So this has become a Holiday-based drabble series I began on Thanksgiving on tumblr. I thought I would share these drabbles here, as well, and plan on continuing this slice of domestic life for the Mills/Hood family on holidays throughout the year. Hope you enjoy, everyone!

And Happy New Year to the OQ fandom! I am honored you have embraced my writing when there are so many talented OQ writers out there. :) And yes-I'm hoping to update "Dustings of Truth" in a few days and "Pulse Points" after that.

I don't own Ouat.

Turkey….check.

Dressing…check.

Cranberry sauce…check.

Apple pies…ch—

Wait. What the hell happened to the apple pies?

Regina stares open mouthed at the empty counter, the pies she had spent hours perfecting today missing in action. Rolling out dough, slicing apples at the peak of ripeness, stirring, baking, wiping flour on her apron, shaking sugar from her hair, she had done it all in preparation for the large Thanksgiving dinner she had agreed to host for the Charming clan at Henry's request.

"Robin!" she cries, her chest beginning to heave dangerously. "Henry! Roland! Get in her now."

Footsteps make their way towards the kitchen, three faces peering warily through the doorway, three sets of eyes staring back at her guiless and round.

"What did you boys do with the pies?"

They stare back at her in confusion, Henry and Roland shoving Robin ahead of them into the room, his expression one of a man about to face trial.

"We haven't bothered them," he asserts with a shrug. "Have we men?"

Two heads shake vehemently, and Regina steps closer, examining them for traces of crumbs, finding nothing.

"Says the thief and his merry men," she quips, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Says your husband and your two darling sons," he corrects, stepping closer to her but stopping just short of rousing her ire any further.

"Then where are they?" she inquires with a flick of her brow. "Pies don't simply walk away by themselves."

"Are you sure about that?" Robin questions, his face creasing in wonder at something he sees behind her.

"Maybe they can't walk, but it looks like they can fly," Henry grins, and she turns just in time to see two pies float towards the staircase, her eyes widening in understanding. They all follow the desserts up the steps, around the corner, until they step into the only pink room in the house. The pies are sitting on a small wooden table, a pint-sized princess grinning back at them as she holds a cream colored tea pot over a matching cup and saucer.

"Just what do you think you are doing, young lady?" Regina questions, walking towards the child, her arms crossed snugly over her chest.

"Having a tea party, Mommy," the child smiles, her dark curls bouncing in her excitement. "Do you want some pie?"

Robin chuckles behind her, and she turns in time to see him attempting to cover his dimples with his hand. She shoots him a look of warning before returning her attention to their daughter.

"I'd love some pie," Regina begins. "But these are for Thanksgiving dinner tonight. We can't eat them now, Hope."

Blue eyes gaze back at her, a pudgy lip sticking out in a pronounced pout.

"But what will I feed Mr. Jingles?" the child inquires, pointing to the lavender teddy bear nearly as tall as she is. "He's really hungry."

"How about some chips?" Henry attempts, holding up a bag of Doritos. Regina stares at him as if he's grown another head, and the boy quickly shoves the bag into Roland's hands, feigning innocence.

"You were eating chips less than an hour before Thanksgiving dinner?" Regina asks incredulously, Roland taking one look at her expression and tossing the bag back to Henry before darting out of the doorway and back down the stairs.

"I knew you wouldn't let me steal a roll," Henry shrugs, and she rolls her eyes at him, half-suspecting her teen-aged son has a hollow leg. "What? I'm a growing boy."

"So is Mr. Jingles," Hope chimes in. "He needs something to eat, Mommy."

"Well, maybe he can come downstairs and have some nuts," Regina suggests, hearing Robin clear his throat uncomfortably. "What is it?"

"We're..ah…out of nuts," her husband explains. "The men and I finished them off during the last card game. Perhaps some popcorn?"

"I am not popping popcorn right before Thanksgiving dinner," Regina insists, taking two steps towards him.

"Why not?" Hope questions. "Snoopy did."

"That's right, sweetheart," Robin grins, the expression on his face making Henry sigh and wave them off as he leaves. "And I believe that he, Woodstock and Charlie Black had a wonderful Thanksgiving meal."

"Brown," Regina corrects, moving directly into his space. "Charlie Brown, not Black."

"Silly Daddy," Hope giggles, pointing at him in merriment, and it's all Robin can take. He moves and scoops up his daughter in one arm, Mr. Jingles in the other, looking rather proud of his accomplishment. He then glides back to Regina's side and kisses her cheek before doing the same to his daughter.

"How about you and I go downstairs, and I'll fix Mr. Jingles a piece of toast?" he suggests, Hope studying his face as she contemplates his idea.

"Alright," she agrees. "But you should fix two pieces. Mr. Jingles doesn't like to eat alone."

The child's stomach growls on cue, and Regina grins, biting her lower lip at the sight just before her.

"One piece each," she insists, pulling motherly rank. "Mr. Jingles may not be eating Thanksgiving Dinner in a few minutes, but you will be, young lady."

"But he wants apple pie," Hope states, her blue eyes turning on her mother at the same time Robin's do. "It's his favorite."

"How can you deny apple pie to Mr. Jingles?" Robin asks, and she narrows her eyes in his direction, promising herself that she will deal with her husband later. "He is a member of the family, after all."

"He'll wash his paws and everything," Hope promises. Regina reaches out and strokes her daughter's dark curls, noting the marked dimples that matched her brother's to perfection.

"Mr. Jingles will have to share, then," Regina instructs. "In order to make certain we have enough pie for everyone."

"He'll share with me?" Hope asks, biting her lower lip.

"No, my darling," Regina smiles, kissing her daughter's cheek. "With your father."

She then retrieves the pies from the table and walks past them, feeling her husband's eyes on her backside as she makes her way down the hall.

"I'll share with Mr. Jingles, but you'll have to share with me later," he announces, making her pause and face him directly.

"You really expect me to share my pie with you?" she muses, tossing him a look he cannot misinterpret.

"Every crumb and juicy morsel," he expounds, wiggling his brows suggestively in her direction.

"Only if you restock the nuts," she quips, hearing him swallow as she turns on her heels and saunters back to the kitchen, a smug smile of satisfaction warming her all over.