"Dammit" she muttered under her breath.
She was sat, leaned back into her chair at the table centring her apartment. Staring intensely at the mug of hot cocoa in front of her. In her mental abstraction, she hadn't noticed the thick, chocolate liquid begin to bubble and glow.
"Careful" said a voice coming from behind her, "Stare at it too hard and we might just have a dancing mug on our hands"
Mary Margaret walked past the table where Emma sat, flashing her an impish grin as she sauntered to the fridge in search of her morning orange juice.
"Ha ha, very funny" Emma retorted in a flat, unamused tone thick with sarcasm. Feeling that her Mother's jest would have been funnier if it hadn't actually been true. Emma probably could give the mug legs, if she tried.
"Whatever the problem is" Mary Margaret began, pouring herself a glass of the juice, "You're not going to find the answer at the bottom of melted cream and cinnamon"
She cast a telling glance at Emma's mug once more. She was right, the cream was melting. Emma had been too distracted to notice.
It had all been a joke, banter between them, harmless teasing at the time. But now, the problem was very real. Emma scowled at her drink, thinking she needed something far stronger. Something that wasn't given to children who wouldn't go to sleep. When Killian had said, in earnest, that it was his turn to ask her on a date. Their second date. She hadn't taken the implication so seriously. Now, as the fated day of the date rose with the lazy morning Sun. The intent was very, startlingly real.
It was Killian's turn to ask for the date.
Which meant that it was Emma's turn to plan it.
And while she had protested defensively and told Killian -insulted- that she knew how to plan a date... that wasn't exactly true. Unless the date involved robbing a convenience store or knocking out a flying monkey.
What with her fugitive, romance-on-the-run with Neal and the 8 month relationship with a man-monkey, she hadn't exactly got the chance for refining her date-planning skills.
But give her a sword and a dragon to slay any day.
And, unfortunately, there is no course in date-planning. Or a spell to summon the perfect date with a pirate.
Emma half sighed, half groaned dropping her head back to rest on her neck in frustration. Now fully slumped uncomfortably in the wooden chair, arms crossed and staring up uninspired at the ceiling. She angled her head to look awkwardly over to where Mary Margaret now stood, looking on at Emma in confused bemusement.
"Hey" Emma said, her voice coming out strangled and strained sounding as a result of her current position, "Where would you take a one handed pirate on a date?"
She considered it.
"To the hospital?" Mary Margaret replied, feigning innocence and guilelessness.
"Mom. Seriously?" Emma whined in replied. She threw her folded arms to slump onto the table before her, her head following close behind.
"Sorry" Mary Margaret manoeuvred around the kitchen counter and over to the table to sit beside Emma, an awkward grimace contorting her rosy lips, "This is about your date today, with Hook" she asked, now serious. Emma lifted her head and groaned.
"Yes"
She racked her brain for ideas. Something. Anything...
Nope. Still nothing.
"Eugh. Please tell me a green psychowitch or a deluded Snow Queen just enacted some kind of curse and put me out of my misery" Emma pleaded.
"You haven't done this before" Mary Margaret said knowingly.
"Can you blame me? My longest relationships were with Neal, where a date meant some kind of burglary, and Walsh. The flying monkey."
Her Mother just looked at Emma with an expression Emma couldn't read. She was just glad to have the chance to help her daughter with something so base. So innocent.
"How do you usually do it?" Emma asked.
"Well..." Mary Margaret tipped her head to one side as she thought about it, the question catching her off guard. Her and David haven't been on many dates per say, but, "Whenever I've planned anything for David, I always thought about his particular hobbies, interests, favourites places and foods, and the like.." her voice trailed off, seeing a familiar glint in Emma's eyes.
"That's it" she exclaimed slamming her hand onto the table, almost spilling her drink with the force it shook as she rose to her feet, "The Sea. I'll do something with the Sea"
At that, Emma grabbed her coast hastily and rushed to the door in her usual 'Emma' way after she had just hit some kind of revelation. Her hot cocoa left forgotten on the table, cold and abandoned.
Mary Margaret smiled proudly, shaking her head and sipping at her juice as she retrieved the untouched mug of cocoa and returned it to the sink.