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It's cold in the house, and Emma Swan has never been particularly fond of the cold.
She sifts through her laundry (dirty, mostly, but she writes it off as stress and a new kid and a new job and a new life), but she’s not finding anything particularly warm. When she sees a gray sweater draped over the back of her ‘stuff’ chair, she walks across the room to grab it, wrapping it around herself.
It smells like rose and cinnamon.
Regina.
Regina had left her sweater here.
Fondly, she remembers how the woman had brought over an apology apple pie for a spell gone wrong while they’d been practicing, and if she’s honest, it had tasted pretty good and hadn’t made her fall under a sleeping curse, so Emma was pretty happy about it. And if she’s being honest, this sweater is rather… comforting. Warm. It’s warm. That’s it. Just warm.
Sure, she needs to take it off before dinner, seeing as Regina is coming over for dinner, but she’ll remember. Probably.
She’s heading out to the kitchen when she gets a call, and she fumbles to pry it out of her back pocket, slightly numb fingers struggling to answer. When she finally gets it, she lifts it to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Emma! We’re on for dinner tonight, aren’t we?” a bubbly voice asks from the other end. “Because I’m coming. Whether you want me or not. I have wine. And Belle.”
“Yeah, Rubes, we’re still good,” Emma responds. “I’m just setting up.”
“Who’s all coming over?” Ruby asks. “Belle, me, and…?”
“My parents, Henry, Regina-”
“Woah, slow down,” Ruby interrupts. “Regina?”
“Well… I… Yeah. Yes. Why not? Someone’s gotta bring Henry,” Emma reasons. “Besides, I think she’s bringing pie. Again.”
“So you finally sacked up and asked her over, and you just happened to also invite over, like, ten other people at the same time?” Ruby teases. “Really? You need alone time, Em.”
“I don’t need alone time with Regina Mills, Ruby,” Emma says. “We’re just friends. Usually. I think.”
As she moves around the kitchen, she tucks her phone between her shoulder and chin, holding it still as she begins to gather pots and pans to cook… something. She hopes. Maybe.
“Friends don’t have sex on the kitchen counter,” Ruby points out.
“Ruby, Jesus Christ,” Emma mutters, briefly considering canceling the entire dinner when she sees that this is going to take far more effort than she’d initially anticipated.
“Do your parents know about that, by the way?”
“Yes, Ruby, because I detail every one of my sexual encounters to my parents who came straight out of a goddamn fairy tale. Literally.”
“I just mean in general, y’know? I mean… you and Regina are, like…”
“Friends. We’re friends. And sometimes, we, uh… have sex on kitchen counters. Casually. As friends.”
“You are so in denial right now.”
“Hey, how bad of an idea is it for me to magic all of this food together?” Emma questions aloud, her eyes scanning the counters for anything particularly fragile that might get in the way of her attempting something she probably shouldn’t be.
“Bad, but nothing I say is going to stop you, so do what you want,” Ruby says.
“The support is unwavering, Ruby, thank you,” Emma replies, already focusing her energy.
She tries to remember what Regina had taught her. Tries to think through magic, through the steps… but… Regina. Regina, laughing at something she said. Regina, giving her that knowing scowl when she says something out of turn. Regina, grazing delicate fingertips across Emma’s shoulder in passing. Regina, sitting naked on the counter, face flushed and breathing heavy and…
Aaaand her kitchen is on fire.
Well, sort of.
The oven is.
“Shit!” Emma swears immediately. “Shit, Ruby, I have to go. I- Okay. I’m leaving. I’m hanging up. Bye.”
“Emma-” Ruby starts.
Emma has already ended the call, leaving her phone on the dining room table as panic washes over her.
She doesn’t really know what to do, not when the flames are peeking out from the oven, the charred smell of a half-attempted casserole smelling up the whole house. Her fire alarm is screaming within seconds, and she almost wants to curse herself for replacing the battery.
She's panicking. Well, sort of. Kind of. Not bad, not much, just a little. But smoke is filling her tiny kitchen, and she's getting more and more stressed by the second, and when she sees a definitely magical puff of smoke, she sort of assumes that being horny and doing magic means you get murdered by some unknown force and that she's about to die, but then Regina is in her kitchen looking only slightly perturbed by the fact that the house is about a second from burning down altogether.
"Ms. Swan, would you care to tell me why your kitchen is on fire?" she asks, and with a wave of her hand, the flames have subsided, though some of the smoky smell still lingers in the air. "I don't like smoke. Or burnt... what is that?" She sniffs the air with disdain. "A casserole?"
"It was supposed to be," Emma manages. "How did you get here?"
"Magic, dear," Regina tells her like it's obvious.
"Right, but you knew... that... that I fucked up," Emma concludes, finally finding her words.
Though she gives a warning look for the language, Regina answers, "You didn't think I'd actually trust you this early on, did you? We just started practicing. I knew you'd try something while I wasn't here and get yourself hurt."
"So you were stalking me?" Emma questions.
"No, dear, but I charmed that bracelet you've got there," Regina says. "If you try to use magic, I'll know."
"So... you were stalking me," Emma reiterates. "Kinda sweet. I didn't know you liked me that much."
Emma gives the mayor a shit-eating grin, causing Regina to roll her eyes.
"You are insufferable, did you know that?" Regina informs her. "Now, are we going to cook, or aren't we?"
"Cook?" Emma asks.
As she speaks, Regina moves towards the oven, opening it with delicate hands and looking with disgust at its contents. She reaches in, pulling out the now unsalvageable casserole dish. Clumps of what used to be some sort of pasta have now blackened, creating a dusty, mushy, almost gooey tar that coats the entire pan. Dinner. Perfect.
"Unless you'd like to serve this to your awaiting guests, I think we'd better get started," Regina suggests, dropping the entire dish into the trash.
"Hey, I could've-! Uh..." Emma attempts.
"What, saved it?" Regina asks, peering at the offending cookware. "I highly doubt that. Now, do you have any other dishes we can use? I've got a lasagna that should do fine."
Emma heaves a sigh, leaning back on the dining room table. She can't say she's not grateful for Regina showing up when she did... She is. Of course. But the circumstances that led to the near house fire were not exactly kosher, and she made it just seem like a simple charm, but sometimes, Emma wonders if that magic that Regina has can read minds, because currently, Regina is bustling around her kitchen, and Emma can't think straight.
"Are you going to stand there and stare, or are you going to help me?" Regina questions suddenly, turning her head to look at Emma.
"Helping, sorry," Emma responds.
She hurries over to the cabinet, stretching up to reach over the mayor for a pasta pot. As she gets it down, Regina turns to take it from her, but they're far closer than they'd intended, and for a moment, both of them are frozen.
Regina snaps out of it first, clearing her throat and taking a step back. "I'm going to need that, Ms. Swan," she says.
"Right. For you, Ms. Mills," Emma responds, handing her the pot with as much drama as she can muster.
Regina scrunches up her nose at the sound of her last name, but she stifles a laugh. “Where do you keep the pasta?”
It doesn't take them long to whip up the lasagna, and Regina manages to get it into the oven despite Emma offering concerns about its flammability. As Regina sets the temperature, Emma finally feels as though she can relax.
Everything feels okay now, especially when Regina is leaning against her counter, finally settling in a little bit. Emma wants to make some sort of snide comment about getting her back on the counter, but she doesn't, instead opting for standing in silence. Regina must notice, because she shifts, seeming slightly uncomfortable. She finally speaks when Emma averts her eyes.
"So, what possessed you to use magic to cook?" Regina asks.
"I thought I could do it," Emma says. "I guess I was wrong."
"I'm sure you could if you did it properly," Regina teases. "A simple heating spell shouldn't be all that difficult. Fire was one of the first things I learned. How did you manage this, really?"
"I don't know, okay?” Emma groans, moving towards her and hopping up onto the counter beside her. "I got... uh... distracted. I guess."
"Distracted?" Regina questions.
Something about the look in her eyes makes Emma suddenly feel extremely vulnerable, so she clears her throat, taking off the sweater and tossing it to Regina. Regina just stares for a second, examining the sweater.
“You left it here,” Emma says.
“Oh,” Regina says, and recognition crosses her face.
Regina must think she’s hiding the smile that tugs at the corners of her lips, because she says nothing else, but Emma sees it. Emma knows. It rekindles whatever confidence Emma had before.
“Fond memories, huh, Mayor?” Emma teases.
The blush that forms in Regina’s cheeks makes Emma’s chest swell. She hops off the counter beside the brunette, setting one hand on the counter beside her.
“Well, it was certainly… pleasant.”
“Pleasurable?” Emma says, and her other hand winds up on the other side of Regina, essentially pinning her to the counter.
“Are you suggesting this happen again?” Regina asks as though she’s not entirely opposed to the idea.
“I wouldn’t mind getting you back on that counter,” Emma says, reaching a hand up and tucking a strand of Regina’s dark hair behind her ear.
With this, Regina pushes back against Emma, causing her to take a step back.
“Oh, no. If we’re doing this, it’s not going to be on your kitchen counter again,” Regina answers distastefully. “I am not a piece of meat.”
“Are you asking to be shown the bedroom?” Emma asks, quirking an eyebrow at the mayor.
“Shown?” Regina answers with a smirk. “I don’t need to be shown. I know my way.”
She’s walking down the hall before Emma can say a single word, and it takes a moment for Emma to register, but then she’s following after the brunette, a pep in her step, towards her very own bedroom. Regina is going to be in her bed. Like. Now.
Nice.
As soon as they’re in the bedroom, Emma closes the door behind them, spinning Regina and pinning her to it, leaning in to kiss her. Regina tenses at first in surprise, but she melts within seconds, reaching hands up to tangle in Emma’s long, blonde locks.
Emma's hands move quickly up to Regina’s chest to unbutton her shirt, though fumbling with the buttons becomes somewhat infuriating. She’s considering pulling. Popping buttons off. Watching them skid across the floor. Finally seeing Regina… All of Regina…
Her hands must pull too hard because Regina pulls back, making quick work of unbuttoning the rest and staring Emma down.
“No one rips my shirt,” Regina warns.
“And what kind of position are you in to be talking to me like that, exactly, Regina?” Emma questions.
Before either of them has time to think, Emma has Regina pinned again, by the neck this time. Regina gasps, a little moan punctuating it. This had been a new discovery the last time they’d… uh… intermingled. It was looking to be a similar experience again as Emma leaned in close, nipping at Regina’s neck.
“Are you going to be good, or am I going to have to secure you somehow?” Emma questions, peppering kisses down Regina’s neck and towards her breasts.
This is fun. This little game they play. The ways they’ve found to please each other. Okay, maybe they’ve done this more times than Emma has admitted to Ruby. But they’d come up with a safe word and everything. Everything about this is just what Emma wanted.
And what can she say?
It’s fun being in charge of a Queen.
Emma feels Regina charging up for fighting back, but just as she feels Regina’s arms move to shove Emma, to spin her, Emma pins Regina’s arms above her head, causing Regina to give Emma a wicked smile.
“What’s the safe word? Let me know that you remember,” Emma says.
“Apple,” Regina replies.
“Good,” Emma answers. “Now, keep. These. Here.”
She moves her hands down to Regina’s side again, sliding across her hips down towards her suit, and when Regina moves her hands again (clearly feeling extra testy this evening), Emma pins her once more. That smirk hasn’t left Regina’s face.
“Don’t I get to please you, Em-ma?” Regina questions.
“God, you are such a brat,” Emma answers. “Be good for once.”
“Make me,” Regina taunts.
Emma is very much about to when she hears the doorbell.
“Shit!” she swears. “My parents. It’s gotta be my parents.”
“Not going to make me after all, are you?” Regina teases.
“Oh, just you wait til after dinner,” Emma says.
The shit-eating grin that Regina gives Emma makes Emma want to ignore the bell altogether, but she gives in. She yanks her bedroom door open, forcing Regina to move. She’s still in that red bra she loves so much, and Emma rolls her eyes.
“And put your shirt back on,” Emma tells her.
She races down the hall as the doorbell chimes once more. She lets out a groan as it chimes a few more times in quick succession, and she can almost see her mother’s chipper smile waiting for her to get the door. When she finally does reach the door, she pulls it open with such force that it startles both her parents and her son.
“Henry?” Emma questions. “What-”
“Mom said you needed help, and then she poofed out. She didn’t come back for a while, so I called Grandpa,” he explains.
“Where is Regina, anyhow?” Snow asks. “We figured she’d already be here. Leaving her son behind like that, I’d hope she’d have some sort of explanation. What did you do that made her come here so quickly?”
“She nearly burned down the kitchen,” Regina announces, walking into the foyer with her hair askew and a few buttons still undone.
As she walks up beside Emma, staying just slightly behind her, she buttons up just one more button, hiding a smirk.
“And my son, Snow, is fifteen years old. He’s fine,” Regina continues, a bite to her tone. With that, she tussles Henry’s hair. “Aren’t you, dear?”
He chuckles, pulling away. “Yeah, I’m good. Besides, Grandpa let me drive the truck.”
“Mhm,” David hums in agreement, looking like he regrets every second of it. “Never again.”
“Nonetheless, I think some explanation should have been in order,” Snow replies, ignoring David’s banter.
Emma can sense the tension, and she sees Regina about to respond again. She doesn’t even think about it, just loosely takes hold of Regina’s wrist. ‘Please don’t fight,’ she wants to say. ‘I don’t know what to do when you two fight.’
Regina turns her head to look at Emma, a confused look on her face. This only confuses Emma, who returns the look. Regina, however, seems to brush it off, clearing her throat.
“I’m… sorry,” she says. “Come on in. It’s freezing. Wouldn’t want Henry getting a cold.”
“Right, thank you,” Snow says, sounding just as surprised as everyone else that Regina had apologized so simply.
“Do you need anything to drink?” Regina questions, moving towards the kitchen.
“I’ll have a water, if you get a chance,” Snow says.
Emma follows behind her into the kitchen, confused at this sudden change in behavior, especially from Regina. Regina doesn’t change her behavior, not for anyone. Emma actually quite likes that about her.
“Ba- Uh…” Emma begins, but she catches herself, “Regina. It’s okay, I’m hosting. You go sit.”
“You almost burned down the kitchen, Ms. Swan,” Regina reminds her. “It’s alright. Go spend time with your parents.”
She gives Emma a look that she knows means not to argue, but as Emma turns to walk back out into the living room, Regina catches her arm.
The brunette doesn’t open her mouth. Doesn’t move her lips. Still, Emma can hear her, clear as day. Emma can’t help but widen her eyes as Regina’s thoughts seemingly float into her own head.
'We need to talk after dinner.'