"He has little red spots," she tells Regina over the little phone, thing.
Roland, sweet boy, woke up with them. He'd been poorly for the last few days, a little feverish, tired, and she sympathizes entirely because that's just been her state of being for the last few weeks. He's not nauseated, like she is, so she jokingly tells him he's not going to have a baby and he makes a face.
He's better since the spots, now that she thinks about it. He's still tired, and curls up against her on the sofa. When he's not ill he loves choosing books and running over to her but he's not up to that now so she brings them over with a flick of her wrist. He knows them all better than she does, so Roland describes the covers, because he doesn't know the titles.
It's been amusing. Then Regina called, which she did answer correctly, for once, only because Roland told her to push the green button.
"He's is better, less warm," she says.
"Did you eat? Both of you?"
"Who is it?" Roland asks her, shifting in her arms.
"Regina," she says to him, but Regina hears it.
"What?"
Mal smiles and his little red-spotted face grins up at her. He looks like a red rock lizard from the far deserts in the south. He'd like that, being a lizard. "I'm telling Roland that you are present on the phone. Do you wish to speak with him? He's better than I am at this."
"Is he well enough?"
"Yes, dear," she says, handing it to him.
"Regina?" He smiles and nods when she talks. "We're reading."
She can almost fill in what Regina's saying in the pauses.
"Chicken nuggets," he says. "And pudding, and applesauce."
Mal strokes his hair while Regina comments on that.
"No not together!" he insists, laughing. "First chicken, then applesauce, last pudding."
Regina must have said something funny because he giggles and then hands the phone back. "You."
"I did feed him," Mal reminds her. "I did."
"I wasn't insisting that you hadn't," Regina says. Her sigh carries over the phone and Mal pictures her resting her elbows on the desk. "Did you eat?"
"I am growing fond of chicken nuggets. Especially the ones shaped like little creatures who do not exist."
"Dinosaurs did exist, they do not exist anymore." Someone talks in the background and Regina sighs again, this time heavier. "I'll call back."
Then she's gone. Mal sets the phone aside and looks down at Roland's little face covered in dots. "What do you want to read next? Pirates or this one, about the chicken-"
"Dinosaurs!" Roland corrects her. "The chicken only looks like dinosaurs."
"Is the book about chicken?"
"No! It's about dinosaurs!" He drags it up into his lap, guiding her hands to it. "Dinosaurs are like dragons. They're all scaly."
"You're a little scaly today," she says, looking at his spots. "Maybe you're a dragon."
He tilts his chin to look at her, and wrinkles his nose. "Could I be a dragon?"
"It's very complicated," she teases. "Can you roar?"
He roars very well for a tiny little human, sick as he is. She kisses his forehead and settles in to read the book, again.
She's finished the grand tale of the dinosaurs and is half-way through a story about a toaster, because in this world, even toasters get stories, when the phone rings again. She lifts it up, staring at the little picture of Regina and her name on the screen.
Roland taps the green button. "Regina."
Lifting it to her ear, she taps the tip of his nose, making him smile. "I haven't eaten him yet, if that's what you're asking. I am tempted. There's still pudding on his face over here-" Pretending to nibble on his cheek makes him shriek and giggle and he squirms but doesn't leave her arms.
"You're still all right?"
"We're fine," she says, then looks at Roland. "Are we fine?"
He nods. "We're fine, Regina." Reaching for the phone, he takes it. "We're okay. We aren't even watching movies."
They ramble for a bit and he yawns, then scratches his itchy arm. Mal nudges his hand.
"Don't scratch, it makes your scales fall off."
He shakes his head and hands the phone back.
"Mal?"
"I'm here, with my scaly little dragon!"
Roland continues to giggle, making dragon sounds that are actually a reasonable approximation of a dragon about his size.
"Very good," she whispers to him, then turns her attention to Regina.
"Mal, he has chicken pox."
Regina says this as if it means something, like she does so many things.
"I am not aware of chicken pox. Is it a curse?"
"It's an illness, children get it, and like Roland, they're a little sick, but it can make adults very ill." Regina's tone drops, growing with concern. "Did Robin call? Is he back?"
That's why Regina's been so busy. This chicken spots disease is some kind of crisis. "No, he hasn't. You've been the only one."
Regina's voice softens, and her throat's too tight. She must be terrified. "Can you catch human diseases?"
"No, no," she answers quickly. Roland hears her tone and looks up, almost worried. She makes a face at him and he turns his attention back to the book, looking back at the previous pages and reminding himself of the story.
"At least, not in my experience."
"You're sure?" Regina asks again without losing any of her worry.
"I have never caught a disease from a human. Unless we count you, and my current condition as a disease-"
"Don't let Robin in the house, Henry and Lily, anyone who was part of the first curse or lived here, they can't get it, but Robin could be sick. Okay?"
"He's going to be heartbroken that he can't be with our little spotted boy."
Regina pauses. "I know, I'll try to be home soon."
Mal wraps her fingers around Roland's, again stopping him from scratching his neck. "We're fine. I'm sure I can come up for something for dinner that isn't chicken nuggets."
"Pudding!" Roland insists.
"Or pudding."
"Don't worry overly much."
"I won't."
"You will," Mal corrects, "but we love you."
"We love you," Roland repeats.
There's a soft sound, like Regina catching her breath. "I love you both. I'm sorry, I have to go."
The phone clicks and Mal sets it aside again. Chicken spots is not something she's heard of, but Roland seems to be fine, if itchy.
"Well, where were we?" she asks, trying to remember what voice she used for the toaster.
Regina is not home soon. Chicken spots is a greater crisis than she realized. Fortunately, of the very short list of things Maleficent has learned to cook, all the parts are in Regina's well stocked pantry. Roland hovers around her legs while she removes the funny hard noodles out of the pantry and grabs the sauce.
"Not lasagna," Roland repeats, because he remembers that it is far too diffuclt for them.
"No dear, that's a Regina dinner."
"Regina's working," he says, taking the noodles are carrying them over to the island. "So is Mama and Papa."
She pulls out the stool so he can watch what she's doing at the stove. He likes that, even when it's only boiling water and not some fantastic Regina creation. She chops up the sausage Regina called twice to remind her about. While her hands are busy, the phone sits on the island next to Roland, formally his responsibility while she's cooking. She half-wishes she could give it to him all the time because he always hits the correct button and never has to call Regina back and explain that she didn't want to hang on up her.
No, they're not dying.
No, she didn't suddenly develop a weakness to chicken spots and whatever awful thing Regina is worried now about hasn't occurred.
"Papa!" Roland chirps when the phone rings. He answers it, he always gets it right. "Where are you, Papa?"
She looks over Regina's neatly written instructions on the side of the fridge while he talks to Robin. Pasta cooks for ten minutes and there's a timer in the drawer. The timer is a round, red plastic apple, for reasons of Regina's quietly terrible sense of humor. She touches it, then lifts it, trying to remember what the trick to it is. One does something. Eventually she gives up and taps it with magic so the little apple obediently turns, setting itself. That's the trick. One spins it. Maleficent might remember that.
Regina has written that sausages have to be cooked in a pan until they are no longer pink because humans can't eat raw meat. That's far too time consuming, and Mal sets them in a pan to be scorched when she's ready for them. Sauce only needs to heat up, and that she also doesn't need the stove for. It's the wet heat that's more difficult.
"You can't come here," Roland says into the phone. "Regina says you'll get sick if you see me."
"I miss you, love you," he adds, then hands the phone up. "Papa wants to talk to you."
She switches the phone to her left hand and holds it to her ear. They're so awkward these little things.
"Roland says you're cooking," he starts.
"I'm following Regina's directions, I'm not sure if that counts as cooking."
The little timer ticks away and Roland watches her. She smirks at him then waves her hand, and the stove flares to life with magical fire, which makes him laugh. He tugs and her sleeve, watching to see and she gets him a chair, keeping him a safe distance away.
"Is Roland all right? He sounds better."
She can't imagine how hard it is to be in his place, knowing where his son is and that he's ill but unable to see him.
"His fever's down, and he's been quite a cheerful companion."
Standing on the chair, he can cuddle into her side, and as much as she cares for him, she's neither of his parents, and she doesn't know him as well as Regina, but it's so easy to be affectionate with him, to hold him close.
"And you?" Robin continues.
"I'm trying not to poison either of us with attempts at cooking."
Roland giggles, because it is messier than Regina does it, and she still has to cheat, which he loves.
"Here, speak to Roland while I drain the pasta." She hands the phone back, pouring the water out while steam curls up from the sink. It's not danger to her, but watching her, Roland might get the wrong idea, and it would hurt him.
Water drained and sausages suitably brown, she takes the phone back and starts to stir it all together.
"Pasta?" Robin teases. "You're ambitious tonight."
She chuckles. "It is in no way comparable to Regina's lasagna." Preparing a bowl for Roland, she sets it at the table.
"Blow on it," he begs. "Please."
Rolling her eyes as if he's asked for a dreadfully difficult thing, she blows some of the heat off of it using her magic, it drifts into the air, dissipating like fireflies fading away. He claps and grabs his fork. He'll eat while Robin worries in her ear.
"I assure you, your son is eating, and well cared for, we read together, and Lily's bringing us movies that she thinks Roland will like."
He chuckles a little. "She mentioned that. Apparently one of them is about some version of me. How's your head?"
"Still attached."
"And your stomach?"
"Better than yesterday, and, since you're bound to ask, I'm going to eat with Roland and he'll make sure I finish all of my pasta or there won't be any ice cream for me."
Roland nods, feigning sternness. "That's right."
Robin's laugh is just as bright over the phone. "It seems you're well matched."
"We miss you, but we're all right. I promise. We're looking after each other."
He sighs over the phone, but she can hear his smile in his voice, as if he was there. "If Marian and I can't be with him, I can't think of anyone better than you and Regina to look after him. I'll see him in a few days."
Mal drags her fork through her pasta, and has to look at the window, not at Roland, because her eyes sting. "I love you," she says.
His voice is rich and soft and she could wrap herself in it. "And I you, and the dragon boy."
Smirking at Roland, she watches him smile back. "He's a little scaley."
"So he told me," Robin teases. He sighs again, then he's serious. "If it's too much-"
She doesn't understand why everyone is so worried about her ability to care for Roland. It's only a few days. "I have Lily, and Henry, and Regina, when the town can spare her. Roland and I will be fine."
"She's exhausted," Robin says, and she hears the longing because he must not have been able to spend much time with Regina either.
Roland's still happily eating, and not really listening to her. He's very neat for a child.
She nods, even though Robin can't see it. "Regina sounded like she'd been half-extinguished."
"So many people are ill, and many can't be near them for fear of catching the disease." That frustration clings to his words again.
"We need you healthy," Mal reminds him.
She takes a bite, and it's not bad. The sauce isn't spicy enough, but it never ish. She flicks the hot sauce out of the cupboard and onto the table with a hint of magic and Roland applauds.
"I know, but I should be able to help you with Roland, to help the town-"
"You are helping," she reminds him. "You are one of the most helpful people I know, Robin of Locksley." She's not even sure what he's doing, no one tells he the details of what their 'work' involves unless she asks and the asking is so complicated. She never understands half of the context of the words they use.
"You need to eat," he says and she must not have hidden her eating very well. It's hard to hold the phone.
"I'm eating," she says, barely understandable.
"Don't talk with your mouth full!" Roland chides from his place and she has to cover her mouth not to laugh sauce up her nose.
"Robin, I've been chastised."
"Go, eat. Call me if you need anything, anything at all."
"I will." She takes a breath. "I enjoy hearing your voice, even if it involves this contraption."
"You'll get used to it. I hear dragons are very adaptable," Robin finishes. "Goodnight, love."
Mal sets the phone down and finally takes a real bite without having to worry about speaking. Roland's nearly done before she's halfway and he slips down to play with his legos. They've nearly made it through a day and they're both all right.