For both Day 4 of Ficmas and a birthday gift to ariestess. A look into the curse, Emma is 3 years old.
Mary Margaret leans in the doorway of the kitchen, gently folding her arms over her chest. Emma stands on her tippy toes on her stool, just barely reaching the top of the island. Regina is beside her, using a spatula to gently move the warm gingerbread men from the pan to the festive plate. Emma's hand goes to grab one and Regina moves it away.
"These are very hot, Corazón," Regina softly reprimands. "Plus, they're for Santa Claus."
"Can't I have one Mama?" Emma asks, her lips forming into a pout. "Pleaseee."
"You had plenty of candy before we left Granny's, I think you're good on sweets for tonight."
Emma's face scrunches up and Mary Margaret can sense the sugar crash that is upon them. She steps into the kitchen. "Emmy, how about you help me get the tea ready for Santa, hm? That's a very important job."
There's no smile, but the little girl does hop off her stool and head over to her other mother. Regina mouths a quick "thank you". Mary Margaret nods as she lifts Emma into her arms and carries her over to the stove where the singing kettle awaits.
"In all the books, Santa drinks milk," Emma says.
Mary Margaret gently turns off the burner. "Remember how we talked about how different places have different traditions?" Emma nods. "Well, by the time Santa gets to us, he's drunk so much milk that his tummy hurts a bit. Tea helps that."
Emma's face perks up a bit. "We help Santa feel better?"
"We absolutely do." Mary Margaret sets the kettle down and opens the cabinet above her. "Which mug should we use?" Emma's face scrunches up once again before pointing to the Rudolph mug in the middle of the shelves. "Excellent choice, sweets."
The sweet-smelling honey lavender tea is poured inside and Mary Margaret carries both it and Emma back to the counter. Settling the mug beside the plate, she wraps an arm around Regina's waist.
"And now, we're all ready for Santa to come to visit us," Snow says. "Which means there's only one thing left to do."
"Bedtime," Regina chimes in.
"I wanna wait up for Santa," Emma declares.
"Ah, but he only comes once we fall asleep."
"Why?"
"It's the quietest time of night. He needs expert concentration in order to use all of his magic. Now come on, we'll read you a story before bed."
The three of them head up to Emma's room and cuddle onto her tiny twin bed. Mary Margaret puts on her glasses to read 'Twas the Night Before Christmas. Emma holds onto her robe while leaning into Regina's chest. Every so often, Mary Margaret glances over at the two, Emma's eyes slowly closing with every page. She tries to fight it, glancing over at her window every so often but inevitably sleep takes over before Santa even departs in the book. Mary Margaret lets out a sigh of relief and gently closes the book. Regina lays Emma onto her pillow, brushing some of her curls from her face. Mary Margaret puts a hand on her wife's back.
"We should take advantage of the sugar crash and sneak downstairs," she whispers into her ear.
Regina nods in agreement and they carefully climb out of the bed. Mary Margaret flicks on the night light while Regina kills the overhead. Leaving the door open a crack, both head downstairs and back into the kitchen. Regina busies herself to fix another cup of tea while Snow savors the one left behind in the Rudolph mug.
"This little trick is genius," Regina says. "Convincing her that Santa needs tea."
"I hate milk and it'd be a waste to buy it just for one night."
"I'm with you there." She crosses the room to her wife and plucks a cookie off the plate. "Can you believe this year we got to read to her in her big girl bed?"
Mary Margaret shakes her head, her lips twitching into a slight frown. "She's getting so big, so fast. I think this is the first year she really understands Christmas."
"Well, she'll be thrilled tomorrow. For days she's been asking if she can open the presents that Granny, Kathryn and Jim left for her."
"The tree's already crowded, how are we possibly going to fit Santa's stash?"
"I don't know," Regina wraps her arms around Mary Margaret's waist. "You're pretty creative, I'm sure you can figure something out."
The frown quickly turns into a grin as Mary Margaret accepts a kiss from her. She shuts her eyes and inhales, taking in the mix of honey, lavender and the ginger leftover from baking.
"If we stay like this, the presents are never gonna get wrapped," she mumbles.
"We have a while, it's only 8."
"Ah yes, but now that Emma is out of a crib, she'll probably be waking us up pretty early." Regina groans, her lips just inches from her wife's. Mary Margaret chuckles and gently kisses her once more, before pulling away. "The joys of toddlerhood."
"How can I be so torn between wanting her to stay this little and wanting her to grow up so I can finally sleep again?"
Mary Margaret shakes her head. "I guess that's motherhood for you." She takes another swig of her tea. "Come on, I'll put on some music and we can get this all out of the way. And then if you're lucky…" She peeks over her shoulder, for extra confirmation that Emma is safely asleep upstairs. Her voice gently lowers. "I'll let you find my mistletoe."
Regina smirks, pressing a saucy kiss to Snow's lips. She deepens it, allowing her tongue to slip down her wife's mouth. Every bit of her grows warm to the touch as she tastes the remnants of gingerbread that the cookie left behind. Her hand travels lower, tugging on the snowmen pajama pants that cling to Regina's waist. It carefully slips inside, just barely grazing the front of her underwear. Regina moans, leaning into Snow's touch.
"It wouldn't kill us to put off the presents just a bit," Regina whispers, their lips barely pulled apart.
Mary Margaret tugs down the pants, thrusting her wife against the island and smiling as Regina lets out a giggle of glee. "You're very convincing, Madam Mayor."
The two sit on the kitchen floor an hour later, the plate of cookies between them. Their pajama pants are in an ungraceful heap by the stove, Regina's underwear got tossed under the kitchen table. Emma's gifts still sit inside Mary Margaret's closet, waiting to be wrapped in Strawberry Shortcake paper.
"We're not getting it done at a reasonable hour at this point," Mary Margaret says behind a bite of cookie.
Regina shrugs, sipping what has to be lukewarm tea. "I mean, she's still pretty young. Do you think she'll notice?" Mary Margaret sends her a look. "We'll get to it. Eventually."
"I really don't think I can get up."
Regina chuckles. "You are not that old."
"I feel it sometimes, I mean I have a 3 year old for crying out loud." She shakes her head. "She's such a little spitfire, you know? Just like you."
"Excuse me, that sassy look she gets on her face when she doesn't want to do something is one thousand percent you."
"Yeah, but she can debate her way out of anything. Sounds like her mayor mother."
Regina shrugs, drawing a finger around the handle of her mug. "It's weird, you know? I was always worried that because we don't share blood that I wouldn't love her. That there'd be a block or something but…she is mine, isn't she?"
Mary Margaret intertwines her fingers with Regina, causing her wife to look over to her. "She has always been yours, and she always will be."
Regina smiles and presses a gentle kiss to Mary Margaret's forehead.
"One more cookie each, and then we get started on the wrapping." She looks around the kitchen. "Though, we should probably put up our laundry first."
Mary Margaret chuckles. "Yeah, I think we can spare scarring her for a few more years."