Author's Notes: Just a little note before we get started. This picks up about two years after s4, some events loosely referred to, but spun in my own little way to fit the plot (and sub-plots) of this story. This is a slow-burn SwanQueen fic and a stark contrast to Miles To Go in every way. I have been looking forward to sharing this story since I started writing it about a month ago and I hope you enjoy it as I plan to stick to this one for a little while yet!

Her mouth felt dry, chalk-like almost, and her lips stuck together before a yawn slipped out despite her efforts to suppress it. Her head was pounding. With a groan, she cracked open a single eyelid and shut it tightly once again. It was too bright. Everything was just too bright even beyond her tightly closed eyes.

Warm sunlight bathed the room when she forced her eyes open once more. Her brain was nothing more than a foggy mess, the night before coming back in blurry, broken memories that made absolutely zero sense in her half-awake, hung over state. The very last thing she could remember from the night before was shots. Lots and lots of tequila shots at Granny's Diner.

Endless tequila shots. With Regina. Not the first time they'd drank together, and despite the throbbing pain in her head, it wouldn't be the last.

Emma groaned quietly as she draped her arm over her eyes, her head pounding harder, her body already protesting every little movement she made. How much had she drunk last night? It was the hangover to end all hangovers she'd ever had.

She froze when she felt movement in the bed next to her. Panic washed over her in an instant. Had she gotten so drunk the night before that she called Hook over despite them having broken up years ago? No, she couldn't have because even though their breakup had ended far from being a clean break, even in her drunken state she would never have called him over. They were done. Completely done.

Emma licked over her lips slowly and she knew in that very moment that it definitely wasn't Hook in bed with her. No, the taste on her lips and tongue were that of a woman. There was a distinct muskiness when it came to women and that was exactly what she tasted when she licked over her lips once again. Even despite the fact that she was parched, the taste was intoxicating and there was only just a hint of the copious amounts of tequila she'd consumed the night before that lingered behind.

Feeling far too nervous to look over at the other occupant of the bed—not her bed she suddenly realized since it was far too soft compared to her usual firm mattress that she preferred. There was also the very distinctive smell that could belong to no other and that realization was the true moment of when Emma started completely freaking out internally.

Vanilla with a hint of cinnamon, jasmine, and honey crisp apples.

Belonging to none other than one Regina Mills.

And there was the sudden realization that she was stark naked under the soft silk sheets that caused her inner panic to increase tenfold in a matter of milliseconds. Cranking open an eye, the sight of Regina's sleeping face just inches from her own greeted her. Further panic filled her then in that very moment. Did she seriously have sex with Regina in her drunken state?

Emma slapped a hand over her eyes in that very moment. They'd had sex together, there was no doubting that, and from the hazy memories, it had been nothing short of amazing. She came to that very realization from the very sated feeling in her body, from the satisfied ache that suddenly throbbed between her legs.

She swallowed thickly past the rising lump in her throat. Guilt, regret, shame, and embarrassment filled her all at once as she blinked her eyes open, suddenly feeling far too awake and aware of her current predicament. She had sex with Regina.

They were friends and it had been a long, hard road to get to where they were now. Emma knew that whatever had happened last night would cause a crucial setback when it came to their friendship. How did they go from having endless tequila shots at Granny's to Regina's bed? Emma tried to get past the fog that settled in her head, searching for those hazy memories that just weren't coming as clearly as she needed them to be. How had they ended up where they were now?

Stealing a glance over at Regina still asleep next to her, she slipped out of the bed as quietly as she could manage and found her clothes haphazardly strewn around the bedroom along with Regina's clothes. In her panic, she dressed as quickly as she could manage and not once did she look back at Regina before slipping out of the bedroom and making a beeline down the stairs and out the front door.

Emma started walking down Mifflin Street quickly, her Bug nowhere in sight. She kept her head ducked low as she approached Main, the odd early morning jogger passed her by and calling out a friendly greeting that went unacknowledged. With her hands shoved into the pockets of her red leather jacket, she walked quickly down the otherwise quiet and nearly empty street towards the apartment in the building next to her parents' place that she now called home.

The key stuck, as it always did, and she shoved the heavy wood door open as she bit her lip, the noise more than likely waking Henry up. She shrugged out of her jacket before she locked the door behind her and slung it over the back of the couch. She headed straight for her bedroom, swiftly shutting the door behind her just as she heard Henry's bedroom door open. Her heart was racing and her mind was in a panic as she stripped out of her clothes and pulled on a pair of well-worn flannel pajama bottoms and a fresh, clean black tank.

"Mom?" Henry called out before knocking on her door. "Mom, are you awake?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you just get in?"

"No?" Emma winced at her automatic response, hating the fact that lying to her fifteen year old son came all too easily.

"Mom?" Henry said tentatively after a moment and he opened the door. "Did you just get in?" He asked again, looking right at her as she stood in the middle of her small bedroom near the foot of her bed. "You did, didn't you?"

"What are you doing up?" Emma asked, avoiding his question. "It's Saturday. You always sleep until noon."

"Mom," Henry berated and he rolled his eyes. "I heard you come in. You can't exactly be stealthy with the door and the way it sticks."

"Fine," she sighed as she threw her hands up and let them fall to her side. "I just got in. Happy?"

"Whatever," Henry shrugged. "Why are you acting funny?"

"It's like seven in the morning, kid. I'm not acting funny. I'm exhausted."

"Bet you are. You were out all night. Were you working or something?"

"No," Emma replied with a shake of her head. If Henry knew she'd gone out drinking with his other mother and landed in bed with her in her drunken state, she'd never live it down. "No, I wasn't working. I was…out with a friend."

"Drinking," Henry stated as he scrunched up his nose. "Don't bother lying to me, Mom, I can smell the alcohol on you from here."

"Henry—"

"You weren't out with Hook, were you?" Henry asked immediately, a look of disappointment falling on his face. "Mom, I thought you said you and Hook were done. Did you lie to me?"

"No! We are done! I didn't lie to you."

Henry had his best skeptical face on and Emma was silently hoping he'd just give up and leave her be, but this was her son and much like herself, he'd developed her very same superpower of being able to tell when someone is lying just over the past few years. The only problem with that was the fact that his was a hell of a lot better than hers ever had been.

"Why do you have a hickey?" Henry asked, leaning up against the doorframe as he crossed his arms over his chest. Emma's hand flew to her neck and he rolled his eyes. "Other side."

"Henry—"

"Are you dating someone you haven't told me about because I'm totally fine with you dating again. Just as long as you didn't get back with Hook," he stated plainly. "Who is it?"

"Nobody!"

"Mom," he groaned, rolling his eyes. "I'm not a stupid, naïve little kid anymore. I know a hickey when I see one and that," he said as he looked at her pointedly, "is one hell of a hickey."

Emma groaned as she covered the tender, bruised spot on the left side of her neck with her hand. There was no point in denying it, Henry wasn't a naïve little kid anymore, but the last thing she wanted to do was tell him that she'd woken up in his other mother's bed that morning. That was something she was still trying to process herself and she didn't need a hundred different questions from her teenage son about it either.

"Fine," he muttered. "Don't tell me, whatever. I'm going back to bed."

"Henry—"

"Just tell me it wasn't Hook."

"I already told you it wasn't!"

"Fine!" Henry gave up, pushed himself off the doorframe, and stalked off back into his own bedroom.

Emma groaned loudly and made a beeline for the bathroom, pulling her hair away from her neck as she walked up to the sink and looked into the mirror. Henry was right. It was one hell of a hickey. Regina had done a number on her and in a panic, she started searching for more, finding one hidden out of sight on the top of her breast and another on the right side of her hip, but they paled in comparison to the one on her neck.

She hung her head as she closed her eyes and gripped on to the edge of the sink tightly. How the hell did she end up in Regina's bed? She knew they'd been drinking and the waitress had been serving them shot after shot. They'd been talking about relationships at one point, a few drinks in, but what was said was something Emma couldn't quite remember.

It wasn't out of the norm for them to have deep conversations over a couple of drinks, but last night had not just been a couple of drinks. From the way Emma's head was pounding, it had been too many shots. Her last clear memory was of Regina demanding that the waitress leave the bottle with them and they moved from the counter to one of the booths. After that, she couldn't remember a single thing.

A new wave of panic flooded through her suddenly. Did Regina remember what had happened last night? If she did, Emma realized, it would create a problem between them undoubtedly.

It had taken them years to form a friendship, to trust one another, years to get to where they were now and that was all possibly ruined by the fact that they'd been driven into Regina's bed by at least ten too many tequila shots.

Ten might have been a stretch, but the way the tiny hammers in her skull were pounding against her brain, she didn't doubt it if it had been that many at all.

After she washed up, she crawled into her own bed and buried her face into the pillow. She was exhausted and her body ached in a way that she couldn't deny was a deliciously satisfying ache. She wanted so very badly to remember what had happened last night and there was no doubt that Regina had fucked her extremely well. She hadn't felt that sated sexually in a long time, but she was struggling to come to terms with the fact that Regina was the reason she felt that way.

They were friends, they were just friends.

[X]

Despite the fact that Emma never normally worked on weekends, she found herself at the station and in her office, the lights off and the blinds shut tight late in the afternoon. She'd felt wound up after sleeping for a few hours in her own bed and woke up without the pleasant feeling of the hangover to end all hangovers. She'd gone for a four mile run in hopes of unwinding, but all that left her was with her sweaty clothes sticking to her and the thoughts of the night before still running rampant around in her mind. So, she'd showered, dressed and left a still sleeping Henry a note that she was going down to the station for a few hours and that she'd bring some pizza home for dinner later that night.

A mountain of paperwork lay on her desk, paperwork she would've done right away if Regina had still been the mayor of Storybrooke. Her mother still held that position and her mother never demanded for the paperwork to be done and handed in by a certain date or time. In fact, she hadn't touched a single piece of paper in weeks and all it was doing was sitting there cluttering up her already cluttered desk.

Her phone buzzed twice indicating she had a text and she turned it over to see the notification that the text was from Regina. The fifth one she'd gotten—and was not going to reply to—since she left her apartment hours ago. She swiped to unlock the phone, entered her password, and opened the messages app to read what Regina had sent this time.

I know you are ignoring me because of what happened last night and I can assure you that if you would much rather pretend that it never happened, then so be it, but stop acting like a stubborn child. The least you can do is respond.

Emma frowned, as she read the text, reading each word and hearing Regina's voice—an angry one no doubt—as she read along slowly. The last thing she wanted to do was piss Regina off and even though, once upon a time, she'd loved doing just that, dealing with a pissed off Regina now that they were friends was a lot more difficult than it used to be. Just as she was about to hit the sleep button, another text came through from Regina again.

I am coming down to the station as Henry just informed me that you decided to work today. You left something behind last night that I am sure you would want for it to be returned.

Emma's eyes widened as she shook her head and was about to text Regina back when she jumped from her chair, startled at the sharp knock on her open office door. Regina rolled her eyes as she strolled into the office and stopped beside her desk.

"I know you well enough to know that if I sent that last text any longer than five minutes ago, you would've fled," Regina said, her voice sounding disaffected and bored. "Planning to reply any time soon, dear?"

"I—I was just about to," Emma stammered and instead she put her phone face first down on her desk and stared up at Regina. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to return something of yours," Regina replied with a half-hearted shrug. "I could ask you the very same thing as I know you never work on the weekends, not voluntarily at least."

"What is it? I'm sure it's nothing important because I have my phone, my wallet and my keys and I—" Emma's mouth dropped open as Regina casually pulled out her panties and dropped them on top of her desk. "Regina? What the hell?"

"The next time you decide to sneak out of my bed and my house without waking me or saying goodbye, at least try to remember to collect all of your personal belongings on your way out."

"Wait, next time?" Emma's eyes went wide in shock and Regina rolled her eyes as she casually crossed her arms over her chest. "Regina, about last night—"

"We need to talk about last night, Emma."

"That's just the thing, I don't want to talk about it!" Emma exclaimed and she snatched her panties off her desk, red-faced as she stuffed them in her jacket pocket. "Last night, we both had too much to drink and I think maybe it was just a mistake, a stupid drunken mistake. I think it's better if we don't mention what happened last night at all, okay?"

Emma couldn't even look at Regina and if she had, she would've seen the crestfallen look on her face in that very moment. Instead, Emma leaned back in her chair and clenched her eyes tight as she ran her fingers through her hair roughly.

"I don't want last night to change anything between us, Regina. Believe it or not, you're like one of my best friends now and I know you know that I don't use that term lightly."

"I see."

"Look, I'm sure it was great and everything, but—"

"You don't remember," Regina stated softly. "Do you?"

"Of course I don't remember, I was drunk out of my mind last night, Regina, and so were you!"

"That doesn't mean that I don't remember what happened last night."

Emma flushed a deeper shade of red at the surety in Regina's voice. "Oh god," she moaned under her breath and buried her face in her hands. "Please, don't tell me what happened. I don't want to know what happened last night."

"Fine," Regina said, her tone now sharp and cold as the tension grew thicker between them. "We shall never speak of last night again if that is what you would rather us do. In fact, I'm starting to think that the fact you don't remember is a blessing in itself."

"Regina—"

"I think that perhaps we should cancel our plans for lunch tomorrow."

"What, why?"

"You know why, Emma," she snapped and she shook her head. "Tell Henry—tell him whatever you want, just make sure you tell him I'll make it up to him somehow sometime soon. I know that he was looking forward to our Sunday lunch as he always does."

"Regina—"

"Goodbye, Sheriff."

Regina turned on her heels and stormed out of her office and Emma groaned loudly as she threw her head back across the edge of the chair hard. She shuddered when she heard the front door of the station slam shut upon Regina's hasty exit and she swallowed thickly, now feeling guilty for an entirely different reason than she had before.

Now Regina was pissed at her and had cancelled their weekly lunch together with Henry because of the way she'd reacted about what had happened between them. While she didn't remember exactly what had happened between them, Regina did and she had acted as if everything was perfectly fine and as normal as ever. Maybe she should've just sucked up the embarrassment and approached it like an adult and talked to Regina about it because it was clear that Regina was unaffected by the fact that they'd had sex. It didn't matter now because Regina was pissed.

Emma groaned again and slid down in her chair as she looked up at the ceiling. "Fuck."

[X]

Regina huffed under her breath as she marched down the sidewalk to where she'd parked her car just up the street. Barely half an hour ago she had decided that going to Emma instead of repeatedly being ignored was a good idea, yet now she was questioning herself and her mind clearly hadn't recovered from the hangover she'd woken up with either.

What on earth was she thinking? Of course Emma was acting like a child, a stubborn one at that. They'd had sex and if Regina was being honest with herself—and there was no reason not to be—it had been the best sex she'd ever experienced in her life. It didn't matter that they'd both been drunk and that it'd been a little sloppy and a little rough at times, it still had been far better than any of her past sexual experiences.

Gritting her teeth, she unlocked her car and climbed in, ignoring the friendly greeting by Archie as he walked Pongo on the other side of Main Street. She slid the key into the ignition and found her eyes suddenly clouding over with tears. A small lump formed in her throat as she struggled to hold the tears back. She was not going to cry over Emma Swan and the one night of bliss they'd had together. That was all it was, one night. Or rather, a mistake as Emma had called it.

Yet, the tears remained and she was in no state to drive just yet. She remembered the feeling of the way her stomach had dropped in disappointment when she woke up that morning, alone in her bed. She had hoped to wake up next to the woman who had fucked her senseless the night before. She had hoped to wake up and have round two—well, technically if she was counting, it'd be round six. She had hoped to wake up to Emma kissing her from her deep slumber and maybe not professing her love for her, but at least looking at her the way she had the night before, like there was nobody else in the world but her.

Regina rubbed at her watery eyes, all too aware that the people that were walking on the sidewalk were now staring at her. Shaking, she slid the key out of the ignition and in a split second she disappeared in a swirl of purple smoke, transporting herself to the comfort, safety, and privacy of her own home.

What had she been thinking when she kissed Emma first? The tequila had given her a false sense of bravery and it had been the way that Emma was laughing, the way she kept looking at her, that gave her that final push to conquer the fear that surrounded her and her feelings for the infuriating blonde woman. What had she been thinking? Clearly, she hadn't been thinking at all.

"Idiot."