Welp I haven't dabbled at fanfiction -or general writing- in awhile so excuse my amateur ways but here's to hoping y'all will like this. It is a one shot so I won't be doing a second chapter to this. Please leave constructive criticism because I honestly appreciate it. Same with leaving comments or liking this. That would be awesome. Let me know if you wanna see a certain fic type with these two through messaging me on here or at my tumblr: unjustifiedfeels /Thank you! Takes place at the end of episode 16 "Poor Unfortunate Soul" of season 4.

Somewhere upstairs Henry's jazz music played softly, lulling the boy to sleep. The blonde smiled to herself, pouring the freshly brewed coffee into the mug Mary Margaret had given her earlier that day; it had been a thank you gift after she had asked Emma to cover the nightshifts since David would be helping out with Neal during the darker hours. Inhaling the light scent of cinnamon, Emma shivered against the warmth of the coffee. She was careful to tip it towards her lips but paused midway when the front door opened. A head of dark hair peeked around the corner, curiously searching for something - or someone. Beautiful, brown eyes gazed into her blue ones before Regina eventually entered the home, "Where's the man puppet?"

"We took August home. He said he had news to tell us tomorrow, but he was pretty out for the night."

"And Henry?"

Emma responded with silence, gesturing to the second floor and allowing the answer to sound itself. When snores became apparent, Regina hummed. She made casual conversation, drifting tiredly towards the counter Emma stood behind, "Cruella was sporting a nasty bump on the back of the head when she found us, you didn't happen to be the cause of that?"

"All my mother. Did you know frying pans are pretty great makeshift bats?" Emma chuckled when the brunette made no comment. Instead, the other woman seemed to be captivated by her thoughts.

"I used to play him classical music while he slept. I suppose he's outgrown that as well..." Regina waved her hand busily, "Jazz will have to do."

"You don't like jazz?" the sheriff prompted, watching as the mayor shuffled onto a stool then delicately rested her elbows along the counter edge.

"It's not that I don't like it."

"You miss before."

Quick to recover after a sharp but oh so vulnerable look, Emma added, "Right? I mean..he's already almost a teenager. It's hard."

The brunette kept her narrowed eyes for just a second more before, with an exhausted yawn, crumbled gracefully before the other female, "Yes, well, it is. Although, I'd still rather endure that pain than not seeing him grow at all." There was a mutual agreement between the two following the fact every good parent held; temptation to continue relieving Regina of her worries fluttered inside Emma's chest, yet the blonde was the one to change topics, "So, how are my parents?"

"I'm assuming better. Despite this being a small humble town, night life will always be relatively annoying, especially when dealing with a newborn that wakes at every little noise. At least, at my home, there's nothing nearby to disturb them or the baby."

"Good. That's good." Emma took a sip of her coffee and inwardly melted at the sweet taste. She felt her body's system kicking in after the small nap while she noticed Regina's shutting down. It was hard to leave at night, to leave behind Henry while he slept, and Regina. It was always hard to leave her too. The blonde rubbed the last bit of sleep away from her eyes, "I should get going. Never know what kind of night life this small humble town is capable of." She grinned when a soft sleepy smirk graced Regina's response. They both knew tonight would be quiet and slow since the defeat of their enemies' plans, a pain in the ass for the ever patient Savior.

The dark haired woman stared after Emma as the sheriff slipped on her jacket, appreciating the act in more ways than one. Words sprung to Regina's tongue before she had the chance to reconsider, "I could fire you." The sentence hung thick in the air between them. What had she been thinking? Regina had half a mind to take back the quip with a cruel snarl, and gloat about the hardly comfortable bed she would be sinking into while the other drove around Storybrooke aimlessly. It would be the perfect take back had not Emma already opened her mouth to speak.

"...You could...?" Her face was too uncertain, too pure. No one could lie to that face - literally. At least, Regina couldn't. She didn't want to either. With everyone lying to Emma about her capability for darkness, all Regina wanted to do was give her an ounce of honesty back.

"They're not going to do anything tonight. Mal was fast asleep when I left and Cruella was curling up in that fur ball of a coat. Rumple will stay up plotting, no doubt, but he won't make a move. Not yet."

The funny thing was despite the necessary and pleasing information Regina had delivered, Emma could only focus her teasing on the fact that Regina had referred to Maleficent as Mal, "So, you have nicknames for each other?"

A faint, surprising blush crept up Regina's neck. She hid it behind a tense warning, "Emma."

"How come I don't get a nickname?" The blonde grinned triumphantly when the other mother said nothing but bore holes through her with those rich, striking eyes. Emma briefly forgot what she had been teasing about in the first place but kept the staring contest alive until Regina huffed then turned away.

"Perhaps you should get going."

"I like Em."

"Emma."

"Emmy?"

"I am going to poof you out of here if you don't stop."

Silence descended once more. Emma could have pointed out that all Regina had to do was leave the room and go to bed if she didn't want to be annoyed any further, but the wise part of her understood the mayor was staying up with her to share the moment of mutual peace. The blonde picked up her mug at that moment and twisted the lid off, pouring the rest down the kitchen sink and waiting for the sarcastic retraction.

"You'll need that for work. You won't be fired anytime soon." There it was - right on cue. The townspeople were right that Regina had a rude and masked side to her, but in some strange way Emma found it comforting that at least she could depend on those makings of Regina than she could depend on the makings of the original heroes in their tale.

Emma lifted her eyebrows for express carefree attitude, "I get a sick day."

"Quite the role model." There wasn't room to talk but Emma refused to call Regina out on her past, knowing how much the woman had been through and how much she had changed for the better.

Jazz - slick and inviting - squeezed through the walls of the apartment and stole their attention. Henry really did need to turn his music down, but the mothers weren't going to yell at him for that. He was growing up too fast too soon. He had seen too much like they all had, despite their efforts to protect their young boy. Young man. Regina looked down at the counter where her hands rinsed one another due to habit. Years ago she pictured this moment to be different, easier and simpler. The only problems she predicted were the ones most single mothers dealt with while raising a teenage boy. However, life had taken its unexpected turns and although it was harder, Regina was happier. She had started her path to redemption, gained insight to what really mattered, met people she could rely on and trust. She had Emma. Emma - who, in that moment stood appreciating the same jazz song Regina and a subconscious Henry were - had flipped tables and chairs and created an empty space for Regina to design her recovery.

The Savior saving the Evil Queen. How ironic.

Emma pulled away from her trance in a state of confidence, "I think I like jazz more."

"Of course you would."

"No, but listen." They trained their ears for the instruments and took a second to comprehend the emotion behind it all. "It's nice." Two defining tones played and Emma caught up to them in a beat, "Kinda..broken."

"It is." Regina almost smirked when Emma gave her a look and continued to demonstrate her theory.

"But it's...alive and strong, too. It's sad but it's happy."

"A wonderfully worded description," came her smart ass reply.

This time she was disappointed the blonde didn't snap back but let the conversation end there. Regina went to apologize and excuse herself with an admission of exhaustion, but Emma was already rolling her eyes with a smirk and humming as she moved to head to bed, "Good night, Regina."

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"No?"

"I'm supposed to be sleeping in the room. And I am not sleeping on this couch."

"You can sleep in the room," Emma exaggerated cluelessly.

"Where you will be sleeping."

"Oh. Yeah." The bashfulness of realization struck a red shade onto Emma's cheeks, coloring them like many of Henry's young classmates would have back in kindergarden with their hopelessly incorrect fairytale coloring books. "Uh, you can sleep in my parents' bed?"

"That has got to be one of the worst ideas you've come up with yet," the dark haired woman complained, crossing her arms as she now leaned against the counter. Her feet ached in her high heels and she was finding it harder and harder to remain civilized. She kicked in return, "You could sleep in their bed."

A grimace proved her point, "Right. Uh, well, Henry's bed is way too small. Even for him.. I guess I'll sleep on the couch."

Regina didn't like putting Emma out on the couch anymore than Emma liked putting Regina out on the couch, but Regina still held a certain level of me-before-you in casual situations like these. She wasn't about to sacrifice her beauty sleep, especially since the sheriff should have gone to work anyways - even if she taunted otherwise. They walked into the bedroom while Emma gathered her clothes and Regina prepared to lay down. She pulled back the sheets, tensing a little at the thought of Emma's body having been there only a bit ago. It was a very desirable fact that lingered at the edge of her mind.

"I wonder what Gold really wants out of this." The unwelcome voice broke Regina's fantasies and urged her in the direction of the other female as she rummaged through the dresser for pajamas. "I mean I guess I get spoiling everyone else's happy endings, but he doesn't really work like that. He's greedy. He always wants something - not just taking away something from someone else. How does he benefit?"

"Emma, I'm done thinking about this tonight."

"I'm just trying to figure it out. 'Cause what's his happy ending? He already had Belle and gave her up. He has his dagger."

"More power?" Regina suggested in feigned annoyance, pulling off her heels as she sat on the bed. A small fear wrestled her throat, threatening to spill the truth and potentially corrupt Emma as it was.

"Maybe. But what kind?"

"Hopefully, we won't have to find out. Now good night, Miss Swan."

"Good night, Regina." Emma smiled thinly then closed the door after exiting the room and made her way to the couch. She groaned, fluffing the small pillow and crawling onto the uncomfortable furniture. She supposed sleeping on anything was better than driving around everywhere. The blonde snuggled the blanket and turned over to fall asleep.

She sighed after about an hour, tossing and turning but too awkwardly settled to drift away. By now, Regina was already asleep, nicely fitted against the long pillow Emma so loved to snuggle, and dreaming of nothing which sounded perfect to the woman awake. Emma tried again to sleep and again thirty minutes later she couldn't calm her nerves. Perhaps she shouldn't have started that conversation about Gold at the last second. Eventually, she gave up and threw off her blanket.

Emma opened the door slowly, wincing at the squeak of the hinges until it was wide enough for her to fit her head around. Regina slept like an angel - a fallen angel - so innocently in the face but defensively positioned. There was a slight crease in her brow and her mouth parted in gentle sighs. Emma knew Regina must have been dead on her feet when she walked in, but it only hit her in full effect as she watched the gorgeous woman's slumber. She felt bad, guilty even, that she should wake Regina up if only for a moment, "Regina?"

At first, nothing happened. Emma gathered her bravery, hesitant to stir the beast but curious and tired nonetheless, "Regina? Reg-"

"What is it?" Regina snapped, still curled up beside the pillow and in the blankets, ignoring the disturbance as much as she could apparently.

"I can't sleep."

"You better have not woke me for a bed time story, Miss Swan."

Emma's eyebrows knitted together and she shook her head. The image that came to mind of Emma lying down in her own bed with the blankets tucked into her sides, Regina sitting beside her with her legs left under the blankets and torso barely protruding, a book in those slender hands, and a very raspy and warm voice reading some mystical tale into her ear nearly dumbfounded the blonde. In her haste, she choked out, "No." She recovered and added, "Regina, I can't sleep on that couch. It's too uncomfortable."

"Well, I certainly am not," the brunette snarled. "Go to your parents' bed. Just let me sleep."

"I want to sleep too!" Emma whispered a little louder, insisting a solution be made. She bit her bottom lip on the inside of her mouth as she watched Regina rise up from the sheets, a silk gown meeting Emma's eyes. The little girl inside of her screamed to cover her eyes as if she was seeing something too personal, too intimate, but the woman felt a heat pooling in her stomach that murmured otherwise. She assumed Regina had magically changed and made a note to ask how she did it later; it was a handy trick and one the previous foster kid could've used handily back in the day.

"What are you trying to get at?"

"Let me sleep in my bed."

"I'm sleeping here," Regina said matter of fact, adding a flair of drama with a grand wave of her hands.

"Move over."

The mayor's gaze quickly found Emma's, momentarily unsure if she had heard correctly. Once the surprise wore down, she scowled by practice, "I will not be moving over." Regina wanted to scold herself for her behavior, but she was half asleep and Emma looked too fit in her tank top and shorts. Every ounce of will she had left kept Regina from roaming Emma's body with her eyes, stopping at the places she had helplessly imagined.

The blonde contemplated her reaction before throwing her hands up in the air and slipping into the room, closing the door behind her. Regina's eyes grew slightly wide as the lighter skinned female still made her way to the bed, insisting she move over. Regina followed suit only to gawk at Emma as she crawled under the covers and shimmied into her spot, "You are unbearable."

"No, I am tired. Haven't you ever had a sleepover? I'll stick to my side and you can stick to yours." In all honesty, Emma hadn't exactly been to a proper sleepover but she wasn't about to explore their lonely childhoods. Plus, she didn't want to stick to her side. She didn't want Regina to stick to hers. She could feel the warmth of the other woman and it was intoxicating.

Regina huffed and turned over, throwing her back in Emma's face as a final answer. They didn't move or breathe, listening and feeling the other just a hair away. Emma's fingers twitched just thinking about the silky nightgown, peeking out from her hands but returning right before Regina wormed her way further. Emma breathed out in irritation, "I'm not disease ridden, Regina."

"No, you're just a Charming."

"I'm a Swan."

"And I'm a Mills. I'm just keeping to my side like you said."

"Last time I checked we were on the same side," Emma joked dryly before shutting the hell up and freaking out internally.

Seconds ticked by anxiously. Emma fidgeted in her spot, twice. She felt she had personally condemned herself until the brunette moved her head just slightly to bear her cheekbones and eyebrows to Emma's line of vision.

"We are," Regina softly concluded, feeling eyes on the back of her head. She waited for Emma's reply but nothing came. Finally, the dark haired woman rested her head back onto the pillow, forcing herself to sleep once more while the woman she loved remained mere inches away from her. And it was amusing to the queen that in her dream she found herself dancing with none other than Emma Swan while soft jazz music played perfectly in the background. Perhaps she would learn to like jazz more than classical.