It was late in the night when Emma Swan came stomping into the home she shared with her wife and daughter. Work had been crazy today, and all she wanted to do was eat, bathe, and sleep in the arms of the woman she loves. After putting the key in the bowl next to the front door and hanging up her jacket, she noticed that the house held a strange peace to it—kind of like that moment of peace before a huge storm came pouring down. Trying to shrug it off, Emma bent down to untie her shoes and then headed towards the kitchen where she could still smell the faint scent of Regina's delicious lasagna. Stopping in front of the microwave, her brow furrowed. Instead of a delicious home cooked meal waiting for her, there was a note tapped to the door of the microwave.

"You were late. Make your own damn food." Was written in angry handwriting. That was when green eyes finally looked at the time that glared angrily at her, 1:00 AM.

"Shit!" Emma whispered in an angry tone. She was ridiculously late…again. It wasn't her fault that the whole world turned into shit over the past three months. Ever since the whole dengue fever craziness began, people were calling the sheriff station left and right saying, "I got bit by a mosquito with white legs! Am I going to die?" or "my current temperature is 99 degrees. Should I go to the hospital?"

Then, after thirty minutes—thirty minutes—of having to first explain that one, she did not know if they had the fever because she's the sheriff, not a doctor. And two, that they should—oh I don't know? Maybe go see an actual doctor who had actual medical knowledge and not the Sherriff's station? The calls were actually not even the worst of it. People were jumping off of bridges because they were convinced that they were infected with the virus, and were about to die. Banks were being robbed, pharmacies were being robbed—any establishment that held value was being fucking robbed because people were afraid. And when people are afraid, they don't care. And when they don't care, they're dangerous.

She was late tonight because old Widow Lucas had sworn through a series of coughs that she heard someone rustling through her house. After a thorough investigation, she came to the conclusion that the noise turned out to be Mrs. Lucas' cat scratching at the back door trying to get out. Something about that cat bothered her though. The way it looked at her, as if staying in the house was the end of its nine lives.

Letting out a long overdue sigh, Emma decided to skip dinner and headed upstairs. She first went to her daughter's room, cracking it open to see her sleeping one-year-old. Smiling to herself she walked in to kiss her baby girl good night. Then she quietly shut the door so that she didn't wake the sleeping toddler and slowly made her way into the room she shared with Regina. She walked slowly, dragging her feet because she knew what was waiting for her. It was either going to be option A: Her pillow and an extra blanket thrown on the ground next to their bed to tell her that she was not welcome on her own fucking bed. The fucking bed she bought. The fucking bed that she shared—key word shared—with her wife. Or option B: a pillow wall that separated her from the brunette.

Sighing, she opened the door and her heart immediately broke. What she saw was neither option A, nor B. No, her wife was wearing Emma's favorite 'stay at home' t-shirt and was curled into a ball on the blonde's side of the bed cuddling Emma's favorite pillow with a death grip. She knew that she wasn't as…present as she wished she could be, but this was the first time that she had really taken notice at how much her wife was suffering due to her insane schedule. Hell, Emma couldn't even remember the last time she had tucked her daughter in and read her a bed time story. She couldn't remember the last time she kissed her wife properly, or made love to her wife. Seeing this scene before her, however, snapped her back into reality and she made a vow to take a day off sometime soon to make it up to her beautiful wife and their adorable daughter.

Walking into the dark room she began to undress. Once she was in nothing except her boxers and sports bra, she decided to just sleep in that since she was too tired to even think about taking a shower. Since her side of the bed was currently being occupied, she opted into going on Regina's side. The moment the still unconscious brunette felt the bed shift, she pushed away from the pillow she had been cuddling all night in favor for the real thing: Emma. After basically molding herself into Emma's side, a sigh of content escaped plump lips. This made Emma's heart burst with undying devotion. Even after all the crap she put her wife through all these months, she still loved her. A single tear rolled down her pale cheek, and then she held the woman in her arms tighter before she succumbed to some much needed sleep.

SQSQSQ

At exactly 5 AM a load cry was heard throughout the Swan household. Groaning to herself, Regina tried to burrow further into her pillow. Wait. No. This isn't my pillow. Finally, brown eyes opened only to see a mess of blonde hair and strained nipples that poked through her wife's Calvin clines sports bra. Still half asleep, Regina forgot why she had woken up at this ungodly hour. That was until another hungry wail came from their daughter Reign's room. Rolling out of the cocoon that she and Emma had created during their sleep, Regina looked down at her breasts that felt a little damp. Damn it! I leaked. Again. There were two circular milk stains right where her nipples were. So done with everything at that moment, the brunette mother stripped off the offending t-shirt that she had borrowed from her wife and put it next to their hamper so that she could work out the stains later in the day. Her doctor had told her that leaking would be normal after the first few weeks of giving birth and that it would eventually stop, but it had been a year since she had given birth to Yara and she was still leaking. A small smile fell on her lips when she remembered what her wife had said a couple months back to try and soothe her irritation.

(Flash back)

"Emmmmmmaaaaaaa, I hate this! I can't go anywhere without being this disgusting—this disgusting cow—that leaks milk everywhere I walk!" Regina cried into Emma's shoulder who was thankful that their daughter was still fast asleep in her car seat. They were currently in their Rav-4 that was parked in front of the mommy and me center. When they first pulled in, Regina took off her seat belt and felt a spurt of liquid shoot through her nipples and stain her favorite blouse.

After witnessing this happen, Emma held her breath waiting to see how Regina would react since her emotions were all over the place lately. It took a second, but Regina began to sob uncontrollably. Curse words were said, fists were clenched, and fingers were pointed at Emma—blaming the blonde for putting her through this. This wasn't her first rodeo when it came to Regina's emotional outbursts so she knew exactly what to do. She reached across the car and gently pulled her sobbing wife into her arms, speaking calming things to her. This time, however, nothing seemed to soothe Regina.

Thinking on impulse, Emma checked to see that no one was in the parking lot before opening up her wife's blouse. Ignoring protests, the blonde took a breast into her hand and coated her fingers with some of the milk that was still leaking out of the tan breast.

"—What are you?!"

"Shhhhhht!" Emma hushed her.

Emma then took her wet fingers and then brought them to her own blouse. She created matching nipple stains that her wife sported on her own white blouse and then proudly pushed out her chest for her wife to see.

Brown eyes were comically wide, not believing what her wife just did. Irritation long forgotten, she looked dumbly at her wife who sat at the driver's seat with a broad smile and a ruined nipple stained blouse. Her mouth kept opening and closing like a fish out of water, not knowing how to react to her wife's ridiculous actions.

And then finally, a roll of laughter ripped out of her throat. She laughed long and hard, not remembering ever laughing as hard as she was laughing at the moment. Tears were rolling down her tan cheeks because she was laughing so hard. Her smile felt as if it was going to crack her face in half, and her eyes were squinted so tightly that she couldn't even see anymore. All she knew was that she was so happy that she had her wife there to hold her when she cried, and make her laugh when being held wasn't enough.

They ended up ditching their mommy and me session that day. They decided to go back home where they could cuddle up with their daughter as a family and watch every Disney movie known to man.

(End of Flashback)

With a smile firmly planted on the brunettes face due to that ridiculous memory, Regina rushed to her crying daughter's bedroom.

Walking into the jungle themed nursery, Regina was greeted with the cutest sight of her baby girl who had crocodile tears rolling down her cheeks while making little pick me up motions with her chubby little fingers.

"Good morning, sweet pea. How did you sleep?" Regina cooed while picking up Yara.

Her question was obviously ignored due to the fact that her one year old daughter barely understood what was being said, and the fact that the toddlers number one priority at the moment was to eat. Laughing at her daughter's mannerisms, Regina sat down on the rocking chair and began feeding her eager baby. "You are just like your mother when it comes to food…" was whispered.

With Yara happily eating her first meal of the day, Regina took the time to study her and Emma's beautiful creation. Yara Elizabeth Swan was definitely going to be a heart breaker. She had big blue eyes and a strong jaw line like her blond mother, which was perfectly balanced with dark brown hair and an olive skin tone like her brunette mother. Yes, she was absolutely perfect in every sense of the word Regina thought.

After Yara was finished with her feeding, Regina carried her downstairs to the family room where they had a play pen set up. Putting her into the play pen, the brunette went to kitchen to make breakfast where she could still have a visual of the now babbling baby.

Passing the microwave, she saw the angry note that she wrote for her absent wife. Slowly peeling the note off the microwave door, guilt and anger quickly came flooding back. She felt guilty because she knew that she should be more understanding. It wasn't like her wife didn't want to be at home. No, Emma had to go to work to keep everyone safe and provide for her family. It wasn't the blonde's fault that things have been way more hectic lately. But then there was the other part of her, the selfish part of her that felt forgotten and neglected by her wife. Anger quickly flared within her when she remembered what had happened last night.

Last night..

They hadn't had sex in two months, ten days, and sixteen hours. Tonight was supposed to be the night. Emma had told her that she would be home by six, which is why Regina had spent the entire day…preparing. She had gone to the hair salon in the morning, got her nails done, got a fucking Brazilian, bought the most sinful lingerie set, and had dinner on the table by 5:45—all while lugging a toddler around mind you. The moment the food hit the table; Emma called to let her know that she would probably be an hour late. Taking it in stride, Regina decided to spend some time with Yara. After playing with her and feeding her, Regina put her down for an early evening around 7:15. Emma still didn't come home so Regina stayed in the living room watching some trashy reality TV. 9:00 quickly passed by, still with no word from Emma. Sighing to herself, Regina slowly put away the food in left over containers and hid it in the vegetable section of their refrigerator. Emma did not deserve the pleasure of eating if she could not be bothered by taking thirty seconds out of her day to let her wife know that she was probably going to be working all night. With the new found anger, Regina ripped a piece of paper from the calendar hanging on the wall and scribbled her anger with some passive slightly more aggressive words before taping it on the microwave door before stomping up the stairs to get ready for bed.

Present..

While putting her frustration on beating the living crap out the eggs she was currently mixing, the brunette quickly decided that she needed to have a serious talk with her wife once breakfast was finished. With a determined nod, Regina continued cooking for her little family.