Once Upon a Time 1. This Isn't Mortifying at All

**NOTES**:

There will be non-graphic references to previous marital rape in this story. It's an unfortunate but necessary evil in writing Regina's character.

It's also best to consider this an AU within the canon setting. I haven't set it at any particular time within the OUaT timeline so it's a bit of a mashup.

* * *

"Uh, fuuck," Emma gasped, with eyes squeezed shut.

Her body tingled, sensitive with pleasure. Digging her fingers into brown hair, Emma arched into the tongue working relentlessly around her clit and her whole body tensed, just as she —

— flopped heavily against the bed.

Emma groaned in frustration. She was on the brink of a good — no, scratch that — a really great orgasm, but it was like someone had suddenly doused her with water; her arousal was all but gone. To confirm her suspicions, she stroked two fingers along her vulva to check and came away moist at best, if she were generous with her assessment. She was pretty fucking sure she was wet enough to quench the Sahara not two seconds ago, but hey, what did she know? Lady parts work in strange and mysterious ways.

She prodded her unexcited clit through the clitoral hood moodily.

Still, feeling strangely calm and unperturbed for someone who just missed what would've been an awesome climax, Emma popped her fingers into her mouth and licked them clean absently. Wiggling her toes and swiping her leg lazily along the bed sheets — since when did Granny's B&amp;B upgrade their bed sheets to this silky, high class stuff? — she sought the presence of her bedmate, but came up short.

It wasn't very classy, Emma thought decidedly, for someone who had her face between her legs to just up and leave the bed without so much as a word.

Fluttering her eyes open in anticipation of the bright overhead lights, Emma's snarky comment died in her throat as the darkness and unfamiliar surroundings immediately told her she wasn't even at the B&amp;B anymore.

* * *

An overwhelming surge of pleasure suddenly coursed through Regina; her entire body was flushed, tense, and hot, and her vaginal muscles contracted rhythmically in response. Her hand was buried knuckle-deep in long, luxurious hair as she pressed her hips upward and rode the orgasm out with a groan. Normally, she would be much too sensitive for it, but the skilful tongue swirling around her clitoris somehow managed to avert the painful sensation she usually associated with any stimulation immediately after climaxing.

After a few long, timeless moments, Regina fell against the mattress and drew ragged breaths as warm lethargy stole over her body. Soft lips kissed and sucked reverently along her inner thigh, and Regina thoughtlessly stroked her fingers through the hair in her grasp.

Such was Regina's post-coital bliss that she didn't even begin to realise something was actually desperately wrong, at least, not until she opened her eyes to see Ruby's face looming into view.

Eyes widening, Regina bodily shoved Ruby off as hard as she could and scooted backward, her back hitting the headboard with a dull thud. She flinched at the coldness against her skin, but it paled in comparison to the light-headedness that assailed her and the thunderous pounding in her chest.

How did Ruby get into her bed?!

Queasiness immediately replaced warm contentment. She felt dirty and violated. What she had supposed was an acutely realistic erotic dream had turned out to be — this. Did she fall asleep without realising, and did Ruby somehow clamber into her bedroom to assault her in some sort of fitful werewolf lunacy? Rattled, Regina bit the inside of her cheek and fought the all-too-familiar surge of sickening dread.

Ruby grumbled. "The fuck, Emma?"

"E-Emma?"

Before her mind could conjure up a million more unpleasant home invasion scenarios — two-thirds of which would involve harm coming to Henry as well — she recovered from her stupor enough to realise a number of things: one, the voice coming out of her mouth did not belong to her; two, her hair was apparently now long enough again to get caught between her back and the headboard; and three, a quick glance around the room revealed that she was neither in her own bedroom nor was Emma present.

Regina pursed her lips into a frown and glanced down at her long blonde hair and unfamiliar, naked body. In all likelihood, somehow, someone with terrible timing had swapped her mind with Emma Swan's when she was having a romp in bed with, surprise, surprise, Ruby. The ugly dread she felt subsided by a small fraction. This wasn't...

She swallowed.

Her hands still shook. Nerves. She crossed her arms in front of her chest defensively, and instantly felt a little more grounded, a little less vulnerable. She considered the different possibilities: a triple swap, even if unlikely, wasn't impossible. She would have to call her own phone and confirm with whoever occupied her body to know for sure.

But before everything was sorted out, it would be best to keep it under wraps just in case. She was not about to explain to Ruby that she got Regina Mills off instead of Emma, either. What did the insufferable woman call Ruby again?

"Rubes," Regina said haltingly.

Ruby sat up, scowling, and ran a hand through her mussed hair. "The hell was that for?"

"I, uh — cramps," Regina improvised. Furrowing her brow like she was in pain was not particularly hard to fake.

"Oh, wow, really?" Ruby looked doubtful for a moment. "Was it that intense? From the orgasm, right? You had your period two weeks ago."

Regina's eye twitched. She did not need to know how intimately familiar they were with one another's menstrual cycles.

But since pre-menstrual cramps weren't going to fly, some ego-stroking would probably help her leave the room more quickly and with still a shred of dignity intact. No matter how you put it, she was still stark naked at the moment.

"Yes... it was that intense," Regina muttered unwillingly.

Though it was through no fault of Ruby's, Regina still felt wary in her presence. The idea that she had been assaulted in her own bed again was too much to bear. She was not looking forward to sleep that night.

Even more irritating was how, despite her immense personal discomfort, Regina could still feel the faint throbbing and twitching between her legs at irregular intervals. No doubt that would've been Emma's response if she were still in command of her own body, but all Regina wanted now was to be as far away from the whole situation as possible.

"I should go," Regina said. She chanced a glance at Ruby. Considering the confused, vaguely doubtful, but fairly mellow expression on her face, she would hazard a guess that Emma had already taken care of her needs, at least. Working her tongue against her teeth uncomfortably, Regina tried not to think too hard about the aftertaste in her mouth.

Mouthwash. She needed mouthwash.

"So soon? I could get you a couple of Tylenol from downstairs...?" Ruby looked at her softly, like she was trying to calm some small, spooked animal.

She was, in a way.

Ruby smiled, and reached out to run her hand along Regina's upper arm, tracing her bicep.

An unpleasant shudder ran through her, and Regina pushed down the urge to shrug off Ruby's touch or to hurl a couple of fireballs her way. "No, I don't think I should stay," she said firmly. She wasn't sure how far she could exaggerate her fake orgasm-induced cramps and decided not to push it. She patted Ruby's hand and removed it from her arm as she stood to gather her clothes.

Thank god for small mercies. It wasn't like she could ever mistake Ruby's red lace crotchless thong as Emma's. She snatched up the boyshorts that hung precariously on the edge of the bedside drawer.

"Alright then." A sigh.

Ruby sounded resigned, like it wasn't the first time Emma had done it before. And it probably wasn't, Regina concluded derisively. She put on her clothes, and other than a quick disdainful look at the blue leather jacket in her hands and a couple of graceless hops as she struggled with the tight jeans, she managed to look decent soon enough.

"The coming Tuesday, then?"

And in a moment of inspiration, Regina said, "No, I've got Henry next week."

"Right," Ruby said ruefully. "Sorry, I forgot."

Regina gave a noncommittal grunt as she tightened and buckled her belt. At least Emma wasn't sneaking out on their son at night for her little lesbian rendezvous. That would be unforgivable.

Patting her jacket, she felt the telltale bumps of a cell phone and a set of keys in her pockets. She should probably give Ruby a kiss before she left for the ruse to be remotely believable, but between the uncomfortable way the soaked boyshorts were clinging to her skin and that god-awful taste still in her mouth, it was already much more than she could handle.

"Bye," she said with finality.

After sneaking out of the B&amp;B, Regina was pleased to see she had four missed calls on the phone. One or two might be from dear, precious Snow to her darling princess, but the likelihood that they were left by a panicky Emma Swan was much higher. Regina swiped her thumb across the screen and frowned. Huh, password protected. She figured Emma for a 'no lock' kind of person. Regina tried '1234' first, which didn't work, but then she had to let out a long-suffering sigh when she got in with her second attempt — '1983'.

Regina flicked the long mess of hair behind her back in annoyance as she checked the time. Just a bit past eleven. She dialed her own cell phone number, hoping Emma would at least have enough presence of mind to leave her phone on silent. They would not disrupt Henry's sleep on top of everything else.

Emma picked up on the first ring and greeted her with a mixture of trepidation and hopefulness, which sounded downright strange coming out in Regina's voice. "Hey, um, Regina...?"

"Yes, Ms. Swan," Regina said drolly. Double swap it was, then. There were worse people to occupy her body, all things considering. Even if she could've definitely done without the experience of sharing a bed with Ruby. Tendrils of the old, familiar dread entered the edge of her consciousness at the thought, and to keep her mind off things, Regina entertained herself for a moment by considered which declaration would most likely give Snow an aneurysm: 'Your daughter is sleeping with Red', 'Your furry best friend gave me an orgasm', or 'I've seen your daughter's naked body in bed'.

The last one, definitely.

"Holy shit, huh?" Emma chuckled nervously, and was appropriately cautious. Regina only had about ninety different and legitimate reasons to blow a gasket or two or three.

"Mm," Regina said impatiently. "Very perceptive of you."

It only served to make Emma even more nervous. She would've preferred an immediate angry outburst from Regina to an indefinite amount of eggshell-treading.

"So um, how are things on your end?" she blurted out. She winced as soon as the words left her mouth. That was probably the worst question she could ask, right after, 'Gee, did you enjoy the mind-blowing orgasm that I ended up missing?' and 'Haha, guess what, I accidentally tasted you right after we switched. Talk about weird, right?'

Silence stretched out for several long, aching seconds before Regina deigned to reply with a non sequitur:

"I'm coming over."

"Um, okay. I usually sneak back to the loft before it gets too late, but you can come over now. And hey, you know how to fix this, right?"

Regina ignored the question and said icily, "I don't need your permission to enter my own home, Ms. Swan." Emma cringed under Regina's reproach. Okay, she'd take it like a big girl — Regina had every right to be irritable, after all, even if it wasn't her fault she just happened to be having sex with Ruby. "And unlock the back door," Regina instructed. "I expect to see a bottle of mouthwash in your hand by the time I get there."

"Back door, gotcha." Emma paused for a moment in consternation. "But um, mouthwash? I don't think my breath's that bad or anyth — oh." _Oh_.

"'Oh' indeed," Regina said darkly.

Emma gulped, and silently thanked every higher power she could think of that she wasn't into rimming. Because she didn't want to imagine what Regina would do to her if — no, just no.

Thankfully oblivious to Emma's wild imagination, Regina continued, "Did you walk? I don't see any atrocious yellow eyesores anywhere."

"Yeah, um, we figured it would be too obvious," Emma said weakly.

"Right. Well. Ten minutes, Ms. Swan."


	2. Boom, Headshot

After Regina ended their call, Emma stuffed the smart phone inside one of the larger pockets in her abnormally soft bathrobe. She'd slipped it on before leaving the safety of the bedroom to find the landline phone to place her call, pretty sure that neither she nor Regina wanted to risk Henry seeing her waltzing around the house in a thin, fingertip-length, lace trim cotton nightie... while going commando. Yeah. Better safe than sorry, even if it was way past the kid's bedtime.

Still barefoot, she quietly sneaked back up the stairs and past Henry's room to Regina's. Which, really, wasn't all that hard. She doubted there were any creaky spots that she'd have to avoid in Regina's picture-perfect mansion. Emma closed the bedroom door behind her quietly, and walked toward the en suite bathroom. God, they could really do with one of those in the loft, she thought wistfully. Stepping inside the spacious bathroom, Emma decided that even one of those fancy-pants European bidets would not be out of place at all.

Focussing back on the task at hand, she rummaged through the closest bathroom cabinet for the mouthwash that Regina imperiously requested. A box of cotton swabs, a medical kit, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, some cotton balls, pills, and a mostly empty box of Marvel Avengers bandages, but no mouthwash.

She breathed out a sigh of relief when a small bottle of the stuff, still three-quarters full, greeted her as soon as she opened the second cabinet. She wouldn't have put it past Regina to keep it in some weird, obscure spot without telling her just to enjoy her mindless panic for a bit. She grabbed the bottle and was about to leave the bedroom all together when she hesitated for a moment in front of Regina's dresser.

Coming to a decision, Emma pulled the drawer open and snatched the first pair of plain panties she saw. Regina could bitch at her later if she wanted to, but she wasn't going to go commando the whole night while they worked out what to do with their little _Freaky Friday_ fiasco. She set the mouthwash onto the dresser and undid the sash to her bathrobe. Slipping the pair of panties on and smoothing her nightie quickly, she grabbed the bottle of Listerine and hurried back downstairs as she clutched the bathrobe closed with her other hand.

Not two minutes after she unlocked the back door did Regina stalk into the house with a deep scowl on her face. Wisely, Emma chose not to comment, and silently offered her the mouthwash with an awkward smile as — and she'll admit it — a rather lame peace offering. Regina took the proffered bottle wordlessly, uncapped it, and chugged straight from the bottle in a remarkably un-Regina-like display.

Regina swished the liquid in her mouth as she walked toward the main floor bathroom, and Emma trailed behind, giving her a wide berth.

After four full swigs (Emma counted) and lengthy swishing, gargling sessions accompanying each one, Regina was apparently satisfied enough to stop. Either that, or she managed to use up the whole bottle. Emma peered around the corner to see how she was faring. Regina was just in the process of dabbing her mouth dry with a towel — there were only two fingers' worth of mouthwash left, she saw — when their gaze met through the mirror.

Regina set the towel down and fumbled with the unfamiliar pocket of the leather jacket for her phone. She fished it out, and held it out toward Emma unceremoniously. "Make something up if you have to, but I'm really not in the mood for Snow tonight." Regina gave her a pointed look, the '_Yes, even more than usual, if that's even possible'_ clearly implied.

"Alright," she said as she took the phone. Reasonable enough. Emma supposed that meant Regina-in-her-body wouldn't be staying the night at the loft. In any case, she wasn't sure she wanted Regina — being her usual prickly and charming self — taking it out on Mary Margaret, since any vitriol coming from 'Emma' would only hurt her feelings, and Emma was even less in the mood for coddling or assuaging MM's guilt for abandoning her kid. If anything, it should be the other way around. "Anything in particular you want me to say?"

Regina looked tired. "Just," she said, with a half-hearted wave of her hand, "keep Snow off our backs for a while. Work something out. I need a shower." She grabbed at the crotch of her jeans miserably and shot Emma a dirty look before lumbering toward the stairs.

_Right_, Emma thought with a grimace. Tight jeans, and wet enough to quench the fucking Sahara.

Loitering behind, Emma unlocked her phone and considered her options. Obviously she couldn't very well call and freak MM out with Regina's voice... so texting it was, then. A million different excuses flitted through her mind, but none were quite up to snuff. That was the problem with living in a small and fictional seaside town of fairytale characters with zero degrees of separation, she supposed with a sigh.

In the end, Emma settled for a simple, _'Staying out late tonight. Don't wait up_'. If she were lucky, MM wouldn't even notice she was gone. Since she never made her bed anyway, there wouldn't be a well-made bed to give her away.

Emma dropped her own phone into the other bathrobe pocket. Feeling a bit silly with two phones, and with nothing else to do, she trudged back upstairs to Regina's bedroom. Hearing the muffled sound of running water beyond the door, she forwent knocking and slipped in quietly, mindful of Henry, blissfully asleep and unaware, just across the hallway.

Emma took in the details of Regina's cool, spacious room again, no longer clouded by the initial panic she found herself in right after the switch. Swap. Or something. She'd imagined being in this room more than once (and under steamier circumstances) but being trapped in Regina's body kind of put a damper on things. Feeling a little too self-conscious to snoop around, Emma settled herself into a plush-looking vanity stool, and gazed into the tri-fold mirror. Regina's unmade up face stared back at her, and she blinked.

She leaned in and traced her fingers over the indentation of the faint scar above her lip, finding the whole thing strangely anticlimactic when the scar had been a source of fascination for so long when she was in her own body. She turned her face to glance at it from another angle for a bit longer. Then, curious, she lowered her hand and curled her lips into a smirk, then into a sneer. Emma laughed — it came out as a half cackle — in delight at seeing and controlling those familiar expressions on Regina's face.

She'd moved up to goofy looks and blowing raspberries at herself by the time a cough, much too deliberate to be real, interrupted her impromptu game.

"I'm glad one of us is enjoying this, at least," Regina said beside her suddenly.

Shit. Caught in the act.

Sneaking her tongue back into her mouth, Emma turned toward Regina with a sheepish grin on her face. "I was, uh, bored?" she said hopefully.

If the purse of her lips were any indication, Regina didn't seem to think that counted as a suitable reason for contorting her face into really, really hilarious expressions. Who knew her own face could look that hard-ass? Clearly it was a Regina thing, and not just limited to being a Regina-face thing.

"So, um," Emma said hastily, "what's the game plan?"

Regina arched a brow and repeated, "The game plan?"

Emma gestured with her hands helplessly. "You know, to fix this. Us." She furrowed her brow. "You know how to fix this, right? Just — hocus pocus us back."

Regina exhaled sharply. "Would it kill you," she ground out with barely veiled annoyance, "to treat magic with the respect it deserves?"

Emma refrained from an eye roll. "Okay, yeah, yeah. So can you fix it?"

"Do you think, Ms. Swan," Regina said — Emma could tell she was trying to lower her voice dangerously, but unfortunately for Regina, her voice didn't go that low — "that I wouldn't have done it ten times over already if I could?"

Okay, Regina had a point. "Um, right."

She sneered. "I assure you, I have absolutely no interest in strutting around town with a slimy pair of boyshorts up my crotch."

Sheesh, Regina didn't have to go _that_ far. She wasn't like a — a — slug or something. Emma sulked for a moment, before her eyes widened as realisation set it. "Wait, what? If you can't fix it then are we stuck like this forever?" She glanced down at her hands in horror before darting her eyes back toward Regina.

Looking down at her like she were a complete moron, Regina said disdainfully, "Well, I would hope not."

This was giving her a headache. "So you _can_ fix it then?"

"What I'm saying is," Regina said patiently (she wasn't, really), "we can work on something tomorrow morning because I've certainly been through enough and deserve a little rest."

"Oh." It was a surprisingly sound plan. "Okay."

Regina crossed her arms and looked at her expectantly.

Emma stared back.

With a start, she jumped to her feet. "Oh! Right. Sorry. Where do you want me to stay?"

"There's a guest room down the hall. It's probably a little dusty, but you should be fine."

"Er, okay. Thanks, I guess?"

Regina sighed and said, "I just don't want you abusing my body, that's all."

You know, instead of saying 'you're welcome' like a normal person.

"Alright then. See you tomorrow?"

"Hold on." Regina gestured for her to stay. "We'll explain this... situation, to Henry in the morning, of course," she said with a firm nod, "but it's best to keep everything under wraps. We don't even know who cast the spell yet, so if we pretend nothing's gone wrong —"

"— then maybe we can figure out who did it. Right."

"And if you breathe so much as a _word_ to Snow —"

"Okay, okay! Chill. I'm not stupid, okay?" — Emma ignored the look of '_Oh, really now?_' on Regina's face — "Even I know MM can't keep her mouth shut to save her life. And besides, it's not like she's going to come up to me and start striking up a conversation, is she?" Emma gestured to her very Regina-like face.

Regina nodded, looking somewhat pleased. "Right. Well, make sure to set your phone for 7 AM."

Emma's eyes bugged out. "Are you fucking serious? Seven on a Sunday? That's like — child abuse for Henry."

Regina's expression softened at the mention of their son. "Henry gets to sleep in until eight. You and I, on the other hand, have some sort of 'game plan' to work out, don't we?"

Emma grumbled, but acquiesced. "Okay, fine. Whatever. Good night." She padded toward the door when Regina stopped her once more, this time with unmistakable glee in her voice.

"Oh, and one more thing," Regina said sweetly.

With her hand on the doorknob, Emma turned to look at Regina warily. "What?"

"Make sure you wash and hang your _slimy_ boyshorts before you head to bed." She gestured toward the en suite bathroom.

"Wh — what? Why can't I do it tomorrow?"

God, this woman was impossible. Really hot, and not even in her own body at the moment, but impossible all the same.

Regina looked at her like she'd grown another head.

"Honestly, Ms. Swan... do you think I'd let your vagina anywhere near my own underwear?"

Emma arched her brow. "So you're going commando right now is what you're saying."

Regina bared an artificial smile. "Yes. Problem?"

"Nope," Emma said agreeably and walked into the en suite. A few seconds later, her voice floated out toward Regina blithely: "Just noticing a pattern here, is all."


	3. To Sleep, Perchance to Escape

**NOTES**:

I added a few lines at the very end of chapter two to give Emma a comeback to Regina's zinger. Without it Emma was turning a little too much into a doormat; a large part of Swan Queen's appeal to me has always been 'Two stubborn and headstrong idiots who don't know when to back down' and 'Are they pissing each other off or is that just their idea of foreplay?'. It's just a general heads up as Emma's reaction this chapter may not make much sense otherwise.

* * *

Regina closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead for a moment. She slipped her bookmark back into her paperback copy of _Sula_ and let it fall into her lap, just as her hands fell to her side.

After saying her piece, Emma — apparently satisfied with having the last word — went about the task of washing her boyshorts rather cheerfully. Within moments of the water running, Emma even began singing terribly to some insipid pop tune that only she could hear. Regina was quite sure the woman was doing it for the express purpose of annoying her, and her suspicions were confirmed when she paid enough attention to listen to the lyrics being belted out. As far as Regina could tell, gems from Emma's obnoxious repertoire included, but were not limited to, the following:

_Let the Queen run 'round and wake my dreams;_

_Let her wash away my sanity!_

_I'm coming clean, oh ohh_**ohhhh** _!_

Much to Regina's dismay, even as her eye twitched in annoyance, she found that an unwilling smile — or well, a faint quirk of the lips — had somehow made its way onto her face over Emma Swan's antics.

That was a good two hours ago though, and the obnoxious singing, sounds of running water, and muffled movements that kept her company had long since dwindled into silence. She continued to stay up, telling herself that she was just waiting for Emma's long mop of hair to dry. But with all the towelling and blow-drying she'd done to occupy herself between the late night reading, there was little doubt that her hair was indeed dry now.

She was tired. Her head felt fuzzy with fatigue, but she knew she wasn't nearly tired enough for her purposes. The last thing Regina wanted was to stare unendingly at the ceiling with awful memories replaying in her mind as she waited for sleep to claim her. Stifling a yawn with her hand, she rubbed at her eyes and frowned, blinking. She didn't realise how dry her eyes were until now, and the contacts Emma had in were growing more and more uncomfortable by the moment. She pushed her book onto the bedside dresser, stumbled out of bed, and made her way to the en suite to take the contacts out.

Regina squeezed cleaner onto the lenses and fumbled for an old contact lens case to keep them in temporarily. Splashing water into her face, she looked up into the mirror and gave herself a start, forgetting for a moment that she was in Emma's body. A haggard faced stared back at her, and Regina had to admit she looked awful. She ran a finger along the dark circles under tired, bloodshot eyes before standing back up, and walked heavily as she made her way back to her bed.

On the way she stopped at her stereo and absently turned it on. Pachelbel's Canon drifted out softly, calming her nerves a little. Archie suggested classical music when she vaguely mentioned having trouble sleeping awhile back. Fake Ph.D. and all, Regina had to admit it ended up being fairly sound advice. She found the idea ridiculous at first, but in time her mind associated the soothing notes of Pachelbel, Bach, Palestrina, Schumann, and other composers with a sense of personal calmness. It gave her some respite from the darker thoughts and memories that frequented at night.

Settling herself into bed, she closed her eyes to rest them, but it was much later when she finally fell asleep. While her night was not entirely dreamless, Regina was only glad that none were bad enough to jolt her awake grunting or crying. She would not bear the humiliation of Emma finding out her weakness, no matter how much better they were getting on now.

Emma stumbled down the stairs at the ungodly hour of quarter past seven. She was dreadfully tired, having slept poorly after being woken up in the middle of the night by classical music, of all things. Wailing babies, noisy road traffic, humming radiators, and rickety, decrepit fans, those she could sleep through no problem. But classical music? It was much too soft and gentle and uplifting, which strangely sent her brain into overdrive with its unfamiliarity. Figures Regina would be into that pretentious stuff, though.

Following the scent of freshly brewed coffee, she plodded her way into the kitchen and found Regina already bustling around the counter, looking fresh as a daisy like it wasn't seven in the goddamn morning. Adorned with a pale blue polka dot apron, Regina somehow made her body look downright domestic in a 60s housewife sort of way. All she needed was a beehive 'do to go with it.

Regina looked up, noticing Emma's presence by the kitchen entrance.

"You look awful," she said flatly.

Emma stifled a yawn as she approached. "Well good morning to you too," she croaked sleepily. Regina's voice coming out of her mouth sounded even deeper than usual.

"Did you even freshen up?" Regina wrinkled her nose. "Take care to look presentable in my body, at least."

Emma leaned against the counter and groaned, smushing her face with a hand. "Regina, it's quarter past oh my god o'clock on a Sunday. Cut me some slack."

Regina didn't bother replying, which was pretty much as good as she was going to get, Emma supposed.

Exhaling, Emma lowered her hand from her face and curiously peered into the small mixing bowl beside her. It held what looked suspiciously like curdling milk. Warily, she sloshed the thick mixture a little with the spoon in the bowl and gave it a small sniff from a safe distance. It smelt kind of sour, like vinegar, and Emma wrinkled her nose too, for entirely different reasons. She hoped Regina didn't expect her to eat that, she thought with a frown.

She watched as Regina continued making whatever she was making. Set further to the side was a large bowl of flour and god-knows-what. Though if the flecks of brown were any indication, it was probably whole wheat or something weird and healthy like flaxseed or weird-ass organic supplements. She made a note to get some real food into Henry sometime soon.

Regina began whisking a couple of eggs briskly, the quick _tat tat tat_ of metal against the bowl somehow soothing to her ears. Regina eyeballed a splash of black liquid and a small amount of vegetable oil into the stuff (it figures Regina would scrimp on that). She poured the whole bowl of brownish, eggy liquid into the sour, curdling monstrosity, and then that into the large bowl of flour.

Unaware of Emma's personal qualms on how edible the end product would be, Regina promptly began mixing it into some sort of sloshy goop with a spatula. The woman _looked_ like she knew what she was doing, Emma would give her that. She continued to eye the thick, lumpy liquid suspiciously, even as a very nice, sweet sort of aroma wafted from it, the sour smell from the curdling milk all but gone.

Then Regina covered the bowl with a lid and wiped her hands clean with a wet dishtowel. Untying the knot to her apron, she said, "Have you returned to the land of the living quite yet? I didn't ask you here to put on a personal cooking show."

Her head still felt a little fuzzy. "Um, yeah. No, I'm good."

Regina regarded her for a moment, before moving toward the sink and turning the tap on. Ripping off a generous portion of kitchen paper towel from its dispenser, she ran it under the water for a moment and wrung it dry until it was just damp. With pursed lips, Regina turned back to Emma; she unfurled the paper towel and placed it on Emma's face not altogether ungently.

The coolness across her face felt pleasant, slowly bringing her to wakefulness. She pressed the paper towel to her face at a different angle and relished the cold sensation. After a few more moments she removed it from her face, blinking at a somewhat amused Regina and feeling much more alert than she did a few minutes ago. "Thanks."

"Mm," Regina said.

Regina was, Emma thought, quite nice when she wanted to be.

Just then, three short beeps sounded from the coffee maker.

Regina turned and grabbed two mugs already set out on the counter that Emma failed to notice until now. Placing them by the coffee maker, Regina removed the coffee pot and began pouring generously into two steaming mugs.

Emma inhaled the heady scent deeply. There was no way Regina would go for the cheap stuff... Coffee, truly the ambrosia of gods.

"Well? Ms. Swan?" Regina prompted.

"Um, milk and two sugars," Emma said, bringing herself down from her reverie and shoving her hands into the bathrobe pockets. "Thanks." As Regina reached into a pantry cupboard for sugar cubes, Emma cleared her throat, and said, "So I was thinking about it last night. Who could've done it, I mean."

Regina made a small noise, which Emma decided to interpret as a sign of encouragement.

"It's someone who knows magic, obviously." And counting off her fingers, Emma said, "But there's you, me, Gold, Blue, and well, that's about it." Not exactly a long list, especially when the two victims in this whole mess made up half the pool. And it was arguable whether she even 'knew' magic at all, despite the 'product of True Love' crap. Emma exhaled, running a hand through her now much shorter hair. "This just seems a lot harder than it should be, you know? How could this benefit Blue, or even Gold for that matter? It — it just doesn't make sense to me." Emma trailed off, unsure.

Regina poured a dash of half and half into Emma's mug, and replaced the carton in the fridge. Clinking the coffee stirrer in the mug quickly a few times, Regina turned toward Emma and handed her a taupe mug that she accepted gratefully.

Taking a small sip from her own mug, Regina said thoughtfully, "It's true enough that it had to be carried out by someone with magic or at least, access to magic — like artefacts or potions. But even if Gold or Blue did it, that doesn't mean they're the ones with the motive necessarily."

Emma frowned as she mulled the words over. "So... they'd be the magical gun instead of the shooter, you mean? Or like an accomplice."

Regina shrugged gracefully as she pulled out a chair and sat down at by the dining table. "Who knows? Either way, I wouldn't trust the imp or the overgrown firefly as far as I could throw them." Regina gestured for Emma to take a seat as well, and she complied. "Gun, shooter, does it really matter when either could just as easily blow up in your face?"

"I guess not?" Emma felt out of her depth. MM (well, Snow) and the Blue Fairy got on well enough, and she was pretty sure only Regina — and maybe Gold — would ever call Blue an 'overgrown firefly'.

"Though," Regina said with a snort, "I'd sooner believe Snow developing a sense of fashion than Blue using her precious fairy dust for something as ridiculous as this."

"So you think Gold did it?"

"He probably knows something, at least," Regina allowed. "He still has a finger in every pie, as always. And if an amateur did it, they probably got the means from Rumpelstiltskin."

"Mmhm." Emma took another sip of her coffee, enjoying the fragrance and smooth flavour. "So if you know the right info or have the right ingredients or something — can you fix us? Or will we have to owe Gold another favour?" Emma paused, until a rather startling thought crossed her mind. "Hey, wait, do you even have your magic right now?"

Regina, to her credit, tried (though not particularly hard) to suppress the look of exasperation on her face. "Has this issue just occurred to you, Ms. Swan?"

"Um... maybe?"

Instead of deigning to give a reply, Regina gestured and lowered her hand, with a good-sized fireball sitting in the palm of her hand.

"Okay, gotcha." So Regina could still roast her like a chicken if she really pissed her off, then.

"Have you learnt nothing from our lessons?" She extinguished the flame. "The body is a vessel — a non-specific conduit. While not everyone can learn magic because it has a large innate, instinctual component, magic is fundamentally something that you engage with your mind."

Regina had taken to giving Emma what she called 'magic lessons' recently, but felt more like a strange and unusual form of torture. She wanted to learn it, she really did. Regina was teaching her so she could better protect Henry when the next big bad came along, and if nothing else that was something she could get behind. But it was like being dumped into a calculus class when all she knew was basic arithmetic. She understood the individual words Regina was throwing at her, but they made no sense together. In other words, while Regina was a great mother and mayor, she was _really_ shitty at teaching.

"Right," Emma said, mumbling into her mug.

"If we needed our corporeal bodies to cast magic," Regina continued undeterred, "then ripping people's hearts out would seal or at least greatly hamper their magic. If only it were that convenient."

"Right," she said again. It was probably a discussion she didn't want to get roped into, kind of like the thing with Vegemite. "So um," Emma said, draining the last of her coffee, "back to my question. Can you fix it or do we have to rely on Gold?"

Somewhat annoyed that Emma cut her line of thought off, Regina answered nonetheless. "I can probably revert us if it's magic cast. But I would need the original potion or recipe if it's a potion. And artefacts might be tricky, but doable under the right circumstances."

"Okay." Emma nodded. "We can probably work with that."

"Ever optimistic, the Saviour," Regina said dryly.

Emma shrugged. "Not really. But it's nice to have a plan. Sort of, anyway. Here." Emma dug into her right pocket, and pulled out Regina's phone. "I guess it makes sense for us to keep our own phones. And we can text or call each other if there's anything we need each other to know or stuff we have to confirm." Regina's phone was pretty much just dead weight to her with the PIN lock, anyway.

Regina took the phone. "I'm not driving your car," she said without preamble. "And you can't drive it either; you're in my body now."

"You kidding? I'm not walking everywhere in your fuck-me heels." Regina shot her a dark look, and Emma added unrepentantly, "It's not a very good undercover operation with 'Emma' driving the Mercedes and Madame Mayor hoboing it on foot."

"I'll drive you then," Regina said.

"So 'Emma' can drive up in your Mercedes to the Sheriff's office?" Emma rolled her eyes. "That's not going to make the whole town talk about our torrid and steamy love-hate whirlwind affair _at all_."

"I'm not driving your car," Regina repeated.

Goddamn that stubborn woman.

Emma tapped her fingers along her mug for a moment. "We'll carpool," she said. "But I'm driving." At Regina's mutinous look, she said, "You'd never in a million years let 'Emma' drive. So it's either I drive or it's the Bug, Regina."

Regina worked her jaw for a moment as she considered it. "Fine," she said finally.

Emma didn't want to push her luck, but it had to be said. "You'll kind of need to see MM too... she hasn't quite gotten the overprotective thing out of her system yet." _Or ever._

"Correct me if I'm wrong... but if I don't, all she'll do is harass you with phone calls and texts, yes? Your phone, I'll remind you, is in your possession. Not mine."

Emma couldn't say she was especially shocked by Regina's lack of empathy for her plight, especially since she was still sulking about the Mercedes. So she tried another tack. "It's my week with Henry. If you don't show up at the loft with him by evening, she's going to tear the town apart until she finds you — or 'me', or whatever, and you know it."

Regina frowned, and Emma pressed her advantage with her trump card. "I know you're not very fond of Mary Margaret, but think of it this way — it's extra time with Henry."

"Do you ever call your mother by her real name?" Regina said suddenly.

"That's none of your business, " Emma said defensively. She fiddled with her fingers.

"I'll need to know for your 'undercover operation', Ms. Swan."

Oh, right. At least Regina was buying her sales pitch. "Um, I call her 'mom' sometimes? Occasionally?"

Regina looked at her sceptically. "I see."

Emma squirmed a little under Regina's gaze and changed the subject. "So it'll be fun to see you rescuing cats from trees, huh?"

"I'm betting it'll be more fun seeing you manage the paperwork and babysit the snivelling town council."

"No," Emma said, appalled.

"Unfortunately," Regina said. "You'll send what you can to me by e-mail, and bring the rest of it home so I can work from here."

Phew. Regina's need to control everything did come in handy once in a while.


End file.

Once Upon a Time, Humor, Romance