Disclaimer: Not mine. Property of Adam, Ed, and ABC. All errors though – they are mine.

Rating: M. Please respect it. This is either smutty fluff or fluffy smut.

A/N: This one's for all the Hades/Zelena shippers. It is my personal headcanon of what takes place between 5x20 and 5x21 – specifically the time between when they first enter Storybrooke (I'm assuming in the afternoon) and the following morning. My assumption is that the opening 5x21 scene by the river is the following morning – and yes I'm playing an artistic license card here. This is specifically based on Zelena's comment to Regina about how Hades is "not a man At All. He is a GOD."

This is a He Said/She Said type of fic. This chapter is Zelena's POV. The next chapter is the same exact story but from Hades' POV. I do hope you like it.

The air is warm. You'd think after all the time I spent in the stinking sewer of the Underworld, the universe would be kind enough to give me the nice bright, crisp and cool weather I love – like a spring day in Oz.

But no, it's grey and damp. And warm. My first thought is to tighten the pink blanket around my daughter to ensure she stays as dry as possible. My second thought is to loosen it, as I don't want her to overheat. My third thought is that I need to stop fussing with my daughter's blanket and get a bloody grip. So with a resigned sigh, I reposition her in my arms and hope for the best.

My next thought is of Hades, wondering if he's disappointed that Storybrooke is not a land of sunshine and rainbows on such a significant day. From the bemused expression on his face, I'd wager he doesn't rightly care.

Freedom can have that effect on a person. I can't imagine what his life must have been like, trapped down there for eons. On the other hand, I can't fathom what his, and I assume our, life is going to be like now. This won't do – I don't do ambiguity. I look to Hades for guidance on our next steps. Maybe he has a plan.

Then again – maybe not. He's still taking it all in; seems to be making a big deal out of breathing in the cloying Maine air. Probably listening to his heartbeat as well. He really can be a goofball sometimes.

Soft whimpering redirects my attention to more practical matters. My little one has needs.

"I have to get her settled," I tell Hades. "We need a place to stay. When I lived here before, I stayed in a farmhouse. Same one I stayed in down there. Let's check to see if it anyone else moved in after I left."

There's an odd expression on his face, and with a start I realize what's bothering him. I didn't "leave". Rumple tried to kill me – and damn near succeeded. Is it true, I haven't been to the farmhouse since then? I wrack my memory and yes – it is true.

I shake off the memory and face Hades. "Are we walking or should I…?" I wave my hand in a mock gesture of the teleportation spell.

"Allow me," he says in that gentleman's tone of his. The prickle of his magic envelops me, the familiar stretch and pull awkward for the split second it takes to physically move from one location to the next. There's the awkward pop of re-entry and the three of us are in the front yard, staring at the whitewashed clapboards of the farmhouse. It doesn't look abandoned, but it doesn't look all that lived in either. No vehicles in the driveway.

"Looks empty, but let's go see if anyone needs an eviction notice," I say with a smile.

We walk up the steps and Hades peers through the windows.

"See anyone?"

"No." He turns back to me. "Should we knock?"

Part of me feels the need to be polite and respectful. The rest of me laughs at that part and then pushes it off an imaginary cliff in my mind. "Heavens, no."

Hades grins as I open the door with a flick of my wrist. With baby in arms, I stride into the house; prepared to permanently relocate any lowly Storybrooke citizens that might have moved in.

It's clear from the stale scent and coating of dust that no one has been here. Given my unexpected … departure, the place isn't exactly tidy either. There are even feathers from the flying monkey scattered along the floor. A flush of embarrassment creeps up my neck. Way to go Zelena. Bring the new beau home to a pig sty.

"Here," I tell Hades, "hold her for a second. I'll clean it up."

He gives a slight shake of his head. "No need. Do stand back though, won't you?"

I do as he asks, but the question is clear in my expression.

"You'll see," he murmurs. I watch him walk to the middle of the main room and move the table out of the way with a casual flick of his fingers. Taking a deep breath, he stands, feet spread, and drops his head and hands. I've seen this posture before; it's the one he's always using before he teleports away. I always assumed it was a gesture of respect.

Boy was I wrong. Blue fire surrounds him as he calls his power forth. I watch in mute fascination as he proceeds to gesture within the flames; it appears he's molding them into something, or some things. He lifts his head upwards, eyes now closed. He makes a dismissing gesture with both hands, releasing the power in a ring around him that seems to melt into the floors, walls, and ceiling. As it travels, it leaves change in its wake.

Once scratched and dirty floors now shine as if new. The old faded wallpaper is fresh and sparkly white again, the pattern vibrant and alive. New furniture appears – a cushy armchair, a small table with a lamp. The old and battle scarred table is majestic once again, polished to an almost reflective sheen.

I brace myself as the blue arc passes right through me. It doesn't hurt, but it raises every hair on the back of her neck at its intensity. It's alien, and a small mental gear clicks in final acknowledgement that Hades is an actual god, with actual god-like powers.

"Damn."

His eyes soften into mild concern. "You don't like it? I wanted to keep it simple. I can do another color if you'd like." He flicks his fingers and the starchy white wallpaper turns a cheery yellow. "Maybe green?" he says slyly with a wink, and the whole room turns various shades of emerald.

"Or maybe like Oz?" Now gold filigree is everywhere to accent the green.

I can't help but smile. "Now you're showing off."

"Got me again." He snaps his fingers and we're back to the bright country chic look. "Still, you get the idea. Whatever you want."

"Hades…"

He walks towards me and lightly runs the back of his hand down my cheek. "Anything."

His touch sends a whole different kind of chill up my spine. I'm absolutely floored when he does stuff like this. I have no idea how to react to generosity. I'm saved from acting like a swooning teenager by the small, but quite loud, squeal from my daughter.

"She must be hungry. We'll need to go to the market to get her formula." A checklist appears in my mind. "And diapers. And wipes. And bottles…" I can hear the octave change in my voice; it's resonating the panic I'm feeling. I don't have anything for a baby – why didn't I think to get all she needed before coming here? How could I have been so careless? A new thought enters my mind – what if I don't know how to be a good mother? All that midwifery for Mary Margaret took some pretty careful studying – but it was pregnancy I studied, not childcare. I wasn't worried about how to take care of the actual infant afterward – I only needed the baby for my time-travel spell. That realization sends my mind into overdrive and a shudder of revulsion straight into my gut. The thought of using a baby like that now… it's horrific. I couldn't do that to a child. What the hell kind of person was I to even think of doing something like that?

I look up to Hades, who is gazing at me with concern. "I…" My voice cracks, and within seconds he has me and the baby enveloped in his arms. "Hey," he breathes softly into my ear, "it's okay. Just tell me what she needs and I'll get it for you."

He doesn't understand, but I lay my head against him and try to take some solace in the comfort of his embrace. I definitely need to get a grip. My daughter raises her fists and starts to squall, clearly unhappy.

"Here," he says firmly. "Try this." With a swirling gesture, he hands me a small glass bottle filled with a creamy liquid that must be formula. I take it from him and can feel that it is even slightly warm, as it should be. I offer it and the poor little one takes to it so quickly I feel guilty for not providing it sooner.

"There," he says softly with a hint of satisfaction. "Much better."

I am watching her drink when the significance of what he did hits me. He truly is powerful if he's not concerned about wasting a spell on something as simple as a baby bottle and formula. Then again, maybe it isn't a waste to him. Maybe it isn't even a spell. The idea of having a god around starts to have some major appeal. This could make life much, much easier.

ooooooooooooooo

Hades and I spend the next hour in a marathon session of redecorating and restocking the house for occupancy. I settled the baby into a lovely white bassinet that I called up myself, and she's been sleeping quietly despite all the magic being casually tossed around her. The aftereffects are making my hair stand on end – not a pretty sight. I chose to stay in the newly remodeled and rather high tech kitchen to start a simple dinner while Hades went upstairs to renovate the rooms up there.

I hear his footsteps echo behind me and call out to him. "Finished up there?"

"Yes, and I do hope you like it."

"Well, I hope you like pasta, because that's what I'm cooking."

His brows furrow. "Zelena, you don't have to cook… although…" He walks over to stand behind me, and I lean back against him – drawn in again like a moth to a bright blue flame. "I do like watching you be domesticated," he murmurs against the skin behind my ear.

Every hair on the back of my neck tingles at his touch, and I'm suddenly very aware of being alone with him. Particularly the implications related to such a situation. I spin to face him and we're kissing again, the pull to each other automatic. Like before, my head swims and I'm lost in the feel of his body against me, his lips on mine, the weird happy sparks firing everywhere…it's damn intoxicating. I start to move things along, running my fingers down his chest, but he steps back away from me and gestures over my shoulder. "You're boiling."

You bet I am, pal. Oh wait – he means the pasta water. "Oops. Better get back to that. Will you check on her for me while I finish in here?"

"Certainly," he replies calmly. "Anything for you."

We settle into dinner somewhat awkwardly, sitting at opposite ends of the gleaming butcher-block table. I've never seen him eat and although he eats just like any other person, I can't help but study him via quick glances when I'm not slurping up my spaghetti.

He's very precise with his table manners, which I expected. What I didn't expect was how he seems to savor every bite as if it was his last. I doubt that common boxed pasta and sauce from a jar is even on par with the type of food he's eaten, until it occurs to me that perhaps he hasn't eaten in all the eons he's been down in the Underworld. Even if he did, would he enjoy it – given that his heart was stopped?

Ripples of sympathy flow through me, and since I can't seem to hide my emotions from anyone these days, he notices.

"No," he says, putting his fork down on the cloth napkin, "I couldn't taste food when I was in the Underworld." He looks away. "I had to eat, obviously, but mostly it tasted like … well, nothing."

The ripples turn to waves. "I'm sorry." I am - and for multiple reasons. If I had known this was to be the first meal he truly tasted once his heart started, I would have made something better – something he liked.

"I like spaghetti. And this, this is probably the best I've ever had." His smile is so genuine that now I have to look away from him. There are times his kindness brings me to tears, and this is one of them. I'm going to have to build up a better tolerance to this kind of thing. No one likes a weepy witch.

"Well, I'm glad you liked it." I try to curb the emotion in my voice but fail miserably, sounding more snarky than sincere.

He blinks at that but returns to his food. I stop looking at him and focus on twirling my pasta as neatly as he does, and fail miserably at that as well. We finish the rest of the meal in silence.

He offers to clear the dishes, but I insist and honestly, I just need a little time. He shrugs noncommittally and goes into the living room. I see him out of the corner of my eye, sitting upright in that puffy armchair. He shifts his weight back, waves his hand, and a matching ottoman appears in a cloud of blue smoke. He plops his feet up on it and with another wave, conjures up a thick book bound in leather. He flips halfway through it, settles back and starts reading, the picture of contentment.

Something about this sends my immaculately groomed eyebrows straight through the top of my skull. How can he be so calm – when I'm a ruddy mess of emotions? I think back and realize this is probably a core aspect of his personality. He's always been rather cool and reserved, always in calm and in control. I wonder if he's genuinely that even-tempered, or if it is all for show. My money's on the latter, and I spend the next twenty minutes scrubbing pots and plates and watching him out of the corner of my eye, imagining ways to shake that calm exterior. I come up with zip.

With perfect timing, my daughter starts to fuss in her bassinet just as I finish drying the last plate. I take one of the pre-prepared bottles from the refrigerator and wave my hand over it, just enough to take away the chill. I bring it over to her and lift her into my arms, feeling the sheer joy that comes with having her with me. There is a padded rocking chair next to the bassinet and I sit there with her while I feed her. She's so very small, and warm, and I worry about how fragile she feels. All softness and squish. I'd absolutely die if anything happened to her. I'm so focused on her that I miss Hades standing in the doorway. He doesn't say anything, but the intensity in his eyes is speaking volumes. Sadly for me, I can't quite translate it yet.

"She's almost done. It's getting dark too. I think after this she'll be able to sleep again – at least for a while."

He nods but doesn't say anything. Once she's finished and burped, I bundle her back up in the pink blanket and take her upstairs. Hades follows quietly behind me. Just before I cross the top of the stairs, he murmurs, "I do hope you like it."

I step through the slanted opening into the loft space only to stop dead in my tracks. The upstairs loft was my old bedroom, and like the main floor, I never quite kept it tidy. I made use of what was there and that was that. Interior decorating isn't my thing, really. It seems Hades has a flair for it though, as he's turned the space into a small paradise. Sheer curtains, tinged in green, cover each window. The walls again are white, but not the glaring bright of downstairs. This is a muted paleness; creating a softer space and making the loft look much larger than it really is. There are dark cherry dressers accented with shining brass hardware lining one wall, and a giant cedar freestanding wardrobe lining another. A deep emerald green dressing panel is tucked into the corner where the two walls meet, a matching green wingback chair and ottoman staged nearby.

There is a light green and pink crib and matching bassinet off to the right of what has to be the most gorgeous bed in existence. It's a four-poster affair, with the same sheer panels that line the windows tied back with dark green sashes. There are green pillows of coordinating shades and a green duvet cover that looks very much like real silk covering an overstuffed mattress that I'm sure feels like a cloud. A plush set of rugs, again in the same dark emerald green. My emerald green.

"Oh Hades…It's beautiful."

"Not nearly as much as you," he says as steps up to stand next to me. "But I thought it turned out rather nice."

Nice is an understatement. I look beyond the bed to a matching cherry desk and padded chair, again with the accents of brass and green. A full standing mirror is in the far corner along with a small vanity next to it. Hades has thought of everything I could need.

"You thought of everything I'd need, didn't you?" I turn and face him. "How do I thank you for this?"

He just smiles. "Knowing you're happy is enough."

This man, this god, I swear. It's like I won a contest. How lucky can one girl get? My daughter starts to wiggle in my arms, probably because I am squeezing her so tightly in my girlish glee. Oops. "Sorry, little one. I promise I'll get better at this." I place her in the bassinet, larger than the one I conjured, and wrap her blanket around her to swaddle her and keep her cozy. She blinks lazily at me while I do this, clearly drowsy. Yup, she'll be asleep in no time, and now I can focus all of my attention where my libido has been quietly screaming it belongs – Hades.

I give my daughter a light kiss on the forehead. "Goodnight, sweet pea." I turn towards the stairway, and see Hades again watching me with that intense gaze.

I approach him, feeling rather brazen. "Now," I say, tracing my finger down the center of his chest, "you ready to resume our 'conversation' from earlier?"

His eyes darken. "Zelena…" I silence him with a kiss and let myself fall into him. It is a unique type of magic, this True Love thing. It pulls us together and sends me into this altered state where the only thing my senses can register is him. Touch, sight, smell, sound – they're all tuned to one channel. His.

I damn near lose it when he grazes my neck with his teeth. That's always been a thing with me, and with him doing it; my gasp is loud and feral. The sun is starting to set outside, making the room glow a dark amber hue. The lighting does wonders for him as well, casting soft highlights in his hair yet making him look slightly menacing. It's a sexy combination. I decide we've spent entirely too long in an upright position and it's time to move this party to that shiny silken haven he's created. I pull on his shirt to lead him there, but he remains rooted in place.

I break away, a tad puzzled. I look at him, then at the bed, and then at him again. Just in case he missed it, I tilt my head and quip, "That-a-way, 'kay?"

His eyes dart to the bed and then back at me. He looks oddly uncomfortable, whereas moments ago I'm fairly certain he was in the same mindset I was. Potential causes for this change in behavior zoom through my brain. Is he worried about getting me pregnant? There's a spell for that. I'd be surprised if he wasn't aware.

"I'll take care of prevention, if that's what you're worried about. It's a simple spell."

I watch his neck as he swallows, rather significantly. There is a new, large crack in that confident demeanor of his. Interesting.

"No. I…we…" He turns his head away, eyes downcast.

"Hades…?" Icy tendrils of insecurity are creeping into my mind, cooling my ardor and chiming bells of alarm with each passing moment.

His entire body deflates as he releases a loud sigh. Gone is the confidence, the charm. Before me now is a man conflicted: a man – not a god. His eyes meet mine, and there is a torrent of emotion swirling within those blue depths. Despite the chaos in his gaze, his words are crisp and clear. "I cannot stay with you tonight."

"What?" I must have misheard him.

"I need to go, Zelena. Trust me – it's best if I leave." He gives me a wan smile. "I will come for you tomorrow." His tone is dismissive, and tears spring to my eyes – the bitter taste of rejection burning yet another hole into my heart.

My words are watery. "Why are you doing this?"

He stands in stony silence, his eyes to the floor. I repeat it. "Why?"

His brows furrow before he turns and starts to walk down the stairwell. This sends me into a tailspin. I chase after him and grab his shoulder, stopping him halfway down the stairs. His body tenses at my touch but he does not turn around.

"Hades… I don't understand."

A small thrill runs through me when he turns to face me, our bodies brushing against one another within the tight space.

"Zelena…" His eyes are pleading.

There's some maelstrom of conflict within him, but I bloody well don't care. I will not let him do this to me. Not after today. I take his face in my hands and kiss him. He doesn't respond. I blink and look him straight in the eye, a fierceness flaring within me. "I love you."

My internal 'oh-shit' meter red lines – did I just say that? Out loud? Huh – appears I did. And whaddaya know – I mean it to.

I decide to show him how much I mean it by kissing him again. Hard. That seems to have an effect - I can feel the mental walls around him start to crumble. I have no idea why they are there, but they definitely have to go. I lean against him and he has to grab onto my waist in order to maintain his balance. There's a moment when I sense victory - when he finally rejects whatever has been holding him back and he lets himself go, giving into the magnetic chemistry that draws us together.

From that point forward, we are both lost in each other. We fumble back up the stairs and once on stable ground we're tearing our clothes off like they're going out of style. We step backwards and he pushes me onto the silken coverlet of the bed. It's luxurious against my skin, softer than I imagined.

A split second later that's all forgotten as he's on top of me and we're devouring each other in flesh-on-flesh full body contact. My mind is in a fog, slightly dizzy, as if I drank a little too much wine. My skin is aflame; everywhere he touches sends little electric currents of pleasure right down to my core. And my heart, well, I'm sure it's about to rocket right out of my chest.

I shift my legs beneath him, aligning Tab A with Slot B, and he freezes above me. I can't see his face, as it is nestled into my shoulder, but I can feel his pulse pounding through every inch of his body. Oh hell no. Whatever struggle of conscience he's at now – its time has ended. I take my fingernails and not-so-gently rake them down his back.

That does it. With a choked growl he knees my legs further apart and drives himself into me. Holy Mother of God. Reality ceases to exist after that. The world becomes a duality of me and him and nothing else – until it crescendos into nothing but heat and pleasure. Wave upon wave crashes into me, and I drown myself in it.

I'm still swimming in the aftereffects when he rolls away from me and settles off to my side with a flop. The room is dark now and when I turn my head towards him, I see only muted outlines and shadows. I reach for his hand, and find it with minimal fumbling. We lay like that for a while, until he rolls forward to face me. I mirror his actions but remain silent. Coherent thought is a long ways away for me, let alone conversation.

He leans forward and lightly kisses my forehead. I smile and squeeze his hand in reply. We lay there, listening to each other breathe into the inky blackness. At some point I drift off, and half-formed dreams swirl around my consciousness. One is of Hades apologizing, but I'm not sure what for. Another is of clock faces, spinning and spinning.

It's past midnight when the sharp cry of my daughter bolts me into consciousness. Oh the joys of a newborn. I cast a simple glow spell, one that will give me light but hopefully won't disrupt Hades. I look over and release a breath I didn't realize I was holding. He's still here, turned away from me and for all intensive purposes, sleeping peacefully. I shine the glow in my hand down his body, taking him in. He isn't the most muscular male – more lean meat than beefcake. I grin a wicked little grin at the sight of his ass. He has a damn fine ass.

My daughter lets out another fussy cry. With a happy sigh I roll out of bed to tend to her, clothing myself in a fluffy green robe and green slippers with a wave of my wrist. This is a burden of motherhood that I am thankful to bear.

Two hours later, after a changing, a bottle and the telling of a brilliant story I made up about a beautiful witch who conquers all the lands and is loved by everyone, I tiptoe my way upstairs with her in my arms. The floorboards squeak slightly and I promise myself I will fix them tomorrow. I repeat my glow spell in order to find my way back to the bassinet. It truly is pitch black out here in the less inhabited parts of Storybrooke. No signs of civilization at all. Odd how I never noticed before.

There's a chill in the air as well, so when I tuck my daughter in, I lay the green plush blanket that came with the bassinet over her as well. Hades really did think of everything. Once she's settled, I ditch the slippers and robe and climb into bed, quickly trying to get under the covers. My efforts fail because Hades is still zonked out on top of them.

"Cold?"

Oops, seems he's not so asleep after all.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "Didn't want to wake you."

There's something dominant in his tone when he says, "You didn't answer me. Are you cold?"

"Yes."

I hear him shifting the bedding around, pushing himself underneath. "Come here."

Yes sir. I snuggle up next to him; he's all nice and toasty warm. "Mmm…"

His hand is tracing the line of my arm. "Zelena… you are beautiful."

"Mmm…thank you. You're not so bad yourself."

"Nothing like you. Truly a masterpiece." I feel the light caress of his lips on my shoulder as he brushes my hair off to the side. "Sleep," he murmurs against my skin. "Just sleep."

And I do, I fall asleep nestled in his arms, with his arm resting possessively over my waist and his soft words in my ear, thinking I really could get used to this.