All in all, it looked like the usual Valentine's Day for Emma. Watch every Hugh Jackman movie ever made and hope her subconscious got the hint and gave her one whopper of a sex dream. She was really hoping she'd get to comfort Jean Valjean about that shit with the bread. Old Jean Valjean. The one with all the experience and paternal instincts. Rowr.

Instead, Emma came downstairs to discover her father was watching football on an HDTV that could've doubled for one of those screens the evil mastermind used to threaten his underlings on in a Bond movie. "Something seems different about the living room."

"Oh, uhh…" David rubbed at his nose. "Got a new TV!"

"Yeah. That's it. How'd you afford this? No one laid siege to Best Buy or anything, right?"

"No, nothing like that. We—" David focused on the TV as a pass was completed. "Emma, you've got to try this! It has four megapixels per square inch. Four!"

"Yeah. That's great, dad. Breakfast first." Emma went into the breakfast nook only to find that the old had been outed and the new was in. The refrigerator with the vegetable drawer that was a solid block of ice and a light that had turned red somehow, the oven that you had to set to 224 degrees for a minute before it would start, the microwave that would only stop microwaving if the door was open.

They were all gone, replaced by stuff Julia Child would use if she were a cyborg. Lots of chrome. Some glass. Buttons that you'd expect on the USS Enterprise.

"Isn't it wonderful!" Mary-Margaret enthused, pulling a breakfast casserole from the oven. She stayed bent over it, breathing in the scent of totally ozone-free roasted perfection for so long that Emma worried she'd pull a Sylvia Plath. "Look at the cheese! It's bubbling! I've wanted bubbling cheese for so long, Emma…"

"Should you really be this excited over kitchen appliances? Feels a little Mad Men."

Mary-Margaret dead-eyed her. "You spend twenty years skinning rabbits and drying clothes on a line. See where your priorities are. Oh, we've also got a new dryer. This one spins!"

"That's great, Ma. So what happened? Is Scrooge McDuck a fairy tale character too?" Emma broke off. "Damn, got my hopes up… Wait, you didn't sell your firstborn to Rumpel for riches or anything, right? Because that would be me. I'm your firstborn."

"We didn't promise you to anyone…" Mary-Margaret assured her. "…exactly."

Emma's spider-sense was tingling. It was looking less and less like she'd have to trade out her Hugh Jackman sheets in the morning. "Mom… how'd you get all this stuff?"

"I got the stereo working, Mr. Nolan!" Regina said heartily from the other room.

Bugging her eyes out, Emma jabbed a finger at Mary-Margaret and ran back to the living room. Regina was fiddling with a remote control. She was dressed informally, for her-jacket hung up on the hall tree, blouse not quite buttoned to the neck, and flats.

"Oh, hello Emma," she said as the room flooded with NFL commentary.

"9.1 surround sound!" David cheered. "It really only goes up to 7.1. I'm not even sure what the last two speakers do!"

"Regina, what are you doing here?" Emma demanded. "Is this another plot? Are these speakers full of spiders or something?" Then, just to be safe: "Can we all step away from the speakers, please?"

"Emma, please, relax. You'll upset my fetus." Regina rubbed her stomach, which was still flatter than Emma's. No complementary pies for her at Granny's. "These aren't any kind of trick. It's just an old custom from the Enchanted Forest. They're your dowry."

Emma darkened like the second movie in a trilogy. "We're not getting married."

David saw his chance to find out what the last two speakers in a 9.1 speaker system did fading fast. "Emma, it's not like that. We discussed it with Regina and these are just her… show of good faith. No strings attached."

"The only way there're no strings attached with Regina is because she's decided to stab you instead of strangling you."

Regina smiled, liking the sound of that. "Well, now that you mention it, it would be nice if there were a show of good faith on your part as well."

"Yeah, thought so," Emma said. She grabbed Regina by the arm. "C'mon, preggers, time to go."

"You're not even going to hear what I have to say?"

"Emma," Mary-Margaret pleaded, "she is the mother of your child. Both of them. And the new freezer doesn't turn our ice cream solid anymore. And even if it did, we could heat it up in the microwave without having to get behind tin foil."

Emma sighed. "Alright. I'll listen to your bribe."

"Well, seeing as how Valentine's Day is coming up—"

"Here we go," Emma said.

"I would consider it fitting that you take me on a date."

"A date," Emma repeated.

"Yes," Regina nodded. "A night on the town. An evening of togetherness. I know it's been a while, but maybe there's an article about it on Wikihow."

"You want to go on a date?" Emma asked. "In town, not in your sex dungeon?"

"Sadly, I'm having the sex dungeon painted. So yes, we'll just have to eat out."

"And I don't have to wear some kind of weird latex outfit?"

"You can if you want to."

"And we're not going to some pagan sacrifice?"

"We can go to the local Wicca store if you want, but they mostly just listen to Rob Zombie."

"So I get to choose where we go?"

"Yes, Emma, this is your big chance to seduce me. Or you could always sit on the washing machine. It's very powerful."

"Should we go?" David asked, not liking the turn this conversation had taken. "Because this is the room with the home entertainment system."

"I could show you the kitchen," Mary-Margaret offered. "The microwave has a whole category for reheating frozen lasagna. You can choose between Italian and Mexican!"

"Alright, fine!" Emma swore. "If you let my parents keep their stuff, I'll go on a date with you. But don't expect anything. I'll be calling Mr. Gold and seeing if he has a chastity belt I can borrow."

"I actually have a spell that makes those vibrate." Regina smiled, lost in memories. "See you Thursday."


"You're wearing that?"

Emma rolled her eyes. As she might've expected, Mary-Margaret had insisted on helping her get ready. Since it was a date with Regina, Emma's version of getting ready had been showering. That was it.

"What's wrong with it?"

"Well, one, those jeans have a hole in them. Second, you wear that jacket every day. Third, your top is a black T-shirt that has 'Slut' written on it in white letters."

"It's hip."

"Emma…" Mary-Margaret sat on Emma's bed, watching as she gathered her hair into a simple ponytail. "I know Regina's tried to kill me a lot, but honestly, that was twenty-eight years ago. For almost three decades, the worst thing she did to me was keep me single. That wasn't so bad after Kate & Leopold came out on DVD. And she only tried to kill you once. Once! For Regina, that's like shaking your hand."

"I can't believe you want me to give her a chance. She called herself the Evil Queen. Unless you're hanging out with RuPaul, that's a warning sign!"

"Honey, the first time I met your father, he was engaged to someone else and I was trying to mug him. Then I shot him with an arrow. I'm just saying—it's hard to tell where things will end up."

"I have a pretty good idea where they'll end up." Emma put in her stud earrings. "In fact, after tonight, I don't think we'll be hearing from Regina for a long time."


Regina answered her front door, giving her bra one last adjustment for good luck. Ever since her promise to Henry, she hadn't been able to rely on magic to prevent nip-slips. That wasn't a problem, given that she had more pant suits than Janelle Monae. But now she needed to dress to impress, so she'd gone back to her old tailor, who now used his knowledge to teach quantum physics at the local college. He'd made her the kind of dress you were likely to see either at the Oscars or in a burlesque show before the music started. Her girls were ready to play once more.

"Good evening, Ms. Swan."

Emma stood in the doorway, hands in her backpockets. She nodded at Regina. "Sup?"

"Oh… my…" Regina looked her over. Emma was wearing the boots. Moving upward, things got progressively more masculine. Was that a studded belt? "I had no idea you were so… butch."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, toots." Emma popped the gum she was chewing. "C'mon, babe, I don't got all night."

"Of course! Coming right along!" Regina grabbed her clutch purse and hurried out the door. Emma was already walking away, going to her Bug where it was parked on the curb. Regina strutted to the passenger door, where she waited expectantly.

Emma was already getting into the driver's seat. "It's unlocked, babe."

"Oh, you don't want to open it for me. That's fine." Regina got the door herself. So many beer cans and six-pack rings spilled out that if they'd be parked over the ocean, Japan would be the number two killer of dolphins in the world.

"Clear a space for yourself," Emma told her, kicking at some of the crumpled-up fast food wrappers in the foot space. "But try not to throw any of the receipts out, I've got a coupon for free gas there somewhere."

Regina used her purse as a brush, getting the seat as clean as possible before deciding she'd simply sit on the edge of her seat for the ride. Then she climbed in.

"Hope you don't mind going fast," Emma told her. "Now that I'm the one writing the tickets, I don't have to worry about getting pulled over anymore. And sister, lemme tell you, that's a load off my cranium."

"Have you been watching Grease? Have you been watching Grease 2?"


"First off," Emma said, making a hairpin turn. "A nice, romantic dinner."

"At the moment, I'm just glad I haven't eaten yet." Regina braced herself as Emma skidded them into a parallel park, on the curb of The Greasy Spoon. "I don't believe I've heard of this establishment," she said, wobbling as she got out.

"It's new. I'll post a review on Yelp later." Emma gave Regina a push through the door.

The diner was a little more… edgy than Granny's. The floors were linoleum, the windows had security wire, and the counter had bars protecting it. It reminded Emma of her high school cafeteria.

"What'll it be?" Fatty the Dwarf asked through the bars, a tablecloth-sized apron covering his eponymous girth.

"Mr. Fat?" Regina scrutinized him. "Since when do you run a diner?"

"What, Grumpy's the only one who gets to have dreams? I've long wanted to share dwarf cuisine with the public. What'll it be? Stew? Steak? You don't want anything with vegetables, do you?"

"Quarter-pounder with cheese, large order of fries, and a root beer float," Emma ordered. "What'd ya want, Regina?"

Regina was staring at the menu, posted above the bar, next to the fly strips. "The… meatloaf?"

"We're all out of quarter-pounders, Emma," Fatty reported. "Half-pounder okay?"

"Eh, I deserve a splurge."

"Excuse me," Regina began. "How many carbs are in the meatloaf?"

"What's a carb?"


"I actually had no idea you could make food out of mostly grease and starch," Regina said, leaving the diner.

"You should try his hot dogs. He said he'll give a hundred dollars to anyone who can guess what's in them." Emma licked her fingers.

"Where are we walking?" Regina demanded, short on patience. She could feel her stomach rebelling in protest, assuring her that none of this would happen if she went vegan. "Are we just trying to walk off the cholesterol, because I think we'll hit ocean before that happens."

"We're going to the park, for a romantic horse-drawn carriage ride."

"Ah. Well, Miss Swan, that's much better."

"Isn't it though?"

They reached the park without killing each other and finally came to the stables, where a horse had already been saddled. The horseman appeared to be missing, though.

"Oh, there's no horseman," Emma explained, climbing into the cab. "Chester's a magic horse."

"Chester?" Regina paused, giving Emma a chance to offer her a hand up. She didn't. "Why is that familiar?"

"Because you cursed me, witch! You turned me into a human!" Regina blinked at the horse, who pawed the ground with his hooves. "C'mon, get in. Your money's as good as the next witch's."

Regina climbed in. Emma smiled and closed the door behind her. Without giving Regina time to settle in, Chester took off, dropping Regina in Emma's lap.

Regina's eyebrows raised. "Well. This is just as cozy as I remember it."

"I can definitely tell you're pregnant. Off!"

Regina moved over, hearing a whinny from Chester. "Hey, you know the worst thing about being human? No one feeds you sugar cubes. No one!"

"I'm sorry about that," Regina said. "I did have a lot of rage issues at the time… I was big into irony, so maybe you said you hated humans or something?"

"I liked humans! I loved being ridden!"

Regina patted Emma's knee. "See? We have something in common right there."

"I hated being human! You have to wear clothes! And if you don't—let me tell you, 'hung like a horse' was not the simile it should've been!"


A hour of rustic charm later, Chester had finished all his complaints about being turned into a human.

"Thanks for listening to me vent," he said as Regina petted his mane. "Now that I've forgiven you, maybe I can forgive… myself."

"That's the spirit," Regina said. "One day at a time."

"Can we go now?" Emma begged. "This is like watching a show on Bravo where everyone gets along. It just feels wrong."

"Certainly." Regina took Emma's arm, making Emma consider amputation. "Where to next, Valentine? Would you like to paint me in the nude? I promise not to hold it against you if you don't capture my radiance."

"Sorry, my mom raised me never to paint nudes on a first date. Or she would've, if she had raised me."

"I said I was sorry about that."

"No, you didn't."

"It could be inferred I was sorry about that." Regina patted Emma's arm. "You shouldn't dwell on the past. It's not healthy."

"And when was the last time Maine had a monarchy, your highness?"

"Are you going to row me around in a gondola or not?"

Emma raised her eyebrows. "No. No, that's not even an option. We're going to see a movie."

"Ooh, a nice romantic movie. Cliché, but serviceable. Rather like your oral sex."

"It's a horror movie," Emma corrected her. "Rather like your—no, I'm not doing it."

"You already did it. Or have we forgotten where babies come from?"


Having to wait in line for tickets behind and in front of a bunch of happily-ever-after couples with Regina hanging off her was the most mortifying V-day experience Emma had ever had since, well, being in high school. The worst part was how many people seemed to approve.

"Well-done, Emma," Ashley said, smiling back at Regina. "Finally making an honest woman out of the queen, eh?"

"Pretty sure I'd need the cast of Inception for that."

"Oh, dearie," Regina giggled, "you're so funny."

"Why must you torture me?" Emma whispered.

"Because you're cute when you're angry and the hate sex is amazing."

"Couldn't you just find someone else who hates you? The phone book would be a good place to start."

"Emma, be nice. You wouldn't want to hurt my feelings when I'm carrying our child, would you? We're up next." Regina gave Emma a little shove to the sales window.

"Stupid womb," Emma muttered. The ticket guy was looking at her funny. "Two for Frowny Face."


"Oh my god!" Emma yelled, covering her eyes.

"Problem, sweetie?" Regina asked, munching her popcorn.

"He just shoved a machete up her—Jesus! When did horror movies get so violent? I remember the 90s, the most that happened there was you got stabbed in the stomach and some blood came out your mouth. This never happened to Sarah Michelle Gellar!"

"I don't see what the big deal is. This film is completely unrealistic. There's not even that much blood in the human body." Regina blinked as another co-ed got the ax. "See? That's not even where her intestines would be in real life."

Emma lowered her head between her knees.

"If you're not going to watch the movie, mind getting me a refill?" Regina shook the popcorn tub. "It's just bad economics to pay seven bucks for one of these and then not get the refill."


Driving Regina home, Emma kept a deathgrip on the steering wheel. Regina ate what was left of the popcorn.

"You want to talk about something couple-y?" she asked.

"No," Emma said curtly.

"I'm not exactly big on relationships—what do couples usually talk about on dates?"

"How about you seeming weirdly familiar with how a woman getting chopped in half 'really looks'?"

Regina set the popcorn aside, not that there was much space to. "Well, have you seen Game of Thrones?"

"Do I look like I have HBO?"

"Have you read the books?"

"No, they're holding my coffee table up."

"Have you been to the TV Tropes page?"

"I've been to every TV Tropes page," Emma reported, remembering the only lost weekend in her life that didn't involve Maker's Mark.

"Well, the Enchanted Forest was a little like that. I know you think I was the bad guy and Snow White was the good guy, but there were also a lot of worse guys who would've loved to have the whole lot of us as heads on pikes."

"Don't remind me," Emma groaned, remembering what had happened to that nice girl from the CW show in the movie.

"But I'm sure you would've loved to have been raised in a realm where 'the pointy end of a sword' qualifies as a legal defense, so, boo me."

"Well, on the bright side, no lawyers."

"You'll notice I didn't put any of those in Storybrooke."

"We're here," Emma announced, pulling to a stop at the curb.

Regina got out before Emma had the chance to not get the door for her. "Walk me up?"

"Yeah, yeah—" Emma walked around the car and only stumbled a little when Regina lunged to put an arm around her waist. "You're surprisingly touchy-feely for an evil queen."

"And you're very stand-offish for a princess." They reached the porch. Regina plucked at Emma's belt. "Henry's over at Mary-Margaret's, in case you want to come inside for some… hot coffee."

"I think I've come inside enough where you're concerned. Good night, Regina."

Emma turned to leave. Then, halfway down the walk, she seemed to jump five feet in the air.

"Jesus!"

Regina opened her door back up. "Something the matter?"

"That bush just moved!"

"What?"

"Right there!" Emma pointed.

"It's probably just a cat. Or Ruby."

"It did it again!" Emma yelped, backing up as the bush definitely shook.

"I told you, it must be Ruby. I'll prove it to you." Regina stepped up onto the perch. "You know who really undercooks steak? Granny's diner!"

Now the bush was motionless.

Emma seethed. "The potentially dangerous beast on your front lawn is not Ruby. Thanks for letting me know that, I feel a lot better."

Regina shrugged. "Maybe she just takes constructive criticism well."

The bush gave another shake, branches crackling, and Emma jumped onto the porch. "Inside! Inside!"

She slammed the door behind them and threw all the locks.

"Emma, does this have anything to do with the fact that most of the girls who died in that movie were blondes?"

"It has to do with the fact that that was a huge bush! You could hide Mohammed Ali in there!"

"Not that I don't love hearing about your huge bush, but let's just call animal control. They finally caught Puss-In-Boots last week; they know what they're doing."

"No!" Emma said emphatically, staring out the peephole. "What if it's just a possum or something? Would either of us ever live that down?"

"'Scared of a possum' would be a step-up for me. People might relate to that better than wanting to kill your mother."

"Do you have a gun in the house? I left mine at home."

"You went on a date with me and you didn't bring protection? I'm insulted."

"Regina. Do. You have. A gun?"

"Yes, Emma, I've had one ever since I adopted an infant. I keep it next to the medicine that looks like candy and the DVDs of old racist cartoons." Regina frowned, planting her hands on her hips. "Speaking of guns, I do hope you have some sort of safe to keep those things in back at Mary-Margaret's."

"What?"

"I've seen David strutting around with a holster. That's two guns in your home. Henry could shoot himself twice at the same time."

"Is this really the best time?"

"I wasn't sure there was a bad time to discuss our son's safety."

"This is it! This is that time!" Emma stopped, pinching her lips. She looked back at Regina. "Did you just call Henry our son?"

"What of it?" Regina asked, tightening her hands on her hips.

"Nothing. It's just… usually there's a back and forth. You know, 'he's my son', 'no he's my son'."

Regina waved dismissively. "Henry is our son."

"And what brought that on? You're not… you're not serious with this whole marriage, living happily ever after… thing… are you?"

"I did buy your father a television."

"Yeah, but… I mean… we have nothing in common."

"The sex was good."

"You compared cunnilingus with me to a rom-com."

"There's room for improvement there, true, but what you did with your fingers—and that elbow, oh my god…"

Flustered, Emma looked back out at the peephole. "I think it's gone."

"The thing you didn't see in the first place? For all you know, it could be right under the peephole."

Emma jumped back from the door. "You bitch!"

"Well, it can't get in here. One good thing about having an angry mob try to lynch you is that it stresses the need for a high-quality home security system. Bars on the windows, alarms, reinforced doors—"

"Okay, so, we're safe." Emma backed away from the door a little more, gathering herself. "We could just… wait it out till morning. Your average creature of the night isn't big on sunshine, right? I mean, by definition…"

"Well, I'm a bit 'creature of the night' and no, I'm not much of a morning person."

"Good, cool…" Emma slid her hands in her pockets and looked at Regina. "Mind if I spend the night?"

"Why, Ms. Swan, I thought you'd never ask."

"In a guest room. Pervert. And only because there's a strong possibility of a giant scorpion being on the other side of that door."

"Where'd you get giant scorpion from?"

"When did we rule it out?" Emma started to take off her jacket, but paused when she noticed Regina staring at her. "And hey! No funny business. I just need to crash here, that's all. Nothing… interesting is happening."

Regina looked at her in shock. "Why, Emma, I wouldn't dream of it. You have my word, as long as you're sleeping under my roof, I'll be a perfect gentlewoman."