The Good Party

The mansion had exploded into champagne and music, the karaoke machine plugged into the living room dueling with the mayor's classical playlist. Every so often, Emma could hear the faint ring of the doorbell, but had long since stopped answering, leaving it to the guests to figure opening the door themselves and joining the party. It was probably not the wisest policy, what with most of her wife's friends and allies being mortal enemies of everyone else who had been invited, but she figured with enough alcohol and holiday cheer, they'd all survive the night.

"Just hear those sleigh bells jingling, ring-ting-tingling, too," The smoky timbre of a landlocked sea witch seeped out of the living room where a small gang of children were climbing over presents to help add decorations to the shaking tree. Among them, Emma's baby brother, his face buried in emerald thistles, his mop of golden hair curled around various twigs and ornaments as he crawled around the stump. Above them, Jafar was using his staff to carefully adjust the Christmas star at the very top.

On the leather couch, over champagne flutes, glasses of hard cider and mugs of eggnog, Ashley and her mom posse watched with an apprehensive eye as their progeny decorated in a den of villains. In the middle of the room, couples swayed and jived to the sea witch's intoxicating melody.

Ursula's voice splashed against the base of the winding staircase, where the savior stumbled every couple of steps, narrowly avoiding the seated teenagers squished off to either side, their arms looped around the bars of the banister. A two-way traffic was streaming, Emma trying not to trod on Gretel's foot as she made room for one of the caterers from Tiana's Place to go through with his tray.

"Hey!" The blonde teenager could have been a dead ringer for the savior not even twenty years ago, complete with furrowed brow and utter disdain for authority as Emma snatched the chilled beer out of her hand. "The drinking age in the Enchanted Forest was - like - there was no non-drinking age!"

Taking a swig of the bottle herself, Emma smirked at the scowling seventeen year old. "Nice try, kiddo, there's sparkling cider in the kitchen."

Continuing up the stairs, the second floor hallway was besieged by tipsy fairies, their wings fluttering out of control, and at least one of them seemingly sensitive to the playful stroke of Doctor Whale's finger who insisted with a grin it was purely out of professional curiosity, as he traced the veins. Lingering a moment to make sure she wasn't going to have to throw him out on his ass, Emma felt her arm being squeezed and turned around only to be engulfed in Anton's massive bear hug. "This party is awesome," His ale tinged breath tickled her face, and his own seemed to be peppered with bright lipstick marks, wherever the wiry beard didn't cover.

"Glad you're having fun," She laughed, patting him on the back, only mildly concerned when he pulled away and started lumbering down the stairs where the teenagers were forced to flatten themselves against the edges to make room for him.

There was only one closed door on the second floor, besides the bathroom. Her son's door was wide open, the room occupied only by her deputy and Aurora who were chatting on the bed, and Mulan looking the tiniest bit guilty at being caught semi-alone with the princess, despite the large gap of air carefully situated between them.

With her back against the master bedroom, Emma deftly twisted the knob behind her and snuck in backwards, making sure no one was watching the hostess disappear. "Regi - gah!" Slapping a hand against her own eyes, Emma hit her face through her fingers against the door as she tried exiting as quickly as she'd entered, cheeks reddened from both the force of the hit and the sight of her parents making out like horny teenagers on her bed. "The hell is wrong with you guys!"

Her mother eeped and her father gasped out apologies as he fought to untangle one hand from his wife's hair and the other from the complicated clasp of her bra. "We're so - !"

" - sorry, honey, the - "

" - drinks, maybe a little too - "

" - strong for us, we - "

" - didn't mean to - "

The door closed with a definitive bang as Emma successfully escaped them, a traumatized flush spreading the entire surface of her body. Still holding onto the confiscated beer, Emma took another long swig, a soothing burn coursing through her lungs.

Through the second floor hallway window, she glimpsed Roland Locksley helping his half-sister chase after Pongo in the snow capped backyard. Someone had attached plastic antlers to the dalmatian's head, and it wobbled as he danced around his would-be predators, tag wagging non-stop.

Poofing into the open area purely out of not wanting to deal with climbing down the staircase again, Emma wiggled her fingers at the laughing kids, silver flakes catching on blonde lashes and melting on cheeks pinched with cold.

There were some other grownups standing around the fringe of the backyard, warming their hands above the fire pit, their laughter bubbling in the cool air.

Emma trudged through the snow, back into the mansion through the kitchen door. A collective shiver went through the group as the heat seeped out, and the sheriff stepped in. Tiana had taken up shop, looking strikingly beautiful despite the rolled up sleeves full of stains and frizzy curls spilling into her eyes, every so often flopping up out of her face from an aggravated huff.

"Hey," Emma moved in closer, practically spinning out of the way of caterers speeding in and out of the kitchen. "Anything I can do to - "

"You can keep her out of my damn kitchen." The chef practically snarled, pointing a long, elegant finger at the cranky werewolf haunting the corner of the room.

Eugenia Lucas slammed her plate on the counter, and slid off her stool, her own pulled back lips and bared teeth far more vicious than her professional rival's, but simultaneously softened by the white powder caking her mouth which betrayed the number of beignets she'd devoured. The thread of their argument was immediately lost to Emma who backed up immediately as the two women hurled insults that seemed to belong to a whole nother language of cooking she was unaware of. Words that had once seemed familiar to her like sauté and braise and flambé now ricocheted against the walls and over her head like bullets in the air.

"I'll - just - " Emma drained the rest of the beer and grabbed some eggnog off the tray of a passing caterer before exiting through the swinging door.

The Mad Hatter's smooth baritone now swept through the ground floor of the mansion. "Have yourself a merry little Christmas…" The gentle melody accompanied by the crystal clear voice of the town's librarian. "Let your heart be light…" Their duet followed Emma into the dining room, where her wife's iPod played a little more clearly, a string quartet dancing around her ankles as she rounded the circular table, scanning the features of her guests.

A soft puff of breath met her ear, and the fine hairs on the nape of the savior's neck stood on end. "Jesus, have you been avoiding - ?" Emma turned around, the words stilling on her tongue, exasperation melting into surprise.

Queen Elsa stood there, her smile shy and cheeks flushed. "I wouldn't say ruling a kingdom an entire world away was about avoiding you."

"Oh my god," Like magic, a girlish quality stole over the sheriff's hardened features, and she pulled the Arendelle leader into an immediate hug. "What are you doing here?"

"My sister met with an emissary from King Triton's kingdom - one of his daughters, I believe. Apparently she's a resident here, and she happened to mention this party. I - I hope it wasn't too presumptuous of me to just - "

"Don't be ridiculous, I've missed you."

Moving out of the way of traffic, Emma grasped the queen's hand and tugged her towards the archway which separated the dining room from the hallway which led to the private study. A little pocket of the universe opened up just for them, neither the music from the karaoke machine or her wife's playlist or the chatter and laughter and drunken arguments ebbing and flowing through the mansion could reach them. "How've you been?" Her sea-green eyes soaked in the features long absent from her life, a tiny flame kindled in her chest.

At a distance, the two of them looked as if they'd color coordinated. Elsa's dress was a form fitting, strapless number that only a woman impervious to the cold could have pulled off in the dead of winter. Her azure corset pushed up her chest so that it was practically at eye level with the sheriff. It matched the color of Emma's snug turtleneck, their slim figures pressed close together as they leaned against the archway, foreheads nearly touching.

Unable to hear their conversation, Regina watched the way their lips moved from across the room. Gee, Elsa, aren't you cold? She imagined her wife was asking. Oh, gosh, no, thank you for asking, my savior, it's never bothered me. Her dark eyes flickered at the brief squeeze of the other queen's hand on her wife's bicep. Surely, you're too hot in all these clothes. Why not be practically naked like me?

Turning away from them both, Regina returned to making her rounds, smoothly inserting herself into various conversations, the guise of a hostess keeping her safe from engaging with any one group for too long. As long as she kept moving, she didn't have to think, didn't have to feel, didn't have to confront the cracks running through her own heart.

An hour later, a drunken horde of dwarves rapping "It's Christmas time in Hollis, Queens…" was more than enough motivation for Regina to escape her hostess duties. Unfortunately, other than the second floor bathroom, there didn't seem to be any room available. She rather detested the idea of anybody at the party witnessing her seemingly needing to relieve herself, but it seemed silly to just stand outside in the cold.

The music crashed against the other side of the closed door Regina slumped against. Not nearly as large as the one adjoining the master bedroom, this bathroom was sparsely decorated. Only a scented candle and soap that made her hands smell of cinnamon.

Peering at herself in the mirror, she ran a routine check of hair and makeup, bared her teeth and made sure there wasn't anything stuck. Impossible, she hadn't eaten anything. But, still.

Seating herself on the toilet seat, Regina smoothed down the skirt of her dress. The music pumping through the mansion seemed to have turned up a notch. Some of it slipped through the crack beneath the door. Without conscious thought, the heel of her shoe tapped against the bathroom tiles, and her mind began to slip backwards into the last twenty-four hours.


"Hey, guess what?"

"Hm?"

"Mistletoe."

In the time it took for her dark gaze to meet the red ribboned plant hanging above their heads, the savior's hands had cupped her cheeks, directing her gaze back towards earth. The intensity of her wife's stare had her heart hammering in a way it hadn't really since the seconds leading up to their very first kiss. Pulled in close enough to count every single lash, close enough to see the way Emma had failed to apply chapstick evenly over the seal of her lips, some parts smudged and some parts left untouched.

Regina's knuckles whitened, her grip tightened over the curve of the sofa's edge. Her head felt separate from the rest of her body, gently detached by the pressure of her wife's heated palms. How many weeks had it been - how many months - since she'd experienced even this much affection?

"Em - mah," Her whisper was like a prayer tugged out the depths of her throat, causing her wife's fingers to stroke up the slope of her scalp and grasp a fistful of black silk, slowly beckoning her to lean even further, their eyes closing, and the bump of their noses gently meeting.

Ding Dong

Their eyes snapped open just before their lips met. Regina froze up and watched the dimensions of sea grey eyes expand past their normal perimeter, their noses brushed against one another in a confused limbo. She could guess what her ex-wife was thinking; that this was divine intervention, agents of Fate driving the two of them apart. As much as she would have liked to scoff at the idea, her heart was already dropping from her chest into a puddle of acid churning inside her gut, eager to devour the fresh meat.

"Maybe they'll go away," She whispered, puffs of nervous breath painting the striking jawline.

Indeed, there was a pause, where the air stood still. Only their breath flowed, harmonizing in anticipation. Regina felt herself soften a little, her pulse slowing beneath the press of her wife's fingers.

Ding Dong

This time, the jingle was followed by a knock on the door. Emma sank back down in the couch with a reluctant sigh, their faces no longer quite as close. "I'll answer it," She slid off the cushions, and rounded the furniture, squeezing the brunette's arm in passing.

Regina followed a few steps behind as her ex-wife opened their home to a rush of cold wind. She was half expecting the rogue's gallery of their collective, unfortunate dating life to be lined up outside the door. Emma had a bad habit of staying friends with her exes (any of them, she was sure, would have come sniffing around the moment they caught whiff of their troubles) and Regina's had a bad habit of randomly coming back from the dead in increasingly creative and disturbing ways.

"Mom," A short exhalation of relief wrapped around the word, Regina watching as her ex-wife's shoulders relaxed, her profile filling the archway, silver beams of light squeezing through the cracks of her casual blockade. "What are you doing here?"

"Yes, what are you doing here?" Regina snapped, striding down the short steps that separated the dining area from the foyer.

Willfully misinterpreting the apprehension in her daughter's face and snarl in her former step-mother's voice as a welcome invitation, a beaming Snow White, raven lashes sprinkled with flecks of snow and bright pink cheeks pinched with cold, practically bounced forward and forced the two of them to part. "I wanted to drop off these gifts before the party tomorrow." Her sack of presents swung off her shoulder, a hard edge protruding from the cloth accidentally striking against Regina's kneecap. Scowling, the brunette followed after the intruder, her magic slamming the front door shut.

"You could have called," She crossed her arms, pressing against the nervous pounding of her heart. "Sent a text, one of your winged vermin."

"It's winter," Snow lightly admonished, only half listening as she opened the sack and flipped it over, a mountain's worth of wrapped boxes spilling out of the opening and piling up beneath the bare tree. "They've all flown south."

The presents knocked against the base of the tree. Some of the loosely attached cards buried beneath the rubble were severed from their taped bondage. Snow White shook out the sack until the last, tiniest wrapped bauble trickled out.

"Now, was that so inconvenient?" Snow glanced about the room, nodding approvingly. "Oh, ladies, everything looks so nice!"

To Regina's immense frustration, the woman started moving about the house, admiring the decorations, the scents flowing from room to room, and how the silver light streamed through the immaculately clean windows, Emma slowly trailing after the brunette.

"Yeah, it was all Regina," Her ex-wife's voice followed Snow White into the kitchen.

"Oh, that doesn't surprise me."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

Snow White responded in an airy manner, their voices growing increasingly faint as the two of them sank deeper into the mansion.

Wrapping arms around herself, Regina stood alone in the livingroom, closing her eyes. She breathed in… breathed out… the muscles in her body still tense. The pressure of her wife's lips was like a phantom imprint against her mouth. Swiping her tongue, Regina could almost catch the ghost of the promise nearly offered to her.


Jolted out of memory, Regina snapped her head in the direction of the doorknob jiggling. "Occupied!" She snapped.

There was an immediately ceasefire, and then her wife's voice pressing against the door. "There you are. Have you been in here the whole night?"

"Miss Swan," Regina rose off the toilet seat, feeling the heat crawl up her neck. "Don't be absurd."

"Okay, okay, just checking. Didn't know if there's some food I should be avoiding."

"If you don't mind," Regina huffed, but a puff of smoke interrupted the beginning stages of her rant. White vapor ripped through the wood of the door and materialized directly behind the mayor, alcohol saturated breath against the curve of her ear. The heat rose from her neck to her cheeks.

"Where've you been the whole night?"

"Mingling." Regina sucked in a breath, turning around to face the younger woman. "And you?"

"I've been looking for my wife."

"Did you expect to find her in the vast chasm of Princess Snowflake's breasts?" Regina quirked a dark brow at the surprise striking storm colored eyes. "Yeah, I saw you."

Emma rolled her eyes. "She's just a friend. Who I haven't seen in years."

"Why is she even here?"

"She hitched a ride with Ariel across portals."

"Really?" The vein in her neck began to visibly pulsate. "I don't recall issuing that overgrown trout a plus-one invitation."

"Be nice," Emma pronounced the words slowly, approaching her wife as if she were a grumpy predator. She trailed the tips of her fingers along the length of her wife's long sleeved dress, the velvet texture hugging every curve of her wife's petite figure.

"Don't tell me how to be," Regina snapped back without moving away, her dark eyes fixed determinedly on the sheriff's face, and not on the touch solidifying around her forearm. "You had all of yesterday to try and talk to me if you really wanted to. And all of this morning."

"I'm trying to talk to you now."

"Well, now is not a good time. I have guests to take care of."

Emma grasped both elbows and pulled the brunette a little closer, squeezing gently and peering into her eyes. "We were in the middle of something we never got to finish."

"Yes, because you prioritized the inane ramblings of your mother over me." Regina sucked on her teeth, immediately hearing the echo of her own mother's scolding tone concerning the childish habit. "Don't worry, not the first time a spouse has placed Snow White's needs over mine."

"C'mon," Emma squeezed a little harder, her hands rising up the brunette's upper arms, pulling her wife even closer. "Don't lump me in with - she was here for all of five minutes, and then you disappeared on me to go get ice for six fucking hours."

"And in all that time, you didn't call, didn't text."

"I thought you wanted some space."

"No, that's what I want now." Regina's eyes flickered down to pink lipstick, unevenly applied, the shade a little too bright to compliment the pale skintone. "If you'll excuse me." Treachery came in the form of heartbeats, each one pumping harder and louder than the last, the queen taking small steps backwards with every step forward taken by the savior. Until her spine was pressed up against the bathroom door, and her wife was looming above her, caging her in.

"Just five minutes of your time, Madame Mayor."

"Don't get cute with me… sheriff."

Emma bit down on her lower lip, fighting down a smile. "Yesterday, we were talking, beginning to talk."

"Yes, and only an hour ago, you and sparkly blue were having a cozy little chat of your own."

"Regina," Her hands slid up long sleeves, velvet the color of red wine. "No woman in this entire world - in this entire realm, or any other - means as much to me as you do." Her hands dropped from her wife's arms to her waist, squeezing them hard. Watched black lashes flutter, and Regina release a low, shuddering breath.

"You made me sign those papers, and then you tried to kiss me."

"I know."

"Then, the slightest interruption and - " Regina's vision blurred. "The deal was, I sign the papers if you stay for the party. Well, party's almost over. Christmas will soon be over. Are you - where will you be, then?"

The savior's mouth parted, her steely gaze like a storm had struck ocean water. "Regina, I'll - "

"Hey!" The doorknob jiggled against the brunette's side, swiftly accompanied by the rap of someone's knuckles. "A line's forming out here, hurry up!"

Mortified, Regina's cheeks colored further, and she evaporated in a gust of purple smoke, leaving Emma grasping nothing but air. Hands dropping, she drew a breath and prepared to face the angry line outside. Now who's running away?