A/N: Written for Swan Queen Week, Day 4: Caregiving. This was supposed to be a sweet but angsty 3b AU about Emma taking care of Regina, but then the reformed villains seized power and ran off with the story so you get this semi-crack instead? yeah I don't even know

Emma's coming off a week of night shifts and her sleep schedule's all shot to hell, so of course the phone rings just as she's drifted off. "'s better be fuckin' important, Ash," she mumbles into the phone.

"It's Regina," is all Ashley says.

Emma sits up, blinking hard. Her heart starts racing. "What? What happened? Where is she?"

"She's here, Em." Emma can hear muffled music behind her friend's voice, the clink of glasses and the heavy throb of bass. The Ogre's Cave, then, not the Rabbit Hole (and what is with the weird animal euphemisms, god, Storybrooke). She still hasn't been to the new club, but she knows Ashley bartends there on weekends. "You need to come get her. She's pretty bad off and I don't know if she can—"

Emma's already sliding her boots on. "Shouldn't you be calling, I don't know, one of her actual friends? Tinker Bell?"

"Tink's … unavailable at the moment. Besides, she asked for you."

"For me?"

"I've got customers, Em, just come get her. Before the fireworks start, okay?"

"Okay. Wait, fireworks?" Emma starts to say, but Ashley's hung up.

She shoulders her way into the Cave. The place is packed wall-to-wall with people; it'll take time to work through the crowd. Emma sweeps the room with her eyes, quick and professional, scanning the exits and dark corners for her target. But Regina isn't lurking in any of them. No, she's over at the far end of the bar, weaving on her feet. And yelling. Yelling loudly enough to be heard over the music.

"... years spent studying the arts—arts, plural!—of magic! And you … you just come into my town with your … your pendant and your little plan and throw me into cars and clock towers as if—do you even know how much property damage you caused?!" Regina pauses, frowning indignantly, and appears to think deeply about her own question for a moment. "It was a lot!"

Zelena's got her chin up in a belligerent sneer. It's incredible, Emma thinks as she struggles to weave her way through the dance floor, if hardly unsurprising, how much the Mills sisters look alike when they're feeling obstinate or superior. "Oh, would you like to provide me with an estimate, perhaps? Something else I can work on paying back as I struggle to follow my saintly sister on her heroic journey to redemption?"

One stool over from Zelena, a blonde woman who's hunched over a frozen margarita the size of her face says, "We have a saying in our land about taking the hard way." She tilts her head. "But fuck if I can remember what it is. Maybe something about building an overpass. God, it's hot in here. Who wants to create an ice palace real quick?"

"Just run away from your problems, hmm, Elsa? Like certain other blondes I know," Regina mutters to herself. She glares angrily at Tink, who's slumped against the bar like the lightweight she is, and who's no substitute for the blonde she wishes was here.

"Leave Elsa alone."

"Thought you didn't like me right now."

Zelena turns red and puffs up. "I don't. We're fighting."

"Regina, tell your sister she can't conceal her feelings from me and I'll consider letting her back into bed tonight. And if she's very, very good, or wicked, as the case may be, I'll ..." Elsa's voice drops. Emma can't hear the rest of it, but Regina rears back almost comically.

"That is my sister you're talking about, Ice Bitch!"

"Don't call her that!"

"Stop yelling at my girlfriend!"

"I'm not your girlfriend!"

"One more word and the two of you will find out exactly what I'm capable of!"

"Like I'd let you hurt Elsa. Bring it on, Gina."

"I told you never to call me that! I despise that nickname! Do you know what I did to the last person who called me that?!"

"Tore them limb from limb or some such, I expect," Zelena says, bored. "Tough, sweet cheeks. I'm your big sister. Teasing's what we do to little sisters."

"'s not what I do to my little sister," Elsa murmurs, then blinks and claps a hand over her mouth.

Regina's eyes are glowing purple. She stumbles backward. A fireball crackles at her fingertips and suddenly Emma's fighting against the riptide of the crowd as the club clears out. "I am a queen and I am the mayor and I just bought you all multiple rounds after we defeated the clockwork wizard together, and now you're being severely disreshp—dishrep—you're being really mean!"

"Time to go home, Your Majesty," Emma says, finally coming up beside her and laying a hand on her outstretched wrist. "I'm your ride, remember?"

Regina extinguishes the fireball and turns her face away, pouting a little. She's flushed and has her shirt unbuttoned halfway down her torso under her blazer. Emma tries not to stare. "I'm having fun with my friends. Go away, Savior."

"Are you joining our reformed villains club, Emma?" Elsa inquires, genuinely interested. "I assume as an honorary member, like Tink, but, you know. An honorary member who can actually hold her liquor and isn't interested in boys."

"I'm not reformed. Not in a million years." Zelena points an accusatory, unsteady finger at Regina, who instinctively pops a wobbly fireball. "You are."

"No, I'm not."

"Uh, guys," Emma says, and how weird is this: Regina has a posse.

"You so are."

"Am not."

"Are!"

"Guys."

The Mills sisters glare at each other. The fireball flickers. "Henry," Zelena says pointedly. Regina's scowl collapses into a sweet, goofy smile and the magical flames dissipate. Her sister grins back, reluctantly happy at the thought of her nephew. "Gotcha."

"You did," Regina allows, almost proudly.

Emma's smiling too. She slides a hand around Regina's wrist again, ignoring the way her stomach twists pleasantly as that smile's turned on her. "Hey, I'm sorry, but I have to break this up. You're kinda scaring the customers."

The three women look around at the nearly-empty club. Ashley takes the opportunity to carefully push Regina's bill forward. "And will you ladies be coming back next Saturday?" she asks, clearly torn between profit and avoiding property damage.

"If you've slept off your hangovers by then," Emma mutters. She eyes Tink.

"Perhaps. I'm a busy mayor. Woman."

"Say bye, Regina."

"I'm Regina," the mayor says, chuckling at her own joke as Emma leads her away.

"Next Saturday, loser!"

Regina flips her sister the bird without looking, which only makes Zelena sit back contentedly on her barstool with a dopey smile. Elsa lifts an arm and puts it around her shoulders. "Let's get you home, baby. Tinker Bell? Would you like a ride?"

Tink mumbles into the bar, "Only if your sister's coming too."

Outside, Emma wrestles Regina into the passenger seat of the Bug and buckles her in. Regina's half-gone already. "Your car sucks," she slurs.

"Yeah, yeah."

"But I like your face."

"Me too," Emma agrees, letting Regina paw at her cheek. "I like it attached. As do most people, so no more fireballs in enclosed spaces, okay? Or Ash isn't gonna let you come back."

"I do what I want. I'm the queen. Mayor. Queen-mayor."

"Come on. For me, Regina. No more fireballs?"

Regina is scowling when Emma gets into the driver's seat. "Fine. But just for you, y'know? Nobody else can know."

"That I'm your weak spot?" Emma jokes.

Regina puts a hand on Emma's thigh. "No," she says, voice throaty and suddenly serious. "That you're my strength."

Emma stares, then shakes her head and starts the car. "You really are drunk."

"Yes," Regina says agreeably. "You're going to have to hold my hair later and give me water and painkillers. And make me breakfast."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. And maybe I could let you sleep in my bed because I know you're really tired after all those night shifts, and we could accidentally cuddle, and then I could kiss you and pretend I didn't mean to, but then you could kiss me back. And then in the morning I could pretend I don't remember if you … if you didn't ... if you don't want anything m—"

Emma pulls the car over and looks at her, just looks at the wide-eyed, vulnerable woman sitting in her car who won't meet her eyes. The woman who'd asked for her tonight, who'd wanted her. Wants her. She reaches over and takes Regina's hand. "Hey. I really like you, you know? Like a lot. A lot a lot."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." Regina begins to smile.

"Listen, everything you were talking about ... all of that would be … it would be beyond great. Minus the puking, ideally, but if that happens, I'll help you out; it's why I'm here. What I mean is … I want to say yes to what you're suggesting. But I'd really like it if you were sober."

"We can wait till tomorrow for some of it. I mean, it'd be hard. But we can wait."

Emma touches her cheek. "That, too. But I'm trying to say—it's about right now. I'd really like it if you weren't drunk, saying these things to me."

It takes a moment for that to hit Regina. She pulls back immediately and turns away.

"Regina…"

"I don't need liquid courage to tell you how I feel about you, Emma. This isn't the alcohol talking. I'm not even sober. Drunk. I'm not even drunk."

"Maybe just a little," Emma suggests with a gentle smile.

"Hmph. Fine, just a little. But I'll say the same things to you tomorrow if you want. Stone cold sober. I swear it." Regina glances over, eyes sharper than they should be. "Just don't … don't leave."

Emma breathes. Breathes and breathes. "I don't run from you, Regina," she says. Smiles until Regina's lips begin to turn up at the corners. "I run to you."

The moment's broken when Regina grimaces and sets a hand against her stomach. "I'm going to be running to a toilet in a few minutes. Or I could just vomit in your car, if you'd prefer to keep sitting there and staring at me."

"No, toilets are good, toilets are great. Let's get you home and into bed, Mayor Mills."

"Hurry. Your car would be a convenient receptacle. No moving required."

"I'm driving as fast as I can!"

"While obeying traffic regulations, I can only hope."

"You're unbelievable. Just breathe and try not to hurl in the footwell."

Regina is silent, breathing through her nose. "Emma."

"Yeah."

"You could stay. In the spare bedroom. And we could talk in the morning."

"I'd like that," Emma says, turning onto Mifflin, sparing a warm smile for the woman she—"oh my god, Regina, open the door—!"