"Ughhhhh." Emma slammed her head loudly on the desk, startling Regina out of her concentration. "This fucking sucks."

"What are you even doing? We've been here for hours and I haven't seen you type a single word," Regina asked, her voice dripping with irritation.

"I'm trying to finish this final paper, but there is literally nothing in the world I want to do less than write about some boring history shit I don't care about." Frustrated, Emma spun back and forth in her comfortable chair stolen from the library computer lab. Regina sighed and sorted through the piles of paper strewn across the wooden table they shared on the top floor of the library. They had been there since breakfast and it was now 10 pm.

"Reginaaaaaa. I want to do something else I hate this so much," Emma whined, sliding out of her chair and lying on the floor like a petulant child.

"Go get something from the cafe," Regina suggested.

"I can't, it's closed!" As Emma groaned, they both saw someone stand up from a single-person desk across from their table.

"Hey. Can you please shut the fuck up?" Rumpelstiltskin glared at them, looking remarkably unstressed for a student in the throes of conference season. "Some of us come to the library for a little peace and quiet, not to listen to a couple of whiny first years who are too lazy to do their work."

"Okay, first of all," Regina interjected, "fuck you. Second of all, you're not even working right now. Don't you have conference papers to write or something?"

"Don't worry about what I may or may not have to write. But if you could keep your incessant complaining to a minimum that would be much appreciated, thank you." And he sauntered off, looking as smug as ever.

"I hate him," Regina muttered. Emma had dragged herself back into her chair and was now making angry hand gestures at her laptop, as if to force it to obey her will. "Wifi not working again?"

Emma punched the keyboard in response, spewing obscenities under her breath. The wifi icon on her laptop still displayed no bars and claimed to be searching for a network, although any Sarah Lawrence student knew that its search would inevitably be fruitless. Even if Emma wanted to continue writing her paper (which of course she didn't), it seemed that SLCWLAN would be there to prevent any hope of a productive evening. Emma glared at the single short paragraph that currently made up her medieval art history final paper, hoping that it would become four pages through sheer force of will alone. The cursor on the half-blank page blinked back mockingly. She sighed, annoyed at the prospect of an all-nighter that was rapidly becoming more likely the longer she procrastinated. Oh well, at least the library was open 24 hours. There was nothing more disheartening than having to finish an essay in the MacCracken study room after the library closed. Or worse, the interrogation room. Emma shuddered at the thought of late nights spent trying to concentrate on writing in that stiflingly hot hellhole. At least during all-nighters in the library there were windows so you could tell when the sun rose.

"Finished!" Regina said proudly, hitting send on her email to printbw . "15 pages on misrepresentations of villains in modern fairy tale adaptations. Not bad for a first draft." She surveyed her work proudly, admiring the word count that was well past the minimum. Emma grimaced at her single lonely paragraph as Regina pulled out her 1card and headed towards the printers.

"Wanna write mine for me?" she called after her desperately. Regina just laughed.

"Screw that! I'm going to bed. I still have two more conference papers to write this week, I'm gonna sleep when I can." Returning with her conference draft still warm from the printer, Regina gathered up the rest of her things so she wouldn't have to make multiple trips after using the staplers at the information desk downstairs. "Good luck with your paper, though. I hope you're not up too late." Regina smiled warmly at Emma as she turned to leave, and for a brief moment the butterflies in Emma's stomach distracted her from the overwhelming stress of conference season. Then she looked back at how much she still had to do and the butterflies all just fucking died. Emma settled in begrudgingly for a long and exhausting night.