that warm spring day, Emma belongs with blue skies and pine scented wind, and emotional bursts of magic, sprawled in that bed, surrounded by blue and green. Emma belongs in her father’s worn, faded checkered shirt, and an old jeans butter soft after countless washes.

And, Regina thinks, as she lends the Savior a hand and pulls her up, and then right into herself, as her arm goes around her waist and her hand cups a sun-warmed cheek, as she leans in: this is it, she thinks, this is where Emma belongs, and where she belongs.

And then there is quite a bit of kissing, witnessed by Bench No. 4, which yet might be our favorite bench of all, though they say in the greater context of things a bench is a bench is a bench. Or it’s not the bench that matters but the people on it, even though one of them is rumpled and sore-assed and slightly pouty, and the other cannot stop smiling.

And later, neither woman will be sure who initiated it, or whether it was their respective magical energies, so drawn to and complimentary of each other since the moment magic came to Storybrooke, which brought them together, but the truth is neither woman will care. Destiny, it might seem, is a wicked and frivolous thing, and always so very set on happening, but Emma doesn’t mind. She kinda likes where it has brought her — them.

Bench No. 4 has a little heart and a date scratched into a corner. If you ask Sheriff Swan, she will tell you it’s vandalism, and won’t be tolerated. What she won’t tell you is that this particular act was committed with a police issue Swiss knife. She will talk about sand papering and repainting, but so far Bench No. 4 has seen neither sand paper nor a can of paint. It’s starting to get scuff marks on the seat from frequent use, though, and dark brown circles of sloppily treated cups of coffee on one side. The other side is stubbornly clean.

By the time the hydrangeas are replaced with late autumn flowers, and white clematis blooms behind the bench, and the wind gets a freezing nip again, there will be two very clear seat prints on it. You can see them even now if you squint a bit.

~fin~

A/N: My God, but it is hard to think up bench scenarios! I left one out, in the end. Also, yes, I know this gets too cheesy at some points. But c’mon. After the horror that the show is becoming, I think we all need all the cheesiness and fluffiness we can find. I really hope you enjoyed it.

Also: *Let's just assume that Storybrooke has a little central park thing, and call it Mossbury Park. *The trouble I had to go to in order to look up spring/early-late autumn flowers. Now, I'm no expert, but hydrangeas are beautiful, as is Sweet Autumn Clematis.

[inkfiction]

A Kind of Comfort in You (4/4) — a Swan Queen fic

Title: A Kind of Comfort in You (4/4) Fandom: Once Upon a Time Pairing: Swan Queen (Emma Swan/Regina Mills) Spoilers/Warning: None. Tooth-rotting, tummy hurting fluff! Summary: AU-ish Storybrooke. Let’s pretend there is no curse, no magic, and Regina is just a mayor and Emma is just a sheriff. This is a SQ baby fic, but it is not your typical SQ baby fic. But maybe I’m deluding myself and it is. (After all a baby fic is a baby fic is a baby fic). You’ll have to decide yourself. Disclaimer: This is purely fictional. I own none of it.

FFNET//AO3

[…]

A/N: Ack. This should’ve been put up weeks ago, it’s been ready and everything, sorry. I’ve just been really out of it (and stuck in a loop of angst so this was pushed temporarily aside). Anyway, tardy excuses aside, here’s the final part. Tada.

Thank you Pesterfield for pointing out some typos and errors in the previous part; they’ve been fixed. English isn’t my first language and sometimes some things slip notice even after my best efforts, thank you for letting me know. Also, there’s good news for all ye who’d been dreading the ending as much as me — (so not ready to let go of Allison!) — Beanz (that’s my beta to you) and I came up with a couple (dozen) more scenarios, plenty of fluffy mush, involving our favorite family, so you’ll be seeing more fics set in akociy verse sometime soon.

Now, on to the last three parts. Here ya go.

…

X.

At the head of Storybrooke’s Town Hall was the table where the Mayor sat — but today the center of attention was not Mayor Mills, but the newly turned three-year-old who greeted each council member very seriously by shaking their hands, and showing them the masterfully crafted drawing of a bright orange dolphin (which looked more like a giant piranha) surrounded by several dangerously tilted and impossibly tapered candles, and proclaiming that it was her ‘burfday’. They all agreed that the dolphin was, indeed, very interesting, to say the least, and wished her a very happy birthday, commenting on the big, frosty cake sticker Mrs. Poppins, her teacher, had put on her Oscar the Grouch t-shirt. Allison grinned from ear to ear.

“All right, Allison, darling, settle down,” said Regina as she prepared to call the meeting to order.

Allison made her way to the chair at Regina’s immediate right, which currently held several of her art supplies.

“She’s going to stay during the meeting?” blurted a councilman.

Regina gave him a gimlet-eyed stare. “Is that a problem?”

“N-n— I mean — it’s a budget — ma’am — n-no, no problem at all.”

“The Sheriff is busy, so I picked her up from school. She will come for her in a while. Now, shall we begin the meeting or would you also like to know why I am wearing a white shirt and not a blue one?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Regina raised an eyebrow; there were snickers across the hall. “I m-mean, no ma’am. Yes, we should start the meeting now, ma’am.”

Emma came for Allison half an hour later. The whole council watched wide-eyed as the Mayor got down on her knees for a goodbye hug and kiss.

“Henry would be bringing your presents later, baby, okay?” She told Allison.

“And you’ll come, too?”

“Of course, I will.”

Emma picked Allison up and gathered her stuff. “Don’t be late, okay?” she said to Regina.

“Yes, I know. Now off with you two, I’m in the middle of a budget report.”

“Yup, leaving. Afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” Emma said to the councilmen. “Come on, Al.”

…

It was a quarter to midnight when Regina finally put the last paper in the last file and locked her office for the night. Driving was a chore; it was late and the streets were empty. She drove past 95 Mifflin Street in guilt-ridden silence.

A shadow moved on the Sheriff’s porch as Regina drove by, but perhaps it was just her tired eyes playing tricks on her because the rest of the house was shrouded in darkness. She sighed as she fixed her attention back on the road and in trying to park her car straight. She stumbled up the porch; her heels were killing her. Somehow the process of unlocking the door and entering the foyer was completed; she threw her bag on the nearest flat surface and was just unbuttoning her coat when there was a soft knock on the front door. Worried, she jerked it open to find the Sheriff standing there with a serious expression on her face.

“Emma,” she said, taken aback. Apparently her eyes hadn’t been playing tricks when she had seen that shadow. “Why are you still up?”

“You didn’t come.”

“I, uh —” For once Regina was silent.

“She waited. She waited for hours.”

“I — tried. There was just too much work to do. I mean, going through and rounding off the budget statements for the last six months—”

“Well, then, you should’ve just — you said — you told her you’d be there. You let her believe you’d come!”

“I wanted to! I was going to — there was just — the work—”

“You could've called. Or texted. Or picked up one of mine, Henry's dozen calls.”

Regina winced. “My phone was on silent for the meeting, I think it’s in my bag somewhere.”

“I even tried calling the office—”

“I'm sorry; it's the biannual budget report. You know how ugly it can get.”

“No, I don’t know,” Emma said, and, to her horror, felt her voice begin to waver. “Regina, you can’t love a kid so much and then not turn up on their birthday party. No one cares about those budget reports except you, and it could've waited a day.”

“I'm not willing to slacken my standards, and you know that.”

“I'm not asking you to. It was just for a few hours. I think Allison deserved that. She kept asking for you. I don’t give a damn about your budget reports. You should’ve been there.”

“I’m sorry. I tried, I really tried, I just kept getting caught up in it.”

“You should’ve tried harder!” Emma thrust the plate of cake covered with a clear sheet of plastic into her hands. “Enjoy the cake. She saved some for you,” she said, before turning around and marching back down the street towards her house, ignoring Regina’s exasperated shout of, “Emma! Emma, listen to me!”

It was a weird, horrible feeling and Emma did not even know why she was feeling like that. She just knew that deep down, on some level she hadn’t yet recognized, it had been important for her that Regina be there when Allison cut the cake for her third birthday. It was not just her daughter’s fallen face and questioning eyes that had made her feel like that; she wasn’t sure why, but there was something else: a bitter disappointment that Regina hadn’t been there, an unwarranted anger that she hadn’t tried harder, a strange resentment that a stupid budget report had been more important, and regret that she had missed such an important moment of Allison’s life, and hurt. And a kind of bewilderment over all of it. Why did she feel like sitting down on the stairs and crying?

She stomped angrily up the porch, mindful of the rapid tap-tap of the heels on the tarmac behind her.

“Emma!” the Mayor caught up with her just as she wrenched opened the door to her house; dim, yellow light spilled out of the foyer. “Listen to me!”

“Go home and go to sleep, Regina. You had a long day.”

“No,” said the Mayor, reaching out to grab her wrist with one hand, the other still carrying the plate of cake. “You’re right, I should’ve tried harder. I should’ve—”

But Emma was shaking her head even before the sentence was finished. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have expected — I had no right — you’re the Mayor, you have a busy schedule —”

“Emma,” Regina said softly, sadly. “Don’t.”

Emma looked up at her and bit her lip, looked down for a moment at Regina’s hand still holding on to her wrist and then looked away.

 “I’m very sorry,” Regina said. “But don’t — don’t reduce me like that.” Emma opened her mouth to speak but Regina shook her head, stopping her from speaking. “No, I should’ve been there, it’s simple as that. I wasn’t, and I truly regret it. Please forgive me.”

Emma looked at her, trying very hard to suppress a suddenly wobbly lip.

“I’m sorry,” Regina mouthed at her, face lit softly by the light from the foyer, and Emma finally nodded.

“Come on,” she said as she gently tugged at Regina’s hand. “You look very tired. Have you had anything to eat? I have mountains of leftover food.”

“I should really get back and change—” Regina said, but followed Emma inside anyway, unsure of the precise moment when her grip on Emma’s wrist had turned instead to Emma’s fingers entwined with her own.

The Sheriff paused in the hallway. “Take off your heels.”

“Are you joking? Do you have any idea how hard it’d be to put my feet back in when I go home?”

Emma let out an exasperated sigh. “I’ll lend you my slippers. Now take them off and let your poor toes breathe. Socks, too! And give me this coat. And your jacket.”

The items were hung securely, without further ado, on the coat rack. Regina looked a little lost, standing barefoot in the hallway in her semi-crumpled white shirt and dark pants; it made Emma smile.

“C’mon,” she grabbed the Mayor’s hand again. “You need food, and a glass of wine. And maybe a back rub and a foot massage.”

Regina moaned as she allowed herself to be led towards the kitchen. “Don’t make me offers I cannot refuse.”

Emma smiled as she sat Regina down on a chair and busied herself with food and plates and microwaving.

“I could, you know—”

“No,” Regina said firmly, giving in to the fatigue as she leaned back and propped her feet upon a chair. “Food and a drink will just be enough.”

“Why, Madam Mayor, you make me feel like an undervalued housewife. So Neanderthal of you.”

“Rrrgh,” Regina made a half-hearted attempt at a caveman’s growl, leaning her head back and running a hand through her hair. Emma looked away from the exposed neck. “So how did it go? The house looks cleaner than I’d have expected of you.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I’m not that bad. But Ruby and Mary Margaret helped. And I kinda took my anger out on the trash, you know, collecting and dumping. So satisfying.”

“At least it was on something constructive,” Regina said as Emma placed plates piled with food in front of her and sat down next to her with a large piece of pie in her own plate. Regina looked at it and then up at Emma, eyebrows raised.

“What?” Emma said around a mouthful of pie. “I’m keeping you company.”

“Of course,” Regina shook her head, picking up a fork and a knife. “So tell me about the party.”

“Well,” Emma took a deep breath before launching into a mini-tirade. “What do you wanna know? The organization and games and the party favors were a nightmare! I don’t know how you can do it so effortlessly, the management part in everything! Mary Margaret was a lifesaver. Ruby helped with the food and catering mostly, taking care of all the mountains of food and the cake that Granny’s sent over. Ashley took care of the children.” She shuddered. “Didn’t envy her. Leo was on a massive sugar high, and poor Lexie had a bit of cold. The older kids kept popping the balloons until Leo kicked one of them very hard because it was making Allison cry.”

That made Regina smile as she chewed. “He never lets anyone else do that.”

“Oh, yeah, he likes to be the sole perpetrator, but he can be sweet, too,” Emma made a face. “I was the one who had to deal with the kid’s mom who thought her son was going to lose a leg or something.”

“Well he should’ve thought of that before he popped Allison’s balloons!”

“She kept waiting for you, kept asking me,” Emma’s lips tilted downwards. Regina put her fork down and bit her lip. Emma sighed. “It was hard, okay. It made her sad. I don’t like seeing my baby sad.”

“Neither do I,” Regina said softly, looking her in the eye.

“I know. I had to tell her four stories and read that wretched Little Miss Sunshine book twice to get her to brush her teeth and go to sleep!”

“She needs new reading materials,” Regina laughed.

“She won’t let it go! God, she knows every word of that book by heart but she won’t let me throw it away!”

“That was Henry with The Polar Express,” Regina shook her head. “I think he still has it stashed somewhere in his room.”

Emma smiled. “Did he want a bell to go with it?”

Regina rolled her eyes, also smiling. “I was supposed to pretend I couldn’t hear it.”

“Kids, I swear,” Emma said.

“Oh, I remember having a particular fondness for Dr. Seuss books myself,” said Regina.

“You must’ve been a regular bookworm.”

“You have no idea.”

“Well, I liked fairytales, for a while,” Emma said. “Rapunzel, with her long, golden hair, locked in a life she didn’t want, until one day a Prince came along and stole her away.”

“And then?”

“And then,” Emma stood up and started gathering the dishes. “I grew up.”

“Oh, Emma,” Regina said softly.

Emma bit her lip and shrugged. “I was a stupid kid — wishing on stars, believing in princes. In real life, stars are just faraway things in the sky, and the only thing princes steal is expensive watches, and then run away while you are left behind to take the rap for them and end up in juvenile jail. Sucks.”

Regina made a sympathetic face. “I wish it hadn’t been like that.”

“Well, if wishes were horses. Though I suppose,” Emma said as she began to wash and dry the dishes. “I shouldn’t complain — no, god, sit back down, woman! You’re not touching these dishes, gimme that plate! Now, go away! — I mean, I did get Henry from it, and ended up here. And I got Allison. So, I guess it’s a win-win.”

“Silver linings,” Regina nodded, leaning against the counter.

Emma dried her hands on a towel and put the dishes back. “Yeah, small favors,” she said. “Come on.”

She made her way to the lounge; Regina followed, and plonked down on the couch.

“Now, how about that promised glass of—” Regina began.

The door to the lounge swung open and Allison pattered in, trailing a frayed edged cashmere blankie behind her and clutching a notch-eared, bob-tailed stuffed cow.

“Mama,” she said, blinking sleepy eyes. “Rolfo can’t sleep.”

“Hey, baby,” Emma said. “Look who's here to see you!”

Allison looked up; Regina bit her lip.

“Hello, little one. What's wrong?”

Allison expression went from sleepy to wide-awake-and-ear-to-ear-smile happy.

“You came!” And the next minute she was climbing up Regina’s lap, holding out the cow. “Rolfo can’t sleep,” she said after Regina had gathered her to herself and planted a kiss on her forehead.

“Well, why not?”

“He’s cold.”

“Well, he — is a cow, but we will put him under your blankie.” Regina wrapped her arms around the little girl to keep her warm.

“He’s thirsty.”

“Are you thirsty, too, Al?” Emma said from behind. “Do you want some water?”

Allison nodded.

“What do you say?” Regina prompted.

“Please!”

“All right, kiddo,” Emma bumped a finger against her daughter's nose, and went into the kitchen to get some water.

Regina smoothed back Allison’s hair and placed another kiss on top of her head.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, sweetheart.”

“Mama said you were busy. Were you very busy?”

“Yes. I am so sorry.”

“I saved you cake.”

“I know you did. It was very good. Thank you.”

“Did you eat it all?”

“I ate all of it,” Regina patted her stomach and Allison beamed.

“So how was your party?” Regina asked. “Was it fun?”

“Yes!” Allison beamed, almost jumping up and down in her lap. “I got presents! And we had a jumpoline. And Leo kicked the mean boy.”

“Which he shouldn’t have done!” Emma said, coming back in, Allison’s sippy cup in her hand.

“But he was busting my balloons!”

“Still doesn’t mean Leo should’ve kicked him.” Emma gave her the cup.

“But they were my balloons,” Allison pouted at Regina.

“He was a very bad boy,” Regina nodded sympathetically.

“Hey, don’t do that!” Emma said.

“Do what?” Regina said. “He shouldn’t have touched her balloons.”

“That. I don’t want her going around kicking people.”

“She wouldn’t, would you, sweetheart?” Regina looked down at Allison.

Allison shook her head, sipping from the cup.

“See,” said Regina.

“I'll ask Leo,” said Allison as she swallowed.

“Ohkay!” said Emma. “No.”

Regina opened her mouth, and closed it.

“Baby, you can’t do that,” Emma told her.

“Look,” said Regina. “If you need to kick someone, you come to me. Or your Mama, all right?”

“But—”

“No but,” Emma said. “Now, why don’t you tell Regina about your wishes?”

“I made three wishes,” Allison raised three little fingers. “Mama said I could. Because I am three now.” She frowned a little as she thought over that. “Because I’m a big girl now.”

“Yes, you are,” Regina kissed the top of her head.

“One for Mama,” she counted on her hand. “One for Henry.”

“And one for you?” Regina said, but Allison shook her head as if that was the silliest idea in the world.

“One for you,” she poked Regina in the shoulder.

“Oh,” Regina said, unable to say anything as Allison nodded. “Oh,” she said again, looking up at Emma who smiled at her. “Well,” Regina said, trying to pretend that her voice wasn’t shaking a little. “I, ah, thank you. You’re the best little girl in the whole big world.”

“And the best little girl now really needs to get back to bed if she wants to go to school tomorrow!” Emma said.

“I don’t wanna!”

“You have to, baby,” Emma told her.

“But she just got here, Mama!” Allison said, and squealed when Emma pounced on her, tickling her.

“No excuses!”

Allison burrowed into Regina to hide, and as a result the three of them ended up in a tangled mess of limbs on the carpet.

“Really, Emma!” Regina said, cheeks flushed, chest heaving.

Emma laughed, condition similar. “Go put her to bed! It’s your turn to tell her a story now!”

“All right,” Regina said, sitting up. “Come on, baby girl, kiss Mama good night.”

“Don’t you make that face!” Emma laughed as she kissed Allison’s pout once, twice, thrice. “Regina will tell you a story, okay?”

“Come on,” Regina picked Allison up and made her way to the little girl’s bedroom, all the while whispering in her ear and making her giggle.

Emma smiled as she watched them go.

…

Slow piano chords played in the background when Regina entered the living room again, and Emma handed her a cup of cocoa.

“How many ‘Miss Sunshines’ did it take this time?”

“Just one,” Regina chuckled. “Hey, wasn’t I promised a glass of wine?”

“Hush, this is so much better!”

Regina sat down on the couch. “Well, that’s a matter of —” she paused and cocked her ear at the music. “Is that Chet Baker?” Regina asked as the singer’s voice reached her ears.

Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you embrace me, my irreplaceable you…

Regina almost laughed, incredulous. “Is Emma Swan listening to Chet Baker?”

Emma flushed slightly. “Emma Swan can listen to Chet Baker, all right! I’m not that hopeless. And frankly, after eight hundred renditions of the birthday song that Henry played today, I think a little soothing music is in order. I’m surprised you know of him.”

“I’m surprised you think I wouldn’t!”

They listened to the soft, clear notes for a while.

“Al likes it, that part about being a naughty baby,” Emma told her. “She likes to dance to it.”

“How can you dance to this?”

“Slowly,” Emma said as if that was obvious. “That’s probably why she mostly falls asleep in the middle.” She chuckled.

“Still,” Regina said, taking a sip of her cocoa.

“C’mon,” Emma suddenly stood up. “I’ll show you.”

“No, thank you! I’m fine here.”

“Come on!” Emma laughingly pulled at her arm. “I know you don’t dance but you owe me this one, Madam Mayor.”

“Fine,” Regina put the cup down and stood up. “On your head be my swollen feet!”

“Imagine!” Emma laughed as she snaked an arm around Regina’s waist, using the other to drape the Mayor’s arms around her neck. They swayed a little before Emma wriggled her feet underneath Regina’s.

“Oh,” Regina said, cottoning on and stepping on them. It made her tall enough to rest her chin on Emma’s shoulder. She hesitated a beat before dropping her head there lightly, and hiding her face in Emma’s neck. Their movements were slow and slightly clumsy with Emma supporting both their weight.

Too soon the song ended and the only sound was the scratching of the needle on the vinyl, and Emma’s soft sigh as she held Regina against her.

“I ought to get home,” Regina finally mumbled against her neck.

“Yeah, all right,” Emma reluctantly pulled away and Regina stepped off her feet. “Come on, I’ll give you shoes.”

…

“Seriously?” Regina stared at the flip flops Emma presented her with. “I think I’ll stick with my Choos.”

“Those feet ain’t going in no Choos, Madam Mayor. Look at them.”

Regina looked at her swollen feet and sighed.

“You know,” she said as she slid her feet into the flip flops. “I can say with utmost certainty that you, and you alone, Sheriff, do bring out the gypsy in me!”

Emma chuckled. “But you still love all the many charms about me, I know.”

Regina rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Come on, I’ll walk you home,” Emma said. “Mostly to make sure you don’t switch from my flip flops to your Choos in the middle of the road.

“Such a gentleman you are, Sheriff. I think I’ll leave them here for the night.”

“Still walking you home.”

The flip flops went slap-slap on the tarmac. Regina groaned.

“Dear God in heaven, I hope no one sees me wearing these!”

“Shut up or I’ll take a pic and send it to the Mirror. Imagine the scandal: ‘The Mayor of Storybrooke caught red-handed in flip flops! Sheriff suspected!’”

“Maybe red-footed would be a better word, if it is a word at all.”

“Hmm,” Emma’s hand slipped easily into Regina’s as they walked towards 108.

“Well,” Regina said turning around on her porch to look at Emma. “Thank you, for the food and everything.”

“Yeah,” Emma said, and waited a beat before raising her hand and brushing a lock of hair from Regina’s face.

Regina’s breath hitched slightly as Emma bent closer but Emma just kissed her cheek — a very lingering kiss.

“Go to sleep. You had a long day. Good night.”

She turned and walked away, and Regina watched until the hedges hid her altogether.

***

XI.

The Sheriff’s station was ringing with gleeful laughter.

“Allison! You are not supposed to put your head between these bars, honey. It might get stuck and then — stop laughing, I’m serious! — we’ll have to cut that pretty little neck and then what will I do?”

Allison blinked big blue-green eyes at her mother. “But you can cut the bars, Mama!”

“You are too smart for your own good, you know that?” She growled and Allison laughed. “When is Mary Margaret picking you up?”

Allison shrugged, hanging from the bars like a little monkey. “Leo had to get sti — sto — stitches from the hop — hoppytail.”

“The hospital?”

Allison nodded. “He fell from the swing again.”

Emma’s heart clenched in fear as Allison climbed higher. “You climb back down right now, Al! I don’t want to be taking you to get stitches!”

Allison climbed carefully down and then ran to Emma, resting her elbows in her lap.

“Does it hurt, Mama?”

Emma looked at the concern in her eyes. “Yes,” she said, and saw her daughter’s lip tremble. “But only a little bit,” she added hurriedly. “So you have to be very, very careful, baby, okay?”

Allison nodded somberly and then proceeded to climb up her mother’s lap like she was scaling a mountain.

“Hey! Hey, you little monkey!” Emma said, but settled her in her lap, arms secured around her, and dropped a couple of kisses on her head.

“Can I draw a fish for you, Mama?” she said, eyeing Emma’s office pencils and papers.

Emma laughed at this phrasing. “Okay. Here you go.” Emma gave her a blank paper and a pencil.

“I want a pen! That one!”

“No. Mama needs that pen for work, sweetheart. A pencil is all you’re getting.”

Allison pouted but picked up the pencil. Emma watched as wavy squiggles and wobbly little boxes appeared on the paper, all painstakingly drawn.

“What is that?”

“It’s a train.”

“Ohkay. Weren’t you going to draw me a fish?”

“I like trains,” Allison said as if that was all the explanation required. “Do you like trains, Mama?”

“Hm. Yes, I suppose. That’s a very pretty train.”

“Trains are not pretty, Mama, trains are cool,” Allison explained patiently.

“Really? Who said that?”

“Leo.” She paused for a moment before turning a worried face towards Emma. “Will they give him a shot?”

Emma didn’t have the heart to tell her that they most probably would. “He’s going to be okay, baby,” she said, instead. “His Mama’s with him.”

Allison nodded as if that made perfect sense, and went back to her train, which looked like it had grown a dozen triangular wheels under each wobbly, little box. The phone rang and Allison perked up.

“Can I say hello?”

“We’ll see,” Emma said, pointing to the paper. “Back to your train.” She picked up the phone. “Sheriff’s Station.”

“Emma?”

“Hey, kid. What’s up?”

Allison squealed with joy. “I wanna talk to Henry!”

“Just a minute, baby. What is it, Henry? Don’t you have baseball today?”

“Yeah, I do. Listen, did you see my Mom today?”

“No,” Emma said. “I haven’t. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I don’t know, she came home some time ago. She looked — weird.”

“What do you mean, weird? Was she hurt?”

“No. I mean — I don’t think so.”

“Hey, it’s Census Week. I think she must just be tired. Let her rest.”

“No,” Henry said, getting agitated now. “You’re not getting it. This was different. She came home a couple of hours ago, looking all funny. Like she looked at me but it was like she wasn’t even seeing me, like she didn’t even know I was there. And then she went into her study and closed the door behind her, and hasn’t come out since.”

Emma was at a loss at that. She had never heard of or seen Regina acting like that. She never ignored Henry. “Maybe she is working?”

“No, she isn’t! I peeked in, and she’s just standing by the window.”

“Okay!” Decidedly weird.

“Can you come over and talk to her, Emma, please? I’m worried,” Henry said and Emma could feel it in his tone.

“All right. I’m coming over, hang in there, kid, okay?”

“Thank you,” he said and she could hear the relief in his voice.

“Yeah. Relax. Go have a soda or a glass of milk or juice or something, okay?”

“Yeah. See you soon.”

“Yeah.” Emma put the phone down.

Allison pouted. “I wanted to talk to him!”

“We’re going there, baby,” Emma said as she began to gather her stuff with one hand while dialing Ruby’s number with the other. “You can talk to him all you want, okay?”

She picked up her jacket and Allison’s backpack as she explained things to Ruby, asking her to come in, and to call Mary Margaret to tell her that she didn’t need to pick Allison up from the Sheriff’s Station, and then they made their way to the Sheriff’s car. She made sure that Allison was buckled in and then sped out of the Station’s parking lot and towards Mifflin Street. The streets were relatively clear at this time of the day and it didn’t take her long.

They found Henry waiting on the porch, long, lanky arms bent awkwardly, hands in the pockets of his jeans, and shoulders bunched up with worry. Emma messed up his already messy hair and gave Allison’s hand into his.

“I’m sure it’s going to be all right, kid.”

He nodded, frown still intact, though the knot in his shoulders seemed to ease a bit. “She’s in the study.”

“I’m on it.”

…

Just as Henry had said, Emma found Regina standing by the window, staring outside, still as a statue. Late afternoon light streamed in through the glass panes, tracing dappled patterns on her grey-green dress. She seemed to be deep in thought and did not even look back when Emma closed the door and the lock clicked gently into place. Emma laid her jacket on a chair and walked around the desk and towards the Mayor, reaching out a hand to touch her softly on her arm.

“Hey.”

Regina started, whirling around to look back. “Emma!” she exclaimed.

But Emma was looking at her face which was pale and shadowed, and eyes that were rimmed with red.

“Regina!” She took another step closer, searching the other woman’s face and body for signs of injury and finding none. “What’s wrong?”

The Mayor shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Tell me! Why are you so upset?”

“I’m not — upset, no, really. And nothing is wrong, per se.”

“Then what is it?”

“I—”

“Is it the census thingy? Is it tiring you out?”

“No, I’m—”

“Maybe you can get volunteers? Kathryn said she’d help. She’s a lawyer, after all, and—”

“Emma.”

Emma stopped talking.

“Nothing is wrong, I promise you.”

The effect of this statement, though, was rendered somewhat void by the tremor in her voice, the trembling lips, and the tears that suddenly filled the Mayor’s eyes. Anguish clawed at Emma’s heart as she grabbed Regina’s hands.

“Please, tell me what is it?”

That made Regina take a shuddering breath and the tears spilled down her cheeks.

“Dear God, Regina,” Emma stepped closer, fingertips brushing lightly over the Mayor’s cheeks, wiping away the tear tracks. “You tell me right this instant what happened, you hear me!”

Regina gulped and looked down.

“I — I was going through the records — you know, births and deaths over the last few years—”

“For the census thing?”

“For the census, yes. And — and I—” Regina’s voice shook again and she stopped to take a deep breath. Emma waited patiently, never letting go of the Mayor’s hands, allowing her to collect herself before continuing. “And I saw a copy of Allison’s birth certificate.” Regina took another deep breath and looked outside the window before looking back up at Emma, whose heart pounded and sank at the same time, afraid this was going to be about Graham.

“You—” Regina began and stopped. “You named her after — me.”

“Oh,” Emma’s whole body almost sagged with relief. “That’s what — oh. Regina. There’s no need to cry over that.”

But this was like a cue because that was when Regina Mills, Mayor of Storybrooke, Maine, broke down in Emma’s arms.

“Hey. You insane woman!” Emma said as she wrapped them around Regina and held her close. “You absolutely insane woman! That is not a thing to cry about!”

The only reply she got was a hiccoughing sob and the wetness soaking through her shirt, so Emma gave in and just held the other woman, an arm around her waist and her cheek resting against Regina’s head, a hand softly stroking through dark hair, just like she did with Allison. Finally Regina stopped crying but did not move away; she just shifted her head a bit so that she could raise her eyes and look at Emma.

“You idiot,” Emma whispered softly when she found tear-filled brown eyes gazing up at her, and brushed her thumb across Regina’s cheeks to wiped away the tears. Regina sniffed in reply and Emma shook her head. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

Regina gave a weak smile.

“You scared the living crap out of me and Henry.”

“I’m sorry. I just — I saw it and I didn’t know what to do.”

“Were you upset?”

“No, I was — I don’t know. I was overwhelmed, I guess.”

“Which was stupid.”

“You named her after me. Before — when she was born.”

“I did.”

“How could you have named her after me? Back then? We weren’t — we were almost enemies.”

“Really? Enemies?”

“Well, there was, as they say, no love lost between us.”

Emma frowned. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Regina let out a watery laugh. “Speak for yourself. We hated each other. We couldn’t stand each other back then. And then you go and name your daughter after me?”

“Look, you brought her into this world. Really, Regina, without you neither me nor Allison would be here today. If you hadn’t been there, she wouldn’t have been born.”

“I had no choice—”

“You did. And you chose to help me.”

“But I—”

“What’s so surprising, anyway? You deserved it.”

“No. I didn’t. I wasn’t — I wasn’t a good person. I am not the kind of person who can so easily — I mean. Emma, people don’t name their daughters after me.”

“Regina, hey—”

“I’m a stubborn, obsessive-compulsive tyrant! I cannot imagine—”

“Your stupid, tyrannical habits saved my daughter’s life and mine. I get it. You’re not an easy person to be with. But never, ever think you’re not worthy or important because you’re important to me, Regina, and don’t you ever forget that!”

Regina cried some more; Emma let her, for a bit, before speaking.

“It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think? Allison Regina Mary Swan.”

“Maybe not the Mary part,” Regina sniffed into her shoulder. Emma laughed.

They stayed like that for some time, and then one of Regina’s arms snaked around Emma’s waist, drawing her closer, and suddenly Emma was very aware of the Mayor’s presence in her arms, of her warm, steady weight, the subtle perfume of her skin, the curve of her waist beneath Emma’s hand, the warm smoothness of her cheek on Emma’s shoulder, the dark eyes, teardrops still glistening on lashes, gazing upwards — and then Emma’s fingers were trailing along the Mayor’s jaw.

Without letting go of her waist, Emma reached out and softly brushed the dark strands of hair plastered to Regina’s cheek by the wetness left by the tears; she tucked them behind an ear and gently traced her fingertips over a cheekbone, wiping the moisture that remained. She cupped Regina’s cheek, thumb moving in a soft, stroking movement, and then she bent her head a little and placed the softest kiss on the corner of Regina’s mouth.

Regina’s fingers clutched Emma’s shirt tighter as she leaned into the kiss. They stood like that for a very long moment before breaking apart slightly.

“Oh,” Regina said softly.

“Yeah,” Emma touched her fingertips to Regina’s lips, licking her own. “Salty. C’mere,” she said before kissing Regina again, deeper, much harder this time, both breathing a little fast when the kiss broke. “Finally I can do this!” Emma said, before frowning a little. “I can, right? You’re not freaking out, are you?”

Regina shook her head; Emma laughed again.

“You’re freaking out a bit, aren’t you?”

“I — we — kissed!” Regina was still not very coherent.

“Okay, you know what?” Emma pulled away a little, tucking Regina’s hair behind her ears. “We’re gonna take this very, very slow. One step at a time. Neither of us is going anywhere. There is no rush. Does that make you feel better?”

“Yes,” Regina said, slightly hoarsely.

“Good. Because I wanna do this right. I want this to work. Do you?”

Regina nodded.

“Good,” Emma repeated. “Now, if it’s all the same to you, I’d really, really like to kiss you again, please?”

This time it was Regina who leaned forward. This kiss was longer, more relaxed. They parted only when the door creaked slightly, and they looked around to find Henry, Allison on one hip, and eyes slightly wide.

“Henry!” Regina disentangled herself from Emma’s arms and walked briskly towards him; she cupped his cheek and kissed his forehead. For once he did not protest.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

“I am sorry for worrying you; I’m all right.” She only let go when he smiled at her, and then she took Allison from him. “Come here, you! How was school today?”

“Good!” Allison wrapped her arms around Regina’s neck. “We read about Pooh. And honey.”

“That seems very interesting.”

“And Leo’s Mama took him to the hoppytail because he fell from the swing again. Nurse said he needed sti — stitches. Mama says it hurts but only a little bit.”

“Oh. Well, I’m sure he’s going to be all right.”

“And Mama said if my head gets stuck between the bars at her office, she’ll have to cut my neck!”

“She said that, did she?” Regina glared at Emma who face palmed.

“I told her she could just cut the bars!”

“See, dear, it’s just that your Mama’s not as smart as you or me.”

Emma lightly punched Regina before turning to Henry. “Shouldn’t you be at your practice now?”

“Yeah, but I’m already late. I think I’ll skip today.”

“Come on, I’ll drive you,” Emma said.

…

“Are you sure she is fine now?” Henry asked as soon as they were seated in the car.

“Yeah, kid. Do you really think I’d leave her alone if she wasn’t?”

“Why was she upset?”

“She wasn’t really … upset.”

“She wasn’t?”

“No. Just a little, um, emotional.”

“Emotional? Why?”

“Because,” Emma said. “She found Allison’s birth certificate.”

“So? Is that bad?”

“No, why would it be bad. She just saw Allison’s full name.”

“So?”

“So — kid, you remember the day Allison was born? It was just me and Regina—”

“—in your old office, yeah.”

“And we weren’t exactly the best of friends.”

Henry snorted. “You hated each other’s guts!”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” Emma scowled. “Hate is such a strong word.”

“Okay, but what’s that got to do with anything?”

“Thing is, Henry — your Mom helped me. She didn’t have to, she most probably didn’t want to, but she did. She saved my life, and Allison’s.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. So that was a pretty big thing for me, see. And even though I thanked her later and all, it didn’t seem enough.”

“So what did you do?”

“I, uh, named Allison after her.”

“Whoa,” Henry whistled.

“Yeah. Her full name is Allison Regina Mary Swan.”

“No wonder Mom was so emotional.”

“Yeah, well. She earned it. I didn’t know we would become friends. And I wanted Al to know that the woman who brought her into this world was one of the bravest — and most stubborn people I know.”

Henry laughed. “Bet you told her that.”

Emma smiled. “I told your Mom that many times. You know, it takes some time to get past that high and mighty wall of hers, but when you do, you find out that some of the things that pissed you off the most when you didn’t know her are her greatest strength when you become her friend.”

“I think that was too grown up for me to understand.”

Emma laughed. “I probably don’t understand it much myself. What I mean is, it gets better once you know her. If you stick it out long enough, it’s worth it.”

Henry nodded thoughtfully before looking obliquely at Emma.

“So, did you guys kiss?”

The car jerked and Emma stammered. “W—what?”

Henry had an evil grin plastered on his lips. “C’mon, I was right at the door, remember?”

Emma debated for a moment before biting her lip and nodding, a blush spreading on her cheeks and a secret smile on her lips.

“I knew it!”

“What do you think?”

“I think Ruby owes me a week’s worth of French fries!”

“What!” The car almost spiraled on the road as Emma’s head jerked towards Henry. “You’ve been betti — oh my God!”

Henry just grinned broadly in reply. Emma smacked his arm.

“We are your mothers!”

“Exactly!” he said happily.

They drove in silence for a while before Emma spoke.

“So you’re okay with it?”

“Duh! Hey, if you wanna do something special, I can take Allison out of your hair for a few hours in the evening, you know. For a handsome tip, of course.”

“I already pay you to babysit her!”

“But I babysit in the house, mostly. I could take her to the playground, leave you to your … devices.”

“Jesus! No! Stop talking like that!”

“Suit yourself,” Henry shrugged, looking out of the window.

Emma made a turn and parked the Bug in the field’s parking lot. They sat in silence for a while, Emma’s fingers tapping a tuneless rhythm on the steering. She took a deep breath before turning to look at her son.

“Maybe on — on, I mean, um, day after tomorrow?” She blushed crimson. “You and Al could go to the park?”

Henry beamed at her. “I knew you’d come around. I need to tell you, I take cash up front. Although I would gladly accept your MasterCard.”

Emma hit him squarely on the head. “Get out of my car, you are becoming a monster!”

“Ow!”

“Go, play. We’ll discuss day after tomorrow later.”

Henry grinned as he got out.

***

XII.

It was Sunday and the clock hadn’t even struck seven yet so almost everyone was still asleep. That is, everyone except Regina, busy in the kitchen at this ungodly hour, surrounded by all sorts of baking ingredients and equipment, and several pots and pans. But it wasn’t long before there was thump thump of little feet on the stairs, and Regina turned around just in time to see a white pajama-clad, blond-haired little ball come hurtling at her at full speed, colliding with her legs and almost knocking them from underneath her.

“Hey,” Regina laughed, bending over to pick up the giggling little girl wrapped around her legs. “Guess what day is today?”

“It’s my birthday!” Allison squealed as Regina nuzzled her neck, inhaling the soft buttermilk scent, and pretending to bite her.

“Oh, it’s your birthday, is it?”

She received a vigorous nod in reply.

“Well, in that case, can you guess what I am doing?”

“You’re making me a cake!”

“Yes, I am. Are you hungry?” Allison nodded again and Regina sat her down on a chair and proceeded to give her her Special Birthday Cereal, which was basically just an eye aching combination of raisined Froot Loops, Frosties, Rice Crispies, and Choco Puffs. “Are you sure you want to eat that, honey?” Regina eyed the colorful concoction with trepidation.

Allison nodded. “Mama said I could on my birthday.”

“Yes, well,” Regina sighed. “You do get your sweet tooth from her.” Allison beamed at her and Regina gave up. “Let me cut you some strawberries in, at least?”

Allison considered this for a moment before nodding. “And bananas.”

“Bananas, of course.”

The fruits were duly added and Regina watched with a smile as Allison dug in, lips already red from the Froot Loops (which was the big attraction, actually, second only to raisins). She poked out her tongue to show how red it was.

“Ba thung is wed!” she announced.

Regina laughed and Allison turned her attention back towards her.

“Are you going to make a big cake?”

“The biggest!” Regina said, and Allison beamed.

“With chocolate and chocolate chips?”

“Yes.”

“And stoberries?”

“I can put strawberries on the top. Right next to your name.”

“It will have my name!” Allison jumped in the chair.

“Of course it will. It will say ‘Happy Birthday Allison’. Now, careful! Don’t spill your cereal.”

Allison settled down. “And bananas?”

“We’ll have bananas and pineapples inside.”

For a couple of minutes Allison was too happy to do any talking at all.

“I will be — one, two, three, four!” she counted on her fingers proudly.

“We will put one, two, three, four candles on the cake.”

“And I can have four wishes this year?”

“You can have as many as you want.”

“Oooh,” Allison’s eyes went wide. “Really?”

“Really.”

“You are the best Mommy in the whole world!”

“Hey!” Emma walked in, fully dressed for the day which was an unusual occurrence at this time of the morning. “I have dibs on that!”

“Mama!”

“Oh, dear!” Emma put a hand to her heart. “Who is this little monster with such red, red lips and tongue!”

Allison laughed. “Mama! It’s me, it’s Allison!”

“So it is! But is it somebody’s birthday today?”

“Mine! Mine!”

Allison climbed on the chair and launched herself at her mother. Emma caught her.

“Baby, someday you’re gonna — break — my — neck!” The intervals were punctuated with kisses. “Happy birthday.”

“Mommy’s making me a cake!” Allison announced.

“Is she?”

There was enthusiastic nodding. “With chocolate and stoberries and bananas. And it will have my name on it! And I will have four candles!” She held up four fingers.

“That is so awesome! She never bakes me cakes with four candles.”

“That’s because you’re not four!” Emma was presented with impeccable logic. “You’re —” Allison tried to do the math in her head but gave up after a while. “You’re loads of years old!”

“Humph!” Emma said, making a grumpy face. “She makes me sound like I’m an ancient relic or something!”

“Where are you going?” Regina frowned.

Emma made a face. “Duty calleth, my darling!

“But it’s Sunday! You’re supposed to be off duty today!”

“Justice never sleeps blah blah.”

“Can’t Ruby handle it?”

“Ruby’s the one who called. Someone vandalized Granny’s last night and Ruby has her hands full with her grandmother and the café at the moment.”

“Are they all right?”

“Oh, yeah, it was just the windows and the door. Ruby said to tell you that there would be no problems with the catering tonight. But I still have to check it out, lodge their complaint, all that shizz.”

The expression on Regina’s face was pouty, to say the least.

“I’m sorry,” Emma moved forward swiftly, shifting Allison to the other hip and putting an arm around her wife’s waist and drawing her close. “I’ll try really, really hard to be back home soon.”

“I just — I wanted all of us to be together for a day,” Regina said in a small voice.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll be back before you can blink.” Emma leaned forward to place a small peck on Regina’s lips, and then a much firmer one. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world. I’ll make Leroy acting Sheriff if I have to, but I’ll be back!”

“Dear Lord! Don’t do that, please,” Regina’s expression was horrified. “Just be back soon. Now put down your daughter so that she can finish her breakfast.”

“Won’t you be eating with us, Mama?”

“I’m sorry, baby, but Mama needs to go to work.”

“But — but you said—”Allison’s eyes filled with tears.

“Hey, hey!” Emma could feel chainsaws cutting at her heart. “I’ll be back so soon, you won’t even miss me!”

“Mommy!” Allison looked entreatingly at Regina who sighed.

“It’s all right, honey, Mama will be back soon, I promise! If she isn’t, I’ll go out and drag her back with her ear.”

Allison giggled a little before becoming serious again. “You will cut the cake with me, Mama?”

“I will,” Emma squeezed her tightly for a moment. “I promise. Both your mommies will cut the cake with you!”

Allison nodded, satisfied, and Emma put her down on the chair. “Now finish your breakfast, all right?” She said as she grabbed Regina’s hand and pulled her out of the kitchen for a proper farewell.

They were barely halfway through kiss number one when Henry traipsed down the stairs and let out a squeak when he saw them.

“Oh my God! My eyes! My eyes!”

“Oh, shut up!” Emma rolled her eyes, breaking away from Regina but not letting her go.

“I’m scarred for life! And it’s not even eight AM!”

“Your son is such a drama queen, Regina.”

“Well,” said Regina. “Nurture can only do so much, I suppose.”

“Oh my God!” Emma feigned horror. “She just — she just—”

“She did,” Henry said, shaking his head sagely; and then he noticed Emma’s clothes. “What’s that? Where are you going?”

“Work,” said Emma, and winced as she saw Henry’s face fall a little. “I’ll try to be back as soon as I can.”

Henry sighed and nodded. “Where’s the squirt? She up already?”

“In the kitchen.”

“She let you go so easily?”

“There were tears,” Emma sighed.

“Why don’t you go sit with her, dear?” Regina said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“All right,” he said as he bumped fists with Emma. “You guys go. Kiss. Whatever.”

“There’s no privacy in this house!” Emma said loudly to his retreating back.

“Get a room!” he called back.

Emma laughed, turning around and wrapping her arms around Regina’s waist. “Now that we have His Majesty’s blessing — where were we?”

There was a squeal of “Henry!” from the kitchen, followed by a scuffle and, “That’s mine! Gimme back!” Then there was laughter, mixed with little screams of, “No! No tickling!”

Emma smiled into the kiss as she pushed Regina towards the foyer. They paused as they reached the door and Regina wrapped both arms around Emma’s neck.

“You know,” Emma began, turning her head aside a little and planting a soft kiss on her wife’s forearm. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Mmhm?” murmured Regina. “You do such dangerous things, darling.”

“Shut up,” Emma said. “I’ve been thinking about another baby.”

“Another baby?” Regina was taken aback. “Since when?”

“I dunno. Since this morning? Our babies are growing up.”

“Allison is still too young.”

“I didn’t mean right away. But sometime in the future, you know. When Henry goes off to college and Al’s grown up. Maybe then.”

“Let’s not talk about that yet, all right?”

“Babies?” Emma frowned.

“No, about — birds leaving the nest. And things.”

“Oh,” Emma said, and pressed Regina gently into the door. “That’s why we need another little one. For our old days.”

“You will be the one following it around on creaky knees, then. I won’t.”

“Fine. I will. But you better lend your uterus this time. I’m tired of carrying your children for you, woman!”

“Really?”

“No, not really,” Emma smiled against Regina’s lips. “Never really.”

They kissed lazily for a while until Regina broke it off.

“Aren’t you getting late?”

Emma made a whiny sound in the back of her throat.

“Gives them more time to miss me. Gives you less.” She kissed Regina again.

“Get going,” Regina broke off again, trailed kisses along Emma’s jaw and nipped at her ear; Emma growled, wanting more.

“Entirely unfair! This kind of behavior towards the Town Sheriff should be unlawful!”

“Oh, Sheriff Swan, are you going to arrest me now? Tie me up, hands cuffed behind my back?”

Emma’s breath hitched. “Woman!” she said, voice slightly hoarse. “Stop giving me ideas! I got work to do!”

Regina laughed, low, and it thrummed in Emma’s entire body.

“Then go and do it, Sheriff. I was just giving you a glimpse of what is to come later at night if you’re back in time.”

“Mmhm?” Emma nibbled at Regina’s lips. “Is that so?”

“And,” Regina pushed her away; Emma staggered a little. “What might be denied to you if you’re not.”

“I’ll be back in time!”

Regina’s eyes flashed. “You better.” She opened the door. “Out! I have to feed our children.”

Emma stole a last kiss before going through the door. Regina watched, a smile on her face, until Emma was hidden behind the hedges before closing the door to go back inside to her daughter, and to make breakfast for her son.

~fin~

      X. *I imagine Regina giving the stink-eye to nascent councilmen like him, and it amuses me to no end. *’Little Miss Sunshine’s Happy Little Day Out’ doesn’t really exist, but ‘The Polar Express’ does. *Allison and Leo are best friends, and they go on play dates with Lexie Hermann (who, for the purpose of this fic, is the same age as them). Leo Nolan, Allison Swan, and Lexie Hermann will sometimes be called the Terrible Trio, and will get into all sorts of shenanigans together, and grow up as best buds, and — now I’m having second generation feels. I should stop. *Most of the baby conversations/things are based off of actual conversations and observations. Al is a precocious baby like some I’ve seen. *Al’s in pre-school here. *And, yes, that’s the baby blankie Regina gave. *A lot of Allison (and her development) is based on three adorable nieces of my friend, and our next-door neighbors’ son who just started school, and who is the cutest thing ever. I tried to keep the age markers constant. While we’re at it, a lot of Henry (not just here but in most of my fics) is derived from my ten-going-on-eleven cousin (who is actually a girl, but, well, that doesn’t count cause she’s such a tomboy). She’s a perfect example, though. She thinks she has the weight of the world on her shoulders and she’s adorable! *I just really like Chet Baker, all right. You can listen to Embraceable You here, and imagine SQ dancing to it and you’ll see what I mean.

XI. *Yes, Kathryn is a lawyer, bless her. *I love writing teen!Henry/Emma conversations, it’s just too much fun. He is around fifteen here, and turning into a lanky, messy haired, cheeky monkey, and he just wants his two moms to be together — with a little profit on the side for himself, of course. *And God, that kiss was a long time in coming, wasn’t it? And I wanted Regina to freak out a little, her being already overwhelmed and everything. *I tried my best to get the census thing right but I’m afraid I’m a little off. See, in my country we have a census week/month and a team of people go door to door in every area, collecting data and getting forms filled. And even that hasn’t happened in a very long while so maybe I’m misremembering. :/ *

XII. *A lot of the last part was written at a very unhappy, trying time, so I really hope the tone of it turned out okay. *It was supposed to end at ‘both your mommies will cut the cake with you’, so you should consider anything that comes after it a bonus. *Oh God, we used to have these ‘Dracula Candies’ when we were young, and we weren’t supposed to eat them because the resulting red, blue, green tongues and lips really freaked my mom out. So it was a real treat whenever we could sneak it past her. *Well, maybe another little baby will be in order soon? Who knows? ;)

Acknowledgements & Thanks (yes, multiple): All of you for sticking it out, reading, reviewing, fav’ing, for your overall appreciation. This fic was a real labor of love and it means so much to me, and your response made it worth it. I’m just very happy that I could make you all smile. Beanz for betaing (as always) and putting up with my incessant whining, fangirling, intermittent squeeing over Allison (I just love that baby, okay!), and general insanity. No one understands my crazy like you do, ma petite mangue. Hunyum for everything baseball in this fic, various attempts at brainstorming, and a late night discussion about the American and Canadian census systems. And for suggesting the Council Meeting scene. My friend — oh, let’s just call her 90! — for being a sounding board for all pregnancy/baby/medical problems and outrageous solutions, her adorable nieces (F, A & S — age-wise) for being the ‘blue-prints’ for Allison, and her nephew A for some inspiration regarding Leo. My neighbors’ son M, also for being the basis for Allison. My cousin K for being the adorable (and perfect) basis for Henry. My friends 94 and 45 (and her absolutely gorgeous little daughter — my God, you don’t know how sentimental I was when I saw that baby for the first time, or held her for the first time; it’s a beautiful feeling) for genuine pregnancy feels. Random parents and kids I’ve been seeing everywhere (and squeeing over) for the past few months. My mother for general baby/mama advice. She passed away in October last year. I wish we’d had more time together, or that I’d been able to share this with her. But, well. This one’s for you, ami jaan.

[inkfiction]

Beyond the Clapper, Behind the Scenes — a Morrilla(ish) fic

Title: Beyond the Clapper, Behind the Scenes Fandom: Once Upon a Time RPF Pairing: Morrilla (Jennifer Morrison/Lana Parrilla) and others. Spoilers/Warnings: Not really. Maybe for 216 but I think everyone’s seen the stills. Summary: Here’s how the pawnshop scene went. Mostly ouat cast fluff. Disclaimer: This is purely fictional. I don’t own any of these very real people.

…

A/N: Yes, yes, I’m supposed to be working on other things but this kinda hijacked my muse. Now, it was written before I saw the 216 stills, and I did make some adjustments but if you find any weird inconsistencies, ignore. It is hurriedly written and half unbeta’d.  I’m writing Morrilla (or vaguely Morrilla-ish things) after ages — actually, ever since 'never knowing, what could've been'. Let’s hope this sticks.

…

“Aaand action!”

Jennifer rushed forward to grab Lana, and felt her hand land on something soft and—

“Ack!” Lana sputtered.

“Cut! That’s not your line, Lana!” shouted the director.

“Sorry, I uh—” she glared at Jen.

Jen bit her lip sheepishly. “Sorry,” she whispered.

…

Michael flubbed his line again, and Lana sighed.

“Michaelll!” Jen whined as she defeatedly lay her head on Lana’s shoulder. “Not again!”

“Sorry. I’m sorry!” he threw up his hands. “I don’t know, it’s something about that line — I can’t—”

“Perhaps we should take a break,” Barbara suggested. “I’m sure Jennifer is tired of standing in that position with Lana.”

“Are you?” Lana twisted her neck to look at the blond head and the warm cheek resting against her shoulder.

Jen’s arm tightened around her imperceptibly. “Mmm, no. I’m quite comfortable.”

…

“Action!”

Jen rushed forward, slipped on the floor, and went down, arms flailing like a windmill.

A shout of laughter went up all around the pawnshop.

“Ouch!” Jen said from where she lay flat on the floor. “That’s right, laugh at my pain!”

“Come on,” Lana chuckled as she lent her a hand to help her stand. “Are you all right?”

“I just fell flat on my butt, what do you expect? It’s a hard floor!”

“Oh, poor lil butt,” Lana landed a light smack on it.

“Hey,” Jen wiggled a warning finger in her direction as she hobbled back towards her starting spot.

…

“Action!”

Jen began to make a ‘choked by magic’ face, eyes popping out, a strange sound coming out of her throat. Lana let out a loud laugh. The director waved a hand to cut.

“Please tell me you don’t have the giggles today!”

“I’m sorry!” Lana wheezed. “But she makes the funniest faces! I’m sorry!”

She turned away.

They began again, and Jen was right in the middle of the scene when several choked sounds came from Lana’s direction. Jen let out a giggle. Soon it turned into peals of laughter from both women.

“Lord help us!” sighed the director. “How are we going to get any work done now!

…

“Action!”

Jen grabbed Lana, pointing the stake thingy at her neck, too into her role to notice the sudden stiffening of the other woman’s body in her hold.

Barbara did her bit, and Lana said line except it came out all strangled.

“No, no, no!” yelled the director as he waved a hand to cut the scene. “That’s not how you’re supposed to say it!”

“Yes, I was just—” Lana’s face was suddenly burning hot, and she tugged pointedly at Jen’s arm. Jen peeked forward, noticed the location of her hand, and went beetroot red as she jumped back and away.

The director was too busy yelling at a spot boy to notice but Michael did, and smirked.

“Sorry,” Jen mumbled. “The positioning was a little … unfortunate.”

“Well, I’d say it was pretty fortunate, if you know what I mean,” Michael said.

Lana and Jen glared at him.

“Let’s take it from the top,” the director said. “And action.”

Jen rushed forward to grab Lana, who at once twisted and rushed out of her grip. Michael hooted, and Jen felt her cheeks burn.

“Do you have a boob sensor in that hand or something?” Lana tried to make light of the embarrassing situation. “There are other ways to cop a feel, you know.”

Jen sputtered. “I—I w–wasn’t!”

“Guys, guys!” the director walked towards them. “What’s the issue here? Do the two of you need to rehearse the positioning some more?”

“No!” Jen exclaimed as Lana said, “The positioning is fine!”

“Well, then — shall we try again? Yes? Good.”

“Listen,” Jen said, glancing quickly at Lana’s front, and looking away just as quickly. “Maybe you should, you know, cross your arms in front of you. Like, you know—” she demonstrated.

“Yes, being restrained,” Lana nodded, not meeting her eye. “All right.”

“Aaaand action!”

This time Lana crossed her arms in front of her: It wasn’t a lot of help. Lana stiffened, and Jen closed her eyes tightly.

“I did it again, didn’t I?”

Lana nodded. Michael doubled over with laughter, leaning on his sword to stand straight. Even Josh cracked a lopsided smile.

“Very effective sensor, I must say,” Barbara muttered at them from the corner of her mouth.

Jen wanted the pawnshop floor to open up and swallow her whole.

“I think this time you should go for my arm,” Lana said. “Like, around me? And I’ll just hold yours to prevent any more … mishaps.”

“I think you guys are doing fine just as—” Michael began.

“Shut up, Michael!” both women said in unison.

…

“Josh!” the director yelled but Josh was too busy staring into Ginny’s eyes as she explained something animatedly. “Josh! Mister Dallas!”

“Mister Dallas!” Lana yelled. “Have a care!”

Josh started, noticing all the shouting. “What?”

“Mister Dallas! Have some mercy on us poor unloved souls!” Jen said.

Josh’s ears turned bright pink; Ginny laughed.

“Josh, I’m really hungry,” Lana said. “Can you fall out of that door quickly so that we can take a break and go eat?”

“A little dieting will do you good!” Josh said as he gripped his sword and turned towards his starting spot. Lana gasped.

“You did not just say that!”

“Oh, Josh, you’re so going to pay for this,” Ginny said, eyes twinkling, as the cameras began to roll. Charming fell out of the pawnshop’s doors, the director yelled cut, and the Evil Queen descended on the supine prince. Josh laughed as Lana pretended to punch and kick him.

“Ow! Oof!”

“I shall destroy your happiness for calling me fat, you big, useless, charming lump!”

“Have mercy, Your Majesty! I’m not even married!”

“Don’t kill him just yet, I’m not finished with him!” Ginny yelled from inside.

Lana giggled and faux-kicked him.

“My kidney!” Josh laughed, holding his ribs.

“I’ll show you where your kidney is!”

Barbara came out to watch. “Have at him, daughter!”

“Uncle! Uncle!” Josh cried. “I cannot fight the Evil Duo!”

Lana laughed and helped him up, punching his arm lightly as they all went back inside.

…

“—and you’re supposed to look right here, Josh is supposed to be here when you flick your hand,” the director was explaining to Barbara. “See, your line of sight is parallel to the—”

Jen rested her chin on Lana’s shoulder, and pretended to snore in her ear. Lana laughed, and Jen smiled as she tightened her arms around her. A while later she let out another exasperated breath as the director droned on.

“You can let me go,” Lana said.

“I’m in character,” Jen made them both sway left and right a little.

“Of course you are,” Lana leaned back into her.

“I’m hungry,” Jen pouted as she shifted her arms, lowering them both from Lana’s shoulder and neck and wrapping them around her waist instead. Lana lowered her own on top of Jen’s, covering them.

“Yeah, me too. Hey, careful, that pointy end is sharp!”

“Sorry,” Jen changed the direction of the pointy end away from Lana.

“Your shampoo smells nice,” Jen said after a while. “It’s like—” she thought for a moment. “—wild azaleas.”

“Hm? It also has coconut extracts.”

“Really?” Jen tilted her head to take a sniff. “Oh. It does!”

Barbara turned around as the director finished his speech, and smiled at the two of them together.

“Well, you two make a pretty picture! I see what all the fuss is about!”

They blushed and broke apart.

“Let’s take it from the top,” the director said.

…

A/N: If I get any more brain waves, I’ll expand it. Meanwhile, hope you liked it.

[inkfiction]

A Kind of Comfort in You (3/4) — a Swan Queen fic

Title: A Kind of Comfort in You (3/4) Fandom: Once Upon a Time Pairing: Swan Queen (Emma Swan/Regina Mills) Spoilers/Warning: None. Tooth-rotting, tummy hurting fluff! Summary: AU-ish Storybrooke. Let’s pretend there is no curse, no magic, and Regina is just a mayor and Emma is just a sheriff. This is a SQ baby fic, but it is not your typical SQ baby fic. But maybe I’m deluding myself and it is. (After all a baby fic is a baby fic is a baby fic). You’ll have to decide yourself. Disclaimer: This is purely fictional. I own none of it.

AO3/FFNET

[...]

A/N: So this is a very long update, and should’ve been split in two on principle but that’d just disrupt the continuity of the whole thing (in my head) so, yay! A long update for you guys!

Thank you for your response.

…

VII.

Emma smoothed down the little baseball cap on Allison’s head and glared at Regina.

“I will not let you do this!”

“Don’t be presumptuous, Sheriff.”

“Presumptuous my ass — paragus! No, this won’t do!”

“What’s wrong with this, pray tell?”

“You cannot go to your son’s last game of the season in a power skirt and a silk shirt!”

“I have gone to all of his games similarly attired — this doesn’t need to be any different.”

“Yes, and all you do is sit primly in the bleachers, legs daintily crossed, delicately clapping when his team scores a home run!”

Regina’s face flushed pink. “I do not clap delicately!”

“Yes, you do. Like you are politely applauding a speaker at a Town Hall meeting — oh, baby, where’s your belt?” Emma looked down and around. “You need to stop taking it off, Al, okay?”

Regina discovered it and picked it up from under the table and stepped forward to string it through the belt loops of Allison’s jeans, who was now curiously poking at the big black letters on her white shirt that said ‘GO WOLVES’.

“Mama?” she said questioningly, bending around and over her mother’s arm to look at Emma’s ‘GO WOLVES’ shirt.

“Yes, little one,” Regina told her. “You and your Mama have the same shirts. If she had her way, she’d have me wearing one as well. Now be still, dear, and let me put this on, okay?”

“No, seriously,” Emma said, lifting Allison slightly so that Regina could reach the back. “You need to get out of those soul sucking, corporate shirts and skirts, unwind a little.”

“You can hardly expect me to dress like a hooligan,” Regina gave Emma’s jeans-wife beater-shirt-jacket-cap combo a disdainful look as she gently cinched the belt around Allison’s waist. “Don’t you take it off now, okay?” She tickled the little girl, making her laugh. “Okay?”

“Yes,” Allison giggled breathlessly, twisting in Emma’s grip and away from Regina, who laughed, then took her from Emma and smoothed down the t-shirt which was a little too large for her and looked more like a loose toga.

“Come on,” Emma said, taking out a little stuffed monkey from the baby bag and handing it to Allison. “My baby makes such an adorable hooligan!”

“That doesn’t mean I will make one as well.”

“Oh, c’mon! Bitty little you! You will look adorable! And I already got the shirt for you. Just for today, please wear it?”

“Well, you didn’t have to. You know I do not wear such clothes.”

“It’s his last game! It’d make him so happy to see you relaxed in normal clothes!”

“I do not need to wear a ridiculous get up to make my son happy! Plus, there would be people from North Bloomfeld here to support their team. I need to represent the town—”

“Regina, I’m sure the North Bloomfelders will live if they see the Mayor relaxing a little in casual clothes. It’s hardly retina-burning stuff. Look—” she overrode Regina’s protestations. “You don’t have to wear a wife beater and jeans. I have a pair of khakis I’ve hardly worn, and sneakers. You will look fine. Everyone looks fine in khakis!”

Regina opened her mouth to retort when Allison tugged pointedly at her purple silk shirt. Emma grabbed the opportunity.

“See, she wants you to wear it!”

“No, she doesn’t,” Regina frowned.

Allison pulled harder at the shirt, the tug followed by a string of baby words starting with something that sounded a lot like, “Nonononono pwetty!”

“I can tell, Regina,” Emma nodded sagely, trying not to smile. “She is saying ‘Madam Mayor, take off that silly silk shirt and wear one like mine! Go Wolves!’”

Regina looked Allison in the eyes; the girl returned the stare, and a little hand rose and patted her cheek soothingly.

“Come on, Regina. For the kids?” Emma made puppy eyes at her.

“Fine,” Regina sighed defeatedly as Allison pulled at her shirt again. “Give me the accursed clothes.”

“Come along,” Emma said, a broad smile on her face.

…

Fifteen minutes later Regina was still barricaded in Emma’s bedroom, with demands like ‘starch spray’, ‘iron’, ‘stain remover’, ‘bleach’, ‘fabric softener’ and whatnot. Emma didn’t even have half the stuff she was asking for. Allison watched her mother rush about the house from her walker and laughed with unrestrained glee. After ten more minutes had gone by with no sign of Regina intending to emerge from the room, Emma knocked on the door for the dozenth time and told Regina that if she didn’t come out immediately, Emma was going to break the door, never mind the fact that it was the door to her own bedroom, she was going to break it!

Silence greeted this pronouncement, followed by the quiet click of the lock. Emma pushed the door open and found Regina standing in the center of the room, frowning and more nervous than she had ever seen the Mayor. The khakis, pressed to the nines, along with the t-shirt, fit her immaculately. Underneath the shirt she had chosen to wear one of Emma’s long-sleeved grey shirts (so that’s what all the stain removing and bleaching was about! Emma thought). The whole ensemble looked kind of … adorable on her.

“This was a stupid idea,” Regina said, wringing her hands, when Emma didn’t say anything.

“No,” Emma said. “You look perfect except…” She frowned as she eyed the Mayor from top to bottom; Regina rolled her eyes.

“What?”

Emma hmmed to herself and then, coming to a decision, took off her wolf paw embossed black baseball cap, stepped closer, swept back Regina’s hair from her face and settled it on the Mayor’s head. “There. Perfect.”

Regina looked at herself in the mirror. “Why is every pair of pants that you own so tight? I feel like my legs cannot breathe!”

“They look hot so hush, you! It’s not like your little skirts are exactly so spacious and modest!”

“I think I should change.”

“No time,” Emma said decisively, grabbing Regina’s hand and pulling her out of the bedroom and towards the living room. “If we don’t leave now, we are going to be late.” Regina opened her mouth to protest but before she could utter a word, Emma piled her arms with the picnic basket and Allison’s bag (which required lots of balancing) and bent down to pick Allison up from her walker. “C’mon.”

Regina sighed, one hand holding the basket and the other gripping the baby bag. “We are taking the Mercedes and don’t even think about that yellow abomination you’ve made me ride to almost every other game!”

“Hey, the Bug—”

“Don’t even say anything.”

Emma wisely stayed quiet.

Minutes later, the bag and the basket stashed in the trunk, Allison securely strapped into her car seat, and Emma riding shotgun, they sped out of Mifflin Street and towards the playground.

“So help me, Sheriff,” Regina growled. “If someone laughs at me…”

“Don’t worry,” Emma tried to school her face into a serious expression. “You are still every inch the mayor.”

“Good,” Regina said, pushing the Ray Bans up her nose as she stepped on the gas.

…

‘Every inch the mayor’ was right but it still wasn't enough to stop the open-mouthed stares Regina got at the playground.

“People are staring at me,” Regina said through clenched teeth.

“Relax, they'll get over it soon,” Emma said as she balanced Allison on a hip and the picnic basket in one hand while looking around for Henry and a seat at the same time. Consequently, she tripped. Regina shouted, “Careful!” even as Allison let out a loud wail of protest and squirmed in her grip, arms reaching out to Regina.

“Come here, you,” Regina took her from Emma and hoisted her safely up. “Your Mama is hopeless, isn't she?”

“Traitor!” Emma faux-glared at her daughter whose chubby, little arms were now tightly wrapped around Regina's neck. Regina laughed, mood much lighter, and pointed to a spot in the small stands right ahead.

“Let's settle down, and then we can look for Henry.”

They didn't have to wait for long. They had barely settled down when Henry came barreling down the field and through the stands and knocked the breath out of Regina.

“Mom! You wore the shirt!”

“Oof,” Regina said, but smiled widely, raising grateful eyes to look at Emma over her son's head for an instant. “Of course I did!” She squeezed him a little tighter before releasing him.

He jumped on over to Emma.

“Hey, Champ,” she said, high-fiving him. He tried to repeat the feat with Allison but gave up after several failed attempts and told her to clap for him, instead, which action she promptly and gleefully demonstrated.

“Oh, don't worry, we will all clap loudly for you!” Emma told him. “Now, go on out there and do us proud!”

“Not sure about that,” Henry made a face. “Bloomfeld has a very good team. All of them are so big!”

“You will do fine,” Emma patted his shoulder.

“And,” Regina cupped his cheek, lowered his face, and planted a kiss on his forehead. “For good luck.”

“Mooom! People are watching!” He whined but smiled widely, and then (ignoring Regina's “Careful! Don't hurt yourself!”), he jumped down the stands and on to the field.

The Wolves were first up for batting. Henry helped score a home run. Emma cheered loudly and clapped, which made Allison clap and cheer till long after the wave of applause had died down. Emma tried to teach her a chant (which earned her some hard looks from the Mayor). It went something like this: “You know what you're gonna say, baby? Go, Henry, go! Go, Henry, go!”

So when Henry came to visit them between the innings, she greeted him with enthusiastic baby clapping and a loud and mispronounced “Go, Henny, go!”

He stopped in his tracks and gave them a look. Regina rolled her eyes but looked amused, nevertheless. “Look what you've made her do!”

Emma laughed. “C'mere, my little Champ! You did good!”

“Good?” he said glumly. “We are being slaughtered. They have good batters. I don't think we can do it.”

“Aw, don't say that!” Emma said, making space as he slumped down between Regina and her.

“It's true, haven't you looked at them in their dugout? They are so — huge. We will lose.”

“Here,” Regina poured him lemonade in a cup. “Drink up, you need electrolytes.”

He took a big gulp. “Half our players are tiny third graders. Can't even get their hands around a ball.”

“You guys make a good team, kid. Don't beat yourself up over it. You'll do fine.”

“We will lose,” he said dejectedly.

“Well, then you will lose,” Regina told him steadily. “But that is no excuse to not go down fighting, is it? You do what you can, the best you can, and then if you lose, you lose.” Henry looked up at her, pouting a little. “It doesn't matter. If you played well and did your best, there's no shame in losing. It doesn't matter. You'll do better next time.”

“So,” he scrunched up his face. “It wouldn’t matter if we lost?”

“I’d be just as proud of you,” Regina smiled at him.

He mulled over that for a moment and eventually nodded. “There will always be a next time, I suppose.”

“Yes, there will be,” Regina ran a soothing hand up his back and patted his shoulder. “Now, go on, they’re calling you to the locker room.”

“Wow,” Emma said when he had disappeared towards the dug-out. “You're good at it, the pep talks.”

Regina smirked. “I'm the Mayor, I have to be good at such stuff.”

“You know what,” Emma said, face brightening. “Why don’t you go to their locker room and give them a pep talk? I bet Jim would really appreciate it.”

“Jim?” Regina raised an eyebrow.

“Mr. Knight,” Emma clarified. “The gym teacher? Henry’s coach? Kathryn’s boyfriend?”

“Oh,” Regina said, and then frowned. “You seem overly familiar with him.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “It’s called socializing skills, Regina.” She gave the Mayor a gentle push. “Go.”

“I think they will do fine without me,” Regina said, reluctance creeping into her voice as she leaned back.

Emma made a very serious face while trying to save a black and white pom-pom being diligently shredded to confetti by Allison. “It is your duty as the Mayor of this town—”

“Please!”

“Little kids, Regina,” Emma said, resolutely keeping a straight face. “Little kids need you.”

Regina let out a long suffering sigh, gave Emma a hard look and stood up. She took a few steps, paused, and turned to look at Emma. “Well, at least come with.”

“You need moral support to give moral support to little kids?”

“Sheriff,” Regina said sweetly. “As a member of administration and law enforcement in this town, I believe it is your civic duty—”

Emma chortled as she stood up, holding confetti-making Allison securely against her. “Yes, Madam Mayor. Fine. Let’s go before you can begin quoting the town charter at me, okay?”

Both women made their way towards the home team locker room, leaving an echo of light bickering and a trail of black and white shredded pom-pom (Emma having lost the Save-the-Pom-Pom Battle) in their wake. They found a dozen long faces on benches and a very exasperated Jim Knight trying to boost their spirits to no avail.

“Mom! Emma!” Henry exclaimed when he spotted them. “What are you doing here?”

“The Mayor has something to say to the team,” Emma said in her official Sheriff voice, disregarding the fact that Allison was now throwing handfuls of impromptu confetti all over and Emma was covered in the stuff.

“Madam Mayor?” Jim asked.

“I won’t take a lot of your time,” Regina gave him a tight smile before pivoting on one foot to look at Emma. “What do I call them?” she said in a whisper.

“Um — the Wolves?”

“Really?”

Emma shrugged and Regina sighed exasperatedly before turning back to face the team.

“My dear — er — Wolves,” she began hesitantly but her voice grew stronger as she went on. “As your Mayor, I am here to thank you on my behalf and on behalf of the rest of the Storybrooke for playing so well up till now. I know that the players in the Bloomfeld team are bigger and stronger than a lot of you, but when you are going to go out to play again in a while, I want you to remember one thing: you are not here to win, you are here to play. And to do your best while you play, and when you do that, trust me, the size doesn’t really matter. And I want you to know that no matter what the result is, no matter who wins, we are, we will be very proud of you. All of you!” Regina’s speech was punctuated here by a handful of butchered pom-pom by Allison; Regina stoically went on, brushing it out of her eyes. “Now I want you to go out there and go down fighting. Who’s with me?”

As a reply the whole team let out a sudden and high-pitched howl in unison. Regina closed her mouth and nodded, slightly taken aback. “Or — that’d do, no problem. Now go out there and I better not have worn this ridiculous get up in vain, okay boys?”

She was greeted by clapping of a dozen hands, which surprised her more than the howl. She nodded her thanks. The Wolves prepared to go out into the field and they turned to leave but then everyone went silent as Allison, bored by the now shredded pom-pom, threw it down and, instead, let out an uncanny and very sudden imitation of the Wolves’ howl.

“Great,” Emma sighed as everyone burst out laughing and Allison giggled. “Just what I needed her to pick up!”

“She’s a little Wolf,” Henry said, smiling as he gently thumped the little girl’s back. “Thanks, Mom,” he turned to Regina who patted his cheek, smiling at him.

“You’ll do well,” she told him as he made to follow his team.

…

“See, it wasn’t that hard,” Emma said.

“You know,” Regina began, a frown on her face. “Those Bloomfelders are really quite big for this age group. I think I should talk to Jim about it.”

“It’s just a game, Regina. Let it be. And don’t go all Jim on me, either. What would your friend say?”

“Kathryn? She wouldn’t mind. And I do have socializing skills!”

“Of course you do,” Emma patted her arm soothingly. “C’mon, let’s get back to our seats. They’re about to start.”

In the end the Wolves lost 8-5 to the Bloomfelders. There was much clapping, followed by award distribution. Regina went up on the stage to give the prizes and plaques, and shake each child’s hand (the Wolves did so enthusiastically).

“You did well, kid,” Emma greeted her son by ruffling his hair as he and Regina rejoined her and Allison on the bleachers.

Allison greeted them with a howl (which she had been intermittently doing for the last two innings) causing both Emma and Regina to sigh with despair and Henry to laugh.

Emma shook her head seriously at her.

“No?” she asked.

“No.”

Allison made a sad face.

“No, your sad faces will not sway me, baby.” But she kissed the sad little pout anyway and tickled the girl until she laughed.

“Come on,” Regina said, picking up the picnic basket. “Let’s eat.”

…

An hour later found the four of them seated on a large, checkered cloth, under one of the larger trees that ringed the field. The Bloomfelders were gradually making their way back to the bus that was going to take them home, and a lot of Storybrooke residents were sprawled on picnic sheets and benches throughout the field. Henry was playing catch by himself on the side, still a little high from the game. Emma had taken off her jacket and now lay sprawled, half on the sheet, half on the grass, dividing her attention between fluffy cloud shapes overhead, shouts of encouragement on her son’s catches, and Regina, who sat beside her and was trying to feed Allison bits of apple pie.

Emma tore her attention from a rabbit-shaped cloud to watch as Allison crawled away from Regina, refusing another bite of pie, and tried to stand up by herself. She was getting good at it. Emma watched as the little, diaper-clad bottom stuck high in the air for a moment before Allison stood up and wobbled drunkenly, letting out a triumphant scream. Emma smiled at her; the little baseball cap had been discarded a while ago and the dappled, late afternoon sunlight shone bright golden on the little head, giving it a haloed appearance.

She let out another shout and looked to her Mama for approval. Emma clapped at this show of agility, leading her to clap, as well, which unbalanced her. She wobbled dangerously to the left but Regina’s hand shot out to grab her, preventing the fall. The next half hour was spent similarly, with Allison trying to stand up by herself and walk with Regina’s hand supporting her. Emma watched and applauded at all the appropriate times.

Regina’s phone rang and she huffed as she picked it up and held it to her ear, ready to chew someone’s head off, one hand still held out towards Allison to help her stand up. Apparently, it was the DA’s office and there was some issue which just could not be resolved without the Mayor’s urgent advice. Emma’s eyes were fixed on Henry and Regina was ardently talking on the phone when Allison decided to let go of her support, namely Regina’s hand, and take her first step. She let out a caw of happy triumph, causing Emma and Henry to look at her and then let out little surprised and happy screams of their own as she took another wobbly step.

“Regina!” Emma shouted, startling the Mayor. “Regina! She’s walking!” at the same time that Henry said, “Mom! Mom! Look at Al!”

Regina looked at the tottering, little girl who demonstrated her prowess by taking another unassisted step towards the Mayor. The phone was immediately discarded without sparing a single glance at where it landed as she turned her attention solely towards Allison, delighted, and encouraged her to come forward.

“Come on, little one, come to me!”

Allison looked back at Emma, who smiled at her and encouraged her on. “Go on, Al, come on, one more step, baby girl. Go to Regina!”

Allison took a couple more steps and then tried to make a U-turn (which was impossible for her, of course), lost her balance and fell flat on her ass. For a moment she could not understand what had happened, and then her face crumpled and she let out a loud wail that started with, and ended at, ‘Mama!’ Regina tried to pick her up but she squirmed away, crying, “Mama! Boo-Boo!”

Emma picked her up and rocked her against herself, making hushing sounds, whispering soothing words and telling her it was okay. “Baby got a big, bad boo-boo? Do you want Mama to kiss it better?” was answered with a tremulous nod of the little head and Emma proceeded to place dozens of little kisses all over her until the worst of the crying died down.

It took them some time to calm her down. She was fidgety after that and it did not take them long to wrap up their little picnic and head home just as the evening shadows were lengthening.

…

The night was cool, almost balmy, and lazy fireflies could be seen hovering here and there amongst the trees. The night air was pleasantly cool on her face as Regina made her way towards 95 Mifflin Street in casual slacks and a loose-fitting shirt. The front of the house was shrouded in darkness but there was a light on at the back. Regina took the key from under the cactus plant and made her way to the back porch where she found Emma sitting on the steps, a cup in her hands and a baby monitor sitting beside her. The Sheriff had taken off her jeans and was dressed in her sweats, a t-shirt and a ratty blue sweater that Regina suspected had once belonged to Mary Margaret.

“Hey,” her face lit up in a smile when she saw Regina a split second before she frowned. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, of course. You forgot this on my table,” Regina handed her Allison’s baseball cap.

Emma reached for it, the smile back on her lips, and something else in her eyes as she raised them to look at Regina, the baseball cap held between them. “You could’ve given it to me tomorrow.”

Regina shrugged. “I could’ve.”

They looked at each other like that for a moment, the cap held between them, before Regina finally let go and sat down beside Emma, making her scoot over to make room even though the other side of the step was wide empty.

“What are you drinking?”

In reply Emma handed her the cup. Regina peered into it dubiously, looked up at Emma and took a cautious sip.

“Cinnamon,” she said, licking her lips. “I hate cinnamon.” She took another, bigger sip.

Emma raised her eyebrows. “Hey, if you don’t like it, give it back!” Regina took another sip and Emma laughed. “I guess I’ll have to make another cup.”

“We can share this one,” Regina handed it back to her.

Emma took a sip and shook her head incredulously before handing the cup back to Regina. “Mayor Mills sharing a cup of cocoa with the lowly Town Sheriff. Who’d have thought of it a year ago!”

“Not me,” Regina said, looking down into the ceramic cup. “The ways you have crept into my life! I hate you, Emma Swan!”

Emma smiled smugly as she took back the cup. “Of course you do.”

“I mean, look at me! I wear t-shirts and khakis, can ride a Volkswagen Beetle without suffocating in it, and am drinking hot cocoa with cinnamon and sharing it with you! I’m practically a different person than I was a year ago!”

Emma’s smile was soft this time. “I kinda like this person better,” she said, bumping her shoulder lightly against the Mayor’s.

Regina tried to maintain a serious expression on her face but failed as she leaned unconsciously into the Sheriff.

For some time they sat in complete silence, exchanging the cup of cocoa until it was finished and put aside.

“It was a big day today,” Emma said finally. “I mean, my baby walked!” Emma’s voice cracked a little. Regina reached out and squeezed her hand lightly, surprising herself at the gesture.

“Yes, it was a big day,” she said. “I had fun.”

“Me too. We should do it more, the picnic thing…”

“Yeah?”

“It’d be good for our kids,” Emma said, thumb running absentmindedly over the back of Regina’s hand.

“I guess,” Regina said, looking at her hand in Emma’s, and wondering when exactly had things changed from you, me, mine to we, us, ours.

“Ruby’s patrolling tonight?” she eventually said, extracting her hand from Emma’s grip.

“Yeah,” Emma said, looking at her sideways at this sudden change. “She’s been so good about night patrols ever since Allison. I should give her a raise.”

Regina hmmed in reply, leaning back, supported on one arm and looking up at the sky. “It’s a beautiful night.”

“Yes,” Emma said, glancing at the Mayor and then looking up at the stars. “It is.”

They were quiet for some time, looking up at the sky or into the trees.

“That,” finally Emma said, pointing at the fattest, brightest star in the sky. “That’s my star.”

“Your star?”

Emma nodded.

“The big one?” Regina said and Emma nodded again. “I don’t think that’s a star. I think it’s Jupiter. That’s probably why it is so big and bright.”

“Shut up. I don’t care if it’s Jupiter. It’s in the sky and it shines: it’s a star!”

“But Jupiter is a planet.”

“You do know how to suck the joy out of something, don’t you?” Emma glared at her.

“Sorry. So. Your star. Tell me about it.”

Emma stared down, tracing patterns in the wood of the step with her finger.

“Don’t sulk now, it isn’t becoming,” Regina said.

Emma opened her mouth but did not say anything, looking away, instead. Regina sighed.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be condescending.”

“Didn’t you?”

Regina sighed once again. “You know me, Emma.”

“It was important to me,” Emma finally said, raising her head but looking straight ahead. “Back when — in the system.” She was quiet for a moment before going on in a rush. “You change so many homes, so many places, there’s hardly any constant, hardly anything to call your own. When I went to a new place, it was sometimes the only thing that was constant, that I could call mine. Even though it was in the sky, and not a real star.” The air was suddenly still and quiet; cicadas chirped in the bushes. “It was like having a friend in every place I went. Sometimes it was the only friend. So, yeah, that’s my star, and I don’t care if it’s Jupiter. It is still my star.”

Regina bit her lip hard before reaching for Emma’s hand again. “I didn’t — I was just — I’m sorry.”

It took Emma a while to return the pressure of that hand but eventually she did; she nodded but did not let go of Regina’s hand and she smiled, instead. “It got me through quite a few nights here in Storybrooke,” she went on. “The first night, the night that Henry brought me here. I couldn’t sleep all night.

“The night I got him out of the mine shaft. The night we fought and Graham died. The night I found out I was pregnant, the night I decided to keep the baby. So many nights before and after she was born when I thought I had made the wrong choice, that I couldn’t do it, couldn’t bring her up, couldn’t—” Emma’s voice choked up.

“Hey,” Regina said, squeezing her hand again. “Considering you didn’t have any shining experiences to look up to, you have done a remarkable job of raising her. Never ever think you didn’t. You’ve raised a perfect baby girl.”

Emma looked so proud for a moment. “I did?” she said, voice catching in her throat.

“You did.”

“I just want her to feel loved, I want her to know that she’s wanted. A little girl should know she’s wanted.”

“She is, she knows,” Regina pulled lightly on Emma’s hand to make her look up. “You did good, Emma.”

When Emma spoke next, her voice was slightly hoarse. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You and Henry and Mary Margaret. You helped. A lot. You’ve been my rock.”

“So sentimental today, aren’t we?” Regina murmured, raising a hand to brush away a blond lock.

The air suddenly felt heavy, pushing them towards each other.

Regina leaned forward, face inches from Emma’s, and Emma’s heart stopped in her chest. Casually, putting all her weight on one arm, she leant forward and just then the baby monitor squawked loudly, making them both start. Allison was crying.

Regina snapped back and jumped up all in one movement.

“I — I—” she stuttered. “I should head home. Henry—”

“Yeah,” Emma nodded, standing up and feeling very jittery all of a sudden. “I need to check on Al…”

“Good night, Sheriff.”

“Yeah. Night.”

They both rushed away in opposite directions.

***

VIII.

“Tick,” Allison said when Regina opened the door to 108.

“No, baby,” Regina bent down to kneel in front of her. “No tricks, only treats.”

“Tick,” she nodded vigorously.

“We are still working on that ‘r’,” Emma said.

Regina laughed and poured chocolates and candies in Allison’s bag. She was awarded with a lispy thank you.

“So what are you supposed to be?” She said, eyeing the little girl’s pirate costume and the bunch of golden curls that were peeking from under the lopsided pirate cap.

“She’s Long John Silver,” Emma said, laughing.

“Loooooooong,” Allison clarified as Regina picked her up and landed a kiss on one puffy, little cheek. “Not short.”

“Yes. Very long.”

“Imma piwate!”

Regina shook her head and smiled as Allison wriggled down from her arms. “So that’s why Henry wanted to be Jim Hawkins.” She eyed Emma’s bandana and colorful braids. “And what are you, Sheriff? Polly the Parrot?”

“Hey, if I am anything pirate, I’m Jack Sparrow!”

“Yes,” Regina said drily. “He’s just as annoying.”

Emma swatted lightly at her arm. “Hey, come along?” she said, nodding at the fat, diaper-clad bottom of her daughter which stuck out in her pirate’s costume as she waddled around in the garden. “I’m on stroller duty.”

Before Regina could answer, Henry came out looking all dashing and debonair in his eighteenth century costume.

“Henny!” Allison ran towards him and he picked her up.

“Hey, Little Bird.”

“Looking good, kid,” Emma said.

“Thank you,” he sent a salute her way.

“Though I doubt old Jimmy Hawkins ever wore a pirate hat or an eye-patch,” Emma went on.

“I can improvise,” Henry huffed.

“Sure,” Emma shrugged, raising her hands in a gesture of peace.

“Oh, fine,” Henry said, taking the offending items off and handing them to her. “You keep them. Come on, Al, let’s go.”

“Tick or tick!” Allison announced solemnly as she took Henry’s hand.

Emma laughed. “She doesn’t give you much choice, does she?” She turned to Regina. “You’re coming, right?”

“Oh, all right,” Regina said, turning to go inside. “Let me grab my coat.” She came out a minute later in a no-nonsense black coat.

“No costume?” Emma asked.

“Not since Henry turned six,” Regina said, buttoning her coat.

“Come here, then,” Emma stepped forward and jammed Henry’s pirate hat on Regina’s head.

“Oh, no! I’m not wearing that!”

“Yes, you are!” Emma said as she tucked Regina’s hair behind her ears. “You can tell Allison you are Short John Silver or something.”

“There was no Short John Silver,” Regina said, trying to take the cap off.

Emma grabbed her hands, pulling them away from the hat. “She doesn’t know that.”

“Emma! Seriously!” Regina tugged on her hands.

“Seriously. It’s Halloween!”

“Oh, fine,” Regina let out an exasperated breath and freed her hands to settle the hat on her head with bad grace.

Next Emma dangled the eye-patch in front of her face.

“Absolutely not!”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be such a spoilsport.”

“You just want to blindside me!” Regina huffed, grabbing the eye-patch.

“Curses! I have been found out!”

“Oh,” Regina said as she put the patch on. “It’s see-through.”

Emma laughed at her. “You don’t say.”

“I look ridiculous!” Regina said as they began walking, pushing the empty stroller in front of them.

“Yes, you do,” Emma agreed.

Regina glared at her and then fixed her eyes on their children’s backs — Allison toddling along beside Henry. “I still look better than you.”

“Ha!” Emma said. “You wish!”

“Do, too!”

“Do not!”

“Do, too!”

…

They met Mary Margaret and Leo halfway through. The little boy was in a light blue caterpillar costume, a bulbous, puffy tail dragging behind, green feelers sprouting from his head, and announced proudly that soon his ‘cat-pilla’ will turn into a ‘butt-fly’. Henry laughed himself senseless and received a smack from Regina.

“Well, you guys are having a very piratey Halloween, aren’t you?” Mary Margaret said. “I’m just cleverly masquerading as a schoolteacher taking her son trick-or-treating.”

Emma waved a vague hand. “It just kinda happened, we weren’t really planning on it.”

Mary Margaret smiled. “Sometimes families synchronize like that, it is one of the—”

But they never heard what it was because at that moment Leo chose to rush down the street, get tangled in his bulbous tail, and fall. Mary Margaret rushed forward to pick him up and dust him off, removing the tail and squaring it away on his little wheelbarrow, and reassuring him that it’s removal wouldn’t hamper his turning into a ‘butt-fly’. The group then made their way forward.

Battle ensued only a little while into this intermingling as they made a stop at Kathryn and Jim’s place and Regina and Henry went inside, leaving Emma and Mary Margaret looking after the little ones excitedly looking through their candy.

“Mama!” Allison wailed as Leo snatched a candy bar and made off with it. “My Mars!”

“It’s all right, honey,” Emma called out to her. “I’ll get you another one when we get home.”

“No!” Allison tried to catch a hold of Leo. “Gimme my chocolate!”

Leo flat out refused and Allison burst into tears.

Mary Margaret pinched the bridge of her nose. “Leo, give it back to her! Now!”

“NO!” he shouted, running out of his mother’s reach; Allison sank down on to the curb.

“Al, baby,” Emma stepped forward and knelt down by her daughter who was sitting sullenly on the curb and sniffling. “I’ll get you two Mars bars, I promise.”

Allison shook her head. “I want mine!”

“But Leo’s your friend, right? And good girls share with their friends, don’t they?”

Allison sniffled as a couple more tears slipped down her cheeks; Emma wiped them gently with her fingertips and used a tissue to wipe the ruddy little nose.

“Do you wanna sit down for a bit while we wait for Regina and Henry to come back?” Allison nodded. “All right, we’ll wait.” Emma said.

Allison sat on the curb, not crying anymore, but with a pout firmly in place. Mary Margaret gave up on trying to catch Leo and came to stand beside Emma. Five minutes later Leo trudged up to Al, his little wheelbarrow in tow, and offered her the half-eaten Mars bar. Allison refused to touch it, arms crossed, turning her face to the other side.

Leo secreted the chocolate in a pocket of his caterpillar suit’s trousers (Mary Margaret winced as she watched the gooey, sticky confection disappear inside), and then offered Allison the wheelbarrow stacked with his haul of candy.

Regina and Henry came out of the Knights’ house and stood beside Emma and Mary Margaret, and watched the kids.

“What happened?” asked Regina.

“World War, Mars Bar edition,” Mary Margaret sighed.

“And these are the peace talks?” asked Regina as they watched Leo place several candy bars from his wheelbarrow in Allison’s lap.

“So first he makes her cry, and then he gives her all her candy?” Henry said.

“He’s just—” Mary Margaret sighed again. “He’s not a bad kid.”

“Aw, Mary Margaret,” Emma took her friend’s hand. “We all know Leo’s all right.”

The schoolteacher gave a tensed smile. “I just worry about him sometimes. His tempers and his carelessness.”

“He’s going to be fine when he grows up, Miss Blanchard,” said Regina, nodding towards the two kids on their way to pax over Milky Ways and M&Ms. “But if you’re so worried, you should talk to Dr. Hopper about it.”

Mary Margaret promised to consider it.

Five minutes later, peace restored and Allison’s cache several candy bars heavier than before, they began trick-or-treating again. A pit stop was made at the Nolan household after some time where the children made pee pee (potty training woes), and then, exchanging Mary Margaret for David, the quest for candy was continued.

“So you guys going to the dance tonight? At Granny’s?” asked David, keeping an eye on the pirate and the caterpillar frisking ahead.

“Nah, don’t think so,” Emma made a face. “No one to go with, unless I take Al as my date. Which, by the way, not possible since it’d be past her bedtime. So…”

“Yes,” said Regina. “I’m not, either.”

“Well, I’m going,” said Henry.

“With whom?” said Emma at the same time that Regina said, “Absolutely not!”

“Mo-om! Please?”

“You’re too young.”

“I’m almost fourteen!” Henry sent Emma a beseeching look.

“You’re not going, Henry,” Regina said with finality.

“But I promised to meet someone there!”

“But who?” Emma was stuck on the most important point.

“Well, you should’ve asked me first,” said Regina.

“You’d have said no!”

“As I’m saying now.”

“Em-maa! Talk to her!”

“Well, you should have asked her beforehand, kid.”

“See,” Regina nodded. “Listen to your mother.”

“Though, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to let him go.” Regina glared at her. “C’mon, it’s gonna be all right.” Emma lowered her voice. “The kid’s got a date!”

“He’s too young to go alone.”

“Fine,” Emma said. “We’ll go with him.”

“NO!” said Henry, looking horrified.

“Hey, I’m working on it here, kid. You can’t get everything at once.”

“Emma, we can’t,” Regina said. “Who will take care of Allison?”

“I’ll take both the little ones with me,” David volunteered from ahead of them, one kid on each shoulder.

“But—” Regina began; Emma talked over her.

“Do not look a gift horse in the mouth! We can go with Henry, he can have his date—”

“It’s not a date!” Henry protested weakly.

“Hush!” Emma said. “And we can have a couple of drinks like civilized people, heck, maybe even dance a bit—”

“Really, Emma, I don’t think—”

“—and come back home before it’s time for Henry to go to bed! Genius plan!”

“I don’t know—” Regina was still doubtful.

“Regina, the kid has a date—”

“It’s not—”

“Who’re you meeting, again?”

“Ava.”

“Ava. He has a date with Ava!”

“And Nicholas and Paige.”

“Whoa, kid, that sounds more like an org—”

“That would be enough, Sheriff,” Regina said sternly.

“All right,” Emma swallowed a smile.

“What?” Henry looked bewildered, and then scandalized. “We’re not having orgies!”

Emma gasped. “How do you even know that word!”

“And anyway, Granny’s would be the last place—”

“Enough,” Regina cut in with finality. “We’ll come with you and you can meet up with your friends, and then we can pick Allison from the Nolans and everyone gets to their homes on time.”

“I still don’t see why you guys—”

“Henry.”

“Yup. All right, Mom.”

…

That evening at Granny’s Annual All Hallows’ Eve Dance, Jimmy Hawkins met up with two hobbit maidens and a burlap sack.

“What do you think that’s supposed to be?” Emma whispered to Regina as she stared at the burlap sack jumping around.

“I … have no idea. But don’t stare, dear. It’s rude.”

“You think he’s quite all right in the head? Nicholas? Kid’s starting to worry me.”

“I think Polly the Parrot and One-eyed Jack are hardly in any position to judge a burlap sack.”

“Heh,” said Emma, and turned around to look for empty barstools for them to sit upon.

A couple of drinks later, both considerably loosened up than before, Emma’s feet started to itch. “C’mon, let’s dance!”

“I do not dance.”

“One song?”

“No. Now settle down.”

“Please? Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I last danced with someone?”

“Nobody’s making me dance. Ever.”

“Not even if I ask you to?”

“Especially not.”

“Pretty please, with a cherry on top?”

“You are half-drunk, Emma Swan. No.”

Emma pouted and sat back down on the barstool. Henry came over after a while to check in with them.

“Having fun?” Emma asked.

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Why are you so grumpy?”

“She won’t dance with me.”

“Oh. Mom? She never dances.”

“Yeah. She told me,” Emma let out an exaggerated sigh. “I never get to have any fun.”

Fifteen minutes later, Emma sighed again as she continued to watch the people around her. Seeing her still grumpy face, Henry came back.

“Hey. So, you wanna dance with us?” he offered.

“Oooh. Yes!” Emma’s face broke into a wide smile as she jumped up again and Henry grinned as he led her to the corner where his friends were.

Although Regina did not dance but watching the Sheriff in her bandana and colorful braids jump up and down and twist with fourteen year olds to Erasure’s A Little Respect was one of the highlights of her evening. She watched as Henry and eventually Paige and Ava stepped back and watched the Sheriff and the burlap sack-encased Nicholas go at it together, and it made her smile despite herself.

She hummed the opening lines to the song later as she took the sleeping little pirate from David’s arm and carried her to the stroller, laying her gently down before they started on their way back home.

“Hm hum humm discover a little hum humm to hmm me sweeter…”

“Okay, enough,” Emma said after a while.

“Hm? What?” Regina said innocently.

“Stop humming that song, please!”

“I’m not humming anything.”

“…a little something to make me sweeter…” Henry burst into song from ahead of them.

“Okay, enough, you guys!”

Henry turned towards them, walking backwards. “Did you see her, Mom? When she was—” He mimed jumping up and down as if he was being electrocuted.

“I never!” Emma blushed furiously even in the dark of the night.

“Oh, yes, I did,” said Regina, a wide smile on her face. “That image is seared on my brain forever.”

Henry chortled. “And with Nick! Did you see when his sack almost fell off? And Emma grabbed it and they both…” He doubled up with laughter.

Emma aimed a butterscotch toffee straight at his forehead.

“Stop!”

“Really, Henry, stop it,” Regina said. “Or you’ll remember the time when her feet got tangled in the fairy lights and she knocked off Dr. Hopper’s artificial fangs into Miss Ginger’s punch glass? And she whacked them all with her—”

“—Stick of Doom!” Henry said.

“God, that wasn’t funny, all right? I think she bruised my hip!”

Henry laughed so hard, he actually choked on the toffee he had popped into his mouth, and had to stop to catch his breath.

“Seriously, you  two!” Emma huffed, lapsing into a dignified, angry silence as she resolutely pushed the stroller forward.

“I’m so in love with youuuu, I’ll be forever blueeee…” Regina laughed as she sang.

Henry’s laughter echoed along the empty streets of Storybrooke.

***

IX.

Emma tripped into the conference room at the Mayor’s office.

“Sorry, am I very late?”

A dozen or so faces gazed up at her in stunned silence. At the head of the table Regina took a deep, exasperated breath.

“Sheriff, why are half your nails blue? And what is that on your cheek?”

Emma wiped at her cheek with a finger and it came off red.

“Oh, crap! I thought I got all of it off!”

She fished in her pockets for a non-existent tissue. Regina handed her a handkerchief with another long-suffering sigh.

“Sorry,” Emma said, scrubbing at her face. “My two-year-old — actually she’s two and a half — she felt like being a beautician today. And this—” she pointed to her cheek with a blue nail polished finger “—must be a goodbye kiss she sneaked in, because I swear I washed it all before I set out.” She finished wiping at her face and faced the Mayor and the others. “So what did you need me for?”

Regina sighed again.

“Hallway, please, Sheriff.”

Emma raised an eyebrow but made her way to the hallway, followed immediately by Regina.

“What is the meaning of this?” Regina hissed as soon as they were out of the conference room.

Emma shrugged. “Hey, it’s my day off. Al and I were playing. I did wash my face.”

“Did you?” Regina grabbed her elbow and turned her around to face one of the many mirrors that decorated the hallway.

“Oh, Jesus,” Emma said when she caught a glimpse of herself. An eye was still liberally smeared with purplish eye shadow, and the cheek where her daughter had left the kiss was covered in red streaks from her vigorous but unsuccessful scrubbing. “That little beast!”

“Next time, Sheriff, wash your face properly before leaving the house.”

“Jeez, Regina, I did. You never told me you were calling me here to join a meeting.”

“How was I to know you would turn up covered in red lipstick and blue nail polish?”

“Well, it’s my day off, so — why won’t it come off!” Emma huffed.

“Give me this!”

Regina took back her handkerchief and grabbed Emma’s chin to turn her face around and begin the cleanup.

“Ouch!”

“Be still!”

“How can I be still when you’re trying to take my eye out!”

“Oh, don’t be such a baby! Allison is better than you at this!”

“She would be, seeing as she does it like every other day!”

“You just need to handle her better.”

“You try saying no to that face!”

“That’s how you spoil her, never saying no!”

“What do you mean I spoil her? You are the one who got her that blasted baby make up kit!”

“Yes, because she kept getting into my things, and they are not good for her skin! That is why I bought her a kit of her own!”

“Much good that did, because half the time I’m the one she practices her skills on! And then you don’t even tell me about the meetings, and I end up looking like a runaway clown from the loc—” Here Emma’s tirade was cut short by Regina’s fingers pinching her lips lightly to scrub them clean. “Ouff! Thaff luff ’Gina! Gerrof!” Emma said.

“Quiet!” Regina ordered, and Emma obeyed. “Close your eyes.”

Emma did; Regina leaned forward, and for the next few moments all Emma felt was Regina’s breath beside her ear, the subtle whiff of her perfume, and her cool, long fingers against her too hot cheeks. Regina’s thumb swiped at the corner of her mouth and Emma had to physically stop herself from jumping back. She opened her eyes a little and watched the soft shadows cast by the downcast dark lashes on the Mayor’s cheeks. Suddenly very uncomfortable, Emma cleared her throat but “Hush,” Regina said and Emma subsided, holding her breath.

After five minutes of scrubbing and ouching, Emma’s face was much more presentable than before; Regina handed her the handkerchief.

“Keep it,” she said. “Now come inside and tell them what you want for the Sheriff’s office and in next year’s budget for the Sheriff’s station.”

She marched back inside. Emma took one last look in the mirror, grimacing at her ruthlessly scrubbed face, and stuffed the handkerchief in her pocket before following her in.

…

“Hello? Anybody home?” Emma called out as she entered the Mills’ residence later that afternoon.

“In the kitchen,” came Regina’s voice.

Emma dropped her jacket on the nearest available surface and made her way to the kitchen which seemed to be full of delicious baking smells. Emma paused in the doorway to sniff and mmm appreciatively; she was greeted by the sight of the Mayor, wearing a spotless, snow white apron over a snow white shirt, and a little blond head peeking from around silver grey trouser clad legs.

“Mama!” came a big, delighted squeal, and Regina’s legs were abandoned for a rush towards the Sheriff.

“Hey, baby girl! What’s up?” Emma scooped up her daughter and raised her high once, twice, until she giggled, and then she lowered her to plant big, smacking kisses on the now make up free cheeks. “Regina cleaned you up, huh?”

Allison nodded, wrapping her arms around her mother’s neck. Emma smiled and bumped her nose against Allison’s before looking at Regina.

“Hey,” she said, stepping forward to peek over Regina’s shoulder to see what she was making. “What’s up?”

“Cookies!” Allison announced.

“We’re making cookies for Henry’s school fair tomorrow,” Regina elaborated.

“Smells good,” Emma said, freeing one hand and trying to dip a finger in the dough. It received a prompt smack from a wooden spatula. “Ow! What was that for!”

“Behave!”

“I was just trying to taste it,” Emma said with a pout.

“No one dips fingers in my dough!”

“Poopy-pants,” Emma muttered, sucking on her smacked fingers, and Allison laughed.

“Do not teach her such things!”

Emma made a face. Regina sighed, picked up a spoon, cleaned it on her apron, and handed Emma a spoonful of cookie dough.

“Oooh!” Emma’s face brightened, and Regina rolled her eyes.

“Honestly, sometimes it feels like I have three children in the house.”

Emma laughed and, holding Allison securely to her, climbed up on the counter to sit, legs dangling to and fro. Regina glared but did not comment.

“It’s good,” Emma said, licking the spoon clean and sending a longing look at the bowl.

“I am glad that I have your approval, Sheriff. Now stop ogling it.”

“I’m not ogling it,” Emma said, making herself look away.

“Of course you’re not. You do remember you have to give that safety first demonstration at the fair tomorrow?”

Emma groaned. “Aw, sh — shoot! Why!”

“As the Town Sheriff, dear.”

“Do I really have to?”

“Yes.”

“Really really?”

“Yes. Stop making faces.”

“Fine. You can be my first demonstratee tomorrow. Is that even a word?”

“I seriously doubt it, but I believe Henry would be perfect for that.”

“Well, I can have more than one if I want.”

“Then use one of his many girlfriends.”

Emma giggled, and Regina couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“Our son is very popular with the ladies, Madam Mayor.”

“He sure is,” Regina agreed as she took out a batch of cookies from the oven and got the next one ready.

“By the way, does he know you’re making cookies? He might not want to, you know, hand out cookies in front of his fan club.”

“I always make cookies for his fair. And if he doesn’t want to hand them out—”

“Al can do it, instead. She’d be starting pre-school soon, anyway. It’d be good practice at making friends.”

Regina eventually conceded.

“So can I have some cookies now?”

“No. They’re hot. And they are for tomorrow.”

“Look, when you drag me into your board meetings on my day off, I should get some payback. Cough up.”

“I gave you cookie dough. That’s more than I would do for anyone else.”

“A spoonful of cookie dough for a day off. You hear that, Al? Does that sound fair to you?”

“It was very good cookie dough.”

“I’m hungry!” Emma whined and then pretended to nibble Allison’s ear, causing the little girl to giggle and squirm in her lap with a protesting: “Mama! Don’t eat me!”

“Just one ear? A little nibble? Nomnom!”

“Nooo!” Allison giggled. “No eating!”

Regina shook her head at the two of them, amused. “How about I make you a sandwich, okay?”

Emma nodded obediently, and as soon as Regina turned away to rummage in the refrigerator, she snagged a piping hot cookie from the tray and crammed it into her mouth. Regina turned back and Allison pointed at her mother.

“Mama ate a cookie!”

Emma shook her head in denial, cheeks stuffed full of the cookie. Regina glared at her with narrowed eyes and Emma chewed and swallowed quickly.

“You were right; it was very hot.”

Regina stepped forward menacingly until she was nose to nose with the Sheriff.

“That was your last cookie for today,” she said, raising a warning finger.

Emma gulped. “Can I have some juice? I burned my tongue.”

“Good,” Regina said as she turned towards the counter to begin making the sandwich. “Serves you right.”

Emma glared at Allison. “You are the worst ally to have!”

“Imma good girl.”

“Yes, you are,” Regina said. “The best girl in the world.”

Allison looked loftily at Emma as if that proved all the points, and Emma couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, you’re the best girl ever.”

“Would you go sit at the table like normal human beings?” Regina said.

“All right, jeez!” Emma shifted herself from the marble counter to the small dining table, angling her chair slightly so that she could keep Regina in sight.

“Here you go,” Regina placed a plate in front of her and picked Allison out of her lap, putting her down to play with her blocks.

 Emma looked at the small tuna melt sandwich. “But this is tiny!” she pouted.

“Henry will be home in a while and then we can have dinner together. You big baby.”

Emma stuck out her tongue, just to prove a point, but smiled.

Regina took off her apron and sat down beside Emma, watching her eat. Allison seemed more interested in the giant blocks strewn all over the floor.

“You think they’ll give me the funds?” Emma glanced at Regina between bites. “After the mess I made?”

“It was all right, they knew it was your day off, and that you have a daughter. You did fine,” she smiled. “There’s still hope for you.”

“But you said this was important for reelection, and I looked like a clown!”

“You didn’t look like a clown.” Emma gave her a look. “Okay, you looked a little bit like a clown. But you were yourself and confident about your job. Your work is good, so don’t worry. All right?”

“Such high praise coming from you, Madam Mayor! My heart!”

Regina rolled her eyes. “Just stating the facts, dear.”

Emma nodded. “But next time you gotta give me a heads up sooner, okay?”

That was when Allison called Regina by that absolutely unpronounceable and complex name that only she could say. Regina reached down to rescue the precariously balanced tower of blocks the girl had constructed.

“I can never tell what she calls me,” Regina said when she straightened. “It sounds like mamma mia.”

Emma frowned and then suddenly burst out laughing.

“What?”

“I think — I think she’s trying to say Madam Mayor.”

“No! Seriously? Oh dear, I think you’re right!” Regina’s mouth fell open. Emma laughed some more at Regina’s expression which was somewhere between horrified and amused.

Regina narrowed her eyes. “It’s your fault! You call me that in front of her!”

“Everyone calls you that. I call you Regina all the time.”

Regina made a sad face

“Well, what do you want her to call you?”

“I — don’t know.”

“Well,” Emma said soothingly. “I’m sure we’ll find something for her to call you.”

…

The next day was fairly predictable. The school fair was a riot. Henry, looking mortified, refused to hand out the cookies, a task which Allison took over gleefully, putting her “You wi’come” to good use in the process. She was already the star of the school and Emma was so proud. Emma also added some extra demonstrations to her Safety First protocol, for which Regina had to (reluctantly and glaring daggers at the Sheriff) climb up on the platform and be an unwilling demonstratee. Allison and Leo fought over a Darth Vader balloon and made up over very messily consumed ice cream sundaes (poor Mary Margaret had to clean up two sticky, chocolate syrup covered faces). As a result of so much sugar consumption, the two kids buzzed around like bumblebees on a sugar high all evening. All the parents were thoroughly exasperated, and Emma had to read through ‘Little Miss Sunshine’s Happy Little Day Out’ several times (until she wanted to strangle that pesky yellow creature) before Allison finally fell asleep. By the end of it Emma was so exhausted that she curled up in a ball right next to her daughter and both slept like logs through the night.

***

A/N: This was too long, I know. I hope I haven’t put y’all to sleep (there was a chance of that, I know, cause this was so hard to edit/go over in a single sitting, I almost despaired!).

Thoughts and Headcanon:

VII. *I kept writing ‘match’ instead of ‘game’. Blame too much Cricket. Credit for all baseball-y things goes to Hunyum. *I just really love Ray Bans okay (be it on a man or a woman). It’s an Air Force thing. *The pom-pom was given to them by Ava, who’s in the Junior Cheerleading Squad (and Henry’s fan club). *Wolves’ colors are black and white, as you might’ve guessed, and their symbol (is that what they are called? Oh, I’m bad at this sports thing!) is a wolf paw-print. *The Wolves were a lot friendlier towards the Mayor after this. *Emma’s star is actually my star. I don’t know if it is Jupiter or not (I don’t really care) but that argument is based on an actual conversation with someone where I was told that it was not really a star at all. *And yes, it has certainly helped lift my mood on several nights. It’s like an old friend.

VIII. *The start of this part is the first thing I wrote for this fic; seems so long ago now. *Allison is dressed as Long John Silver basically because I wanted her to be a pirate (it’s a Fringe thing :P) and say ‘looooong’ as if she was clarifying the most obvious point in the world. Of course, me ending up watching Treasure Planet (for research purposes!) is another thing entirely. *Regina’s candies were tooth-friendly. *Emma really likes Johnny Depp (secretly, Regina does, too). *Regina’s hat and eye patch was a spur of the moment thing. And later when Lana posted that pic on twitter, boy, did I squee! *Regina was secretly very pleased with the eye patch. *This (when the four of them set off) was basically the moment, you know, where I wanted to solidify them into a family. The moms, looking at their children. *Leo is a very accident-prone child. *I have no idea why Nicholas was a burlap sack, but I think of him as a somewhat eccentric boy. *Erasure’s A Little Respect because of Scrubs. Also, listen to it and imagine Emma jumping around. You can find it here. I’ve listened to it so many times in order to edit this part that I can practically feel it still ringing in my ears. *Archie dressed as a vampire is just very amusing to me, hush! *Really not happy with that party scene/way home conversation. :/

IX. *Have you ever seen a little kid apply make up? If not, then suffice it to know that Emma looked very … exotic, let’s say. *Hallway scene! *squee* because that’s just the ‘Swan Queen’ thing to do. *Regina bought the baby Make Up kit for Allison because she kept getting into her stuff, and while Regina did care for her product collection, she cared more about Allison’s skin. Of course, Allison’s favorite canvas was her Mama’s face. *The baking scene was a random idea, that is why its tone is so random. *Regina was making gingersnaps and chocolate chip cookies. *They have these family dinners together sometimes, the four of them. *I just couldn’t decide what Allison would call Regina (I mean, I obviously knew what I wanted her to call Regina), and then one day I was randomly thinking and I realized ‘Madam Mayor’ sounds a lot like ‘mamma mia’. So.

For those of you asking about Caught Painting a Dotted Line: no, I haven’t abandoned that story. I have the outline and the idea where it’s gonna go all mapped out, I even have 4k+ words written down for the next chapter and several snippets for chapters after that, but it is just not coming together the way I want it to, and I really am trying, but I’d rather not put up a half-assed chapter. I open that document every day, I promise.

Insert long, deep breath after the long, not so deep A/N here. Can’t wait to hear what you guys think about the update. Take care:)

[inkfiction]

A Kind of Comfort in You (2/4) — a Swan Queen fic

Title: A Kind of Comfort in You (2/4) Fandom: Once Upon a Time Pairing: Swan Queen (Emma Swan/Regina Mills) Spoilers/Warning: None. Tooth-rotting, tummy hurting fluff! Summary: AU-ish Storybrooke. Let’s pretend there is no curse, no magic, and Regina is just a mayor and Emma is just a sheriff. This is a SQ baby fic, but it is not your typical SQ baby fic. But maybe I’m deluding myself and it is. (After all a baby fic is a baby fic is a baby fic). You’ll have to decide yourself. Disclaimer: This is purely fictional. I own none of it.

AO3/FFNET

[...]

A/N: There you go, an update!

I know there isn’t much SQ romance here yet, but this fic is more about the slow progression of a relationship between them. Don’t expect anything to be rushed. But if you stick it out with me, I promise I’m going to make it up to you in the end.

Your thoughts and opinions are welcome, as always.

  IV.

“Hey, Rubes!” Emma greeted Ruby as she placed the carry-cot on the counter.

“Hey!” Ruby smiled broadly. “How’re my favorite girls?” She bent over the carry-cot to look at Allison. “Aw, she’s napping!” Ruby pouted.

“If you were me, you’d thank heavens she was catching some shut-eye,” Emma said, but she smiled as she smoothed the blanket around her daughter’s slumbering form.

“Rough night?” Ruby asked sympathetically.

Emma nodded. “I think she might be teething. I didn’t expect her to till next month but Dr. Whale said some babies are a little precocious.”

Ruby shook her head. “Mama woes.”

“She was irritated all last night,” Emma sighed. “She’s been like that for the past few days.”

“Aw, poor thing!” Ruby said. “If I can do anything to help, you just let me know, all right? Do you need me at the station tonight?”

“Oh, will you come in, please?” Emma said. “I will eternally love you!”

“Flattery will get you everything!” Ruby laughed. “All right. Just text me the patrol routes for tonight and stuff.”

“Coming right up,” Emma reached into her pocket and cursed under her breath when she couldn’t find her phone. “I think I left it at home! No, wait! I handed it to Mary Margaret when I went to pick Al up from her apartment.”

“Well, there she is,” Ruby pointed outside the glass front towards the road where Mary Margaret could be seen pushing a stroller on the pavement. “Go ask her.”

“Yeah, thanks, Rubes,” Emma said, turning on her heels. “Watch Al for me, okay?”

“No problem,” Ruby said but Emma was already rushing out, almost bumping into the Mayor as she entered the diner.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Regina said. “I’ll just flatten myself to the wall.”

“Sorry,” Emma raised her hands in a peace offering. “Kind of in a rush here.”

“I can see that,” Regina huffed and turned away, walking towards the counter. Emma grimaced and continued on her way out.

“Mary Margaret!” She called out when she spotted the schoolteacher about to turn the corner, causing her to pause in her tracks and turn around.

“Emma!” she exclaimed when she saw the Sheriff and hurriedly made her way towards the diner. “I was looking for you!”

“You were?” Emma said, a little breathless from all the rushing.

“Yes, you left your phone with me.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you for bringing it!” Emma took her phone from the other woman. “I was afraid I was gonna have to run all the way back to your place.”

“Well, it’s the least I can do for our fearless Sheriff,” Mary Margaret laughed.  “I know you have your hands full with Allison right now, she’s been very irritated this past week. And I thought I’d take Leo for a spin in his stroller.”

“You are a life-saver, Mary Margaret, have I told you that recently? I would marry you if David would only let me!”

Mary Margaret laughed again. “You’ll have to get in line behind all the others, I’m afraid.”

“Are you sure you won’t change your views on bigamy?” Emma said and the other woman shook her head. “At least bump me to the front of the queue!” Emma whined.

“You know what David would say?” Mary Margaret said. “Get your own stupid wife!” she went on in an exaggerated imitation of her husband’s voice.

Emma chortled as she bent over the stroller to look inside. “I do need a wife, don’t I? With all my — hey, Leo! Hey, baby boy! What’s up?” she cooed and snapped her fingers at the baby. “How’s the little tyke holding up?”

Mary Margaret took a deep breath. “He’s being a perfect angel and I don’t know if I should worry or be thankful!”

Emma tickled the dark haired, blue-eyed baby boy under the chin and was awarded with a gurgle and an angelic smile. “Yeah, you should probably worry — aw, look who’s being an angel today! Do you have something wicked planned? Do you? Look at you!”

Mary Margaret shuddered. “Don’t give him ideas!”

“I don’t think he even knows what I’m saying,” Emma laughed and baby Leo gurgled in response.

“Sometimes I think he does. David calls him Little Spawn. It makes me shudder when I think about the things he might do at daycare,” Mary Margaret went on with a sigh. “I’m thinking of quitting my job altogether.”

Emma frowned. “Well, that’s up to you, but I think he and Al would do fine at the daycare.”

“Al is an angel compared to him!” Mary Margaret said. “He is not an easy baby to handle.”

“He’ll be fine,” Emma patted her arm. “You worry too much. And it’s just for a few hours in the morning while you take your classes. You can’t sit at home all the time.”

Mary Margaret nodded resignedly.

“Look, Leo can be a little fussy at times but he’s okay. Aren’t you?” She tickled the boy and he gurgled, kicking his bootied feet. “Well, I should get back inside. Ruby is watching Allison and—” Emma was distracted from completion of this sentence by the sight that met her eyes through the diner’s large glass window: Regina’s head was bent over Allison’s carry-cot; the Mayor was making ridiculous faces and smiling. Ruby was nowhere in sight.

“Is that the Mayor? Bending over Allison?” Mary Margaret asked, arching her neck to look inside the diner.

“Looks like it,” Emma shrugged, breaking her stare. “I haven’t really had a lot of interaction with her since Al was born.”

“That was some day!” Mary Margaret said with a shudder.

“Yeah, it was,” Emma agreed. “I’m still not used to my new offi — oh, my God!” Emma watched in horror as Allison’s tiny hands, both of them, grabbed fistfuls of Regina’s hair and pulled her face down. “Shit,” she swore under her breath.

“Well, that can’t be good,” said the school teacher.

“Mary Margaret, thanks for bringing me my phone, I’ll see you later, okay?”

Emma almost ran back inside, cringing inwardly at the expectation of Regina’s wrath but instead she found the Mayor laughing, followed immediately by the burbling laugh of her daughter. Emma suddenly felt like crying; it had been a few days since she’d heard that sound. She stilled herself and took the last few steps to the counter at a slower pace, taking in the scene in front of her.

Regina’s face was still bent close to the carry-cot, chubby, little fingers of a small hand still tangled in her hair. The fingers of the other little hand were wrapped tightly around Regina’s forefinger, making it move to and fro in erratic motions and — judging by the gurgling, laughing sounds emanating from inside — finding it entirely too amusing. Regina was cooing right back at the little girl; it sounded almost like a conversation. She smiled when she saw Emma but did not move from her position.

“She likes you,” Emma said, smiling back.

“Well, of course she does. Who wouldn’t?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Sorry about that,” she pointed to the little hand grabbing at Regina’s hair. “Here, let me…”

“No, that’s all right,” Regina stopped her. “She isn’t really pulling at it, she’s just holding it.”

“That is not fair, Allison,” Emma bent over the carry-cot, addressing her daughter. “Am I the only one who gets her hair pulled mercilessly?” The baby just gurgled happily in response.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Regina said, straightening up as Allison’s grip loosened on her hair.

“Yeah, well. Since yours was the first face she saw when she was born, I think she’s playing favorites.” Regina just smiled, tickling the baby under her chin. “I should thank you,” Emma said. “It’s the happiest she’s been in days.”

“Why?” Regina frowned, looking up from the baby. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Emma said. “She’s teething, I guess. It makes her very irritable.”

“Oh,” Regina made a sympathetic sound at Allison and the baby laughed.

“How are you doing that?”

Regina laughed. “Experience, dear,” she said but then she saw the distressed expression on the Sheriff’s face. “Don’t worry, it’ll come to you.”

“Well, can’t it come, like, now? She hadn’t laughed in days and I missed it!”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Regina patted her arm awkwardly. “I’m sure you’re doing fine. All babies get a little fussy when they’re teething. Have you tried giving her teething rings?”

Emma shook her head.

“Get some of those, give them to her to chew. It will help relieve a bit of pressure on her gums.”

“Right,” Emma nodded. “Teething rings. Check.”

“And, here, see,” Regina bent over the cot, tickled Allison’s chin to make her open her mouth and then gently rubbed the baby’s gums with one finger. “Doing this once or twice a day for a couple of minutes will also soothe her. And before you ask, I just washed my hands.”

“Thank you for that,” Emma said. “Does that really help?”

“Yes, you’ll see for yourself when you do it. Henry refused to eat or drink for days when he was teething, I practically had to force feed him.”

“Oh, no, she is still eating like a champ.”

“You go, baby girl!” Regina smoothed down the soft, golden hair.

Ruby came over from the kitchen holding a small cardboard box. “Look at you guys being a little family!” she almost cooed at the sight of the Mayor and the Sheriff both bent over the little girl and talking earnestly to each other.  “Only Henry’s missing!” Regina sent a murderous look her way and the waitress smiled broadly in response. “Here’s your sandwich to go, Madam Mayor.”

“Thank you, Miss Lucas — or are you still the Deputy?”

“Well, I’m covering tonight’s shift for Emma.”

“I plan on staying with Allison tonight,” Emma said.

Regina nodded. “Well, let me know if anything untoward happens.” She picked up her sandwich, tickled Allison one last time, tossed Emma a “See you tomorrow, Sheriff” and left.

“Well, that was weird,” Ruby said.

“Not really,” said Emma as she smiled at her daughter’s much happier face. “Not weird at all.”

...

V.

“And I think you can do without this little gallery at the back,” Regina was saying. “It’ll give you a that much spacier storeroom, you can extend the filing cabinets.”

Emma nodded and slumped a little in her seat across the desk.

“I’ve also ordered the software and hard drives you will need to computerize as much data that has been salvaged as you can. The company has promised to send a tech expert to—”

She was interrupted by a long sigh and a glance — what seemed to be the hundredth time — at the phone.

“Am I boring you, Sheriff?” Regina snapped.

“Huh? No, Madam Mayor, not at all.”

“You keep looking at your phone.”

“Just checking the time,” Emma mumbled, pushing the phone away. “Please carry on.”

Regina suppressed a sigh. “Where’s Allison?”

“Mary Margaret’s babysitting for me. Please go on, we need to get this done today.”

“Yes,” Regina agreed. “Where was I?”

“Computerization,” Emma supplied.

“Yes. They will be sending tech support to help you with it. Also, you’ll be pleased to know that I’ve made adjustments in the budget so that it will be possible if you want to hire Miss Lucas as a Deputy fulltime — Sheriff Swan!”

“I’m listening, Regina. And no, Ruby doesn’t want to be fulltime Deputy. She wants to be able to help her grandmother at the diner.” Regina opened her mouth to speak but Emma over-rode her. “And before you suggest I hire someone else, I am perfectly happy with Ruby working halftime. It’s a fine arrangement.”

“No, I just wanted to ask — why are you so distracted? Is something the matter?”

Emma let out a breath. “No. I don’t know. I’m just a little restless today.”

“Why don’t you call her up, put your mind at rest?”

“Ruby?” Emma frowned.

Regina rolled her eyes in that particular way of hers. “Miss Blanchard.”

“Oh,” understanding dawned on Emma. “No, I’m okay. I think I’ll survive a bit longer.” She tried to smile. “We’ll be done soon, won’t we?”

“We’ve barely even begun,” Regina said, causing Emma to let out a long, cold sigh.

“I can’t see why I need the whole building to be rebuilt,” she whined. “I just got a new office and it’s perfectly fine.”

Regina suppressed a shudder. “I do not like that crude cubicle you are determined to keep as your office. I always thought it was understood that it was a temporary solution until such time as substantial funding was available to rebuild the Sheriff’s station.”

“But—”

“The building destroyed in that unfortunate explosion was a beautiful and historical piece of Storybrooke—”

“—and old, Regina. Remember it was very old.”

“But beautiful, nevertheless. I do not want a building just for the sake of a building, Sheriff. And frankly, no building at all would be better than that eyesore of a thing you want to keep as your office.”

“Whatever you say, Madam Mayor,” Emma said, out of further reasons and defeated.

“Call Miss Blanchard.”

Emma shook her head, pushing the phone further away from herself. “Nah, I’m good. Let’s get this over with.”

...

Barely fifteen minutes had passed when Emma’s phone began to ring. Regina paused in her speech about pillars to let Emma answer it. Emma just shook her head.

“Carry on.”

“You can attend it.”

“No, I’ll just call whoever it is later.”

“It’s Miss Blanchard,” Regina said, glancing at the blinking screen.

Emma snatched up the phone so quickly she almost hit the reject button. “She’s not supposed to call me unless—” She left the sentence incomplete as she pressed the phone close to her ear. “Mary Margaret? Is everything—?”

The schoolteacher almost wailed from the other end of the line. “Emma, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry!”

“What happened?” Emma was on her feet in an instant.

“I left them alone for a second! A second, I swear!” She was interrupted by loud wails of children crying in the background.

Emma felt her heart stop for a moment. “Mary Margaret! What’s wrong?” She almost shouted.

“I have no idea!” The schoolteacher gulped. “They must’ve had a fight — you know how Leo can get. He just — oh, God. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know he would have one of his tantrums. And now they both won’t stop crying, and I can’t hold them both at the same time because that makes them cry even more! Usually David helps but he’s at the shelter and I don’t know what to do!” She sounded like she was about to cry herself.

“I’m coming, okay?” Emma told the woman at the other end of the line and then she rushed out of the Mayor’s office so fast, she didn’t even bother to pick up her jacket from where it lay on the back of a chair, or to tell Regina anything. She just ran out the doors.

That day she broke every signal, every speed limit that Storybrooke had, that she was sworn to enforce to reach Mary Margaret’s apartment to pick up her daughter amidst the other woman’s continued apologies.

And that day Emma learned that the hardest thing in the world was when your baby girl was crying hard enough to turn herself breathless, holding you hard enough to choke you and still you could do nothing to make her feel better except hold her and rock her and say meaningless soothing things none of which seemed to have any effect. Emma felt like sitting down on the pavement and bawling herself. So she held Allison tightly to her and drove back one handed to Regina’s office. It was dangerous, she knew, driving like this. She also had no earthly idea why she was going there instead of going home, but she did it nevertheless.

She found Regina sitting in exactly the same position in which she had left her earlier, the same file open on the same page in front of her. She took one look as Emma barged into her office and immediately stood up.

“Is she all right?”

“I don’t know,” Emma said. “She seems okay, physically. I think she’s just spooked.” She looked at Regina with big, worried eyes. “She won’t stop crying!”

“Just hold her — yes, against your heart like that. It helps. And rock her gently. Gently. Let her cry it out.” She walked around her desk towards the two of them. “What happened?”

“We’re not really sure. Mary Margaret put them down to play, she left them alone for less than a minute and they had a fight over some toy. Leo had a temper tantrum. He scratched at her. And now they both won’t stop crying.”

Regina let out a sympathetic tch.

Emma looked at her daughter, the silence in the room punctuated by the little girl’s loud sobs and unintelligible baby talk in between. And then, in an interval between the deep, sobbing breath and the heart wrenching wail that followed, she very clearly uttered one word: Mama.

Emma’s face crumpled as her ears registered her daughter’s first proper word. Abruptly, she turned away from Regina and towards the window, rocking Allison gently even as her own shoulders heaved up and down.

Regina sighed. “Sheriff Swan!” Emma did not look back and the Mayor walked the few steps that were needed to stand beside her and softly say, “Emma. That’s no way.”

“I know, sorry,” Emma said, wiping her eyes with a finger. “But she said Mama. Regina, my baby said Mama!”

“Yes, dear, I heard. Now you need to get a grip on yourself.”

Emma nodded. Regina motioned for her to turn Allison’s tear-streaked face towards her. The little girl, most of her energy almost spent, was now just sobbing quietly, her chest heaving with every breath and hiccup.

“Hey, baby girl,” Regina snapped her fingers, making huge blue-green eyes turn towards her. “I have something for you! But no more crying, promise?” She tucked soft, golden curls behind a tiny ear and hissed when she saw dozens of tiny scratches on Allison’s cheek.

“Sheriff Swan, tell Miss Blanchard she really needs to control her son!”

Emma’s eyes widened when she saw Allison’s cheek. “Oh, my baby!” she said, voice threatening to shake again as she planted dozens of soft kisses on her daughter’s cheek, careful to stay away from the scratches. The little girl whimpered.

Regina shook her head. “I’ll get the first aid kid — and some of Henry’s old toys. I have some from when I used to bring him to the office with me.”

“All right,” Emma said, rubbing Allison’s back softly.

...

Regina was back quickly, holding a red and green stuffed giraffe with long, floppy ears in one hand and the first aid kit in the other.

“Here, Allison, look what I got for you!” She waved the giraffe in front of the little girl; huge, tear-filled eyes followed the movement. Regina tickled Allison with the tip of the giraffe’s nose and the girl gave a watery laugh, lunging for the toy. Regina handed it to her and smiled as the little girl waved it over her head, looking much happier than before.

“To the couch, Sheriff,” Regina nodded in that direction and both women made their way towards the couch. Emma sat down, Allison in her lap diligently pulling one of the giraffe’s ears and watching with fascination the way the head vibrated when she let it go.

“Try and hold her steady, all right?” said Regina as she took out some antiseptic wipes.

Emma nodded and held Allison’s hair back from her face. Regina bent closer and began to clean the scratches. Acrid smell of the antiseptic, mixed with the light fragrance of Regina’s shampoo wafted up to Emma’s nose. Allison fought to get away from the stinging wipes but Regina was rather adept at this. In no time at all, the scratches had been cleaned and colorful band aids applied over the bigger ones. When Regina settled back, Allison looked at her accusingly and then bomped the giraffe’s head squarely on Regina’s nose in retaliation. Both women laughed.

“That’s my girl,” Regina told her. “You don’t let anyone walk over you, okay?”

Emma just smiled and shook her head, and then Regina wiped the ruddy little cheeks and nose (some fight was put up at this), ran her fingers through the blond curls to comb them into place and sat back to admire her handiwork.

“There you go,” she said, smiling.

“Thank you,” Emma said, watching as her daughter squeezed the giraffe’s neck with both hands and happily banged it against her jean-clad knee. “For everything.”

“It was nothing,” Regina waved it away. “Anyone would have done the same.” She smoothed an errant curl on top of the little head, not looking up. “You can bring her here for when we have our meetings. I have some of Henry’s old toys squared away in a drawer. She can play with them and — you can keep an eye on her.”

“All right,” Emma said, and only then did Regina look up, a soft smile on her face. Emma rested her chin lightly on top of her daughter’s head. “Hey,” she said. “Sorry about all that rushing away without explanations earlier. I just kinda panicked…”

“It’s understandable,” Regina said. “I believe I would’ve done the same thing if it had been Henry. Though, admittedly,” she continued with a smile in her voice. “If you had allowed yourself to say a couple of sentences before rushing out, I would’ve been much less worried.”

“You were worried?” Emma asked, wonder in her voice.

“Of course I was worried. What kind of heartless cretin do you take me for?”

“The mayoral kind?” Emma smiled. “Sorry.”

“No harm done,” Regina patted Emma’s hand. The act was obviously involuntary because for a surprised moment both women looked down at it, Regina’s hand covering Emma’s, before Regina snatched it away. “Oh, she’s asleep,” Regina nodded at Allison. “You should head home.”

“Yeah,” Emma said, looking at the giraffe that Allison had clutched tightly to her chest. “I’ll bring back the toy—”

“No need for that,” Regina said.

Emma smiled as she stood up, carefully adjusting the sleeping girl in her arms so as not to wake her. Regina got up, too, and handed Emma her jacket.

“Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow. For the Sheriff’s office thingy.”

“Of course,” Regina said. “Goodbye, Sheriff.”

Emma waved her hand from around Allison’s sleeping form before exiting the office.

...

It was later in the evening as Regina walked into the diner with Henry for his weekly burger, fries and milkshake dinner that she found Emma sitting at a booth, Allison in the middle of the table (sporting Lion King band aids now) and Mary Margaret sitting opposite her, her son in her lap. This seemed too perfect an opportunity to waste, and she contemplated walking up to the table and giving the schoolteacher a piece of her mind — the safety and wellbeing of the citizens of Storybrooke was her responsibility, after all — but Henry beat her to the table.

He took one look at Emma and Allison and his face lit up; he took a step forward, hesitated, looked to his mother for permission, and rushed forward like an arrow when Regina nodded.

“Hey guys,” he greeted everyone before picking up Allison from the table. “Hey, Little Bird! Oh, is that my old giraffe? Where did you get that?” He smiled at Mary Margaret. “Good evening, Miss Blanchard. Hey, Leo! What have you been up to today?”

“Oh, he has been especially bad today,” said Mary Margaret with a sigh as she pointed at Allison’s cheek.

“Oh, no,” Henry looked at the band aids and then stared at the little boy reproachfully; he happily gurgled in response. “Listen, man, I won’t stand for this type of behavior where my sister is concerned, you understand?” He was awarded with a happy laugh and sighed as he put his lips against Allison’s head. “It’ll be okay, Little Bird.”

Regina watched the family scene unfold, feeling a little twinge in her heart. But then something happened which she hadn’t really counted on and which was amazing: Allison looked right at Regina and sent the most beautiful smile her way, waving the giraffe to greet the Mayor. Henry looked over his shoulder to see who his sister was smiling at and, finding Regina at the other end, smiled and waved her over. Regina hesitated before walking over to the little group.

“Hey,” Emma said, smiling widely.

Regina smiled at her perfunctorily before turning the focus of her attention towards Mary Margaret who looked alarmed at this sudden change in direction.

“Miss Blanchard,” Regina said and Mary Margaret, true to her name, blanched.

“Regina,” Emma began but was silenced by a single warning look. Also, Henry was shaking his head furiously from over Regina’s shoulder, telling her not to interrupt.

“Miss Blanchard,” Regina began again, her tone icy and precise. “I suggest you strongly think about cutting your son’s fingernails if you don’t want him to scratch out his own eyes!”

“I’m sorry!” Mary Margaret said, exasperation evident in her voice. “I have given birth to a caveman!”

“Quite,” Regina agreed. “None of us would want a repeat of today’s performance. Because this young man—” And here she made the mistake of glancing at the said ‘young man’ and was thus awarded with a four-toothed smile, huge, baby blue eyes twinkling — and that’s when Regina faltered. “This — this—” she sighed. “Just cut his nails, Miss Blanchard.”

Emma laughed. “Hard to say no to that face, eh?”

“How can he look like that and do such a thing!” Regina shook her head.

“Children will be children,” Emma said sagely, and it made Regina smile.

“Said the voice of wisdom,” she said.

“Yes,” Emma agreed graciously. “Why don’t you two join us for dinner?”

This made both Regina and Mary Margaret look sharply at Emma, their expressions surprised and horrified respectively. Before Regina could respond, though, Henry spoke up.

“Oh, Mom, can we, please?”

Regina conceded with a sigh. “All right.” And looked at Mary Margret’s panicked face. “Don’t worry, Miss Blanchard. I won’t bite. Not you, at least.”

“Yes, Regina,” said Emma, moving over to make space for the Mayor to sit beside her. “We all know what kind of a monster you are. Come on.”

“I suppose you do,” Regina sat down. “Henry, be a dear and order for both of us?”

“Just tell Ruby to add it to our order,” Emma said as she took Allison from him. She watched him walk up to the counter, all puffed up, to talk to Ruby. “Becoming quite the responsible kid, isn’t he?” she said with not a little pride.

Regina smiled. “I think he just likes talking to Ruby.”

“Oh. Oh, no! That’s my little boy you’re talking about, Regina!”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry!” Regina said, her voice amused. “I haven’t raised him to be a hooligan. He’s a good boy. Just yesterday he was telling me how adept he has become at helping you with Allison’s bottle and diapers.”

“Oh, he is very helpful when he’s around,” Mary Margaret piped up. “With Allison and Leo both.”

“Hm,” said Regina thoughtfully, an idea forming in her mind. “Sheriff, would you be willing to let Henry babysit Allison? Only on the days I am at home to watch over the two of them, of course,” she added when Emma frowned.

“I think that’s a very good idea,” Mary Margaret said before Emma could say anything. “It will teach him to be responsible, his first real job. And he can spend more time with his sister. And I’m not saying this because of what happened between Allison and Leo today — although, that is also a reason you should do this, Emma. I am so sorry.”

Emma squeezed her best friend’s hand to let her know it was all right. “These things happen, Mary Margaret.”

“They shouldn’t! I feel terrible, and I really don’t want anything like that to happen again.”

“She has a very good point,” Regina said. “And I will keep an eye on both of them.”

“All right,” Emma conceded. “If Henry agrees—”

“Agree to what?” said Henry as he slipped in beside Mary Margaret.

“Henry, Sheriff Swan has a job for you, and she tells me she is ready to pay handsomely. Would you like to take it?”

“It isn’t mowing lawns, is it?”

“No,” said Emma. “It isn’t mowing lawns. How would you like to babysit Allison a few days a week?”

“Oh,” he said, thinking. “Can I?” he asked Regina.

“Only on the days when I am at home so that I can watch over the two of you, of course,” she said.

“Okay,” he smiled.

“Do we have an understanding, then, Mr. Mills?” Emma asked in her official voice.

“Yes, we do, Sheriff,” he nodded, all serious. “It’s a deal.”

They shook hands.

“That’s settled then,” Regina said, pleased.

“It still leaves me with the days when you’ll be working late,” Emma said.

“I can come over to Miss Blanchard’s to help,” Henry said.

“That would be perfect,” Mary Margaret said.

“Problem solved,” Regina smiled widely and almost clapped her hands. “Let’s eat now.”

David joined them in a while, pulling up a chair to sit beside Mary Margaret, taking Leo in his lap, tickling him and calling him Little Spawn, and making the whole group laugh. And, Regina thought as she fed Allison a bit of her sandwich, it actually felt pretty nice, this whole family thing.

VI.

Henry entered 95 Mifflin Street’s kitchen from the back door and found Allison sitting in her high chair, happily banging a bright orange spoon in a green bowl, and Emma poring over a small piece of paper in her hand.

“Hen-Hen!” Allison greeted him and Emma looked up and smiled.

“Hey, kid! What’s up?”

“Hey — what are you doing?”

“I,” Emma dramatically waved the piece of paper, “am making noodles!”

Henry raised his eyebrows at the mess of pots and pans scattered all around the kitchen. “You need a recipe for that?”

“Kid, I need a recipe for everything. Mary Margaret writes them for me. Martha Stewart I am not.”

“It’s just noodles,” he said. “I can make noodles.”

“Yeah, well,” Emma said, stirring the pot on the stove and squinting at the recipe. “Have I recently told you how you’re a superkid and somehow, possibly, from somewhere outside this planet? Maybe another world?”

Henry laughed. “Yes, and you’re the exiled princess and my mom is the misunderstood queen. You should really watch yourself around her apples.”

“Her app — wh — wasn’t that Snow White, though?” Henry shrugged. “Right,” Emma said. “Okay, so here’s the thing.” She looked some more at the paper before sighing. “Al’s been at this paper, and I can’t figure out if this says ‘3 cups of water’ or ‘5 cups of water’. And I put in three but … I dunno.” She handed Henry the paper; he squinted at it.

“It’s definitely three. You’re good.”

“Whew!” Emma let out a relieved breath. “Stay and let me feed you my incompetent noodles which are actually not bad.” Henry raised skeptical eyebrows in a style very like Regina’s. “Allison loves them!” Emma said defensively.

“Allison also loves rice pudding and mashed bananas.”

“Nana,” Allison agreed.

“Touché,” Emma said. “No nana, baby, I’m making you noodles, and your brother is going to eat them, too!”

Henry sighed and settled down across from Allison who looked at him with a big smile and said, “Hen-Hen!”

“When will she call me Henry?” He pouted.

“Be patient. She hasn’t gotten around to her ‘r’s yet,” Emma said, stirring the spoon in the pot and frowning at it in concentration.

“You need to step up, buddy,” he told Allison.

“Up,” she repeated, followed by a lot of baby talk and spoon banging and a winning smile.

“My baby is doing just fine, thank you!” Emma smacked him lightly on the head, eliciting an ‘Ow!’ and a laugh from Allison who apparently found her brother’s suffering quite amusing. “Oh, by the way, I’ve put this week’s money under the jar.”

“Sweet!” he said and earned a look. “Also, it’s an urn.”

“Oh, whatever,” Emma rolled her eyes. “I can see you are Regina’s son through and through!”

“Of course,” he smirked in a Regina-esque manner.

“Hey, you want juice with your noodles, or do you want me to make you a milkshake or something?”

Henry looks at her with wide, skeptical eyes. “You’ve met my mother, right? The Mayor? Who allows me only one artificially sweetened milkshake a week?”

“We won’t tell her,” Emma whispered.

Henry shook his head. “She will know.”

“You were raised by a tyrant,” said Emma gravely.

Henry laughed. “Say that to her face.”

“I will! In the next council meeting!”

“Ha! We’ll see,” he said, counting the money. “Hey, you’ve given me extra! Is this a bonus for all my great work?”

“What?” Emma frowned. “No, I gave you the exact amount for the past week.”

“No, I wasn’t even home for three of those days.”

“What? Why? Where were you?”

“I got selected for the Little League Team. Didn’t Mom tell you?”

“No. No she didn’t,” Emma frowned at him. “So you haven’t been home?”

“No, they have practice three times a week.”

“So — Allison was with—”

“—my Mom.”

“You mean the Mayor’s been babysitting my daughter all this time?”

“It was only three days,” he said, wounded.

“Why didn’t she tell me about your team?” Emma said, placing a bowl of steaming noodles in front of him.

“Maybe she — forgot?” he suggested as he picked up his fork and sniffed at his bowl.

“Right,” Emma gave him a look. “Stop sniffing, they smell all right!”

Henry’s expression was still full of trepidation as he took in the first forkful.

“Mama!” Allison let out a protesting sound watching her brother eat while she wasn’t, and banged her spoon into the bowl impatiently.

“Give me a minute to cool them down, baby, they’re hot.”

“Haww.”

“Yup. Hot.” Emma sat down in a chair beside Allison, and began blowing on small spoonfuls and feeding her in classic airplane motions, trying to save the spoon from her grabbing hands.

“Your mother,” she told Henry as she wiped Allison’s face with a napkin between mouthfuls, “is one of the weirdest people I’ve ever known. Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

“She likes Al,” Henry said around a mouthful of noodles.

“Yes, but it’s not like she has a ton of free time. And will you swallow before you try to talk again?”

Henry swallowed pointedly before speaking. “I don’t think it bothers her, babysitting Al.”

“It’s not about being bothered, it’s—” Emma sighed exasperatedly. “I’ll talk to her.”

Henry shrugged.

“So how’s baseball?”

“It’s nice!” he enthused. “You should come to the practice someday! You and Al and Mom. We could have a picnic afterwards!”

“Sure, we could do that,” Emma smiled at his enthusiasm. “When do your actual games start?”

“Mid-August. You’ll come, right?”

“Wouldn’t dream of doing anything else,” she ruffled his hair and he beamed at her. “I’ll come to all of them if I can.”

Henry smiled at her. “You know,” he said. “These aren’t really bad, your noodles.”

It was Emma’s turn to beam with pride.

...

The next afternoon brought a frenzied 911 from Miss Ginger’s neighborhood; it wasn’t about the cat, surprisingly, but about a very drunk Leroy (currently trying to make Miss Ginger tap-dance — as the 911 had said — which would really be a feat: the woman was in a wheelchair 80% of the time and possessed a lethal, dangerously curved walking stick. Truth be told, she was more worried about Leroy than Miss Ginger!). Reluctantly, Emma gathered Allison’s stuff to leave her with Henry earlier than they had agreed upon, making a short stop over at the Mills’ residence to drop her off.

She parked the cruiser, picked up her half-sleepy daughter from the baby carrier, hefted the baby bag on her shoulder and began to walk with brisk steps towards the front door of 108 Mifflin Street. The door opened before she could climb up the short steps at the front and Regina stepped out in casual, dark slacks and a loosely fitting grey shirt.

“Hey,” Emma greeted her. “I’m getting really late. Where’s Henry?”

Regina took the bag from her and pushed it up on her own shoulder. “He’s … out.”

“Out where?”

“He’ll be back soon,” Regina said, reaching for Allison who held out her arms to be picked up.

Emma faltered mid-exchange. “Really, Regina?” She gave the Mayor a hard look.

Regina sighed. “Fine. He told you. He’s at baseball practice. He’ll be there all evening. But you don’t have to worry, I’m just as capable of taking care of Allison—”

“Regina,” Emma let out an exasperated breath. “I never said you weren’t capable of taking care of her.”

“Then what is the issue here, Sheriff?”

“You’re a busy woman. You’re the Mayor! You have a billion things to do. I cannot ask you to babysit my daughter.”

“We’re doing perfectly fine, thank you. None of my ‘billion’ duties are interfering with my babysitting your little girl.”

“You don’t have to,” Emma said. “I’ll find a sitter through the daycare.”

“Sheriff Swan, you will not!” Regina exploded. “It is bad enough that she has to spend her mornings in that — abominable place, surrounded by strangers. I will not have you spend her evenings with mediocre and inadequate strangers who may or may not revile her with their cigarette breaths and greasy, sweaty, unwashed hands and dirty feet and whatnot!”

Emma could not help the incredulous chuckle that escaped her at this graphic description of babysitters. “Regina, I’m sure they’re not—”

“You can never be sure with them!”

“I think—”

“I’m a good mother, Sheriff. Isn’t your son proof enough for you? And now, all of a sudden, I’m not good enough to take care of your daughter!”

“Regina!” Emma gasped. “I never — I didn’t—”

“Didn’t you?” Regina bore down on her, Allison settled securely on her hip. “Did you see any sign of my inadequacy? Every evening you pick her up, neat, clean, well-fed, well-rested, happy. Can you guarantee a sitter would do that?”

“Regina! I never said you weren’t a good mom! You’re a great mom!”

“I’m glad we are on the same page here, Sheriff. What is the problem, then?”

“It’s just that I think with Henry, and running the town, you have your hands full. I don’t want this to be a burden on you—”

“She is not a burden!” Regina snapped at her.

“I know she’s not! Would you stop twisting my words?”

“Would you stop saying idiotic things?”

“I’m just—”

“You’re just creating problems where there aren’t any.”

“I’m only—”

“I think we’re done here, Sheriff.”

“I don’t—”

“I hope this won’t be an issue any longer, don’t you agree?”

“But—”

“Now, I believe, you’re running very late. There are places you have to be, am I right?”

“I—”

“Say bye bye to your Mama, Allison, she is now going to go and catch some big, bad guys.”

Emma watched as her daughter lay a sleepy head on Regina’s shoulder, one fist bunching up the Mayor’s shirt, and raised the other to wave before putting a thumb in her mouth.

“I — er. Okay,” Emma said weakly, totally stumped. “All right. And yes, I am getting very late.”

She stepped forward and gently took Allison’s thumb out of her mouth. “Don’t let her do that. I’d rather not spend a fortune on taking her to an Orthodontist once she’s older.” Regina nodded once, tersely, and Emma kissed the back of the little hand and tucked it gently into the side. “Bye bye, baby,” she bent over the baby cheek, inhaling the combined scent of her daughter’s buttery, baby powder smell and Regina’s faint fruity perfume, and planted a kiss on Allison’s cheek, her eyes rising up to meet dark brown ones just inches away. “Thanks, Regina.”

“You’re welcome,” Regina said stiffly, still trying to act offended.

Emma smiled to herself before straightening, leaning forward and brushing her lips lightly against the Mayor’s cheek before turning around and hurrying to her car, leaving a very stunned Regina behind her.

***

A/N: Well, I love that last scene for so many reasons, not least of which is Regina Mills standing stunned, with a little girl on her hip. Can’t wait to hear what you guys think.

Thoughts and Headcanon:

IV. *Teething usually begins at 3-6 months (according to my extensive internet knowledge of babies!). Let’s say she’s almost four here. *Ruby is going to be the cool, favorite aunt who does all the fun things. *Let’s call the daycare center McPhee’s, shall we? *Ruby ships them, too, guise! xD

V. *Of course Regina would want a more esthetically pleasant building in the place of the already hurriedly built Sheriff’s Office, and of course she’d be completely OCD about the whole thing. * They chose Ionic pillars in the end. *Leo is one of those irritating, irritable, fussy, tantrum-throwing babies who look deceptively adorable (but in my head he grows up to be a fine, strapping lad, and he and Allison become best friends later). *Also, Leo’s name (I just realized the other day!) has nothing to do with Leopold. He’s just … such a Leo to me, this tantrum-prone adorable baby. I thought of changing but nothing else seems right, so Leo it is. *This particular giraffe has very floppy ears. Just sayin’. Also, he’s called Mr. Flutterwinkle but since that is a very hard to pronounce name, I won’t inflict it on our baby. *Allison looks a lot like bb!JMo. I won’t have it any other way! *Yes, Henry calls her Little Bird. Ironic when you see she ends up calling him Hen-Hen and Henny. *Henry hates mowing lawns. He doesn’t like the way freshly cut grass smells, it makes his eyes water. *Also, he does have a harmless little crush on Ruby. Oh, to be twelve and crushing hard on somebody impossible! I think we’ve all been there.

VI. *95 Mifflin Street because 95 was my roll number in med school. Apparently, if you get called a number for four years, you tend to get really attached to it. I always squee very hard when I see Lightning McQueen. *Emma cooking with written recipes is totally me. I cannot cook unless I have written instructions to follow. Also, the pots and pans. *Ohai, show’s canon storyline! *nods* *Henry is totally a mini-Regina in some things. Exhibit one: urn. *Henry and Emma had a bet on the tyrant thing (the loser was gonna cough up money for the winner’s hot cocoa at Granny’s). Emma won (that was some Council meeting, I tell you, where the Sheriff called the Mayor a ‘tyrant’). Henry, smart kid and gentleman that he is, ordered a hot cocoa for Emma, and when she finished it (smirky cocoa moustache included), he turned to Ruby, calmly pointed at Emma, and said, “Put it on my mother’s tab.” *I know nothing about baseball. But the team is called the Storybrooke Wolves and they … erm, howl before and after every game (in case you wanna know). *Miss Ginger gave Leroy a concussion that day, by the way.

[inkfiction]

I wish you wrote the sad ending to your latest SQ fic. I thought it was heading that way anyway. You hit me right in the feels.

Now here's an anon after my own heart! This is about The Burgundy Stain — and I swear on my black, twisted soul (and it probably says a lot about my irrepairable, sadomasochistic psyche, I think) that it was supposed to be a sad fic, and may lightning strike me dead if I intended anyone to be happy at the end.

See, the fic was inspired by a song, and if you listen to it, there is nothing happy about the song. It was thought of as a sad fic, written as a sad fic, edited as a sad fic, and posted as a sad fic — from the very first line till the very last. Even the happy bits inside it are actually cleverly disguised sad bits. I was depressed for days after writing them. That is why I left the ending open, actually.

But it speaks a lot about the fandom, the fact that so many SQ shippers would choose to see things in a happier light when given the choice — I was a but surprised (but then that's because I love tragedies too much). Here's the deal: if you want, you can imagine Emma believed Regina and stayed. But if you want to go by how I intended it, then: no, Emma did not stay, and Regina realized too late that she did love her. I hope that satisfies you, anon?

[inkfiction]

A Kind of Comfort in You (1/4) — a Swan Queen fic

Title: A Kind of Comfort in You (1/4) Fandom: Once Upon a Time Pairing: Swan Queen (Emma Swan/Regina Mills) Spoilers/Warning: None. Tooth-rotting, tummy hurting fluff! Summary: AU-ish Storybrooke. Let’s pretend there is no curse, no magic, and Regina is just a mayor and Emma is just a sheriff. This is a SQ baby fic, but it is not your typical SQ baby fic. But maybe I’m deluding myself and it is. (After all a baby fic is a baby fic is a baby fic). You’ll have to decide yourself. Disclaimer: This is purely fictional. I own none of it.

AO3/FFNET

[...]

A/N: Sometimes, early in the morning, you get plot bunnies. This was a plot ninja! It didn’t let me rest until I wrote it, and it kept coming from all directions (honestly, I planned it as a 2-3k word fic and I’ve ended up with almost 30k), and it just ate away the past six months of my life (well, technically, five and a half, but I was rounding off ) and I have no idea how it happened. I have a dozen author’s notes spaced over the past six months, ranging from, ‘oh, I had the most adorable idea this morning!’ to ‘dear muse, please stop giving me more ideas for this fic!’ to ‘this is coming along nicely’ to ‘dafuq am I writing, wasting months of my life *deranged grumbling*’ to ‘holy shit! 25k!’ — you get the general idea. I’ve spent a lot (A LOT) of time on this fic so if you don’t like it, please don’t let me know! (JK. All your opinions are most welcome).

It is AU-ish but takes some events from the show in account. There may be an interval of several weeks to several months between parts, timeline wise.

Also, I know. I can smell the OOC-ness in the air, I can. Bear with me, it’s an AU, after all. Remember this is not the Queen’s story, this is the Mayor’s.

The title is from a Sara Bareilles song, and is being used totally out of context (of the song) here.

  I.

“Madam Mayor, Sheriff Swan is here to see you.”

Regina frowned at the stack of papers in front of her.

“Does she have an appointment?”

“No, she does not, Madam Mayor.”

Regina rolled her eyes. “Typical,” she huffed.

“Shall I tell her you can’t see her?”

“Would that it were so easy!” Regina sighed. Sheriff Swan was the last person she wanted to see. “She’ll just come back. Send her in.”

A moment later the door to her office opened to admit Emma Swan. Today she had let go of her red leather jacket, opting instead for the blue one. Regina thanked her lucky stars; she could not abide the red monstrosity. The Sheriff shuffled forward awkwardly, coming to a halt in front of her desk and sliding her hands in the hip pockets of her jeans.

“Hey,” she said.

Regina raised an eyebrow. “I’m hoping there’s a reason for this intrusion, Sheriff? I’m swamped with paperwork and I do not have a lot of time to spare.”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

This time both of Regina’s eyebrows shot up. “I wasn’t aware we were friends, Sheriff.”

“No, I — I know we’re not,” Emma sighed. “There’s just something I needed to tell you.”

“So titillating,” Regina tried not to roll her eyes. “I’m all ears.”

“Can I sit down?”

“Fine,” Regina barked. “Have a seat. May I offer you some tea? Or a glass of cider, perhaps?”

Emma frowned at her as she sat down in one of the chairs that lay across from the desk, unsure if she was serious or sarcastic. “No, thank you.” She opted for safe in the end.

“So,” Regina said. “What is it?”

“Erm,” Emma said, shifting awkwardly in her seat. “I thought it best if you heard it directly from me before someone else told you.”

“Tell me what, Sheriff Swan?”

“I, uh — I’m going to have Graham’s baby.”

The announcement was greeted by absolute silence, broken only by the snapping of the tip of Regina’s silver-nibbed pen. She glared at the little shard of metal before looking up at Emma.

“Your procreative habits are none of my concern, Sheriff,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Well,” said Emma. “I thought it’d be better if I told you myself.”

“How considerate of you,” said Regina. “Though I assure you there was no need.”

“Of course there was need!” Emma said incredulously. “Whatever happened between you and me and Graham—”

“There was nothing between you and me—”

“Look, what happened was—”

Regina snapped.

“What happened, Sheriff Swan, was that my boyfriend of several years cheated on me with you and then he went and got himself killed in a car crash right after I confronted the two of you about it!” Her voice got louder in the end.

“It was just one night, Regina,” Emma said tiredly. “And the two of you had already broken up.”

“I do not want to have this discussion, Sheriff.”

“The crash was nobody’s fault, Regina. He shouldn’t have been driving in that rain.”

“I will not have this conversation with you, Sheriff.”

“No,” Emma said. “I think it’s about time you and I talked about what happened. I’ve given you your space, I have respected your boundaries.” Regina scoffed. “But these issues need to be addressed now.”

“I think any chance of that went out the window the day you decided to sleep with my boyfriend,” Regina said, voice hard.

“He wasn’t your boyfriend anymore!” Emma’s tone was harsh but softened as she went on. “Look, I was lonely, it hadn’t exactly been a party in this town, and he was looking for a rebound. Stuff happened.”

“Yes,” Regina eyed her as if she was a speck of dirt on her immaculate glass table top. “That much is clear from your pronouncement.”

“Look,” Emma said placatingly. “Arguing won’t accomplish anything.”

“I am not looking to accomplish anything. I don’t need to. I am not the one who did anything wrong, and then came running to the wronged person wishfully thinking to make things right. Well, things don’t become right just like that.”

“Don’t victimize yourself, Madam Mayor. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Why are you doing this to me, Miss Swan? Isn’t it enough that he is lost to me forever? Graham was a good man.”

“I know that,” Emma said. “I mourned him, too! He was my boss, and mentor. He was my friend. And most of all, he was one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. And of all people, I think, he deserves to have his child brought into this world. If he was here right now, he wouldn’t want me to — whatever turn our relationship would have taken — he wouldn’t have — he’d have wanted the kid, and you know that.”

Regina looked away, lips set in a straight line; Emma went on.

“And even if we don’t consider that — and honestly that is not my only reason. I want a child.”

Regina raised her eyebrows. “Oh, now you want one?”

Emma shrugged. “I surprised myself, too. I don’t regret giving up Henry; I wish I hadn’t, I do, but I also know that I did the right thing. I could never, in a million years, have been able to do half of what you’ve done for him, and I am very grateful for that. Ten years ago I didn’t think I was capable of handling that responsibility.”

“And now you think you are?”

“Now,” Emma took a deep breath. “I’m willing to try.”

Regina glared at her, and then frowned. “I really don’t understand, what were you expecting from me? Absolution? Help?”

“I don’t need your help to bring up my child!”

“The fact that I am your son’s adoptive mother suggests otherwise.”

“That was a completely different circumstance!”

“Was it?” Regina cocked her head, her expression venomous. “Why am I inclined to think that your affair with Graham was a repeat performance of what must have happened ten years ago?”

Emma’s face blanched with fury.

“It wasn’t — you know nothing, nothing at all about what happened so I suggest you keep your mouth shut about it!”

Regina was slightly taken aback by the sheer vehemence of Emma’s tone. She opened her mouth for a comeback but then closed it without speaking. Emma took several deep breaths and looked away from Regina and outside the window.

“Must be some story,” Regina finally said but her voice lacked any bite.

“You know nothing,” Emma repeated, jaw set. “I was here as a courtesy. I thought because of your relationship with Graham, you deserved better than to hear something like this on the town’s grapevine.” She paused before taking another deep breath and going on. “Henry wasn’t — they weren’t exactly ideal circumstances. I’d rather you never mentioned it again. Especially in front of Henry.”

The tension in the room was palpable all of a sudden.

“Much as anyone might admire your sentiment, Sheriff, this wasn’t a good idea, nor was it a courtesy,” Regina said eventually.

“I think after Graham’s death—”

Regina closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Sheriff Swan,” she began in a steady tone but her voice wavered as she went on. “Thank you for taking the time to let me know. I offer you my felicitations, but I must really get back to my work now.”

It was a clear dismissal and Emma stood up.

“I wanted to take Henry to dinner, to let him know.”

Regina opened her mouth to utter a swift refusal before sighing and closing it.

“Fine,” she finally said. “Have him home by seven.”

“Thank you,” Emma said, relieved. She left, closing the door behind her. Regina waited for the footsteps to die down before picking up a paperweight and hurling it with all her might at the wall.

***

II.

Regina sank back into the booth she was sitting alone at, watching the scene unfolding before her eyes and wondering for probably the tenth time that evening why she had decided to come. No one had been surprised more than Regina herself when she had walked into the bedecked diner to attend Mary Margaret Blanchard and David Nolan’s wedding reception. She could not fathom why she had decided to attend it: the woman irked her to no end — she could’ve strangled her cheerfully if she thought she could get away with it — she had broken her friend’s heart (that the said friend was right now happily ensconced in the gym teacher’s very willing, very strong arms was a fact she chose to ignore in that moment), and what was more, she was best friends with Emma Swan!

She tried to glare at the ‘Congratulations to the Happy Couple’ banner hung across the diner and not at the groups that had formed in front of her, but failed. The smaller group comprised of the blushing bride, the beaming groom, and a gaggle of felicitators.

At the center of the larger of the two groups was the maid of honor. Somebody moved and Regina had a clear view of Emma in her moss green dress — she was glowing! The woman actually seemed to be glowing from the tips of her blond curls to her blush pink cheeks to the flat, strappy green sandals on her feet, her little baby bump proudly sticking out and somehow not looking awkward at all. The color of the dress really brought out her eyes and she was smiling from ear to ear, one hand splayed on her expanding belly and the other gesturing animatedly at Marco, who had a rapturous expression on his face, and Archie, who looked enthralled.

“She had a big day today, Emma did,” said a voice, snapping her out of her chain of thoughts as a flute of champagne was placed in front of her. Regina looked up to find Ruby dressed in a simple, off-white bridesmaids dress. The girl looked much prettier without her garish reds, Regina noticed.

“A best friend’s wedding is a big day, I suppose,” she said.

“Yeah, that was one of the things,” Ruby said as she raised a hand at Ashley who was waving her over from across the diner. She took a deep breath before going on. “Madam Mayor, we are having a baby shower for Emma next week. It’s on Sunday at five PM. If you want to come—”

“Miss Lucas,” Regina interrupted her. “Do I look like I want to come to Sheriff Swan’s baby anything?”

“Well, all right,” Ruby raised her hands placidly. “No need to get pissed. You came here, didn’t you? And I only mentioned the shower because Henry was really excited about it.”

She shrugged and walked away towards Ashley, and Regina sighed. What had she been thinking! She was never going to live this down. And of course Henry would want to go to that … thing. And of course he would want to bring a gift with him. The things one had to do to make their children happy! She thought of and rejected several choices before she realized what she was contemplating. Anger raised its head, followed by a feeling of despair: she should have realized what she was getting herself into when she decided to come here. She stared morosely into the bubbly depths of the champagne, angry at herself, until a shadow fell across the table. Regina looked up to find Emma walking towards her, two plates piled with cake in her hands.

“Sheriff Swan,” Regina said, suppressing a sigh.

“Madam Mayor,” Emma said, smiling broadly. “Still breathing fire on the locals, I see.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Have some cake,” Emma said, putting a plate in front of Regina, placing the other on the table and sliding into the opposite end of the booth. She let out a pleased sigh when her back came into contact with the booth, and smiled at Regina who narrowed her eyes suspiciously at this genial attitude.

“No, thank you,” she said, pushing the plate away.

“It is very good, don’t be ridiculous,” Emma pushed the plate back.

Regina sighed and picked up the fork. The cake did look pretty good.

“There. It wasn’t that hard,” Emma beamed at her.

“Why are you so happy?” Regina stabbed at the cake.

“It is my best friend’s wedding.”

“Mmhm?” Regina said around the chocolaty forkful in her mouth.

“Aaaaaaand,” Emma took a deep breath. “I found out this morning that I’m having a girl!” She announced and looked expectantly at Regina, looking like a proud little child herself. Regina smiled in spite of herself.

“Congratulations,” she said and was only a little disconcerted when she realized she meant it.

“Thank you.”

The congratulatory atmosphere was short-lived, though.

“I suppose I’ll have to hire a Deputy Sheriff soon,” Regina said sourly.

“Yes, I’m looking at candidates.”

“Really?” Regina raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Yes, I was thinking Ruby—”

“No. She is a very rude girl.”

Emma laughed. “Had the spunk to stand up to you, did she?”

“Look for someone else.”

“Well,” Emma said. “There’s David.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Sidney?”

“No!”

“That leaves us with … Leroy.”

“Heavens save us!”

“Then that leads us right back to Ruby. There aren’t a lot of choices available here.”

“Well, look harder.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’m looking. You will have a list soon.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Regina said drily. “I hope you will be more careful with that than you were with, say, my ex-boyfriend.”

“Ouch! Below the belt, Regina!”

“Well—”

“And — not that it’s any of your business — but we were careful! Sometimes these things just happen.”

“Dear—”

“No,” said Emma. “No. it’s a beautiful day. My best friend just got married to the love of her life, and I’m going to have a baby girl! No, not even you in your fire-breathing dragon’s corner will bring me down. I will not get into an argument with you today.”

Regina just rolled her eyes. “What are you doing about the accommodation?”

“Huh?” Emma narrowed her eyes at this sudden shift in the topic.

“The living situation, Sheriff Swan.”

“Oh. Suddenly changing topics, are we?”

“I’m just making conversation,” Regina said. “I gather Mr. Nolan is moving in with Miss Blanchard — Mrs. Nolan now, I suppose.”

“She’s keeping her name.”

“How very — forward of her,” Regina said neutrally.

“Yeah, well. And he is. Moving in, I mean. I’m at Granny’s until I find a suitable place.”

Regina watched the newly-weds stand up, hand in hand. David began a speech.

“Well,” she said, sounding as if each word was being dragged out of her. “There is a single-story, two-bedroom house for sale on Mifflin Street. You might want to look into that.”

Emma looked surprised, but not as surprised as Regina herself. “Why, thank you, Madam Mayor. I will do that the first thing tomorrow!”

Regina just looked away at David as if she was unable to believe herself.

“And in the end,” David was saying. “I’d like to announce to you guys — we’re going to have a baby!”

The diner erupted in cheers, everyone clapping loudly and Emma let out a loud whoop. Regina groaned and looked away, wondering for the twentieth time why she had decided to come at all.

  III.

“Good morning, Deputy. May I know what are th — Sheriff Swan?” Regina paused inside the entrance to the Sheriff’s office when her eyes fell not on Ruby’s usual bright red ensemble as she had been expecting but on the heavily pregnant Sheriff clad in a flowing and ugly blue maternity dress. “That is a positively hideous dress.”

Emma cringed, waddling around her desk. “I know,” she said. “But I don’t fit into anything else and all my sweats are dirty and I haven’t had the chance or the courage to do my laundry yet. Plus this was a gift. From Granny,” Emma rolled her eyes.

Regina could not help the smirk that crossed her lips. “Yes, that is obvious.”

“Well, not everyone can give cashmere baby blankets,” Emma smiled at her knowingly.

Regina flushed slightly. “That was from Henry. He chose it.”

“Of course, Henry would know where to get such a thing, why didn’t I think of that?”

“Sheriff—”

“Thank you, though. It is one of my favorite gifts from the baby shower.”

Regina blushed even more. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be working from home. Where is Deputy Lucas?”

“Yes, well, I got bored,” Emma made a face. “Ruby is out looking at a break-in, and my mountain of paperwork was finished so I came over to pick up some more.”

“Yes, law enforcement paperwork must make for some really fascinating reading,” Regina said sweetly.

“It gets lonely at home,” Emma almost pouted. “I wanted to take a general look around and stuff.”

Regina frowned. “Isn’t the baby due next month?”

“She is.”

“Sheriff Swan, this is no time for you to be driving around alone!”

“Jeez, Regina, I’m fine. I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”

“Well, if you keep being so reckless, you might as well be one—”

“Regina, driving from Mifflin Street to Sheriff’s Station can hardly be considered reckless!”

“You shouldn’t be driving at all! Next time you get an urge for some adventure, call Miss Blanchard.”

“She’s pregnant, too!”

“Call Deputy Lucas.”

“She—”

“Call me, all right?” Regina snapped. “I’m not pregnant, I’m not likely to be out investigating stray cats or break-ins. And we live on the same street!”

Emma could not help but smile at that.

“It is not amusing!”

“No. No, it isn’t. Thank you. You’re good people, Regina.”

Something flashed in Regina’s eyes before she could school her expression into neutrality. “Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Dragon. Fire,” Emma muttered and Regina rolled her eyes. “Why did you come here, anyway? Checking on the Deputy?”

“No, actually I wanted to know why there are still construction implements and other instruments littered outside.”

“Oh, those!” Emma grimaced. “Ruby said they’re still working down in the basement. In the boiler room.”

Regina’s eyebrows snapped together. “I thought that was supposed to be done two days ago?”

“Well, there was a lot more work than they had initially anticipated. This is quite an old building, after all. Then they dropped something on a pipe and—”

“They did what? Imbeciles!”

“Yeah, well. The super said that he thought the boiler was making funny noises, so he called in someone to check those. All that jazz.”

“And why is this the first time I’m hearing of it?”

“Really, Regina, I don’t think the repairs at the Sheriff’s office require the Mayor to be a part of it.”

“The Mayor is a part of everything, Sheriff. And since these days your Deputy is handling these things—”

“I know, I get it,” Emma rolled her eyes. “She should’ve let you know since I was not here. I’ll have a word with her, okay?”

“Please, do,” Regina said. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“Regina, I’m perfectly capable of going home myself in my Bug just like I came.”

“That wasn’t optional, Sheriff,” Regina told her. “And that car of yours is a deathtrap!”

“Hey, be respectful to the Bug, it’s be—” Emma began, but stopped, frowning. “Hey. Do you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“The ground — it’s vibrating!”

“It isn’t,” Regina said, but then her eyes widened. “Sheriff, are you sure the baby’s not coming?” She sounded slightly panicked.

“No, of course she’s not coming!” Emma said. “She’s gotta stay put another month. But the ground—” She was interrupted as the earth suddenly shuddered violently beneath their feet.

“It is shaking!” Regina turned horrified eyes on her.

“Do you think it’s an earthquake?”

“We can discuss what it is later on! We need to get out of here right now, come on!”

Emma hurried forward as much as she could but she was halfway across the room when there was a muffled pop from below and the walls and then the floor exploded; she saw the west window blown away and a crack in the floor that ran through the room and right underneath the Mayor’s feet, rending the floor apart and widening at an alarming rate.

“Regina!” Emma wasn’t aware how, but she threw herself at the other woman, they skedaddled across the floor a mere instant before the ground caved in at the very spot Regina had been standing. When the debris settled down a little, they found themselves stranded in the corner where the east and south walls met. The room around them was in shambles.

Emma gulped, staring at the wreckage around them in horror, and then at the woman in her arms, heart hammering in her chest. “Regina? Are you okay?”

Regina looked back at her with wide, horrified eyes, her face drained of color, and nodded.

“Are you sure?” Emma asked.

“What just happened?”

“I think the boiler exploded.”

“Oh my God!” Regina said, voice shaky.

“Exactly,” Emma said, and then, “Regina? Remember how I told you the baby wasn’t coming?” She saw Regina’s eyes widen even more and nodded. “Yeah. My water just broke.”

“No,” Regina shook her head as if that would undo it. “No, you cannot be having this baby right now!”

“Apparently,” Emma said as her knees buckled and she clutched Regina harder to stand upright. “She disagrees.”

Regina held her and lowered her carefully to the floor.

“I’m going to get you out of here.”

“Really?” Emma grimaced, clutching at her swollen belly. “Have you taken a look around?” She pointed out. “The main exit is blocked by debris, the windows blew away when the floor exploded, and the roof is caved in over the emergency exit!”

“Your assessment skills in a time of crisis are admirable, Sheriff! And people call me a pessimist!” Regina snapped at her as her eyes took in everything the Sheriff had just enumerated and her heart sank. “Oh, God. What am I supposed to do?”

Emma closed her eyes as the first contraction hit her. “Call,” she said between clenched teeth. “Call for help.”

“I am useless! Useless in a crisis!” Regina said as she gave one hand to Emma to squeeze and whipped out her phone with the other.

“You’re doing fine,” Emma told her, gently squeezing her hand. “Don’t panic. Call Ruby, she will know how to get us out.”

An hour and a half later, it turned out that no one knew how to get them out. Because whatever angle they decided to approach the wreckage at, it threatened to lead to the disruption of the precarious balance that was responsible for holding the remaining part of the roof on top of their heads. Heavy-weight lifting cranes were not available in Storybrooke (I knew I would need one of those when I told Dr. Whale to order an MRI machine, instead!). Portland PD was called and they agreed to bring some over but said it would take some time for them to reach. The interval between Emma’s contractions had lessened from twenty minutes to ten to something less than that.

Regina screamed at someone at the other end of the line to hurry up before disconnecting the call and fuming, unable to do anything more than that.

“Regina,” Emma stilled the Mayor’s frantically moving hands.

“They’re trying,” Regina said, words tripping out of her mouth in a rush. “We’ll get you out of here.”

“Regina,” Emma repeated, and finally the Mayor looked at her, eyes wide and wild. “She is coming, Regina. Now! And I need you to help me.”

Regina shook her head, panic rising in dark eyes. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t do that. I’ll do something wrong, I’ll—”

“Regina!” Emma said in a sterner tone that brought the Mayor up short. “I need you to pull yourself together, okay?”

“No, dammit!” Regina snapped before taking a deep breath. “Why do you think I adopted in the first place? I’m not cut out for this stuff!”

“Regina—”

“I can’t…”

“I need you to help me. I need you, okay? Do you hear me?”

Regina shook her head once more, a tear slipping down one cheek, hands dashing furiously at her eyes. “I knew it!” She managed in a choked voice. “I knew it the moment I let you stay in my town! I knew you were up to no good! Nothing but trouble!”

Emma laughed out loud, stopping only when the next contraction hit her. “Ouch. That was sooner than I expected!” She gasped. “Regina, you need to call Dr. Whale, okay? He will guide you.”

“I don’t get paid enough to do this!” Regina grumbled, voice shaking, as she looked for Dr. Whale’s number in her contacts.

“You know,” Emma wheezed through the pain, clutching at Regina’s hand. “You should count yourself lucky, I don’t let just anyone see my hoo-ha!”

“Not enough!” Regina shook her head.

“Hey,” Emma said, not letting go of her hand even when the pain lessened. “You can do this, you listen to me? You can do this.” She looked at Regina until the Mayor met her eye and nodded, then she slumped back against the wall and closed her eyes. “Good. Now that is exactly what you need to keep telling me until this is over, okay?”

“But you’ve done this before!” Regina’s voice shook as panic gripped her once again.

“I might’ve been in juvie at the time, Regina, but I still got to give birth to Henry in a hospital! On the date he was actually due!”

“Nothing but trouble!” Regina repeated weakly as she took off her coat and folded back her sleeves.

  The next hour was the most difficult one either woman had ever spent in their lives. The tiny speakers of Regina’s phone made Dr. Whale’s grave voice sound tinny and slightly comical as he spouted instructions about crowning, dilation, head positions and attachment of cord. He was surprisingly thorough for which both of them were grateful. Regina’s OCD cleaning habits paid off when she produced sanitizer and a shiny and clean pen knife from her bag to cut the cord. It took an hour, maybe more, of constant instructions and encouragements from Dr. Whale, screams of ‘You need to push harder’ and ‘I am pushing, you bloody morons!’ and a vast number of even more colorful expletives from all sides until finally first the little blond head and then the tiny shoulders and then the rest of the small body were out and the cord was cut. A cheer went up outside the ruined Sheriff’s station; apparently the whole town was out there.

The baby let out a cry. Regina had heard of lusty cries but this was the first time she understood what it actually meant: this baby was full of life, and hungry for more. No wonder she had wanted to come out a month earlier.

“Is she all right?” came Emma’s voice, weak after all the effort.

“She’s beautiful. And perfect,” Regina said, wrapping the little one in the coat she had taken off earlier.

“Allison. Her name is Allison,” Emma whispered before passing out.

“Hey, Allison,” Regina said in a soft voice as she smoothed back the limp blond hair plastered to the little forehead. “Here you go to your — Emma? Oh God!”

She scrambled forward, disregarding Dr. Whale’s urgent instructions on the phone and checked the Sheriff’s pulse, which was weak, and then she began to shake Emma lightly with one hand, the other keeping a firm grip on the baby. When Emma did not budge, panic took hold of her. The shaking became a little more forceful.

“Emma! Wake up, please! Emma Swan! Don’t you dare die on me now or I swear to God I will revive you somehow just to murder you with my bare hands! Do you understand? EMMA!”

“Ow,” Emma’s lips moved. “Would you keep it low? I just gave birth here and everything, including my head, really hurts.”

Regina laughed out loud, feeling boneless with relief. “Yeah, okay,” she whispered. “Okay.”

***

A/N: Well, here goes nothing. Can’t wait to hear what you guys think.

Here is a lot of head canon and thoughts I have for this fic. Just thought I’d share; there are bits in there I find amusing and thought you guys might, as well.

I. *Regina’s secretary is called Leslie. I have no idea why. She’s been a Leslie to me ever since ‘Through Leaves of Green’, though I took her out in the re-edits. *We all know about the famous confrontation. Punches thrown and all. *Regina’s pen was Mont Blanc, of course. *Regina later covered the (not inconsiderable) dent with an abstract painting.

II. *Moss-green because have you seen Jen in moss green? She glows! *Bridesmaids were in cream-colored dresses: Ruby and Ashley. *Regina’s present to the newly-weds was a heavy, silver candelabra (just in case one of them wants to bash the other on the head someday, you know; handy thing to have around). *I have no idea why I am writing these points. *The cake was vanilla syrup chocolate cake. Now, vanilla isn’t my favorite thing in the world, but trust me when I say you haven’t lived until you’ve tasted this cake.

III. *Because exploding boilers and world’s/TV’s/cinema’s most clichéd birth scene just go hand in hand. I just wanted Regina to be there, okay. So sue me. *Portland, just because. I’m tired of every Storybrooke thing being pointed towards/from Boston. *Allison for Dr. Allison Cameron, what else! (Duh!)

[inkfiction]

The Burgundy Stain — a Swan Queen fic

Title: The Burgundy Stain Fandom: Once Upon a Time Pairing: Swan Queen (Emma Swan/Regina Mills) Spoiler/Warning: Not really. Angst. Summary: It’s like her own personal fairytale, and Regina is everything a girl can ever ask for, and more. She can’t imagine she had ever contemplated leaving this place or taking her son away from Regina. This right here, the three of them, it is the happiest ending possible. Disclaimer: This is purely fictional. I own none of it.

[…]

A/N: The idea had been there months ago, when I first chanced upon the lyrics of ‘The Burgundy Stain’, it just took me this long to give it form. Thomas Bartlett’s voice is made of sad, slow, rainy evenings, and lonely piano chords. You can listen to the song here (it is very slow, beware). Also (as per my usual stories) this fic is prone to get sad. The interval between flashbacks varies.

I know I have been pretty absent for the past few months. I won’t give any excuses except that it’s not been an easy time, and I know it gets tiresome waiting on a blog that just doesn’t get updated, and I understand all of you who unfollowed. I would, too. But I wanna thank the ones who stuck it out: you guys are awesome. And believe me when I say I am really, really trying to finish all the incomplete stuff. Now, read on. Hope you like it! xD

…

Broken together, lonely apart it colors your lips, it colors your heart if the story’s broken, well, it’s easy to mend and if you don’t love her, you can always pretend

the air goes still now, and it’s starting to rain but it won’t wash away the burgundy stain      ~The Burgundy Stain — Doveman

…

“Did you ever love me?” Emma asks from the other side of the bed, face turned away, towards the wall.

There is silence, and then:

“No,” says Regina.

***

“Sheriff,” says the Mayor. “I hope you prepared your speech well in hand?”

Emma turns away from the mirror in the hallway to look at Regina, nonplussed. “Speech?”

“Yes, Miss Swan, the speech. It is customary for the newly elected Sheriff to give a speech at the ceremony,” Regina says, eyeing Emma’s uniform critically. “Or did you not know that?”

“No,” Emma lets out a sigh and turns back to the mirror, trying to straighten the tie on her Sheriff’s uniform and instead managing to run it even more askew.

Regina rolls her eyes. “Come here,” she orders in the same tone she uses on Henry when he tries to wriggle out of eating his broccoli.

Unsurprisingly, Emma obeys.

“A tie is the simplest of things,” Regina says, unraveling Emma’s ungainly knot and starting anew.

“Agree to disagree,” Emma says, face flushing as Regina’s fingertips brush again and again against her neck, caressing her throat, uncomfortable at the Mayor’s close proximity.

“Even Henry could’ve taught you this knot,” Regina says, fingers light and deft, and dancing around on Emma’s chest which suddenly feels very constricted to Emma.

“Well,” she says. “It’s not like I am going to wear this ridiculous uniform ever again.”

“Pity. It suits you well.”

Emma blushes rather prettily.

“Occasions might arise, Sheriff, you never know.”

Emma shrugs. “Then I’ll be ordering a clip on, I think.”

Regina almost gasps. “No sheriff of mine is ever going to wear something as — tacky as a clip on tie!”

“Guess you’ll be stuck with tie duty, then.”

“Guess I will be.”

“Why are you being nice to me?”

“I am a nice person.”

“Not as far as I know.”

“Maybe you need to know me better,” Regina says, a smile on her lips that can be called nothing but mischievous, and then, smoothing down the ugly brown tie one last time, fingers lingering for a fraction of a second longer than is necessary, she turns on her heels and leaves.

***

“Never? Not once? Not one tiny bit?”

The silence is longer this time.

“No,” Regina finally says.

***

She is at the Sheriff’s station when Emma returns; it’s later in the night than expected and she is leaning against Emma’s desk, tapping away at her phone. She puts it down when she sees Emma, on whose face the surprise of finding the Mayor in her office at this time of the night is evident.

“I saw Michael Tillman’s truck a while ago. Seems like he took the children in, after all.”

“He did,” Emma says shortly.

“I wonder what happened.”

“My car broke down and I called for a mechanic. Guess he had a change of heart when he saw the kids with his own eyes.”

“Well, what a fairytale! Once again Sheriff Swan saves the day. It’s becoming quite the theme here in Storybrooke.”

“No thanks to you,” Emma, clearly, is still pissed.

“I did the best I could, Sheriff. I followed the rules.”

“Sure you did. What do you want, Regina?”

“Many things,” says Regina with a faint smile. “But doesn’t everyone?”

Emma sighs, weariness creeping into her body. “What do you want right now?”

Regina tilts her head to a side to look at Emma.

“Have you been crying?” Her voice is much softer this time.

“What? No,” Emma feels the prickling in her eyes again even as she denies it. “Why would I cry?”

“Really, Sheriff Swan, for all the tough act you put up, you are actually just a sentimental sap.”

Emma’s jaw hardens. “Glad we cleared that up. Will you please leave now? I had a long day and I have a report to write.”

“Have lunch with me tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Lunch, Sheriff. I’m asking you to eat with me.”

“Why?”

Regina sighs.

“Why do two attractive people ever eat together, Sheriff?”

“Like — like a date?” Emma stutters.

“You could call it that if it makes you feel better.”

Emma’s eyes are wide as saucers.

“You’re asking me out?”

“Slow, aren’t you?”

Emma opens her mouth and then closes it without saying anything.

Regina smiles. “Pick me up at 1.30 from the Town Hall. I know just the place, and, no, it’s not Granny’s.”

Emma just stares at her and Regina rolls her eyes.

“Do we have a date, Sheriff?”

Emma nods, dumbfounded.

“Good. See you tomorrow, then.”

  Where Regina takes her is a little place filled with warm, golden lights and honeysuckle scented candles. Their table is in a cozy little corner beside a window. On the sill are flowerpots overflowing with blossoms — tiny white and yellow ones, and bunches of purple.

Regina breaks a sprig.

“Rosemary,” she says, placing it in Emma’s slightly sweaty palm, deep violet over pale skin. “For remembrance, it is said.”

***

Emma remembers the sprig, still pressed between the pages of her favorite book.

“It was all lies?”

“All of them.”

***

Their fourth lunch date — if it is to be called that; they just sit and eat and talk a little — Emma is unable to make it because of a mountain of paper work so Regina brings take out. She sits on the edge of the desk, coat off, white shirtsleeves rolled up, and watches as Emma’s untidy scrawl fills page after page.

“Is this some way of showing me that I work you too hard? A peaceful, Gandhi-esque protest?”

Emma rolls her eyes. “I am not trying to prove any points. It’s the end of the month and these files have to be finished.”

“So you’re saying you’ve been lazy all month?”

Emma raises exasperated eyes to look at Regina, sitting there, legs dangling childishly to and fro. “Why did you never consider being a lawyer?”

“I did,” Regina says. “Being Mayor seems more fun.”

“Right,” Emma gets back to work. “Fun.”

“Food’s getting cold,” Regina says after a while.

“Start eating.”

Regina makes a noncommittal sound in her throat.

“What, not hungry?”

“I don’t want to eat alone,” Regina says softly.

Emma’s pen pauses, and then she puts it down with a sigh. “All right. I suppose I’ve earned a break,” she says, and stands up.

And that’s when Regina pulls her into herself, eliciting a faint gasp. Silencing it with her lips, her arms go around Emma’s neck, legs exerting pressure to keep her prisoner. For a few moments Emma freezes, and then her hands slide up Regina’s arms, slow, hesitant, her lips return the pressure, mirror the movement. Regina’s lips are soft and her tongue is softer and somewhat magical.

Soon breathing becomes an issue.

“Food’s getting cold,” Emma says, voice breathless as she forces herself to move away, and Regina laughs.

***

“I don’t understand.” Emma’s voice is a little broken, and very sad. “Why? Why would you—?”

“I didn’t want to lose my son,” Regina says, voice toneless.

“I wasn’t — I’d never — I — so, you — I thought you loved me!”

“Well. I didn’t.”

***

Their first time together, the morning after, Emma is woken by soft, insistent kisses all over her face and the tip of a cold nose snuggling into the side of her neck. The sky outside is still a pearly grey and Emma groans.

“The sun isn’t even out yet, jeez! We just slept, Regina!”

“Hmm,” Regina says, pressing closer. “I didn’t want you to run away before I woke up.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Really?”

“No,” Emma sighs and turns over to face her. “Okay. I probably would have.”

“Now you don’t have to.”

Emma runs a hand down Regina’s bare arm. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or terrified.”

Regina laughs, entwining their fingers with each other.

“If you’re scared,” she says, shifting her weight and entangling their legs. “I know some pretty effective remedies,” she maneuvers her torso on top of Emma’s. “You know.”

“Hooboy! Do I ever!” Emma says suddenly breathless.

“I’m not going to let you run away,” Regina trails a line of kisses along Emma’s neck and whispers in her ear.

The next half hour is a glorious recap of the whole night they’ve just spent, and Emma finds herself beneath the Mayor and her glittering dark eyes, lips stretched into a dazzling smile, dark hair in utter disarray. Emma raises a hand, long fingers cupping a smooth, olive cheek, and Regina tilts her head to a side to place a gentle kiss on the pulse on Emma’s wrist. Emma lets out a soft, content sigh.

“I love you.”

It is a bare whisper but Emma hears it and is suddenly, completely still for a moment. “Y-you do?” She stumbles on her words; it is kind of adorable. “I mean—”

Regina’s forefinger taps her mouth, silencing her; she replaces it with her lips. The kiss is slow, lazy, and long. It leaves Emma slightly dazed, and with a goofy little smile on her lips.

“Me, too,” she whispers against Regina’s lips.

***

“But you said you did.”

“I say a lot of things.”

“You said—”

“I lied.”

***

There is nothing special about the day except that Emma is chopping onions in Regina’s kitchen. Regina isn’t home, neither is Henry.

Earlier that morning Emma catches a couple of kids cutting class and trying to vandalize the convent walls. She apprehends them, arrests them, fines them, gives each a couple of months of Community service, and is so pleased with her work that she gives herself the rest of the day off, leaving a deputy in charge. And since she’s recently taken to experimenting with food, she lets herself into Regina’s house, and, after carefully browsing the internet, selects a recipe that seemed easy peasy on the web pages, but hence far is proving slightly tricky. Although Regina does have a well-stocked kitchen (Emma has shown her appreciation by making herself two different kinds of sandwiches, and is thinking about a third one while she tries to do cook-y things).

So when Regina peeks in (wondering what were the strange ‘whack! whaaaack! whump!’ sounds in her kitchen), she finds Emma poring over the cutting board, trying to chop the onions into even squares — and failing. The cutting board is a riot of onion pieces in every shape but square.

“Emma! What are you doing?”

The reply to this greeting sounds something like, “Heyaaaaow! Ow!”

And it is Regina’s fault, really. She should have known that Emma Swan, a chopping board, a big knife, and a sudden greeting do not make for a recipe for success. Now the marble counter is speckled with blood; it drips down an index finger, thick, red, copiously. Regina sighs as she marches forward to grab the Sheriff’s hand to raise it above her head and lead her out of the kitchen.

The expression on Emma’s face is that of a lamb being led off to slaughter, and Regina is amused. Which, Emma thinks, is unfair.

Five minutes later the wounded finger is swaddled in gauze and Emma sits on the couch, feeling like a martyr and smelling strongly of antiseptic and onions. Regina is still amused until she’s nervous. And then she gets down on one knee, pinstriped suit and all, and reaches inside her jacket. And there’s a Tiffany blue box in her hand, and there’s a very bright, shiny ring in the box. And then Emma is crying.

“You’re crying?” Regina gets worried. “Why are you crying?”

“Onions!” Emma says and cries some more.

The ring is a perfect fit.

***

“I believed you.”

“You believed a lot of things.”

“How can you lie about loving someone?”

“One can lie about anything.”

“But you asked me to marry you!”

“I did what I had to do.”

***

They get married in late May under Regina’s apple tree which is in full blossom. Henry is probably the first boy in the history to give away one mother while being the best man to the other (they draw straws, and Regina gets the best man). In one of the few girly moments of her life, Emma decides to wear a dress. For once she chooses simply and wisely: a simple, off the shoulder, white column dress, and Regina is the one who waits under the altar in a white suit.

The sky is cerulean and the grass has never been greener. The air smells of spring. They say ‘I do’ and apple blossoms gently rain down on them as Henry hands them the simple white gold bands.

At the reception, they dance to Nina Simone, and Dean Martin, and Regina spins Emma until she’s dizzy, and then she kisses her until she’s even dizzier, and Emma’s never been so happy in her life before. Ever.

It’s like her own personal fairytale, and Regina is everything a girl can ever ask for, and more. She can’t imagine she had ever contemplated leaving this place or taking her son away from Regina. This right here, the three of them, it is the happiest ending possible. For the first time in her life, Emma can see the happiness, and it is not fleeting; she can see it going on and on, forever.

For the first time in her life Emma believes in fairytales and happy endings.

They settle into a routine pretty soon, with their jobs and their son. If there are ever arguments, or if Regina is ever snappy, she makes up for it later, at night, when they are alone. There is talk of babies and other things, and Emma thinks this is life.

This is everything she never knew she wanted, or needed.

***

“Why?”

“You were going to take my son away from me.”

“And this was the only thing you could come up with?”

“I did what I had to do.”

***

And then it is the silliest thing, one of her own harebrained mistakes. She leaves in a hurry one morning and forgets her badge at home. A badge less town Sheriff just doesn’t do, so she comes back to get it.

There are voices coming from the study.

“Our business is now conducted. I think you better leave.”

“Such a charitable host as always, Madam Mayor.”

“The door’s right there, I trust you can show yourself out.”

The scrape of a chair, the thump of a walking stick, a few dragging footsteps, and then:

“You should really think about coming clean, one of these days.”

There is a heavy silence in the room; Regina’s voice cuts through it like a whip.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t you think your silly little love story has gone far enough?”

“I don’t do love stories.”

“Oh, but things one does for their children, dearie,” his voice is honey sweet but his tone is cruel. “Like pretending to love someone you actually hate with all your heart, and marrying them so that they can’t take your child away.”

Emma’s heart skips a few beats in the quiet that follows, and then Regina’s voice comes, soft, precise.

“I don’t actually hate her.”

“Oh, that’s right,” he lets out a mocking little laugh. “What was it you said? You feel nothing for her. That’s worse than hate, don’t you think?”

Emma’s heart shatters.

And, strangely, pathetically, in that moment she wishes not that she had never fallen in love with or married Regina, no. She wishes she had never forgotten her badge at home that day, never stopped outside the study to listen to the conversation going on inside, never uncovered what lay beneath the golden mask of her happiness, because this, this truth, this reality is so terrible that she wishes it had never come out.

All she had wanted had been a happy ending.

She’s too slow to leave, and clumsy; she stumbles into one of Regina’s spiffy little vases. It falls. Crystal shatters into a hundred pieces. She looks up to find Regina looking at her with horrified eyes from the doorway to her study.

“Emma…” she begins.

Emma doesn’t stop, she turns, sending another vase crashing to the floor, and runs out of the room, out of the house. Gold’s laughter rings in her ears even after she’s in her office and the door is locked behind her back.

***

“So, if not before, what about now?” Emma says, voice getting hoarser as it gets harder to not cry. “Do you, Regina? Because I do, with all my heart. Do you?”

The silence that greets this question and stretches late into the morning is answer enough, she thinks.

The only sound that eventually comes is a single sob, and Emma knows it’s her own.

***

Emma packs her bag as the first rays of sun light up the world. But ‘packing’ maybe isn’t the word. She just dumps a couple of her old jeans, a few shirts and a spare jacket in an old duffel bag she brought from Boston and never threw away despite Regina’s several ultimatums. Minimal toiletries follow.

Outside, on the apple tree, sparrows sing.

The rest of the house is shrouded in that early morning silence; Henry hasn’t woken up yet. Regina sits up and watches. A pair of boots goes in next, and then her baby blanket. Emma picks up the framed picture of Henry from the side table, and then pauses before adding the frame beside it to the bag as well.

It shows the three of them on their wedding day, captured in the moment Henry was handing them the rings. The smiles on their faces are beatific.

All false, Emma thinks as she wipes the tears that have been flowing silently for how long, she doesn’t know. All lies. All wrong.

She dresses quickly but efficiently: dark jeans, wife beater, grey shirt, red jacket, boots. She almost looks like the Emma who came to Storybrooke two and a half years ago. Almost.

She zips the bag, the sound deafening in the silent room, and finally looks at Regina.

“Don’t tell Henry. Just — tell him that I ran away. Left without a note. Something like that.”

She picks up her keys and phone from the dresser.

“Don’t go,” Regina’s voice is so soft, so low, it’s barely audible.

Emma pauses and looks up for a moment from where she is trying to zip up her jacket. She shakes her head before looking down again to complete the task. She steps forward and hefts the bag onto her shoulder.

“Emma, please.”

Regina’s voice shakes slightly this time, and Emma makes herself not look because she knows that Regina’s crying. Emma knows she is, too. And she doesn’t know what is worse — the pleading excuses Regina gave when Emma had finally come home from the Sheriff’s station, or the toneless, emotionless demeanor she adopted when those excuses didn’t work, or this. Because Regina sounds like somebody is ripping her soul from her body, and for a moment Emma wavers, and then she remembers she’s been living a lie for the past two years, that most probably this is a lie as well, and her heart shatters all over again.

She turns, head bent, and reaches for the door handle.

“Emma!” It’s desperate. “I do. Please, Emma. I do!”

Emma pauses, one foot outside already, hand gripping the door frame; the bag on her shoulder strains her trapezius as she turns her neck to look back.

Regina is standing at the foot of the bed, face colorless, eyes bright as the morning sun, voice shaky.

“I do.”

Emma pauses for a very long moment.

***

“I do,” Regina says, voice barely more than a whisper. “I do, I do, I do! I always did!”

***

A/N: And the ending, dear reader, I leave to you. Because I know what I would’ve written and that makes me sad. Can't wait to know what you guys think.

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Are you still planning to update your SQ baby fic? I really enjoyed the first four parts and liked how it was a little different than most other fics of this nature. Hope you are planning to finish it.

Ah, this reply is very late, sorry. I am planning to finish CPADL. I am, in fact, working on the 5th chapter these days and will hopefully be done with it soon. It's just that real life's been entirely insane, and I was working on another fic as well (which is also, thankfully, almost done). You'll be seeing some updates soon :)

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The Untold Adventures of Professor Morrison and Lana the Reckless Explorer

THIS IS A PREVIEW AND NOT THE WHOLE FIC.

Title: The Untold Adventures of Professor Morrison and Lana the Reckless Explorer (or something like that) Fandom: Once Upon a Time RPF (AU) Character: Jennifer Morrison, Lana Parrilla, Jamie Dornan (and an assortment of other people around them) Spoilers/Warning: Too cheesy and entirely bonkers. Summary: Doesn’t the title say it all, really? Think ‘Indiana Jones’. Think ‘The Mummy Returns’. Think caves and temples and just general craziness. Disclaimer: This is purely fictional. I definitely do not own any of these very real people.

[...]

A/N: Blame endless games of Temple Run, a semi-sleepless night, an office (blessedly) empty of any patients, and Morrilla (of course). Healthy doses of some fandoms and honorable mentions of others might pop up. Also remember this is an unbeta'd work in progress.

  “Do you really think we would be hired?” Jamie said, looking googly-eyed and staring at the huge crystal chandelier hanging on top of his head.

Lana smacked him hard on his head. “Not if you act like this we won’t!”

“Ow! Like what?”

“Like you’ve never seen a place like this before!”

“I haven’t,” he said earnestly. “And neither have you.”

Lana glared at him. “You don’t need to announce that to everyone. Act a little more worldly.”

“Well, we’re not worldly,” Jamie said, now looking at the wall hangings and paintings excellently scattered over the room. “Seriously, Woolly, let’s get out of here, this is way beyond our scope.”

“Our scope will never change unless we go beyond it. And,” her voice dropped to a hissing whisper, “do you really want to go back to New York now, when you know Big Ed would rip you from limb to limb because he still blames you for the coup gone wrong?”

Jamie sighed. “This isn’t our world, Woolly.”

“Stop ‘Woollying’ me! Just because we weren’t born in a goddamned Chicago mansion the size of a football field with a golden spatula in our mouths or sent to measley-mouthed posh schools doesn’t mean we’re not good enough for these tweed-coated hoity-toitys! Man up!”

“The tweed-coated hoity-toity is standing right here,” said a cool, disapproving voice from the foot of the giant, curving staircase and both turned towards the sound.

The tweed-coated hoity-toity — wasn’t actually tweed-coated at all. She was wearing dark blue, pinstriped suit pants and a matching vest on top of a slightly frilly yet business-like white shirt, shining blond curls hanging loose but combed away from a beautiful but decidedly haughty face.

“May I help you?”

“We’re here to see Professor Morrison,” Lana said.

The woman gave them both a once over and the expression on her face made Lana want to punch her.

“I am Professor Morrison,” she said.

“Wha’?” Jamie’s mouth hung open.

“You?” Lana said sharply. “You are Professor J. Morrison? The famous archaeologist?”

“The one and the same,” the woman inclined her head. “And you — as the card so conveniently informs me — must be Jeremy Denner and Laura Pretzelmann?”

Lana’s eyes widened and she sent a glare in Jamie’s direction. “Yes,” she said cautiously.

“Or should I say,” the Professor’s voice hardened. “Petty thief and short-con artist Jameson Dornan and the rogue explorer Lana Parrilla with a penchant for recklessness so that no one would hire her?”

Jamie let out a shrill squeak, blood draining from his face.

“How—?” Lana said.

“I am a resourceful person.”

“Pretzelmann?” Lana rounded on Jamie. “Pretzelmann?”

“There was a pretzel vendor sitting right in front of me at the time!”

***

A/N: Ehehe. There'd be more (if I can ever manage to finish it).

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hermionejeanmcgonagall answered your question: Glimpses (1/3) Swan Queen drabbles

Jesus. That was brilliant.

So glad you liked it!

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I really liked the SQ drabbles. They were really pretty.

Thank you! I'm so glad you found them so :) Here is a creepy smile for you.

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Campaign to make a person happy: send this for the tumblrs that you most admire ♥

Aw thank you! This is a first, I think! I thought this blog had been long forgotten. But this makes me happy :3

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Getting the Fuzzies — an Evil Charming fic (with some Henry/Regina thrown in)

Title: Getting the Fuzzies Fandom: Once Upon a Time Pairing: Evil Charming with a bit of Henry/Regina thrown in. Not exactly romantic, though. Spoilers/Warning: Nope. Mild spoilers for season 2. Pure crack. This is the most nonsensical and ridiculous piece of fic I have ever written. Summary: Regina is rather attached to — Simba. Disclaimer: This is purely fictional. I own none of it.

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Sorry guys. Reblogging again because just imagining Regina wearing these is sending me into fits of giggles all over again!

(excuse the poor/hurried editing).