A/N: So, I wasn't planning on bringing back this verse until I finished at least one of my current stories, but I had received a few PMs requesting a V-Day themed snapshot and another reviewer (saragabriel) at the end of Home for the Holidays kindly reminded me that I had set myself up for a particular event with the gifts they exchanged in that fic, so this idea came to me and wouldn't leave my head until I wrote it.

If you haven't read my fic Home for the Holidays yet, I would highly recommend that you hop over there first to read about Emma and Regina's backstory and how they got to this moment in time (see what I did there?). This chapter will still make sense even if you haven't read the original, but future chapters will refer back to events of the first story. The original fic isn't too long, so it shouldn't take long to catch up :) Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short little fluffy Valentine's Day moment!

1. A Belated Valentine's Day Surprise

Friday, February 16. 7:30pm.

I wish I was dead, she thinks.

Regina Mills is old enough that she should know that surprises rarely, if ever, go the way they're planned. She should know by now that it's better to forget about the excitement of mystery and the romance of spontaneity, and instead go the safe route. Safe is always better. It may be boring, but it's less likely to lead to awkward situations, like the one in which she currently finds herself.

She and Emma have only been married a few months, and it's not like they have lost any of the passionate spark in those few months of wedded bliss, so she shouldn't have felt the need to try to spice things up with an unplanned surprise. She should have just told her wife her intentions. If she had, she wouldn't be in her current humiliating predicament.

Please, God, just let me have a massive myocardial infarction right now…or an aneurism. I'm not picky. Something quick and relatively painless. Anything would better than this, she silently prays. But, God doesn't smite her down in that moment. No, she's going to have to deal with this.

She glares at her wife across the room, whose cheeks are as equally as pink in embarrassment as she sends an apologetic look back to the brunette. Regina can feel the heat in her own cheeks continue to deepen as she stands in her kitchen in nothing but a short jersey that barely covers her bare ass and white knee-high tube socks with two purple stripes around the top, which she had cleverly picked out to match the color of her Baltimore Ravens jersey.

"Um…" the brunette clears her throat, breaking the awkward silence. "I'm just going to go upstairs and change. I'll be right back," she says, using her hands to pull down the hemline of the jersey, making sure she's as covered as much as she can be, as she backs carefully out of the kitchen. As soon as she's out of sight, she runs upstairs to the master bedroom.

"Fuck," she growls out loud as she rummages through her dresser drawer, bypassing her collection of thongs until she finds a pair of boyshorts. It's not like it matters since she will be putting on pants, but she feels so exposed that she wants to overcompensate. She quickly pulls them on, followed quickly by a pair of jeans. She's about to head back downstairs when she realizes she's still in that damned jersey. It's not like it's scandalous now that the lower half of her body is covered, but she doesn't want any reminders of what just happened. So, she tosses it over her head, realizing she still needs to put on a bra, and hastily gets dressed in one of her old medical school long sleeved tee shirts. She looks as covered up and unsexy as possible, which is good — that's exactly what she's going for.

But, she can't bring herself to head back downstairs just yet, so she takes a seat on the end of their bed and then plops down onto her back, her legs still dangling off the edge. As she lies there and stares at the ceiling, she thinks back to how she got herself into this mess:

Regina and Emma had agreed to celebrate their first Valentine's Day as a married couple a few days late, as Regina had to be in Minneapolis for a three-day fetal medicine continuing education conference during the week. She had left for the airport the afternoon of the 13th and the medical seminars had started early on the morning of Valentine's Day and would run through Friday afternoon. Regina hadn't planned on returning to Washington, D.C. until Saturday night, as she had signed up to attend the closing dinner gala on Friday night and would then head to the airport Saturday afternoon. However, she had completed the number of professional development hours she needed by Friday morning, and the afternoon lectures hadn't been of particular interest or relevance to her and her practice. She also had little interest in attending the dinner, as her good friend had bailed on her and decided not to go, and Regina didn't want to face the snooty fetal surgeons with God complexes alone, especially since she had been one of the few non-surgeons in attendance. Instead, she had decided to contact the airline and had been able to get a mid-afternoon flight back to D.C. She and Emma already had dinner reservations scheduled for Sunday evening to celebrate the holiday, but she had decided to come home early and surprise her wife, who she had been missing terribly. After all, Regina still had to make good on her promise to wear nothing but that damn Raven's jersey that she had bought for Christmas, so she thought she would give Emma a surprise early-yet-belated Valentine's Day gift.

And so, that's what she had done earlier that evening. She had taken a cab back from Regan National Airport to her townhouse, knowing that Emma would still be at work at the art museum in Baltimore. After tipping the driver, Regina had quickly rushed upstairs to put away her suitcase and unpack, shower, and change into the jersey and a complementary pair of knee-high socks. She had left her dark hair to air dry, knowing that Emma loved the tousled look of her naturally wavy hair. She had kept her makeup to a minimum, opting just for a little bit of winged eyeliner and mascara to play up her eyes, along with some tinted lip balm. She had opened a bottle of Emma's favorite red wine (she had recently converted the blonde from her preference to drink white) and had started making a four cheese and spinach lasagna. It would be a carb-heavy dish, but she knew they would more than burn off the calories over the course of the weekend.

Everything had gone according to plan. Regina had even texted Emma shortly after she knew the blonde would have been done with work, making it seem like she was still in Minnesota: 'I miss you. I can't wait to see you this weekend,' she had typed out.

The blonde had immediately responded with a 'Me too. The bed has been so empty without you in it :( '

Regina had bitten her lip as she typed out another message: 'Well, I'll see you soon. Don't stay at work too late.' When the blonde had responded that she had already left and was on her way back home, Regina had smiled to herself, excited that her wife would be walking through their front door in less than an hour.

What her blonde wife had neglected to include in her message, however, was that she had not been alone. Had Regina known that, she would not have jumped up on the kitchen island as soon as she heard the key turning in the front door deadbolt, leaning back seductively on one hand and sipping her wine with the other as the blonde entered the house. (She's still thanking God that she had kept her legs crossed, opting for a demure pose instead of something a little more raunchy. It could have been even worse). "Oh my God, Regina!" Emma had said, her eyes wide in surprise as she saw her wife seated on the countertop.

"Miss me?" Regina had smirked as she set the wine glass down on the island and leaned forward, beckoning the blonde toward her.

"Yes, but—"

"Emma, where should I put —oh, my!" a voice had yelled in surprise, walking up behind Emma.

"Leopold!" Regina had gasped in shock. "Shit." The brunette had reflexively jumped off the counter and moved to stand behind it, blocking her lower half from view.

"Hello, Regina," he had said, biting back a laugh as he looked between his mortified daughter and step-daughter-turned-daughter-in-law.

During the awkward silence that had followed, Regina had quietly sworn that she was going to kill Emma.

"Hey," Regina hears her wife's voice, followed by the sound of the door to their bedroom clicking shut.

"Hey," Regina says, still staring up at the ceiling from her spot on the bed.

"You've been up here awhile, so I thought I would come check on you. The oven beeped a few minutes ago, so I took the lasagna out. I didn't want it to burn," she says, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning back on her hands as she looks down at her wife.

Regina sighs. She had completely forgotten about the lasagna in the oven. "Thanks."

"And to answer your earlier question, yes, I missed you. More than you know." The blonde smiles before leaning down to place a gentle kiss on Regina's lips. They hadn't had a chance to do that yet amid all the earlier chaos.

Regina smiles despite herself. "I think I have some idea," she says, sighing as she pushes herself up to a seated position. "So, your father's here."

"Yep," Emma nods.

"And why is that?"

"Some psychology research academic conference thing," Emma shrugs at her own explanation. "His co-author on their paper was supposed to present it, but some emergency came up so Dad had to come in last minute to do it. He took the redeye last night and went straight to the conference this morning. I didn't even know he was here until I saw a text from him during my lunch break asking me if I wanted to get dinner. He's leaving first thing tomorrow, so he would've been gone by the time your original flight would have gotten in, so I didn't mention it."

"I see."

"I'm sorry I didn't warn you that he was coming, but you are the last person I expected to see here tonight."

"I wanted to surprise you," Regina says shyly.

"Well, you succeeded. Spectacularly," she smirks.

"Ugh," Regina groans. "I can't believe he saw that."

"Regina, I don't think he saw anything. He was behind me, and I didn't even see anything," Emma says, placing a hand on Regina's now denim-clad knee, hoping to calm her wife down.

She rolls her eyes. "Even so, it's still embarrassing. It's not like it wasn't clear what my intentions were, or the lack of clothing underneath."

Emma holds back a giggle. "I know you're horrified by it, but I appreciate the gesture. I have to admit it was super hot," she says, lightly kissing under Regina's jaw.

"That was the idea," Regina grins, unable to stop herself from tilting her head back to give Emma more access. Eventually, she comes to her senses and lightly pushes the blonde away. "Okay, you need to go back downstairs. Your father already got a show. If you're up here too long, he'll think we're having sex, and I can't deal with that."

"Regina, we're married. He knows we have sex," Emma points out.

"Well knowing about it in theory and thinking that we're so horny that we can't control ourselves when we have other people in the house are two very different things."

"Fine," Emma says, standing up. "You coming?" The blonde looks back expectantly at her wife, who has made no effort to get up.

"Oh, no. I can't face him right now," she says quietly. "Tell him I have a migraine or something, and enjoy your father's visit."

"Regina, it's really not that big of a deal. He thought it was funny."

"Not helping," Regina glares.

"Okay, he also thought it was sweet that you would come back early and surprise me." Emma sees the doubtful look on Regina's face, so she continues. "Besides, he's a psychology professor and teaches a class on human sexuality. He's never been a prude. He really doesn't think it's a big deal. I promise you, it'll be fine," she says, extending out her hand and hoping her wife will take it.

Regina sighs and concedes, allowing Emma to pull her off the bed.

"Let's go eat that lasagna. It smelled delicious and I'm starving," the blonde says as she leads the way out of their bedroom, holding Regina's hand tightly in her own to prevent the brunette from retreating back into the safety of their bedroom.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! I have received several prompts (in addition to my own list I've been creating since you all asked for a sequel) for this verse, so follow along if you'd like and be on the lookout for new snapshots. While they will [mostly] all stick with the theme of holidays, I likely will post semi-frequently/I won't necessarily wait for a particular holiday to post. Or, I might. It depends on where I am in my other fics :) If you have any ideas or suggestions for events/holidays/things you want to see in this fic, feel free to leave your prompt in a review, or PM me.

A/N 2: Saragabriel went out and found a good image to accompany this chapter. Go to Pinterest's main website and then type in "/pin/16677461101872186/" (no quote marks) at the end of the URL :P