A/N: Once again, I have overestimated my amount of free time, so my apologies that I am only getting this chapter up now! I'm going up to Scotland with my friend at the end of next week to camp out in the trunk of my car in the forest (I haven't told her this last part yet, I'm sure she'll be thrilled!) so I will try and get this finished before we head off :) No promises as I have some commissions to work on, but I'll do my best! :)

"You're on time."

Regina greets the blonde as she pulls open the door to let her in out of the cold.

"Why do you always say it like I've somehow grossly insulted you?"

Emma grumbles, wiping her boots on the mat.

"I'm not insulted, I'm just surprised."

The Mayor counters, glancing up at the landing where Henry emerges from his room to offer the blonde a small wave before coming to a stop halfway down the stairs.

"And anyway, there's no always about it. Always would imply that I'm frequently offered an opportunity to comment favourably on your timekeeping, and that's simply not the case, dear."

"Yeah, well, I'd have been late if I'd thought it would have meant missing out on the joys of this conversation."

The blonde mutters, and Regina narrows her eyes as she checks she has everything she needs in her bag; already dressed and ready to leave in her smart winter coat.

"Henry can stay up until nine, but no television or playing on his phone, and after that, it's lights out, understand?"

She glances up at the boy as she asserts this last part, and he nods dutifully.

"Fine by me."

Emma shrugs, doubting she will be met with much resistance on that front. The kid might have a sense of curiosity bordering on foolishly perilous, but he is not one to misbehave under more ordinary circumstances.

Something he must have inherited from Neal, as it certainly isn't a trait passed down by either of us...

The blonde smirks to herself as she toes off her boots with her hand pressed against the wall to steady herself.

"Where are you going anyway? Anywhere exciting?"

She asks with a glance up at the Mayor; sarcasm tainting her query as- when not in the midst of some curse or other- Storybrooke has little to offer in the way of excitement.

"Just out."

Regina replies vaguely, bending down to slip on a pair of expensive black heels she tends to save for special occasions. Her choice of footwear doesn't go unnoticed, and Emma raises an appreciative brow before opening her mouth in surprise when a crazy idea dawns on her.

"Wait, are you going on a date?"

She asks curiously, earning herself a warning glower and a silence that pretty much speaks for itself.

"You are, aren't you?"

She persists, undeterred, and Henry speaks up to help her out as he slips past his mothers and disappears into the kitchen.

"She is."

He informs the Sheriff, who meets the darker woman's irritable glare with a grin.

"Well, you didn't tell me that part! Who with?"

She pushes the brunette for more information; not ordinarily one to be nosey- especially when it comes to another's love life- but she has always found herself genuinely curious when it comes to the Mayor. Her interest comes from a remarkably well-natured place, and thus is something she tries to hide whenever possible.

It's just interesting to see how things have changed. What she did for Mary Margaret and I out by the well. How she is towards Henry and towards the others here, especially when they get fresh with her; she could react in such a terrible, terrifying way, but she doesn't... Dealing with people's quirks and nuances can get boring fast, at least in my experience, but if there's one thing I've never been around Regina, it's bored!

"Are you going to at least give me a name?"

She pesters when the Queen ignores her in favour of checking her lipstick in the mirror, and Regina frowns before turning back to the blonde and hissing

"Why? So that you can go flirt with them and turn them against me like you did the last one?"

"...I mean, I would, but my schedule is just rammed right now."

Emma scoffs sarcastically, before pointing out in her defence

"And I never did shit with Graham and you know it! You were the Evil Queen and you stole the dude's heart before crushing it when you were worried he might have taken a casual liking to someone else.."

"Mm. My issue with the matter was more a fear of what the man might divulge to you, than it was... fear of what he might "divulge" to you."

"If you say so, but I still don't see how I'm suddenly the bad guy out of the three of us. I was just there!"

"Yes, well, my life's become a lot more complicated ever since you decided to just 'be there', dear."

"Okay, sure. Maybe. But you got a free sitter out of it, so I don't know..."

Emma mutters with a dramatic shrug, and Regina raises a brow as she offers her companion a withering expression and snaps

"He's your son!"

"Yeah, yeah..."

The younger woman agrees dismissively before getting the distinct feeling that she might be treading on thin ice and addressing the Mayor with a little more tact.

"I would do anything for the kid, same as you, I just meant this is kind of a formal arrangement."

"Is it? It was last minute, and you're wearing that."

Regina challenges, pulling her own coat tighter as she ties the woollen belt securely around her waist. Shouldering her bag, she gives herself one last once over in the mirror before heading out.

"You look nice."

Emma assures her, and the brunette glances back at her distractedly with a frown.

"I know that, I just don't want lipstick on my teeth."

She snaps, before turning heel and heading out the door.

"You're so welcome..."

The blonde sighs as she pads towards the kitchen.

"You just press the blue button and then the grey one there and it will bring up a list of channels."

Henry informs Emma as he pushes himself from the sofa with an obedient glance at the clock.

"Thanks."

She smiles, although she doubts she'll end up watching much TV. Before coming to Storybrooke, she'd never had a great deal of interest in following any particular shows, but she had been quite keen on catching the occasional movie on the big screen with one of her ex-coworkers who had a season pass making the experience free except for the extortionately priced snacks. Here in town, the small theatre around the back of the pharmacy will occasionally project old films against the back wall and sell tickets for a couple of bucks, but she has never been sold on what's on offer and has yet to make an appearance herself. TV is an even less exciting prospect in Storybrooke; every channel at least five years behind the rest of the world, and carefully culled of any current affairs, news, and anything too fantastical that might once have inspired questions amongst the cursed residents.

Oh well. It's not for long.

She muses as she bids Henry goodnight, although as soon as the boy has disappeared from sight, she feels a little uneasy as she looks around the room; feeling suddenly like a total stranger. She has visited the Mayor's house countless times over the last year- although the reception to her company has differed vastly during that time- but she has visited the sitting room only once, and as she looks at the two doors set a few feet apart to her right, she realises she has no idea where either leads to, nor where the bathroom might be. Supposing she has nothing better to do, she pushes herself from the sofa to go and take a look, feeling strangely awkward in herself as she does so.

Get a grip, this is nothing!

No, not in the grand scheme of things. She has a fair number of break-ins under her belt, so spending time in Regina's house unsupervised shouldn't even compare!

But it does, sort of... It's weird.

Weird looking around at things her son sees every day that she has never seen before in her life. Weird standing back to catalogue the books and magazines shelved beside the television; a large collection of fashion titles and some gardening guides that somehow catch her totally off guard.

She considers the two, nicely framed landscapes that bookend the sofa and finds herself unsure where either of them has been set.

In which fucking realm?

Peeking behind each of the two mystery doors, she finds a cupboard housing cleaning products and storage containers behind one, and a small washroom behind the other; a couple of silk slips hung over the towel rack to dry, and she reaches out to touch one of the lace hems curiously before retracting her hand with a dubious scowl at herself in the mirror.

What the fuck are you doing?

Unsure, she heads back out and resumes her seat on the sofa; hands folded in her lap as she taps her foot awkwardly on the carpet before pulling her phone out of her back pocket and lighting it up in hopes of some inspiration.

Finding little of interest after a brief surf of the web and sighing when she loses her game of Tetris, she scrolls through her contacts and calls Mary Margaret, but after a brief period of unanswered ringing, she's demoted to voicemail.

"What are you so busy doing that you can't even answer your daughter?"

She growls sarcastically, before several ideas of what her parents might be doing with the house to themselves spring to mind and she shudders.

Let's not revisit that question again!

She pulls a face, rubbing at her arms as she shivers; this time due to the cold air being let in through the broken window. A large square of tarp has been pinned over the opening, layered beneath a blanket which has presumably been added to stop the wind from buffeting noisily against the canvas. Still, this does little to ward off the chill, and Emma pulls her jacket closed over her chest and bounces her legs but finds neither solution offers much relief.

"Could have warned me..."

She grumbles, but, she supposes she'd known about the window after Henry had messaged her to complain about the injustice of being grounded over what he claims was an accident, and she can't imagine her comfort was at the forefront of Regina's mind when asking her over last-minute to babysit.

To be honest, I'm surprised she did ask me...

Emma muses, before frowning when she imagines the brunette's choice in the matter will have been slim, and she sighs as she is once again struck by a strange wave of affection for the cruel-tongued Mayor in spite of their frequent spats. She just finds it a little sad that Regina's unveiling as her true self has only served to ostracise her all the more, and while she imagines she might feel a little less sympathetic had she been around for the darker woman's brutal reign and threatening to curse an entire kingdom, she can't help but have a soft spot for the Mayor; one that she keeps very much to herself.

She's just really not that bad...

No, and Regina makes her laugh. Not always on purpose or willingly, but she does, and that's something the blonde has found refreshing when dealing with the aftermath of The Curse and the subsequent crap of the last couple of months.

It's rarely willingly...

She grins, giving up on trying to stick out the cold and making her way into the kitchen.

It's warmer in here, but not by much, and she scolds herself for heading out in just a t-shirt beneath oxblood leather now that the weather has truly turned for the worse.

In my defence, I've never been here before without the heating set to high or a fire blazing in the drawing-room!

The drawing-room; a room she is far more familiar with as it is where Regina will usually make her acquaintance if she's asked her round for any reason, which only now occurs to the blonde as she leans against one of the kitchen counters and studies the narrow crescent of the moon. She imagines that most of the house is ordinarily off-limits to guests; something she can well understand, but that serves to bring up a point she has been trying to push away whenever it jumps out to confront her.

Is Regina a friend? Am I in her eyes? Am I a guest here, or am I her friend?

She would guess that the answer to the latter is a resounding 'no', but as for how she sees their relationship, she's a little less certain.

"What does it matter, anyway?"

She mutters gruffly, before her attention wanders over to the door to the utility room and she adopts a bemused smile. Padding over and poking her head through the door, she finds what she'd thought she might; fresh laundry, neatly folded and ready to be taken upstairs.

Well, taking something of hers to wear might be considered slightly less weird if she were a friend!

Perhaps, but she doubts it's something Regina would ever be ecstatic about.

That makes two of us.

True, but the thought of sitting around for who knows how long shivering doesn't really appeal to her, and so she pilfers through the folded garments as she tries to answer the next conundrum.

Is it weirder to wear something of Regina's or something of Henry's...?

Personally, she can't see anything all that strange about wearing one of the kid's sweaters, and has done so several times when out and about in town with him; Henry at that magical age where the cold seems to be a mythical concept rarely experienced or acknowledged. She just wonders if Regina will see things the same way; the brunette finally content to allow her the term 'mother'- when suits her, anyway!- but still a little testy about certain things.

A lot testy. About a lot of things.

Again, Emma smiles; so used to the crazy dance enforced between them by the Mayor that she no longer finds anger where she once had and instead finds herself mildly amused.

"Well... There's probably no right answer here, anyway."

She consoles herself, shucking her jacket which offers little in the way of comfort or warmth- not that she'd care to admit to such a thing- and pulling on a black woollen sweater from the pile. It fits her a little more snugly than she would usually choose, but seems otherwise unoffensive, and she wrinkles her nose before she guesses she might as well go nuts and incur the full extent of Regina's wrath as she helps herself to a pretty, scarlet cardigan to slip on over the top of her stolen attire.

Well, surely this is better than waking the kid up to ask him how to turn up the heating!

Yes. Surely.

Nibbling her lip, she pads back out into the kitchen; observing her hazy reflection in the glass of the window, before heading out into the hall for a better look in the large mirror by the door.

It's an odd ensemble, particularly when paired with her jeans, but she does feel a great deal warmer, and she can't see how donning a couple of pieces of clothing will do anyone any harm.

Oh, Regina will tell you how, don't you worry!

Smirking to herself, she wanders back towards the kitchen where she opens the door to the fridge. She isn't particularly hungry, but helping oneself to the home owner's treats is a subplot of pretty much every babysitter movie she's ever watched, and she's never been one to turn down a snack.

If this was one of the babysitter movies you've watched, you would be the snack... Or find yourself running around screaming with half of your clothes off...

Raising a brow as she inspects a jar of olives, she supposes most of the movies she's seen featuring her current role have been horrors, and not especially good ones at that.

So maybe my expectations are a little crass.

Not for the first time, and she sighs as she concludes most of the Mayor's food to be unappetisingly healthy, before spotting a half-eaten pie behind a couple of pots of pro-biotic yoghurt.

Bet that's apple...

Pulling out the dish and giving it a cautious sniff, she discovers she's correct, and she feels momentarily unsure as she studies the pie with a nervous giggle.

Are you really going to trust something involving Regina and apples?

"Well, someone's eaten some of this and lived..."

She murmurs, supposing that the brunette does still kind of owe her some home-baking after the last batch she'd offered her had nearly killed their son, and the rest had been taken into evidence by Whale.

"You're going to look so stupid if you get poisoned..."

She sighs, helping herself to the canister of cream in the fridge door. Grabbing a fork from beside the sink, she scoops up just a sliver straight from the dish in order to test it; waiting for a moment with the sweet filling on her tongue, before pulling a bowl down from one of the cupboards when she senses no deterioration in her vitals.

"Idiot."

She scolds herself, applying a liberal lashing of cream. Sitting at the table to eat, she tries to ignore the eerie stillness as the ticking of the clock above the door seems insanely loud. A low rumble of thunder has her jumping in her chair and she rolls her eyes at her own expense as she finishes off her slice of pie and rinses the bowl off in the sink. Deciding to find refuge in more familiar territory, she turns off the lights in the sitting room and kitchen and makes her way into the drawing room where she will occasionally discuss matters with the brunette. Twice now, they have even sat opposite each other on the Mayor's sofas and shared in conversation not pertaining to the immediate fate of the town, and, while both occasions had been rife with snide comments and sly digs at one another, they had actually been strangely enjoyable, and she doesn't believe she's alone in thinking so.

It's just nice to have someone to talk to where new, post-Curse-breaking introductions haven't had to be made as we feel each other out. I know exactly what I'm going to get with Regina, which is usually a headache, but there's no need for niceties and small-talk and that's kind of a relief.

Entering the darkened room, she takes a moment to watch the driving rain and flicker of lightning through the window, before finding the light switch and heading over to pull the curtains closed. She spares a brief thought for if Henry might be awakened and spooked by the storm, but she has had the boy stay over enough times to know that he will sleep through anything once claimed by the Sandman.

Taking up her usual seat facing away from the door, she considers the empty hearth before pushing herself up and stacking a couple of logs from the pile to the side onto the grate. She does so more for something to do than due to any lingering sense of cold, but the warmth of the flames that spark to light and grow to bathe her face with light as she remains for a moment on her knees is pleasant, and she closes her eyes and allows her cheeks to grow hot.

"Ah!"

Her eyes shoot open as one of the smouldering logs crackles and spits crimson embers in her direction; swiftly shuffling back and pulling the guard into place while thanking any interested deity that while a couple of flecks have landed on her jeans, the Mayor's sweater and cardigan seem unharmed.

"Still, better safe than sorry..."

She mutters as she removes her borrowed cardigan and goes to place it over the back of the brunette's desk chair. In doing so, she passes the liquor cabinet, and she stands for a moment with her hand on her hip and her brow furrowed as she tries to decide whether helping herself would be pushing her luck.

I mean, I'm pretty sure that's just another common plotline when it comes to babysitting... No?

No argument from the deserted room, and so she opens up the wooden doors and bends down to assess their previously hidden contents. Selecting a half-full bottle of spiced rum, she places it on the low coffee table between the sofas before disappearing into the darkened kitchen to fetch a glass and some ice. Returning to the drawing-room and settling down on the sofa, she pours herself a generous serving of rum and decides to take inspiration from her unlikely evening; using her phone to search for one of the old babysitter horror movies from the early nineties she remembers laughing at with her old housemate. Finding a link and falling back against the cushions, she brings her knees up in front of her and rests the hand holding her phone against her thigh, while the other works her glass.

She is about three-quarters of the way into the movie- and a little more when it comes to the rum- when she hears the front door open and close, and she glances up at the bottle on the table and the logs burning in the hearth a little uneasily as the click of the Mayor's heels sound down the hall.