Disclaimer: I do not own the show or these characters.
Additional Note: In an effort to further divert this story from canon I wanted to make everyone privy to a specific change. In the show when Mary Margaret and David were discussing a new house it was David who wanted to go back to the Enchanted Forest. Personally, I never bought that. In this story it is Mary Margaret who longs to return to their land, not David.
Call Me Irresponsible
"It turns out some things are better than chocolate."
"Oh, I don't know."
Sheets rustled and the cot creaked.
"Are you telling me, Miss Swan, that what you had last night was no more appetizing than a cupcake?"
"Um…"
"That is not a word."
"No?"
"That sounded like a question."
"No!" Emma cried. She pulled the woman into a (bear) hug and started placing frantic pecks in the crook of her neck. "You are more delicious than a measly cupcake! You are! Yus! Yus! Yus!"
Regina's breathy laughs bounced off the cabin walls as she squirmed underneath the worshiping kisses of her new lover.
It was no surprise how voracious a lover Emma was. Just like her precious bear claws, she went after everything (including her apple tree) like a woman possessed. Chainsaws had nothing on Regina, not in the way those biceps flexed around her middle and those fingers thrummed inside, revving her to orgasm. And just when it all seemed accomplished that mouth would consume her again and again until she was struck dazed, delirious, and unable to form coherent thoughts much less screams. Yes, Emma was a most ravenous lover indeed.
In the after hours, when gasps turned to peaceful sighs and heartbeats slowed as one Regina took the time to evaluate. The reckless and persistent streak reminded her of who she was before the Evil Queen. There were many similarities between Emma and the young girl who sneaked out past her bedtime to steal an apple tart from the kitchens or watch the new foal dream its first dream. It explained a lot about why Regina felt so drawn to Emma, especially when the woman was delving a tongue along every raised and dipped scar of her body.
Regina's eyes slipped shut and she hummed in appreciation.
"That was the first time I've seen you naked," Emma said after a thorough investigation. Regina's cupcake had been devoured through and through from sunset to sunrise. Emma's jaw was sore, if that were possible. "You're so beautiful, you know that?" she asked in awe.
"Yes, you were practically screaming it last night."
A blonde head jerked back. "No, I didn't."
"Dear, I have the marks on my back to prove just how enthusiastic you were in reminding me." Regina stroked a blushing cheek.
"You say that like you weren't shouting my name this morning. Also, I am pleased to find you have a surprisingly dirty mouth on you. I've never heard 'Oh my fucking god' screamed so many times in succession."
"I most certainly did not!"
"You want to see the marks on my back?" Emma raised a brow smartly.
Regina felt a sweaty hand palm the underside of her thigh and bring it around the pale waist which had returned to its undying position over Regina's.
"Or should I remind you just how colorful your tongue can get?"
Hips surged up between Regina's parted legs. Regina moaned, her own hips levitating to meet the contact despite her better wishes. After a long, wet kiss and plenty of insistent grinding Regina put some distance between their overheated bodies.
"Emma, my thighs are burning and my back is sore. I also think I'm developing a slight case of laryngitis, so can we give ourselves a rest? Just for now?"
Emma pouted, but eventually acquiesced. Stealing one more kiss she rolled over on her side head propped up with one hand while the other lay possessively around Regina's waist.
"You don't think my parents heard us, do you?"
Fear passed before Regina's eyes, but it was only for a moment. The door was locked and her koala bear in shining armor was wrapped safely around her. "I'm sure they have more pressing issues to worry over. Namely, your father's bruised ego."
"He really doesn't get it."
"Does he ever? When we were cursed I threw out so many colloquialisms on iniquity he just seemed to wave at them as they passed by."
Emma chuckled into her hand. "I really… I really should not be so amused by that. He's my dad and all…"
"And you are so very much his daughter."
"Ah, should I be flattered? I don't remember falling for any of your shit."
It was Regina's turn to be amused. "Oh, you really are adorable sometimes."
"What? No, come on tell me." Emma tore the hand down from the snickering mouth. "I'm listening."
"The curse, for one."
"Okay, see… that's not fair. I was beginning to see the validity of Operation Cobra. Our son can be very persuasive – something his mother is too skilled at."
"Why thank you."
"You're welcome. But I want to be crystal clear here." Emma's eyes bored into the irises of the former Evil Queen as if the contact alone was convincing enough. "I was ready to believe."
"Uh-huh."
"I was!"
"Your nose is growing, dear." Regina stroked the bridge of Emma's nose with a finger, all the while grinning brightly.
Emma grabbed the hand and pinned it to the space between them. "The book was helpful too. I'm telling you, a few more hours with that thing and I would have been batten down the hatches and going all stabby on your dragon friend."
"Yes, I know how partial you are to picture books."
Emma rolled her eyes. "So what else is on the list, Your Majesty?"
Regina's gaze wandered to the porthole and the sunrise peeking through. After a moment she turned back to Emma and rasped, "My innocence in Dr. Hopper's supposed death?"
Green eyes downcast, Emma felt the returning stab of her own betrayal. It had been one of the most disgraceful mistakes of her life, and she'd swear to god – hell, all the gods if they existed – that it would never be repeated, not if it meant the broken heart of her lover. Regina had been putting her all into becoming a better mother, and the last thing she needed was another loved one's disloyalty.
Pale, long fingers of a reluctant hero laced with strong willed ones of a redeemed villain.
"I'll take the blame for that. I deserve it after you tried so hard to convince me."
Regina turned away to the window again. "I wish I had tried harder."
"You don't have to anymore. Because I'm going to try harder. For you and for Henry."
The only reply was the slow caress of a thumb to the back of Emma's hand. She looked down at their loosely clasped hands and watched as she squeezed the one in hers. Emma watched the apology of a resilient grasp and felt the devotion in a tingling jolt of their combined magic.
"Okay, I'll accept it. I got suckered by an Evil Queen." Eyes squinted while the corner of her mouth turned up in apprehension. "Am I still adorable?" Emma asked hopefully.
Regina's eyes clapped on the blonde's and smiled before her lips made to do the same. "Always, dear."
"We need to supply a new name for you to call me. The whole 'dear' thing is…"
Regina frowned, asking, "What is wrong with 'dear'?"
"You call everyone that. And when you say it to me I just feel like I'm everyone else to you – not someone… well, not someone –"
"Special?"
Emma nodded, her lip tucked between her teeth sheepishly.
"Well if you feel that strongly about it…" Regina propped herself up on their shared pillow. She flipped her hair back and pushed the ends that had strayed during their lovemaking back in their proper place. It was all done as if she were preparing for the most important meeting of her mayoral career. "So," her voice drawled and her lips were turned up into a slight smirk (not at all the conduct necessary for political conference), "Darling?"
"Sounds old fashioned."
"Sweetheart?"
"Taken. Henry," Emma points out.
"Alright," Regina mused. She squinted at the wall opposite and pursed her lips. "Hmm – hm, hm."
Emma grew suspicious over the growing chuckle. "What?"
Her fingers went to her own lips in an effort to hold in the sniggering. "You are not going to like it," Regina remarked drolly.
"Now you have to tell me."
"Are you sure you're ready for this?"
"I've only waited my entire life."
Regina sighed, smirked, and let Emma have it. "Princess."
No sound made during their tumultuous sessions between the sheets could possibly rival the earsplitting shriek.
"But I don't like princess!" Emma whined, burying her head in the pillow. "It's sounds so sexist. Why can't you call me something cool like, 'White knight?' or… oh!" A blonde head popped up from the pillow. "What about, here get this…" Emma dragged off, building the suspense as Regina just lifted a brow dully, "…DRAGON Slayer!"
Regina winced at the bellow. She whipped spit from her eye and smiled politely. "It sounds… gruesome."
"But sexy."
"Not if I'm the one who has to call you that. And you do realize the dragon you killed was actually human, right? It would be comparable to calling you a murderer – even though Maleficent deserved her fate."
Emma scoffed and waved a hand. "Semantics."
"Magic," Regina shot back. She clasped hands behind Emma's back and pulled her in. "You're my princess," she drawled with an evil grin.
"Then you're my cupcake."
Regina huffed crossly as Emma's mouth dove in for her's. Both their simpering melted as the kiss deepened.
"A bonnie good mate and a captain too, a bonnie good ship and a bonnie good crew. Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down. Blow the man down, bullies, pull him around!"
Chin skyward and mouth opened in a donut shaped 'o,' David belted out the lyrics through the hallway. Even with a masculine voice he could hit an absurdly high note.
Halfway through his laundry rounds, he arrived at Emma and Regina's quarters, knocked first, and entered the empty room. He placed the clean towels and sheets on a corner table. Due to the creepy nature of changing other people's sheets the crewmembers asked that they change their own bedclothes. David agreed because there was just a line you don't cross with you arch enemies when it came to bed sheets.
As was his custom, David fished a square, foil wrapped piece of chocolate and ever so carefully laid it atop the pile of laundry.
"There," he said, satisfied and nodding at his outstanding effort.
Out of the corner of his eye were the ladies' bunks. Something looked amiss and he approached. What he saw made his brain tic.
Normally, both cots showed the rumpled signs of their owners. The top bunk was markedly different from the bottom in its disheveled appearance (obviously Emma's) while the bottom was prepared with fine creases and not a single wrinkle in sight (Regina's). Both still held a slept-in state of appearance.
From David's perspective, such a comparison could not be made that day. His eyes shifted from top bunk to bottom, noticing the former's impeccable sheets and the latter's haphazard state complete with displaced sheets, a blanket that was hanging limp over the side, and a mattress turned on an angle.
The appearance was strikingly similar to that expression one hears when two people engage in rigorous activity. What was it called? David asked himself. Roll in the sack?
Roll in the sack.
Roll… in the sack.
And it finally hit him like a two ton oar in the head.
"Holy Davy Jones!"
Hands clapped to his face as he stumbled back from the epiphany. It all made sense. The crisp sheets on one bed, the rumpled ones on another. The casual conversations, the endearing quality in body language and expressions thought to be disguised were what one would mistake between friends or lovers. Even the bickering had taken a flirtatious turn.
David remembered how coming back from the restroom that morning he had passed the two. When out of supposed earshot he picked up the whispering of Emma calling Regina 'cupcake' and the subsequent dull thud of his daughter tripping into their cabin door. Upon hearing it, David thought nothing of it. Just two women messing around. They had all spent so much time together on the boat that after two weeks some strange behavior was bound to occur.
But he never predicted the kind of behavior relating to sacks and rolling. And when it was between his daughter and the Evil Queen? And occurring right under his nose? A father's nose, no less?
In David's small little mind he never saw the warning signs. That Emma was finding solace in Regina of all people was… inconceivable. He just never expected it, which left him speechless, but also clueless as how to react. What action should he take? Should action be taken? How does he go about disciplining his daughter? Does she need discipline? Emma and Regina were adults, after all, and had more life experience than David could admit to. How much trouble could the Savior and Evil Queen get into?
Apparently quite a bit, considering the state of the bottom bunk.
Oh, his ears. His poor, innocent ears. The lingering shouts of a velvety smooth center and instructions to 'use the tip' in 'swirling' rebounded through his brain like shotgun pellets. He wished they were shotgun pellets – anything that would scramble the memory part of his brain so he wouldn't keep hearing those echoed cries.
He wanted to pull a Van Gogh right then.
David shook out his hands and shoulders to rid himself of a horror the sight of a dilapidated bunk sent through him.
He did not need that kind of stress in his life. He was 28-years-old with a wife, daughter, and grandson, and had more responsibilities than you can count on two hands (unless you're Hook). The last thing he needed was another war on his conscience.
It was the perfect day to have a topside lunch. The sun was out, skies were clear, and the light breeze cooled off the hot planks beneath their feet. While Regina prepared the location Emma made herself responsible for lunch. Ruthlessly fixed on putting together the food herself, she had it out with the master chef himself. Gold put up a fight, but eventually complied when his prized rutabaga was held hostage and held precariously out a porthole.
To divert suspicion from a seemingly romantic picnic, Emma grudgingly invited Hook and Gold. Both declined, reasoning they would not be caught alone with two people who had at one time sought for their imminent deaths. They had been together on the ship for two weeks and rivalries endured and the Evil Queen was still that, evil. Emma reassured Regina that it was their loss, and then winked.
Sitting atop a blanket on the bow of the ship (an unstated claim that the spot had unequivocally become theirs) and backs against the foremast they ate in comfortable silence. Looking out at the stretch of shimmering ocean they munched on Emma's surprisingly edible sandwiches.
"What is your favorite color?"
Swallowing a bit of her sandwich Regina looked up with confusion. "Pardon?"
"It's part of our game, remember?"
A few days ago Emma proposed an innocent game of Getting to Know Your Former Enemy and Current Whatever. Regina conceded just because she liked teasing every single detail Emma copped to from the pigtail obsession during her preteen years to her first job in retail (lingerie boutique).
"I would have expected such an original and insightful question to come up earlier."
"Hey, don't knock the color question. It can reveal a lot about your personality. There are actual scientific studies out there. Don't take my word of it."
"I won't."
Emma smirked and sang, "You're hedging."
"Fine," Regina exhaled and answered, "black."
"Try again."
"I am fond of black," Regina insisted.
"No, you think you should like black. It's domineering and makes all the peasants cower in fear."
"Red."
"Now I know you're kidding yourself."
She shot a glare at Emma's haughtiness before slumping in defeat. She finally conceded, eyes fluttering and lifting a shoulder. "Royal blue."
Emma smirked. "That's more like it."
"And you? What is your favorite color?"
"It varies," her shoulders shrugged, "from time to time."
"You moved around quite a bit; change being your constant traveling companion. It's only appropriate that your favorite color should too."
"You're making fun of me."
"That," Regina conceded with a smirk, "and I'm proving your theory on color and personality."
"Ouch, my own principles turned against me. That's low."
Emma's heart sped up at the growing smile and laugh that slipped out. Dazed by the glowing look on Regina, she did not see the attack lobbed in her direction. Emma blocked the next onslaught of grapes and returned them with a vengeance.
After removing a grape from her bustier Regina upset her sparring partner by calling an end to the war.
"What do you do when you can't sleep?" Regina asked.
"The rules of the game specified one question a day. You, Regina, are cheating."
"Yes, well, I figured with the amount of sharing I did last night and this morning…"
Water came spurting out of a nose. Classy there Swan, Emma scolded herself, Classy. The reminder sparked images of sliding bodies and heated cries. Her cheeks grew about as rosy as Regina's.
"Uh, alright. If I can't sleep I guess I just lay there wishing upon a star…"
Regina snorted in amusement and lightly jabbed with an elbow.
Taking pride in the fact that she actually made the once evil and intimidating queen of the Enchanted Forest snort, Emma grinned widely and continued. "And if that doesn't work I go for a run. It always helps clear my head. I exhaust my body enough that I just crash instantly."
Again, yet another example of Emma going after all things at top speed.
Regina hummed in acknowledgment. After debating the consequences of sharing personal details, she cocked her head. "I listen to jazz music," Regina stated plainly. "Nina Simone's voice is ideal. A few minutes of those smooth, deep, smoky vocals and I'm out."
Emma nodded like she understood.
"You have no idea who I'm talking about, do you?"
Emma shook her head.
Regina smiled. "Well, I can't say I know about the dangers of jogging in the middle of the night, but I'm willing to try someday." Emma's brows went up at the upfront behavior. "As for my musical tastes…"
A delicate hand made a flourishing motion and the stereo powered on. The sound of a piano trickled from the speakers. Notes plunked sharp and effortlessly gave way to a definite bass line and the addition of a voice Emma had never heard. Despite her unfamiliarity with the artist she found herself among the clapping and hooting audience in the background. Closing her eyes, she was submerged in the sounds and eventually started swaying to the combination of piano, bass, drum, and sultry vocals.
Just in time
Before you came my time was running low oh baby
I was lost them losing dice were tossed
My bridges all were crossed nowhere to go
Now you're here now I know just where I'm going
Emma spied a glance at Regina and was rewarded with a sight. A smile twitched at her full lips and eyes were relaxed and closed. Head craned towards the sky while marks planted in restless lust became visible on the sun-drenched neck. Her grin turned beaming at the anticipated dips and flows of Nina's voice. Regina looked peaceful. Regina was happy.
"All of her work sounds so much better live," Regina explained. "Her improvisations, I think, further strengthened her words and gave every audience a unique experience. She's truly an inspiring performer, and a rather spirited woman." She frowned then, opening her eyes slowly, sadly. "Of course, I never had the opportunity to see her perform live. She's familiar to me only through recordings," she added with a small smile.
Emma bumped a shoulder into Regina, spurring her to join the swaying. After a reproachful brow raise Regina gave in. And the two women sat side by side, dancing in sync.
"You've found me just in time."
Breath catching at the quiet confession, she looked at Emma who was eyes shut, swaying to the music, and murmuring the lyrics that felt oh so right in the moment. Accepting such an honest admission was made easier when Emma wasn't doing so directly. Under the cover of eyelids and hauntingly beautiful music she uttered what felt natural. Regina took the words and curled them around her heart. Closing her own eyes and bumping shoulders with the blonde Regina joined in the sentiment.
"You've found me just in time."
Emma's ears pricked up to the softly chanted words and smiled.
Just as the song ended footsteps sounded from behind.
"Gold mentioned there was a picnic trending on the forecastle." David slipped into view, Mary Margaret following. "Can we join?"
"I do not believe there are enough san –"
"Sure!" Emma cut in. "We got plenty here!" She shot Regina a glare to be nice and offered her parents a seat across from them.
While David dived right into the spread, Mary Margaret crossed her legs slowly and stared down at the food like it was poison. Because, really, it wouldn't be a surprise.
"It's not going to put you in a coma, dear."
The petite woman narrowed her eyes into the challenging stare.
"It's not been tampered with," Emma assured, "I made the sandwiches."
While it was enough to convince her mother, the statement managed to slight Regina who was very proud of her own cooking skills. Even her poisoned dishes tasted good. Or so she would assume.
Awkward silence fell, the kind that blanketed four people whom loved and loathed one other at some point in their lives. While Regina had forgone the rest of her meal to glare out to sea, Mary Margaret was taking dainty bites from her sandwich (bites so small a goldfish could have swallowed). Regina wanted to take the ham and Swiss on rye and shove it down her throat. Munching casually next to the impeccable eater was David, whom Emma noticed was casting hooded glances at her and Regina.
Regina turned to the blonde, covering her motives with an arm stretch and hissed, "This is worse than any torture I have been through! Make it stop or you will pay dearly."
"I can't order them to leave," Emma whispered lowly, chin to shoulder. "And it's not like you're in physical pain."
"No, but if your mother doesn't start digesting her first bite of that sandwich someone will be in physical pain. Tremendous… physical… pain."
Green eyes shifted upwards and trolled.
Mary Margaret continued to take miniscule bites. David was commencing not-so-confidential Operation Swan Queen; the validity of such a pairing still boggling his mind.
"They're trying to be civil," Emma defended under her breath. "Do you see them outwardly threatening you?
"Your mother suggested I poisoned the food!"
"Actually, you were the one who put that in her head."
"She would have thought of it sooner or later. The Charmings forget grudges like you forget your afternoon bear claw."
Emma shook her head. "I'm off those things," she mentioned offhandedly. "Thanks to you I've been turned on to much sweeter and more refined tastes."
"Uncouth as always," Regina's scowl fashioned itself to a mischievous smirk, "princess."
Emma's jaw set. Her eyes narrowed. "You're one to talk…" her lips formed a similar smirk as she spat louder than intended, "cupcake!" She froze, matching Regina's wide eyes.
David's face was plastered with the same petrified expression while Mary Margaret, having picked up on the nickname, looked up with a pathetically cheery grin.
"Oh! Is that because of that one time Emma licked –"
David's hand blindly covered his wife's mouth as he gave Regina a jolly smile.
"Excuse me?" Regina asked menacingly.
"My wife," he let out a single laugh, "the practical joker. You are a funny one, aren't you?" He took Mary Margaret's chin and wagged it back and forth. "I knew why I married you!"
"What," Emma drawled, "the hell."
"Marriage," Regina confirmed, nodding, "it's called marriage. Though it never had that particular effect on me, heaven had mercy."
David, wanting to divert from all possible conversation from cupcakes, made the kind of loving gestures he knew from experience would distract his wife. The couple, eyes squinting and smiles toothy, proceeded to rub noses.
Emma's face went sour. "It looks awful."
"It is awful," Regina replied flatly.
That night the supposedly solid marriage between True Loves was tested. A gallon of tears and two hoarse throats later they went their separate ways. Temporarily. Each needed their space and time to cool off before something regretful was said. Mary Margaret banished David from their cabin, unknowingly leaving him free to stumble above deck with a bottle of Hook's finest.
The main bridge was deserted and quite tranquil. It was the ideal place to drown one's sorrows, so David approached the railing. He bent over the edge to look at the water but all he saw was an inky void. It was probably a good thing not to see his own reflection or else he would have come face to face with a phony prince and a failure of a father. He grunted discouragingly, taking a swig from the half-empty bottle. With one hand on the railing, he reached up for one of the suspended ropes and pulled himself up, trying to hook a leg over the railing. Already tipsy from the alcohol, he wobbled dangerously on the balustrade, his grip on the rope cutting into his skin.
"Damned pirate ships," he mumbled, sweat stinging his vision. "Could have ma – whoop!"
The bottle slipped from his sweaty fingers and his immediate reaction was to take his hand off the rope and grab it. The problem, of course, would have been that with one hand reaching for the rum that left his other hand the only means of support. And with one leg already over the railing… you could probably figure out his dilemma.
But David wanted his rum like it was a precious ligament of his body. Right then it was his only means of coping. So if he had to get wet in order to salvage his coping device, then so be it. If he had to sink to the bottom of the ocean like a sack of Idaho potatoes, then maybe he deserved that fate.
Hand reaching in slow motion for the bottle of rum he felt his body lurch overboard. This was the end, he thought. All for a half-bottle of Hook's finest rum. It's been an honor, Jolly Roger. Happy trails.
It felt like flying. A dopey smile crossed his face. He's always wanted to fly, but he never thought it would be like this. Strangely, there were no effects of vertigo. Instead of falling he felt like his whole body was hanging in space.
Is this heaven? were his last thoughts.
"There are more effective means to kill yourself."
David's eyes flew open. There was no pearly, wrought-iron gate in sight. No Peter to greet him with a "Hey, how was life?" Unless heaven was a pirate ship guarded by the Evil Queen…
Apparently the non-vertigo effects and failure to hit the ocean surface were due to the fact that his body was suspended. In purple smoke. David almost slapped himself. What was he thinking? Falling to his death for a few more sips of rum?
"I would ask how you came up with such a grand idea, but with the responsible culprit overboard…" Regina sighed. "A shame, really. I was all prepared to grant my appreciation."
Shedding a tear for the bottle, David asked, "Why save me, then?"
Her hand dropped once his feet made safe landing. She flicked her fingers to rid the remaining sparks of magic. Not much interested in the question she made a careful inspection of her gloved hand, pursing her lips and shrugging as a reply.
"Good. I wouldn't have believed you anyway."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Eh, maybe I would have. It's all so confusing. Ugh, what a day."
"Are you intoxicated?"
"Bitch, I might be!"
Regina's head jerked back on her neck. Something clearly had David in a snit. Finally, the brunette knew what it was like to be at the receiving end of a bitchy attitude. She had to say, though, David pulled it off swimmingly. He had the hands to hips pose down pat along with a conceited chin raised. All he needed to complete the image was an arm flourish and a snapping finger. What a drama queen.
"I just don't know what to do."
Regina raised a brow. Did he even realize who he was talking to? Unloading his troubles on the Evil Queen was not a welcome gift. It brought on memories of another David Nolan who had graciously eaten her lasagna and spoken to her with more candor than any of Storybrooke's citizens. Even that exchange was surreal, if not uncomfortable.
But priorities had changed. They were family – she could admit that now – but unlike friends, you don't pick your family. You get saddled with the burdensome twits without choice or preference. Regina was pretty sure she's handled worse family than the Charmings. Dealing with Snow and her drunken prince would be a piece of cake.
She bit her lip in penance for what she was about to do. "What has you in such a predicament that in place of your wife you would rather discuss this with a bottle of the captain's signature label," Regina folded her arms, grating, "and me."
"My little girl," David murmured, chin tucked to his chest. "My little princess is sleeping with my worst enemy. It doesn't get any more complicated than that. It even tops my bogus birthright as a prince. I didn't ask for that. I never wanted to be a prince and I never wanted an evil queen for a daughter-in-law. No one came up to me asking, 'Hey, PCharms, how do you feel about a union between your long lost daughter and the woman who was responsible? Hey? What do ya say?' I mean, I would have taken it under consideration. I would have really thought deeply about it. I don't jump to conclusions. So you see… I mean, when did it all go wrong? Where did my simple life as a shepherd go? Because I don't see it anywhere," David threw up his hands and looked around like his childhood home was hiding behind the mainsail, "do you?"
Dumbstruck, Regina shook her head, opening the gap between her lips.
"Don't answer that." David waved it off. "I've heard more from you than I'd ever wanted to hear. Oh! Woe is me!" Face buried in hands, he tried to wipe the memory of last night's debacle – wall thumps and all. "And you just had to leave the evidence. Right in the open! Have a little modesty and straighten the mattress at least! It figures though, a queen flaunting her conquests. Nooo surprise there," he drawled boringly.
As the alcohol wore off so did David's rambling. His regained his posture, no longer needing the support of the rope from above. His gait remained a bit wobbly, though, and his eyes were glassy.
"I should be taking action," he said definitively, nodding. "I'm a father now, and it's my responsibility – nay it is my right to intervene. I mean, I wasn't around most of the time. Hell, I wasn't around at all. Didn't see her first steps, her first words. Couldn't teach her how to ride a horse or warn her of the dangers of talking to strangers in the village." A shrill hiccup escaped, making Regina jump in surprise. David wiped at his eyes, sniffled and continued. "If I had been in her life that bastard… Nealfire wouldn't have broken her heart. He wouldn't dare, not if I had been around to throw a few punches. But I'm here now. Emma's fallen under some spell and I'm here, my fists are ready, and… and…" His voice dropped off. Drawing a blank, David peered strangely at Regina imploring, "What do you think I should do?"
"Um…"
David's hands clasped as if in prayer, his pleading almost childlike. "Please, Regina?"
"We are talking about the same evil queen are we not?"
David nodded.
"You are asking me advice on how to handle your daughter sleeping with me."
He frowned deeply, trying to figure out if it was a question. "I don't know," he replied dumbly. "Is that what it sounded like?"
"Ah, I just… well, what do you want me to say?!" Regina shot back, fuming. "You weren't supposed to find out! And Em – Miss Swan and I never intended to let it go this far. We… we just…" Fingers gripped at the wrinkles in her forehead. She was searching for words. She was grasping at an explanation.
David finished for her. "You and my daughter just fell. Head over heels."
"It is not like that."
"Oh, it is. That's how it happens. And people like you are the last to know. People who think they don't deserve a second chance. People who feel used up, dried up and lonely."
"If you are aiming at a compliment…"
"One thing is for sure," he muttered, peering over the railing to catch a glimpse of a remnant bottle, "I'm not paying for the wedding."
"Ch- Charming…" Regina stuttered, suddenly growing red from the neck up. "That is – it's absurd."
"If only you had said that hours ago. Ugh, it would have saved me so much distress."
"Putting an end to our… association would not have any effect on you. That is why we kept it from prying eyes. I don't believe Miss Swan would go along with terminating the agreement, anyway. She is as stubborn as her father."
"Agreement?" David scoffed lightly. "Wow, now I know how it would have been dating you."
"Please," Regina moaned, "never again bring up the possibility of an us. I could lose my dinner right about now."
"Agreement," he repeated, shaking his head, "I don't know how Emma puts up with you. You're about as romantic as a handgun. But," he paused, scratching his chin and mentally dispelling childish grudges, "it seems that she's chosen you. I don't have to like it, but I respect her wishes. I respect where her heart wants to be."
Heart. Emma's heart.
Her throat closed off a whimper. Regina closed her eyes, letting lose the first tear. She breathed in the confession, and imagined accepting the heart of one she already held dear and pressing it to her own until it melded with hers. The gasp escaped unsteadily.
"That would be the near death experience talking," Regina replied quietly. "Don't worry; this whole forgiveness kick will be forgotten come tomorrow morning."
"For what it's worth I am willing to put it all behind me. Everything – the curse, the repeated attempts to separate my family, the murder, the manipulation … etcetera. All for my daughter."
Regina didn't know what to say. Giving thanks did not seem an appropriate follow up. David was not responsible for this new act of kindness. It was not by his choice alone to forgive the Evil Queen. Emma was her savior in more ways than one, and would need to be thanked that night. Very thoroughly appreciated.
"Again, we shall see what tomorrow brings."
As Regina walked away a puff of purple swirled nearby. The smoke cleared to reveal a full bottle of premium rum sitting on the rail. David smiled and took it gratefully.
The first thing Emma did at the sight of the drunken exploits was go on the defensive. Her walls came up immediately, her knees bent ready to flee at the first sign of trouble, and hands bunched in the case her legs were not fast enough. She had known and lived with foster fathers who were hammered enough to hurt his kids, his wife; fathers angry enough to hit her with just as much force. She had the unlucky opportunity to have known and to have slept with plenty of men, all capable of putting her in a coma if it were not for the self-defense tactics picked up over the years. She had first-hand experience with alcoholics, with the 'occasional beer or two,' and the 'one more and I'll call it a night' kind of upstanding citizen.
But Emma saw David sitting on the boat's railing, legs hanging over the edge and swaying playfully. She looked into his kind, rosy face, felt his innocent smile, and heard the pirate song slipping toneless from his heavy lips. She saw her father and her fists relaxed and her wall melted. David would never hurt her – drunk or sober. No, he would jump off the ship before he hurt either his daughter or wife.
When Regina came into their quarters, sober and pensive, she had suggested Emma go see her father who was three sheets to the wind and contemplating a one way ticket to the bottom of the sea. Thinking it a joke, Emma brushed it off and cited David's petulant behavior as the only means to cope with a second-rate role model and a clinging wife. What was not a joke was the way Regina had torn the blonde apart with a defense of the man whose only wish was seeking to make up for lost time with his daughter. The sharp words flung from a flustered, yet radiant brunette was enough for Emma to make tracks up to the main deck.
"Ever hear the expression 'pace yourself'?"
David turned with a wide grin and eyes swimming in the moonlight. "Come on over and catch up to your old pops."
"Is this safe?" Emma questioned, hiking a leg over the railing to sit.
David shrugged and passed over the bottle gifted from a purple haze. She took a swig. Lips smacked to the taste and her mouth curled, satisfied.
"So what brings you up here this time of night? And what in the hell would drive you to climb the ship like a drunken baboon?"
"Falling was not my intention," David assured with a wagging finger and drowsy eyes. "I just wanted to get a better look at the ocean."
"Yeah, well you can do that from behind the railing. It's safer, not to mention you won't get bitched out by Mary Margaret when she finds out – if she finds out."
"Your mother can do so much more than bitch me out. See this?" He pointed to the crevice in his chin, a scar that only seemed a few years old. "That is all Snow White."
Emma narrowed her eyes, staring at the scar. "I never figured Snow White and Prince Charming for the arguing type. What was the fight about?" After taking another sip, she handed over the bottle. "The more recent fight, I mean."
"Your mother wants to return to the Enchanted Forest. We talked about it back in Storybrooke when we were searching for houses. Nothing was decided then, mostly because it didn't seem right to be house hunting while a giant was wreaking havoc on the town. Things never died down enough for the conversation to come up again."
"Until now," Emma accessed.
"Yeah, until now." David guzzled down a quarter of the rum, coughing at the tail end of his mouthful. "I've actually thought about it a lot since the start of our trip. I never considered Storybrooke my home. It was a reminder of what was missing, and what was taken away from us. But then we left and I started seeing it differently. Storybrooke isn't what I thought it was. It symbolizes a new beginning. It's not the place that haunts us of what was taken. It is the place – the home – that gave us what we lost. Storybrooke was where you found us. It's were we became a family. Now that we are miles, worlds, from that place I realize what we had. I miss it."
"You don't want to return to the Enchanted Forest, do you?"
David winced, knowing what was being asked. It wasn't a simple matter of choosing where to live, rather a distinction between who David and Snow were as people and what they wanted out of life. "I love Snow and my heart will always be where my family lies, but if you and Henry wish to stay where you are… that is my decision as well. I can't imagine losing you a second time. I won't make that mistake again."
"But if Mary Margaret is dead set on going back to the Enchanted Forest, to your castle and your land and titles, then where do you stand? Would you make up for your mistake by staying with Henry and I only to break that same promise to your wife?"
"I didn't say it was simple," David argued with a shake of his head. "Your mother and I, though we love each other very much, grew up as two very different individuals. Our worlds, our rules were never the same. I wasn't born into royalty. That life belonged to Snow, which is why she is so quick to go back. When I think about the mess we would have to clean up at the castle and surrounding lands… the organization and ruling… I grow tired. The only people I care to be responsible for are my daughter and grandson, not an entire kingdom. And the fact that Regina introduced us fairy tale characters to a democracy – of a certain kind – makes Storybrooke all the more appealing. Everything and everyone there has a place, a purpose. There's no need to push borders, form war councils, or call tribunals. We're all the same in Storybrooke. We look out for each other now."
Emma smirked. "You make it sound so utopian."
"Well, it sure isn't. I just mean that Storybrooke offers us a better way of life. There are pros and cons to every town, but this one, this small, secluded town in Maine is ours. It is our home." Letting out a sigh, he cast a glance out to sea, squinting at the shapeshifting moonlight on the water. "Our life in the Enchanted Forest is over, it's destroyed. Your mother still doesn't see it that way."
"Sounds like you guys have a lot to work out. I'm not sure what else to say… but I hope you do. I wouldn't want my folks to split up just when I found them."
David looped an arm around her back, grasping a shoulder and pulling her in. He kissed the crown of her blonde curls, whispering into them, "It's okay, kiddo. Whatever happens between your mom and I isn't your fault."
Emma laughed weakly because she wasn't sure how else to react. It was her first induction into the father/daughter talks sure to make multiple appearances throughout her life. She went with the flow, taking the hug and silently smiling to herself. The awkwardness of it all soon got to her and David. They disengaged.
"This stuff isn't half bad," she muttered, taking another swig of rum.
"You can thank your girlfriend."
She coughed up the precious liquid, nearly tumbling overboard. "What?!" she screeched.
"Regina," David clarified, "your girlfriend. Unless Hook had some operation I don't know about and that's who I heard screaming last night."
"Wh –" Emma made an incoherent sound of disgust. "How… what… you… but I…"
"I know what you mean. That was my response when I figured it out."
Despite her inability to ask how he knew, Emma aimed a finger at the man and glared menacingly. "You cannot tell, mom. I swear to god if she found out… I don't know what she would do to Regina – or me."
"I'll admit, once I got over the initial shock I had this urge to string that witch up to the tallest mast. That, or prodding her into shark infested waters." He sighed heavily, looking down at the half empty bottle and picking at the label. "But you're not a baby anymore. I keep thinking of you as one because that was the last time your mother and I saw you, the last time we held you and kissed you goodbye. You've grown up from that babbling baby swaddled in a blanket. Though it's hard to accept, Regina isn't the same person either. She's not the queen my people and I sought to destroy all those years ago."
"How am I supposed to believe any of that? Even after she helped Mary Margaret and I return home through the well you guys still treated her like she hadn't changed. I treated her like she wasn't trying to change. How do I know it's just words, and that you won't just stick a sword through her the first chance you get?"
"I think I can speak for your mother in assuring you we have bigger issues at hand. Regina doesn't seem to be the baddie of the week, anyway," David snorted amusingly.
"Please do not joke about that," Emma replied, brows furrowed and eyes unyielding. "She is trying. It doesn't help that everyone else doesn't believe her, or worse, makes fun of her. After what Regina's been through she deserves better."
"No, I get it. When I was accused of murdering Kathryn I hardly had a support system."
"You seriously did not just compare that one night in jail to the years of shit Regina suffered through."
"Alright, so maybe I have a lot of catching up to do? I can't claim to understand what happened to Regina and I don't think that day will come. What I do get is family. She's Henry's mother, too, and that makes her one of us. Damn, that was hard to say," he mumbled before Emma patted his shoulder. "I don't exactly know what to make of her now with this fling or whatever with you. But you're a good person, Emma, more kind and forgiving than any of us losers. You found us after all these years and helped break the curse. You restored hope to those that lost it long ago. I have faith in you. You're a big girl and I'm sure this isn't your first rodeo."
Emma's face contorted in revulsion. She reeled back. "Aw, don't even go there. That's out of bounds territory for you. And mom."
David just laughed and said, "You've made it here with far less parenting than I ever had. Snow and I didn't have the smoothest of journeys, but you seemed to end up in the right place with a good head on your shoulders."
"That really means a lot," Emma murmured tearily, "Dad."
"You know what you're doing." He nodded until his brows knit together comically and he peered at her. "You do know what you're doing, right?"
"Ah, I think so? I don't know." Emma hung her head and shook it dejectedly.
"Well, at the cost of becoming aware of more than a father ever should, I'm going to pass on the details. What I will say, though, is that eventually you should know what you're doing. Whatever this is with Regina, you have a responsibility to Henry to figure this out. Both of you do."
Considering the years Regina had taken from them, such generous advice was a surprise. Emma took it gladly, but with hesitancy. It was true; she didn't know what her and Regina had. They had magic, chemistry, a son. They shared pet names, scars, whispered affections in the still darkness when the other was thought to be asleep. Their affair could just be a product of the voyage, emotions brimming and sparking out of control. The habit of finding comfort in their bodies, their mouths, and their sighs could also be a result of fear over their son's welfare.
"Did you feel anything for her before we set out for Neverland?" David inquired gently, breaking Emma's train of thought.
Emma surprised her father. She also surprised the hell out of herself.
"I – I think I did."
She turned to him like a child who just broke her parent's vase, bottom lip jutting out, forehead wrinkled in worry, eyes faithfully shining to her own admission. David nodded. If anything, he was satisfied that his daughter knew herself enough to speak the truth.
They got drunk, happily. Songs of woe, songs of sailing on the high seas, and of beautiful maidens… they sang them all till the rum was gone.
With a slide, shoulder jag, and shuffle to the side Emma danced her way down the hallway. Despite David calling it a night, Emma was still loose and liquored enough to burn the candle at both ends. Half-stepping it to her room she mumbled lyrics to the song that marked both David and Emma's haphazard states.
"See what we can be if we press fast forward. Just one more round and you're down I know it. Fill another cup up. Feeling on yo –"
Disoriented by the shifting floor underfoot, her boot met the wall and she stumbled, face smacking right into the wall. "Uhh," Emma moaned. She kept upright enough to finish the line, "… butt what?"
Shimmying to the song circling her hazy brain, Emma got to her door.
"You can blame it on the Goose. Got you feelin' loose? Blame it on the Tron. Got you in the zone. Blame it on the al al al al al…"
The bang resounded as the door practically flew off its hinges, Emma stumbling in behind.
"Why is it so fucking bright in here?!" she cried, covering her eyes amidst the very dim light. Her hand fumbled against the wall in search for the switch to turn off the lantern.
Regina stood – scratch that, vaulted – from their bed, arms flat to her sides and hands tightened into lethal weapons. "What took you so long?" she demanded hotly. "When I asked you to talk to David I did not permit an hours long bonding session. And I can see that gift I sent to your father was shared. The whole bottle, I presume?" She folded her arms, making an intimidating force to be reckoned with.
"God," Emma slurred and slammed the door shut, "you're not my wife. Quit fussing."
"Thank god for that! I don't know how our marriage could survive with you gallivanting off to who knows where!"
"I don't need your permission. I don't have a curfew, either. David needed some company. And as for my state of mind…" she frowned, and explained weakly," I just had a few sips." To emphasize, Emma's hand waved unsteadily, her eyes following the strange movement with fascination.
"It would have saved quite a bit of trouble if you had poisoned yourself like this months ago. I wouldn't have had to bother with the goddamned apple turnover!"
A heavy silence fell. Emma's chin quivered. Regina's mouth parted.
"I – I didn't intend to bring that up," the brunette murmured. She wrung her hands, the same ones that nearly caused the undoing of their son. "Ever."
At the thought of the brown-haired, fairy tale aficionado, Emma burst into tears.
Ironically, it was Regina who offered a shoulder to cry on. So many times previous called for the Savior to do the saving. But the job of bringing someone up when they were down was reversed, and it was the former Evil Queen taking the Savior in her arms.
Regina guided a sniffling blonde to the bed. They sat down, one hugging a petite waist, the other cupping a shoulder and dipping into limp curls.
Regina wanted to cry. It had been days since tears were properly shed, mostly due to the demand of her navigator duties. She had also been distracted by the happiness filling the weak spaces of her heart. She wanted to cry for the one void that wouldn't be filled – couldn't be when the one who resided there was miles away on a treacherous island. She needed to let it out.
But Emma was doing enough sobbing for the both of them, so Regina put on a brave face and took on the mantle of strength. The fear was still eating away under the armor; nibbling inch by inch every day since Henry was stolen from her side.
The sobs were abating and Regina decided to offer a distraction. "Did David have anything to say about us?"
Red-rimmed and puffy eyes lifted. "You knew? I mean, you knew that he knew?"
"Mary Margaret may fall for David's poker face, but I do not."
A ragged sigh emitted from the blonde. "Of course you knew. You have eyes everywhere."
"Hm, I wish."
"He… he actually gave me dating advice." Emma almost choked with laughter at the woman's bulging eyes. "Don't have a seizure. I didn't say we were a couple. In fact, I haven't revealed anything relating to us," Emma's palms perspired through the lie, "and he just came out with an olive branch and a pat on the back. I don't get it."
"Welcome to the world of parenting."
Emma rolled her eyes. "I can't wait till Henry brings home his first girlfriend."
"He's not dating," Regina avowed, head shaking, "not if I can help it."
"Sure as shit he's not."
Squeezing a shoulder in reply, Regina returned Emma to the safety of her bosom. "I'm sorry I yelled at you." The apology was barely above a whisper, but strong enough to retain its sincerity. "You don't need my consent to set off. I… I just…"
"… don't like being left alone," Emma supplied. She felt the chin nod against her head. It finally occurred to her how her actions affected Regina. That she had any impact on the woman to begin with was nothing short of impressive. Yet the plausibility that what Emma said, felt, and did could have a negative effect on Regina ripped a hole in her chest. She had spent so much time focused on her own happiness that she never accounted for Regina's. It was assumed that somewhere along the way, through languid kissing, and kneading flesh, Regina was content. But assumptions could be misleading. Never once was Regina's state of mind questioned. Was she truly happy with their arrangement? Was it too much? Did she want more?
It did not escape Emma that Regina's fear of being alone might stem from her wanting more out their relationship, more from Emma. The demand for such an inconceivable notion of more weighed heavy on Emma. She didn't do commitment. She didn't do more. Tears leaked from her eyes because she wanted that to change, but didn't know how to go about it.
"Oh," Regina soothed, cradling the hitching body to her, "my princess."
Still choked by sobs Emma felt compelled to put the other woman at ease. "I do like b-being here. Y-you're not such a bad roommate."
"Okay." Regina rubbed circles on the small of her back, fully aware that Emma was not just talking about their 'roommate' situation. It was more than the physical act of staying. It meant more. Regina smiled ruefully into the mess of blonde hair. "You get sad when you're drunk, huh?"
"Mm-hm," Emma replied, sniffling through a hiccup.
