Disclaimer: I do not own the show or these characters.

TGIF

It was just like Hook said it would be: hard, wet, and long. While the girls got a good salty shower every once and a while, David and Gold had their own problems; David having to deal with a finicky washer and Gold trying to coexist with a broken faucet. Muscles were strained, tempers grew, and by the end of the week every crew member wanted off.

Hook wouldn't have it. The one thing he couldn't stand more than a lazy crew was a lazy crew that whined 24/7. It wasn't that they didn't finish their duties by the end of the day; they just could do so with less attitude. Hook had seen it before, it was called 'Ship Fever.' The only remedy, therefore, was a free day.

A free day, as Hook termed it, was exactly 24 hours (no more, no less) devoid of the backbreaking but honorable work. The crew jumped at the chance to shirk such duties and collectively planned out their Friday from break of day to nightfall. The rule was that each person would come up with an activity of their choice while all other persons have to participate, no exceptions. It was fair, for a ship consisting of bitter feuds and shifting alliances.

Being captain, Hook just had to have the privilege of proposing the first activity. However, what was surprising was his choice of activity. Emma's first words being, "What the hell?!"

"Alright ladies and gents! Now what I have set before you is a basic kit with all the essentials. Because I am a professional I will be instructing with my own step-by-step process that has over the years never steered me wrong. Just be sure to wash your hands before we start. You don't want me to start singing the song."

"Song?" Emma raised her brow and smirked.

"Yes, indeed. 'Twas an old nursery rhyme my mum used to sing me when I refused to wash. It goes like so…

"This is the way we wash our hands
Wash our hands, wash our hands,
This is the way we wash our hands
In the afternoon.

Germs are bad so scrub those teeth
Scrub those teeth, scrub those teeth,
Germs are bad so –"

" – Scrub those teeth," Mary Margaret finished, "Yeah, we got it."

Emma was holding her abdomen in a fit of laughter. "What, your land ran out of cautionary tales about germs?"

Hook just crossed his arms and stomped his boot.

"Aw, look. The petulant child is offended."

"Just let the man have his fun, Regina. You too, girls," David scolded his wife and giggling child. "This is Hook's activity and we should respect that."

The pirate shouldered past David, snarling in a shaking voice, "I don't need you fighting my school yard battles." He motioned to the table. "If you would all be so kind as to sit at your places we can begin."

If Hook couldn't appear sensitive enough, the delicate way in which he approached the art of nail manicuring sure did. And he came prepared. At every place setting was a towel, a small bowl of clear solution, two bottles of cream, a brush, and a nail file. At the center of the table were bottles of nail polish in several shades reserved for the ladies (and perhaps an enterprising gentleman).

The crew hunkered down before their kits, carefully inspecting their instruments and tentatively poking a finger into the solution. Gold took everyone by surprise with his eager approach to the activity. The first to sit down, he wasted no time in placing his fingers on his towel in a lovely flourishing motion, and patiently waited for instructions like this wasn't his first rodeo.

While Hook took the helm in introducing the gist of manicures, Mary Margaret was all smiles. She was no stranger to the occasional pampering. It was one of the many benefits of the modern world, but not something she would admit to the Evil Queen responsible. David was a complete novice, but hung onto Hook's every word. Regina remained indifferent while sneaking non-too-subtle glances at the blonde's chest. And then there was Emma who was breaking the world record for number of consecutive sighs.

"Is this really necessary? You only have five fingers for Christ's sake!"

"Emma," her mother scolded, "whining is improper. We all made a pact to participate in everyone's chosen activity. Have patience. You'll get your turn."

Emma sank back in her chair with a huff. Her wrinkled forehead and pouting lips were comparable to a sulking child.

"Anyway, you are a princess and a Charming. It would do you well to take on a more feminine appearance."

David didn't seem to pick up on his being lumped into that feminine Charming group, but a chuckling Regina and Gold did.

Emma just beheld the nail file like it was going to decapitate her.

"Well I don't see why Miss Swan has to change anything about herself."

All heads turned to the brunette while Emma perked up in her seat.

When it was clear how many curious stares she was getting Regina clarified, "Just because one finds out they are royalty doesn't mean they have to act the part. I certainly will not allow a bunch of strangers improving upon perfection."

Somehow, by some stretch of the imagination, it was not the comment on perfection that startled them. Emma, however, zeroed in straightaway, meeting Regina with a growing smile and soft eyes.

"Wait," Mary Margaret held up a hand, "you've never had a manicure before?"

Regina shook her head. "Why would I?" she asked totally blasé.

David gaped from the opposite side of the table. "How can that be? You're like the Chanel of Storybrooke, the small town poster girl for Estee Lauder, the queen of beauty and wellness!"

They all winced as his voice gradually rose to a shrill pitch.

"I mean," he cleared his throat and spoke deeply, "you always wear nail polish. I just assumed…"

"You would," Regina groused, narrowing her eyes. "I oppose people touching me. And I do not make a habit out of willingly placing myself in others' hands." She made a point of ending that statement with a glare in Gold's direction.

After a brief moment of silence Gold looked up from his pretty nails to find all eyes on him. "What did I do now?"

"Look sharp now and pay attention," Hook said. Taking the point of his hook he pierced the wood end of his brush. He indicated with the new instrument and added, "Now, buff the nail like so."

Emma sighed heavily. "Fucking kill me."

"If there are apples on board it can be arranged."

"Regina," Mary Margaret groaned, "that joke is getting really old."


Emma surprised everyone by choosing swimming as her activity. It was surprising, of course, because she was not the best swimmer, a fact which she whined about on a daily basis despite willingly stepping on board a ship that sailed in water. Lots of water.

At midday the crew walked out on the deck in their suits and climbed down the ladder lowered over starboard side. Gold had on a pair of white trunks designed with images of dollar bills while Hook sported knee length shorts that read on his ass, This booty is rated AARRRR. Mary Margaret wore a tasteful suit with a daisy print, and David scared his daughter with the image of him in leopard spandex. Emma was undecided on whether to puke or spill a liberal amount of bleach into her eyes.

While the others began swimming and splashing a ways from the ship, Emma hung back. Leaning against the railing Emma looked down at her two piece bikini. She didn't work out for nothing, so when it came time to choose a bathing suit she jumped at the chance to show off her hard work. She was proud of this bod.

And then Regina came out.

"Wha-?"

A fine brow rose and lips pursed to hide her amusement. "Something wrong, dear?"

Emma closed her mouth and shook her head violently.

Eyes clawing up Emma's slim legs and over the toned stomach to pronounced shoulder muscles. Regina smiled, satisfied. "Well come along now," she instructed, "before the water gets cold."

Emma watched as the brunette walked away in her one piece – repeat ONE PIECE – bathing suit. She looked good, that could not be denied. In fact, Emma thought she looked pretty damn great, but she was expecting a different style suit, one that would have shown off more… effects.

After an embarrassingly awkward trudge down the ladder (which seemed rigged to show all the unnecessary flab of one's body), Emma made splash down.

"Shit, Regina it's COLD!"

The brunette looked up with boredom and shrugged. "This isn't my activity. I don't know why you're getting all snippy at me."

Death grip on the ladder Emma's legs flapped erratically in the deep blue ocean. Two minutes in and her breathing was labored. Losing feeling in her hand she let go of the ladder with a girly squeal and started treading with two arms and two legs. She was not comfortable with this. Not comfortable at all.

"Maybe you should join them," Regina jutted a chin towards the rather energetic game of Marco Polo. "Seems like they're keeping warm."

"N-n-no thanks," Emma stuttered through chattering teeth. She tried hugging her midsection to conserve warmth, but the strain on her legs was too much. Talk about treading in water that rivaled the Arctic fucking Ocean, this was ridiculous. And probably dangerous. But then there Regina was calmly floating about and sporting perfectly dry hair. Actually, the very ends of her brunette hair were close enough to the surface to just dip tantalizingly in. Emma was just itching to splash her, but she liked her heart where it was thank you very much. "Can't you do something? Like, with magic?"

"Magic isn't the solution to everything. It might not always be there when you need it, say when you're in exhaustion or minutes from defeat. You have to learn to adapt to harsh conditions. The water may be cold, but if your resources are not utilized you will never adjust. Why do you think I wore my one piece bathing suit?"

Cold my ass, Emma thought. This woman was capital E-V-I-L.

"Just one little spell? Pleeeease?"

Regina could agree with Hook on some things but not on this. Emma Swan was certainly without a shred of doubt attractive when she pouted. It also made Regina acquiesce against her own conscience.

"I suppose. One spell, but you will do it."

Emma's face fell. "Oh, come on Regina."

"Do not 'come on Regina' me. I've taught you the basics. It should take little brain power from that blonde head of yours to heat the water around you. That or I've seriously overrated your abilities."

"Jesus, alright, alright. You can dispense with the sarcasm. I'll do it."

"Just a few feet in diameter, and not too high in temperature. We're not talking about boiling the entire Pacific."

Emma gave her a 'do I look stupid' look and went back to concentrating. Sucking air through her nose and out through her mouth she closed her eyes. Not feeling any warmer she asked, "Can't you touch me again? It seems like that's the only way I operate."

Regina snorted. "I'm sure you like to think that."

"Come on, Regina. You can't deny our chemistry."

Regina had begun to swim over, but stopped and frowned at the smirk. It had been the first time either of them brought up the subject of their connection, magical, sexual, or what have you. It had been such a very long time since Regina put any stock in the need for companionship, but not that long ago since her last and maybe only true love gave his blessing to find another. Regina wasn't emotionally ready to find anyone much less notice the person right in front of her. She wasn't prepared, so the comment was shrugged off and she bit the bullet.

Eyes closed again Emma went back to slow even breathing. In… out… in… out… in… Regina grasped her shoulders.

There were twin gasps as a pervading energy coiled around them. It couldn't be defined or explained, but the feeling surged under their skin and penetrated further. It jolted their hearts instantly as if they had just been revived by a magical defibrillator. The shock dissipated and made way for a warm embrace.

"We did it," Regina whispered as if this were a first time occurrence. What they were capable of never ceased to amaze her. Not wanting to admit it out loud, she secretly hoped that would always be the case.

"Told you," Emma tipped her head with that dopey half-smile. "Chemistry."

Their eyes held. The warmth of the sea hugged them like a lover's embrace. Emma panned down to slightly parted lips. Regina looked away and swam a ways back.

A throat was cleared before Regina asked mockingly, "Why propose this whole charade if you can't swim?"

"I never said I couldn't swim." Emma returned crankily. "It's just, as a kid I never stayed in one home long enough to finish a swimming lesson. I'm doing rather fine." She subsequently faltered and slipped under. Her head resurfaced seconds later. Sputtering and coughing, she doggy paddled closer to the ladder.

"What are you doing?" Regina laughed, knowing full well what the woman was doing.

"Shut it."

Unable to stop giggling at the terror struck green eyes, Regina swam closer. With arms stretched underwater she sent a pulse of magic towards the woman clinging to the rungs like a frightened baboon.

"What the hell?!" Emma cried as her body surged upward. Her hyperventilating began to gradually even out as she got her balance. "This is… this is…. kinda nice."

"You're now surrounded by a salt dense bubble of water. You shouldn't have any further scares. And you can ease off the ladder now."

Eyes squeezed shut and face cringing she let go. Without the need to tread water her body immediately began floating. Emma smiled. It felt like she was sitting on a cloud. "Awesome," she said, laughing.

Regina started a sidestroke towards the stern. There could have been a glint in her eyes, but it might have been the sunlight. "Follow me."

"Why, what's over there?"

"Just do as you're told, Miss Swan."

Well that tone sounded interesting. As sheriff Emma should really have investigated. Without further invitation she followed after Regina.

From the other side of the ship the rest of the crew was gone from view and the two women were left to swim in peace. Paddling around to face the ship Emma found Regina and, really, shouldn't have been surprised. The brunette had her back against the stern side with arms out clinging to the wood gracefully. Her head was tipped back, eyes closed in the warm sun. She was a goddess.

There was only one thing Emma wanted out of this whole… charade as it was called. Okay, maybe two or three things. If she played her cards right Emma might prove the Rolling Stones wrong and get what she wanted.

"Swim into my bubble, your Majesty."

Regina let herself be pulled in and couldn't help but laugh into Emma's mouth.

"Stop that. I want to kiss you."

"I can't help it. You're so entertaining."

"I can be entertaining in other ways. If you'd only let me access…"

Regina followed Emma's gaze and rolled her eyes. There was a snap of fingers and in a flash the brunette's one piece changed to a black two piece bathing suit.

Score one for Emma Swan. Rolling Stones: zero.

The bottom half was not visible but the top half definitely was. The rounded, full breasts Emma had yet to spend adequate time with were held up and, yes, semi-covered. The top strings looped and tied behind her neck. Emma had to stop her hands from untying the frustrating little bitch of a knot.

Emma took a deep breath before catching Regina's questioning stare. With an air of sophistication she maintained, "I'm just gonna get a better look."

Before Regina could protest the blonde went under with a splash. "She just can't help herself, can she?" Her eyes darted left and right to ensure they were still alone. After only a few seconds she started getting impatient. If she wasn't swimming in the ocean the former mayor would have planted her hands on her hips. "And now I've been abandoned. This isn't fun – MISS SWAN!" she gasped in surprise as a pair of arms wrapped themselves around her middle. They no doubt belonged to Emma for the blonde had resurfaced from behind and was kissing her shoulder greedily.

"Emma stop! You're tickling me!"

"I thought you liked it when I took the initiative? Come on, you're even laughing. Don't tell me you don't like it."

"This is not genuine laughter! I'm… ha-ha… Em-ma!"

She had fully enveloped Regina while laying kisses on her neck. She was slow, taking her time in strategically placing every kiss in the desired spot on the vibrating throat. Regina had a firm grip on the arms imprisoning her body, but she continued to giggle under butterfly grazes.

Through with submitting, Regina escaped and turned on Emma. She smiled devilishly before kissing Emma full on the lips. It didn't take long for a mouth to open for an insistent tongue.

As they floated in the same bubble of water in an ocean far from home their magic entwined them closer, weaving an unseen bond that's only purpose was to grow stronger. Twisting fingers in the woman's long, wet hair Regina reveled in their reunion. It had been hours since they last met like this and from the way Emma's lips were responding she was relishing it as well.

And so they kissed like they always did. They kissed like it would be their last.


"Hey, where did Hook go?"

Gold and David paused their game of football catch and looked around. There was a ship, steadily creaking atop the water. Then ocean and more ocean. They shrugged at Mary Margaret. Seconds later they heard a faraway shriek and then laughing.

"HOOK! I will rip your out heart for REAL!"


"There are three basic components to yoga, and those are relaxation, meditation, and deep breathing. For relaxation it is crucial to ignore all outside stimuli. Close off your mind and body to any distractions that may discourage light concentration. Look from within. Clear your mind and with the sound of my voice I will guide you to the next state which is deep breathing…"

The group sat cross-legged on their own mats with wrists resting lightly on knees. Sitting dolefully on his mat was Hook who was fashioning a chromatic bruise on his chin. After the sneaking pirate stole a handful of Regina's bikini ass Emma threw a right hook that would have made Mike Tyson look like Spongebob. No one wanted to talk about it. Especially Hook.

Leading the exercise was Mary Margaret who seemed to thrive on being the center of attention. Though generally a humble person, deep down she loved to excel in areas that her peers lacked skill in. It showed in the wide smile plastered to her face, a smile that as the minutes ticked by seemed to make her students uncomfortable despite the activity's goal.

"Meditation," Mary Margaret explained, "contrary to modern text, has origins that stretch as far back as Panchatan Times in our world. Though it was a period far before written history, our ancestors made a point to pass down what they knew through oral tales. Now, the tradition –"

"Am I here for a history lesson, or can we just get down to the good stuff?" asked a cranky Hook. "What is it called, downward doggie style?"

Several eye rolls and a head slap later...

"One of the benefits to yoga is improvement in posture. No one likes a slumper. Isn't that right my darling daughter?"

"What?" Emma's gaze ripped away from the brunette beside her. "Huh?"

Mary Margaret cocked her head and eyed Emma, a nonverbal equivalent of motherly scolding to the undisciplined child. "As I was saying, posture is key to a healthy, long life. For our first exercise please kneel on your mats so that your thighs are perpendicular to the floor. Without hunching I want everyone to bring their spine straight. Pull your head and shoulders back… yes, that's good. Now tuck your chins down a bit… very good Regina, I'm impressed." Mary Margaret caught the smirk and muttered, "If only you had done this 28 years ago."

"What was that?"

A flustered Mary Margaret quickly got back on track. "A very good start, class! For our next exercise I want you all to lean forward, placing your palms on the mat in front of you. Now… stretch!"

"Why do you always have to look so perfect?" Emma muttered.

"Twenty-eight years behind a desk I had to find some method of staying limber." Breathing easy and at peace, Regina smirked and tilted her head amusingly. "Or were you speaking generally?"

For Emma's part, the yoga thing was a bit of an uphill battle (a Mount Everest size hill). Sweat stung her eyes as she grunted into her thigh and reached out in vain to touch her toes. "Fuck," she muttered, "why did God have to make me so tall?"

Forehead to the floor and holding a perfect pose, Regina chuckled out a reply. "I may be wrong, but I think you are in the wrong pose."

Emma looked around her and saw Gold, David, and Hook in kneeling positions and stretching their arms out across the mat. The brunette beside her made it look about as easy as biting into a bear claw. Emma's stomach rumbled at the thought.

"Need a hand, dear?"

"Oh, you'd love that wouldn't you?"

Standing up from her mat, Mary Margaret demonstrated the next position. She instructed in a pert tone, "This one is great for stretching the hamstrings!"

Regina followed along, rotating her limber body to the appropriate pose and not sticking a single toe out of place. It was perfection, as Emma described.

Tucking her chin down Regina lowered her voice so only Emma could hear. She answered, "When have you ever known me to not take advantage of a stimulating exchange? If we were in a more private location I'm sure you would come to love it as well," Regina met Emma's widening eyes and purred, "Em-ma."

"Woop! Fuuu-"

They were Emma's last words before she lost her balance and crashed to the mat in an awkward heap.


Yoga class had to be cut short due to Emma's insistent stomach. She kept complaining about not having bear claws on board, which in and of itself did not come as a surprise to anyone familiar with her eating habits. The need for sustanance was a perfect opportunity for Gold to start his activity.

The crew was shoulder to shoulder and perspiring in the cramped galley, but all too happy to shut Emma up with their food preparation. Knives ran across the boards, spoons clanked against bowls, and fingers tore at fragrant herbs. It was a lovely system and much more relaxing than Mary Margaret's yoga/history session, or 'Snore Fest' as Hook called it.

Despite his irritable nature, Gold was a superb teacher. Patient and detailed in his instructions he would show them his methods and shortcuts and left it up for them to decide what they were comfortable with. He treated each and every one of them equally, and chastised them when they needed the disciple. Except for Hook (Gold refused to give him a knife), citing his reasoning that the criminal only had one hand. Hook shot back that discrimination in the workplace was uncalled for. Everyone else remained neutral during that cat fight.

Regina, having been a pupil of Gold's, took his instructions with a grain of salt (no pun intended). She was also a self-professed queen of culinary and expert in the art of the Italian tradition of lasagna. The presence of two such monstrous egos in so tiny a room would inevitably end in bloodshed. Many feared they would come to blows.

The air was so thick with tension you could slice through it like a knife through a soggy bear claw (according to Emma). It was an extremely uncomfortable work environment, one that had the crew on their toes ready to flee at the first sign of a fire ball.

"Rumple, you're doing it wrong."

"Stick to your precious apples and I will take care of the rest. I don't need you meddling in things that are not your concern."

"That is rich coming from you, oh Dark One who manipulated an innocent girl, convinced her to murder her father, and provided her a curse that left an empty void in her heart. I hardly think she forgives you for anything much less how you cut those beans!"

"I'd like to see you chop legumes with a six-inch blade after slicing ten onions in a row!"

Regina's mouth turned up into a smirk as she reached across from him to grab the loaf of bread. "And here I thought those tears were restitution from years of murder and mayhem."

"Do NOT touch my knife! Have you never seen Hell's Kitchen?"

The crew watched it all like a Wimbledon tennis match that wouldn't end. David threw a worried glance at his wife, but Mary Margaret shook her head quickly and pulled her head down obediently. Emma was debating whether or not her hair would get singed in the process of separating the two enemies when the time came. Then there was the pirate who just took it all in with a smile and threw in few words to fuel the fire.

"Oh please," scoffed Regina who wouldn't dream of touching anyone's 'knife.' "You are nothing like Mr. Ramsay."

"I take that as a compliment. I am far more superior to that hack." Gold went back to chopping and shook his head. "Psh, and you think my reputation is any less pugnacious."

"Sounds like someone has some confidence issues to work out. May I recommend Dr. Hopper? I'm sure you two would have much to talk about. Perhaps he can cure that unhealthy fixation you have with that tart from Food Network."

Gold could have swallowed a melon for how big his eyes grew. Turning to face Regina he roared like a lion protecting its cub. "That woman knows more about blanching edamame than you will ever know!"

Regina gasped visibly. "How dare you attack my cooking skills. To suggest I know nothing…"

"At least you know more than Jon Snow," offered Emma.

"Stay out of this!"

Emma backed away from the twin barks and smiled apologetically, in discomfort.

Regina's head whipped back to her opponent. Her eyes were blazing with challenge. "I know more about how to make the perfect lasagna than you will ever."

"The first time I made consommé it solidified just flawlessly. It was perfection in a bowl."

"I was making turducken before you even knew how to pronounce consommé."

"I have no qualms about eating the heart of unicorns. They are a delicacy in the Northern lands."

Regina's eyes clouded purple and her fists clenched. No one sullied her most beloved creatures and got away with it. "Really? Because I know a librarian who is adept at playing the heart of a Dark One for a fool."

The hand on a six-inch knife tightened. Gold's grimace gradually transformed to an impish grin. "At least I don't accidentally poison my spawn."

"No, you just abandon them."

"ARRGH!"

"ROOOAAR!"

A cacophony of lightening, clashing steel, and squelched beans consumed the galley. Purple and green light battled for dominance as lettuce and sliced tomato surged around them like a vegan tornado. The crew dove under sailing knives and dodged the occasional bean bullet before their adrenaline finally chose flight over fight.

The Savior took her chances with the fleeing cowards. A meal wasn't worth getting your hair scorched.


The two miscreants escaped with no more than a few scratches and some spinach stuck in unlikely places. Wanting to move on to the next activity David and Emma forced them to shake hands and apologize. Gold gave a weak hand shake while Regina muttered a promise to finish what they started.

Ironically, the next to propose the activity that Friday night was Regina.

The night was comfortably warm thanks to the light breeze. The upper deck was dark save for the enchanted disco ball suspended by Regina's magic. It caught the moonlight and cast a glow on the dance floor as it turned and shimmered. A boom box was procured and tunes were played.

Regina had a fascination for 70's culture. The obsession started when she saw her doppelganger in a TV show called, Swingtown. Trina Decker was everything she dreamed of being as a child, adventurous and independent. The minute that cheeky woman graced her screen she spent the next few years following up on a decade of 70s film and music.

All that research boded well for the woman. After years of 'hustling' and 'cha cha-ing' in the shadowed privacy of her home she could now show off her disco skills to the idiots who still called her Evil Queen.

The first to take the dance floor she started out a beat, warming up to A Fifth of Beethoven. The sleeveless purple dress twirled with her hips while she hugged her jiving bare shoulders. Instinct took over as she moved passionately to the song. Never had Regina felt more alive than when she danced. She could feel the beat of her heart speeding up to its rightful tempo. Her eyes closed in ecstasy as the music washed over her senses.

On the sidelines were the speechless "idiots," including David bobbing his head to the bass line and Mary Margaret frowning at the cut of Regina's dress. A slack-jawed Emma had her eyes super glued to the gyrating hips.

"Are you coming? Or do you need a signed and stamped invitation?"

Emma's jaw closed and she shook the fog from her brain. A pair of brown eyes were intensely fixed in her direction. It occurred to Emma that Regina was speaking to her and not the four other people there.

An inviting brow rose at the blonde who stumbled across the line instantly. After all, everyone had to participate, and there was no disappointing a woman in dance heat.

Emma accepted the hand in the presence of her parents. The second they touched a surge of energy grazed her skin. It was customary for this type of reaction to occur and it had started ever since the mine. Their magic intertwined in a dance all their own as it surrounded and bound them. It was a statement; Emma's immediate response of following when called, how freely their hands met and how their fingers made love as they danced. Little did Emma know, the bold statement went unnoticed by her parents.

King Floyd's Groove Me started flowing from the boom box.

Emma cocked her head to catch the lyrics. Green eyes narrowed at the brewing conspiracy. "Are you trying to send me a message?"

"Can't handle it?"

"Oh, I can," Emma assured, "I just want to make sure you know what you're unleashing here." She pointed to herself and smirked confidently.

Regina rolled her eyes.

After trying and failing to live up to her 'unleashed' self, Regina demonstrated a few moves. They stomped, pivoted, and shoulder rocked to the beat all doing it side by side. Emma felt the pressure of a hand on her hip as they swayed forward and back, then side to side. It was heaven, even if she danced with two left feet.

"So you really can dance."

"Whenever were my dancing skills in question, Miss Swan?"

"You must practice quite a bit. Although, I have to confess it's hard to imagine you sitting in front of the television watching a disco marathon. That must have been an experience."

"Yes!" Regina exclaimed with an explosion of excitement on her face. "In fact, I've seen Saturday Night Fever AT LEAST 50 times. It's an extraordinary piece of cinema; the choreography, the lights, and the cinematography. Oh," her eyes lit up, "and least I forget the talented John Travolta." She looked around for a moment and leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, "I had a crush on him."

"Wow," Emma said, taken aback a bit by such candor, "yeah, that really is extraordinary. Hey, so… here's the thing, John is like…"

"Amazing, right?"

"Of course, amazing. Sure thing." The blonde worried at her lip, wondering if she should break the news. Regina had been confined within the town for 28 years, so there was no way of knowing for sure if she got wind of it. When it came down to it she didn't want to hurt the woman, but she couldn't keep Regina in the dark about the man of her dreams. Emma took breath and just blurted it out. "His sexuality has been questioned for years and it all sort of became news when someone outed him from the closet."

For a moment it looked like Regina didn't hear right. Her face remained its exuberant self, but frozen just the same.

"You do know what that means, right?"

"Oh. Well, yes." Her tone was as sharp and confident as any former politician could muster, but her eyes slowly lost their enchantment. Something died within those brown eyes that night. "It's not like I had a chance to begin with."

"Don't sell yourself short, doll face," Emma asserted. Her shoulders bobbed up in a shrug. "I say it's his loss. And that's on the level."

"Wrong era, dear. This is dance fever not hard boiled cops and robbers."

"I was thinking more along the lines of detective and femme fatale. Anyway, there was dancing in the 40s, right?"

Such a silly question brought a smile to Regina's lips. Brown eyes gained back their luster. "You tell me, detective."

"We're getting off topic."

"I would not have guessed."

"So let's talk dance movies," Emma suggested. Eyes glinted and lips turned to a smirk. "Ever seen Flashdance?"

"No," Regina searched her memory, "I haven't seen that one. Why?"

Emma's cheeks colored. She stammered out, "N-no reason."

Soon they were drawing in short, laboring breaths and decided to take a break. Emma offered to 'buy Regina a drink' at the 'mini bar.' The drinks which were solely two kinds of rum (courtesy of Hook) were free and the bar consisted of a rickety table and a pile of clean towels (courtesy of David). Regina played along and accepted the drink with a barely hidden grin.

As punishment for their earlier squabble Regina jinxed Gold and Hook so they couldn't dance more than a foot from each other. The jerky movements of the pirate paired with the penguin-like swaying of Gold cancelled each other out as they moved within their little bubble. They made for a great pair in all their awkward glory.

David was having a grand old time, twirling and singling, "Le freak, c'est chic," and shooting his hands in the air with a shout of, "Freak out!" His steps were short as he did a 'one, two, cha cha cha' all while motioning his hips ever so flamboyantly.

"David, honey, I had NO idea you were this much fun!"

"Oh, yeah. Just put on some groovy tunes and watch out, toots."

Emma had never felt more glad that her father wasn't around to chaperone her high school prom. Watching from afar she turned to Regina who was sipping her rum in the classiest way she knew how. Emma shouted over the music in a dead serious tone, "Please tell me I'm not related to that guy."

"Why do you think I cast the curse?"

Emma nodded carefully, admitting, "I'm starting to see the appeal now."

Soon they were back out on the dance floor. Regina kept them in a tight proximity, pulling Emma in by the hand or shoulder or waist when she became too shy. Though Emma was having trouble keeping up with the woman's moves the view was pretty good from the newbie's perspective. The woman had never looked so alive, so willing to let her walls down if only for a moment. She was unburdened by curses and dark magic and forever out of reach from heartless mothers. Her hair was down and her spirits had never reached such heights.

"You look really happy."

"I am. It's nice to finally have a dance partner." Regina smile twitched a bit. "But I wish Henry was here."

The only thing Emma wanted more than that was the power to make those unshed tears disappear. She squeezed the hand in hers and replied, "Me too. Did you ever teach him how to dance?"

Regina's smile came back and she shook her head. "I tried, many times in fact. He was far too embarrassed to dance with his mother, even in the privacy of our home." She laughed at the memory of a five-year-old Henry ripping his arm from her grasp and fleeing the voice of Marvin Gaye.

"There are not many things I could share with him – things that interested me, that is. He liked food, but he wouldn't cook with me. Visits to my office were rare and only occurred if he wanted something. And apple picking was, and I quote, 'The worst punishment in the whole wide world.' I thought it was just because we were different." She paused when Emma met her eyes sadly, almost in apology. "I didn't know how to be a mother."

"It's not a competition, Regina. You made mistakes like any new single mother would, but you're sure as hell not worst mother of the year. There was no one around to give you advice on growing little boys or tips to make the weekends fun. You did the best with what you had." Her blonde head tipped in order to bring their faces closer. "I think you two have more in common than you know. Just because Henry and I broke the curse –"

"I don't think I want to talk about this anymore," Regina interrupted. She avoided eye contact as her finger flicked away some mascara.

"Okay," Emma whispered. She tightened her hold on the slim waist, bringing their heat to the cool space between. "Okay. Let's just dance."


After a day filled with surprising tidbits of people's character, several arguments, and a wee bit o' fun the last thing the crew wanted was an activity where they had to do something. Wiped out from the day, all they wanted to do was kick back and relax. It was something Hook was counting on. He was hoping to show each and every one of his whiny crew that fun could be just as much work as fulfilling their ship duties. All play and no work makes for an over sensitized gaggle of adults.

The sixth and final activity was a relief and a blessing. Movie night was made possible by a projector which cast the film onto the mainsail. If it were not for calm winds and such a large mast the film screening would have been an utter flop. It was pretty impressive, but hardly on level with Sundance or Cannes. Popcorn and Buncha Crunch made up for that.

The first Pirates of the Caribbean happened to be David's favorite movie OF ALL TIME. He encouraged everyone to dress up for the screening, but was met with protests and one acerbate reply of, "If you think I'll pose as some harlot freebooter than you can run yourself through that toy sword." David put the wooden pirate sword away, but kept the dog-eared hat and the fake mustache Mary Margaret kindly drew on his face.

For the most part they enjoyed it, even laughing at David's enthusiastic shouts of "This is my favorite part!" and the occasional chanting of "Go Captain Jack!" Gold had a few issues with the plot, including how Jack Sparrow 'threw around deals like they were pennies.' All in all a movie was the perfect end to their Friday, and the man-child swinging his recaptured sword around could hardly mess with that. There was entertainment, and then there was entertainment.

In the back row sat the clichéd teenagers soundly making out during the action scenes.

"Did you mean what you said?" Emma asked as she drew back from Regina's aching red lips. A line formed between her brows, prompting for clarification. Emma repeated the phrase from memory because it was not something she would easily forget. "'I don't see why Miss Swan has to change anything about herself.' There was also something about not improving on perfection." Emma's forehead crinkled half in appall and half in wonder. "Perfection. Were you just throwing the word out or did you really mean it?"

"I never said that."

The genuine confusion was revealing. "Yes," Emma shot back, "you did. I even remember how your eyes were shifting towards me every two seconds after you said it."

"Well I don't remember the compelling event. Really, you are about as imaginative as Henry sometimes," huffed Regina. Her shoulders shifted uncomfortably while her body grew distant from the blonde. Her eyes flickered across the movie screen before the realization washed over her face. Regina froze, lips parted. Did she really say that? Impossible. Yet she couldn't help feeling how right such a statement would be. The flash of vulnerability was covered by a cough. She put every ounce of certainty into the look. "You obviously misinterpreted the context."

Emma smirked at the tentative glance. "You can't fool me, former Madam Mayor."

Any retort was stifled by a quick kiss. Emma always had to have the last word.

"Shh!" David turned to the wide-eyed teenagers who had just separated lips. He scolded them with a dangerous look. "This is the part where Jack fake propositions Barbossa in order to prolong the blood ritual so that Will can be rescued and be reunited with his true love!"

Regina stared at him like he should have taken Belle's place in the mental institution. Damn curse loopholes.

"Sorry," Emma muttered, and threw a popcorn kernel at her father's head.

"I like this Miss Swann," Regina mentioned over some Buncha Crunch. She explained despite Emma's snort. "Elizabeth was resourceful in building the signal fire with rum. And she out of everyone seems to grow as the story progresses. I like this movie," she finished matter-of-factly.

Emma's gaze held an unreadable expression.

"What?"

"David first saw this movie a few months ago. Henry was the one who recommended it." Emma's heart jumped in contentment, her eyes smiling. "Pirates of the Caribbean is his favorite movie."

Regina did a small intake of breath and turned back to the screen. She should have felt sorrow at not knowing her own son's favorite film. She couldn't feel sorrow because all she felt was hope. Maybe Regina had something in common with her little boy after all.