Additional Note: Many thanks to WaLe for assisting in the translations.
Disclaimer: I do not own the show or these characters.
Siamo Svegli Tutta la Notte Per Avere Fortuna
No one knows how it happened.
Actually, one of them did. She just didn't want to come clean about it.
One moment everyone was minding their own business above deck finishing their ship duties and the next they were interrupted by an explosion of smoke. The sweet librarian was just as shocked to arrive on the ship as the crew was. They all scratched their chins, mulling over the happenstance. All but Regina.
Wind back an hour to when Regina was overseeing her pupil's magic drills and throwing out strict remarks that only aggravated Emma's hot red sparks. A spell was either too weakly executed or not executed at all. Her technique was atrocious to the point of lazy, lacking any form or flourish. She was not bold in her attacks, nor confident in her capabilities. Emma was afraid to push her limits.
Regina's criticisms and acerbic commentaries were not to demean. It would have been true before, when the heart of the queen was weathered with loss and untouched by forgiveness. She would have made an embarrassment out of the unpolished student, cutting her down enough to resort her to tears. But the queen's heart was no longer lonely or unacquainted with the hand of compassion. Submitting Emma to harsh training was for a purpose higher than her own. She was pushing so that those limits could be realized, so that when the time came Emma knew exactly when her body and her magic could not bear her survival. The day when Emma would be tested, when Regina's tutelage would be judged, was growing nearer each day. Emma must be prepared to fight, to endure. She had to be willing and practiced enough to stand by a witch less powerful but more experienced in the face of their enemies. If not for Emma's sake, then surely for Henry's.
Though every aspect of Emma's faults was brought to light, it did not mean she was not improving. The practice of manifestation came second nature, having the skills to produce butterflies, raining arrows, and the occasional blinding white light from a palm ('Iron Man style' as Emma described it). However it was her control that needed refining. Also her mindset, her confidence, her patience… all the things Emma rolled her eyes at and waved off as irrelevant. To Emma, if she could produce rum in a cup then sound the bell because she was fucking Harry Potter.
(Note: Emma's magic had yet to yield alcohol, much to Regina's relief. Also, Regina still could not grasp the concept of a magical school where everything was made up and the points did matter.)
Although Emma was making general progress in magic lessons, there was little hope that Gold's deal would be seen through. Regina did not believe in the power to restore life. The failure to revive pale, cold flesh had been witnessed while the loss of that life was felt in the pit of her stomach and the corner of her heart. But if anyone could bring back the dead the power would surely come from the hands of the savior.
Pressed for time, Regina was unable to make good on Gold's demands. It took years to hone one's skills in magic, but years they did not have. Concerned that he would make good on his threat, Regina made other arrangements. Compensation in the form of one Belle French.
With the summoning charm muttered under breath Regina only had to wait for the unveiling. In the meantime, she bided her time in the background while the rest of the crew went about their day. Gold made use of the sunshine by de-scaling and drying out the fish of the day. David and Mary Margaret bickered over condos and castles (much to Regina's delight). Emma practiced her fire throwing aim, turning everything in sight to a blackened crisp (much to Hook's dismay). Regina threw in a few tips from time to time, though her ears were devoted to the loving couple's superb arguing. She didn't catch Hook's frequent observations to Emma about how her inadequate aim was linked to not getting laid enough. She also neglected to hear Hook's squeal as his leather tush set fire.
"Belle!" Gold cried.
And there she stood, clutching a glass of iced tea and looking quite taken aback.
"Belle, how are you here?"
Still unmoving, she took in her surroundings. "I – I don't know. One minute I was having lunch with Ruby and the next I'm…" she caught Hook standing at the helm, "… am I on the Jolly Roger? How is this possible? Why is this possible?"
"Don't fret, darling. You're here! That's all that matters!"
"Um… okay," Belle muttered into Gold's shoulder, his arms binding her in a hug. Holding the iced tea at arm's length, Belle patted his back.
"She didn't even get to finish her lunch," Emma noted, the librarian still munching on her burger. "That sucks."
"I'm sure she has more pressing matters than finishing her meal," Regina pointed out and turned away from the awkward reunion. "It is none of our affair, anyway."
"Wow, really? None of our business? That's a new one." A finger went out to poke the brunette. Green eyes narrowed doubtfully. "Who are you and what have you done with my cupcake?"
Gold still had a possessive arm around his girlfriend. Mary Margaret rushed forward with a worried look. Working around him she inspected the woman for possible injuries sustained from her travels.
Though Regina was making an effort to conceal her interest in Gold's growing contentment, Emma wasn't quick to buy it. Regina stood facing towards the sea, her eyes shifting to the crowd every so often and a small smile tugging at her lips. It was not like her to fail in masking her curiosities. Actually, that wasn't entirely true. Emma had caught the former mayor making sexy eyes at her both when they were staring blatantly within their personal space and when the sheriff was supposedly not looking.
Emma crossed her arms. "You're up to something."
"Isn't that what I'm accused of on a daily basis? After 30 some years I'm used to it." Regina jutted her chin in Gold and Belle's direction. "Perhaps I had a hand in this peculiar turn of fate."
Emma placed her hands on her hips and said idly, "As you so kindly reminded me, I have a tendency to fall for your lies. How do I know you're telling the truth?"
Regina shrugged and smirked. "Figure it out."
"Oh, I will."
"Your jacket is on fire."
Emma's gaze flew to the tail of her coat. She started swatting manically at the smoking embers. "Harry Potter didn't have to deal with this shit," she grumbled.
"Belle! You're here!"
"Yes, Rumple, I think we've established that."
"I – I just… I'm just glad we're together!"
"We've established that as well."
Gold scoffed easily and brought her in another bone crushing hug. After ten minutes of blissful hugging they parted. Leading her by the hand, he took her on a tour of the ship. Though she had already visited before when she rescued Archie Hopper from the hold and knocked Hook's lights out, Gold insisted on it. Anyway, the place had been spruced up since her last stay thanks to Mary Margaret's touch.
"And for our grand finale…" Gold's back was to the closed door, his hand placed over his heart. When enough suspense was built he threw open the door and prompted Belle's entrance with a grand flourish. "… Belle, meet the galley. Galley, meet Belle."
Standing in wait, the man's hands twisted anxiously. He was most excited to the point of hyperventilation.
The galley was the only place on that godforsaken ship that he could call home. It was where he was most comfortable, a place where his skills were appreciated, not denigrated. He could be himself here and have the freedom to cook whatever meal that tickled his fancy. If someone didn't like his selection of foie gras… tough shit. Sous chef was boss. Sous chef was god. Even Hook lost all authority the minute he crossed over the threshold. The galley was Gold's territory, his place to reign over food groups of all sizes, flavors, and acidities.
To share this with his love was more than he could ask for. Finally, Belle would know him for who he really was. Finally, she could understand his true power. He was no Dark One, no swindling broker of deals. And the only magic exercised within those four leaky walls was the kind that derived from his herb seasoned, Sashimi bōchō wielding hands.
Gold put a damper on his smile, not wanting to freak her out. "Do you like it?" he asked hopefully, his heels popping up from the ground.
Approaching the work station, Belle's hand grazed reverently over her love's most prized possession. It was a gentle touch, a first meeting between strangers. Gold beamed in delight, appreciating her willingness to treat such things with respect. After all, it was a lot like riding a horse. One doesn't simply throw one's leg over the beast and command it onward. It was essential for a relationship to be created between horse and rider, much like the bond between chef and workstation.
"It's incredible, Rumple." Belle's eyes shined brightly with tears. She smiled. "I'm so happy you've found a place here."
Hands clapped together. Tears fell. "Oh, Belle. This is more than I could ever ask for. You, here in my domain. This, this place is like a castle to me. It is all mine and I would very much like to share it with you. Belle, will you allow me…" his breath hitched with something between anticipation and dread, not knowing how his request would be taken. "Will you allow me to show you my secret to preparing consommé?"
"Oh… oh my dearest Rumple," Belle murmured. She took the shaking hands in hers, pressing them to her heart. "You had me at the magically powered refrigerator."
There was a choking sob of relief. They embraced lovingly before the enchanted GE appliance.
While prescribing a liberal coat of varnish to starboard deck a light bulb switched on. Dropping her brush, Emma raced to the bridge.
"You did it. I knew it!"
"Bully for you. It only took…" Regina read her watch, "… four hours and 56 minutes."
"Aw, come on! Give me some credit. I used this thing all amid the fumes," alleged Emma, pointing to her head.
"My, my, that is some feat."
Wrinkles developed in a forehead and her face sagged. "Aren't you gonna ask me how I figured it out?"
Sighing, Regina put down her pencil and the sextant. She smiled politely. "How did you figure it out?"
"Purple smoke! That's your signature. Purple ass smoke." Emma nodded approvingly.
"Yes, my magic is purple, but so is Rumple's." She shrugged, explaining, "A common misconception. Don't wrack yourself over it. I wouldn't want you to break something."
"But… you still did it. You magicked Belle here."
"Yes, Princess."
"What are you looking at?"
"Nothing." Regina's gaze continued to fix on the space between furrowed brows.
A boot stomped the deck. Emma folded her arms petulantly to the snicker.
"You worry far too much," the brunette mused. Without thinking, her thumb went to the target and brushed away the paint. Her hand stayed momentarily, a palm catching the warm breath.
"I worry plenty." Emma lent her cheek into the backs of fingers as they retreated. "It's not like you to act in favor of others – an enemy no less. You were selfless. And a regular old softie, I might add."
Regina huffed at the likelihood and stole away from their closeness. "I did not bring Belle here out of my own noble free will. I am not a savior – that is your department."
"So why do it?"
The nautical charts crinkled as the pencil rolled from the coast of California to a nameless part of the Pacific and back.
"To keep Gold occupied."
Emma watched the pencil move assisted by dainty fingers. "With Belle here Gold will be focused on her. His deal with you will be pushed to the background." Regina nodded. "You don't think I can do it."
"I never said that."
"You don't want me to, do you?"
"Is that really what you think?" Regina's attention left the pencil for the blonde. "All the drills I've put you through, the intense exercises… Do you think I push you so hard to reach your potential just so you could lose him again?"
Emma wouldn't put it past her. "I don't know."
Regina's jaw clenched.
"I don't know what to think," Emma continued. "I don't know how to feel because we haven't talked about it. The magic lessons have been difficult for me. But the pressure you put on me is nothing compared to this deal. I'm being asked to bring back someone's dead son, Regina. How the hell am I supposed to go about doing something like that? Do you even know?"
She stared into the green eyes imploring for direction. Regina wanted to give Emma what she sought after. So badly, and Emma didn't know it. Maybe the former Evil Queen was more self-sacrificing than she claimed.
Regina swallowed hard and looked away. Her answer came just above a whisper. "True love is the purest form of magic." It was difficult to say in more ways than one. "It can surpass any boundary, any realm. Even death. As long as they believe, two souls tethered will never be parted. You are a Charming," a smile developed painstakingly. "Finding true love is in your blood."
"That's bullshit."
"You will know. If anyone can bring Neal back it is the savior. You do not need me for that."
"What if I want you? What if I screw up? What if I need you?"
Regina's head tipped amusingly. "I thought we agreed you needed work in the confidence department?"
"That true love stuff is crap," retorted Emma. "It doesn't work." Her lips formed a stubborn line.
"I'd like to think it does. If Daniel was my true love then I would have been able to bring him back. Our magic would have restored his ashen heart, we would have escaped my mother, Snow, the king… we would have married. Instead of riding on this decrepit old ship with my mortal enemies I could have had a life. I could be with my love." Regina's hand brushed her nose fleetingly. Her dark gaze turned away when she added gravely, "But I didn't try hard enough."
Their chests rose and fell with the diatribe. The pair of hearts beat apprehensive to the idea of an alternate reality that set a path to unparalleled existence, choices, romances. It wasn't possible. I wasn't probably. Yet it was a concept nonetheless. It was a fantasy, and fantasies always endured.
Emma wasn't about to crush such a fantasy, but she felt compelled to point out the flaw in Regina's theory.
"If that's true Henry wouldn't be in your life. He might never have been born."
The thought of living a life without Henry even in a world where Daniel was alive pierced Regina's heart. She could never save one love only to lose the other – or others as Regina was beginning to realize. Henry's inexistence was Regina's inexistence. He was a piece of her and she of him, regardless of their non-blood relation. "I don't want that, Emma," Regina declared softly with tears staining her cheeks. "But I also want to believe I could have saved Daniel."
"It's not wrong to wonder what could have been. You can believe whatever you want to believe." Emma stepped closer merely to offer friendly support despite wanting it to mean differently. "If you believe with all your heart that Daniel was your true love then don't let his passing make it false."
Regina squeezed her eyes shut as more tears leaked. It was all irrelevant. She tried, she tried so hard to believe, but all it did was leave a bad taste in her mouth and expand the hole in heart that much greater. Emma's words were conflicting with the truth Regina hadn't faced, yet it was felt in every fiber of her being. Every time Regina thought of her, the very second their eyes met, each touch and embrace weighed more than some theory and greater than a fading memory. Their magic, the blood that pumped within their veins whenever they were near… it was no fantasy.
Emma was tugged by the belt and encountered with a startlingly tender embrace. Regina's hands grasped her shoulders from behind. Lips gingerly met the pale skin of her neck, pressing but not in a kiss. Emma translated the body in hers, the gripping hands and the tortured breath tickling her clavicle. No statement screamed so blatantly to the blonde before. It was a choice, and Regina had made it despite everything Emma had just said. She was giving something, someone, up for a chance at possible happiness – or possible disappointment. It was a risk, a roll of the dice. Maybe it was time for Emma to make a choice as well. Maybe it was the right moment to take a leap of faith.
Emma held Regina, her blonde head resting on the brunette's.
"Let's not put so much faith in other people's theories. If I gained anything from my past it's that rules were meant to be broken. Let's make our own future."
"That's a deal I can agree to," the smiling lips murmured.
Their embrace endured through the gust of wind, the flapping sail, and the sea gulls cry. Emma kissed the woman snug in her arms, not a care in the world if anyone was watching. Regina's concern melted, too, as their lips slid together, opening to make a deeper connection. One mouth drew greedily on the other. A tongue snaked forth to join another. They sealed their contract with sighs, kissing deeply, passionately until all breath expired.
"Here's the thing," Emma gasped, retreating a bit to look into the lust filled gaze, "earlier today when I was burning everything in sight Hook suggested I need to get laid more. He said it with a sneer, so I doubt he was referring to me laying him."
"I thought you didn't take orders from scruffy, untrustworthy men."
Emma gazed hungrily at the smirking lips she had dreamed of being in oh so many wonderful places. "I think I can make an exception just this once."
"Oh yeah?" purred Regina. There was an obvious glint in her brown eyes, and a devious grin that stirred a growl from the blonde. "How about the princess shows me how thorough she is in taking Captain's orders. Hm?"
A grand dinner was prepared for the guest of honor. Gold wanted everything to be special for Belle, so he enlisted the help of Mary Margaret in decorating the dreary dining room. Candles stood on a white tablecloth (bleached to David's standards), the floor was swept, the air was laced with a hint of perfume, and after enough cajoling from the chef Hook broke out the fine silver cutlery.
In order for the dinner to be a once in a lifetime experience Gold knew what he had to resort to. To be honest, he would rather curse himself to an eternity at sea then ask the impossible. But the event was for Belle, and Gold grudgingly asked for Regina's assistance in the meal.
"You want me to what?"
From outside the doorway Gold peered at the woman wrapped in nothing but a sheet and pushing at the wild mane of hair. "Shrimp fra diavolo. Can you or can you not make it for tonight's festivities?"
"Ah… yes," Regina breathed with a distracted, lazy smile that had nothing to do with Gold's request. "I suppose I could."
"Excellent," Gold replied. He shifted to the side but Regina drew the door closer to her body, blocking the view. "Now if you wouldn't mind telling Miss Swan you have another engagement I will wait for your culinary expertise in the galley. Fifteen minutes sufficient?"
Surprisingly, she agreed. Though if Gold had come to hers and Emma's cabin door minutes before she would have been less… courteous and more enraged by the interruption in their… exploits.
Though marked by a few minor disagreements on heat level and Gold's persistent defense of Giada's technique in deveining shrimp, the food preparation went smoothly. The main dish being shrimp fra diavolo with linguine, there were also platters of maize and potatoes, asparagus spears, glazed carrots, broccoli with garlic butter and cashews, scallops and ginger butter sauce, crab cakes, steamed mussels, battered and fried octopus tapas (which Emma wouldn't touch with a five foot pole), loaves of garlic bread, loaves of plain bread, flavored olive oils for dipping, and an antipasto plate.
It was a feast for kings and queens, princesses, Dark Ones and librarians. In addition were the bottles upon bottles of wine and kegs of rum, which were cause for the lively conversation.
"Oh, oh, oh!" Mary Margaret cried, waving her hands to get noticed amid the hoopla. "I know the secret ingredient!"
The table quieted down. All eyes were on her.
"Right, yeah," she jumped at realizing she held the floor, "it's red pepper flakes!"
"Esattamente!" Regina raised her glass to toast the woman's accuracy.
"Pardon?"
"'Exactly,'" Emma assisted. Ever since coaxing Regina to get drunk with her a few days ago Emma was getting a crash course in Italian. After a few glasses of wine it seemed the former mayor's tongue got loose in an entirely different language. Emma didn't mind. The husky, flawless accent was sexy as hell and worth the hangover.
"Don't take this the wrong way, Regina, but I'm shocked that the people at this table would eat anything you cook." Belle cast a curious look at not only Regina but everyone at the table.
Regina's nonreply spooked the crewmembers about as much as her developing glare.
"Well, unless I'm still under a sleeping curse most of us ate Regina's lasagna during the welcome home party for my wife and daughter and escaped with only a mild case of heartburn." David shrugged, getting a similar sentiment around the table. "It tasted damn good, though."
"That was the red pepper flakes," Mary Margaret chimed in helpfully.
"Please don't take it as a slight to your character," Belle implored the surly brunette. "You all have to understand, the last time I saw you guys the atmosphere was quite bleak. You were all so tense, so on the offensive. The last thing I expected upon arriving here was… camaraderie."
"We are a friendly gaggle of pirates, aren't we?"
David blushed at the greasy black head slumped on his shoulder. He took it gladly, knowing Hook wouldn't remember it in the morning.
Emma raised her mug, shouting, "Hear, hear!"
The crew repeated the sentiment loud enough to drown out the blonde's squeal.
"Brava," Regina purred into an ear, "bene." Her hand slipped further into the back of Emma's jeans.
"It is a surprise that we haven't torn each other apart by now," Gold remarked with a frown.
"Aye, my hook is practically rusting from unemployment."
"I haven't had to sharpen my sword, either."
Emma rapped the wood table with her knuckles. "My gun hasn't been oiled in weeks."
"Pensavo di essere l'unica che lubrificava la tua pistola?"
Emma rolled her eyes.
"Peace is nice," Mary Margaret mused dreamily. "No having to saddle up the horses, prepare the battlements, or call for reinforcements…" Her chin dipped towards her husband and she smiled in silent affirmation. "The quiet life is a good life."
David returned the grin, kissing her softly to seal the deal.
Gold draped an arm around Belle. "Sometimes I find myself wondering how different things would have been if there was no curse."
"Intendi se non avessi avuto una madre senza cuore o un folletto manipolativo come insegnante?"
Emma shot Gold a glare, translating, "You mean if she didn't have a heartless mother and a manipulative imp for a teacher?"
"I was speaking in general, but if you want to get down to specifics let's all play a round of Who's Fault Is It Anyway? Starring…" he let out his signature giggle and twirl of the hands, "… Regina Mills, former, failed Evil Queen who murdered her father, attempted to assassinate her mother, killed a village, and damned an entire town to a frozen hell."
"Hai tralasciato il più colpevole autore: Tremotino, che ha ucciso sua moglie, abbandonato suo figlio, ed ucciso più innocenti di Hitler."
"You left out the most culpable perpetrator," relayed Emma, "Rumplestiltskin, a wife killing, child abandoning, 500 plus year old cripple who has slayed more innocents than Hitler." She frowned and turned to the flushed brunette. "You knew Hitler?"
Regina offered a single shoulder shrug. "Ho visto un documentario."
Emma nodded.
"I think we're getting off track here," David offered.
"Agreed," Mary Margaret spoke, "We don't want to ruin this nice dinner we've prepared for Belle."
"I'm so sorry if I've offended anyone," Belle mumbled. "You all are pulling out the stops to make this a wonderful night. I don't mean to put a damper on things."
"Dearest Belle, do not apologize. You have been a gracious guest. If anyone is at fault it is this drunken Italian drama queen here."
"Non parlarmi di persone melodrammatiche, tu spastica ragazzina ridacchiante, fissata con le tazze di porcellana e maniaca dell'attenzione puttano!"
Emma's brows soared up. "Do I really have to translate that?" Her shoulder earned a good whack. "Ow! Alright!" She translated to Gold, "Do not talk to her about drama queens you spastic, girly girl giggling, china cup infatuated attention whore!"
"Wow," Hook murmured to the Charming couple, "she really is drunk, isn't she?"
"E quei pantaloni di pelle così stretti ti fanno sembrare evirato."
"Ew," the blonde turned, disgusted, on Gold, "you wore tight leather pants?"
"It was the fashion then," Hook and David retorted simultaneously.
"Still is." The pirate slapped his leather clad thigh for emphasis.
David shot him a high five but his palm got impaled upon his attachment. "Ah!" he cried in pain, blood spurting on the remaining food and into people's cups.
"Hey! I wasn't finished with that!" Emma dove to shield the bowl of potatoes from the spraying red gore.
Mary Margaret's eyes bugged out. "Oh, David!"
"Sorry mate! Really, you gotta watch me hook!"
"Stem that shit up, dad!"
Gold was laughing with tears in his eyes. "Guess whose fault it is!"
Regina growled, shooting up from her chair.
"My apologies. I don't speak broken Italian, your Majesty."
"Ecco," Regina's hand plunged into the bowl of linguine, "che ne dici se ti ficco un po' d'italiano dritto in gola?"
An arm pulled back and lobbed the handful in Gold's direction. Her aim was off, though, and the pasta smacked limply to Belle's horror stricken face.
Gold leapt from his chair. "How dare you!"
" La vendetta è dolce."
The other side of the table was experiencing the continued efforts of Mary Margaret to stop the blood flow, but David's wound was leaking like the Red Sea and only getting worse with Hook's efforts.
"Aw," the pirate cried, stomping his boot in frustration, "sorry!" The hook accidently pierced the hand again in his attempt to apply pressure.
"You're ruining all the food!"
"You want more food, Miss Swan?" Gold asked the frantic blonde. He sneered as he took up a bowl of leftover fried octopus and threw it square in Emma's face.
That enraged Regina, who slung more insults at the master chef, all vicious and all in Italian.
"It's Ursula!" Emma wailed in revulsion and swatting away at the fishy tapas rolling down her shirt. "Get her off me! Get her off me!"
An epic food fight ensued over the burgundy soaked table cloth. By the end, Belle was the only one still in her chair, weeping under a hairpiece of linguine.
"There, all better." Gold's thumb brushed her cheek leaving behind a sauce-less, pasta-less face. All other food stained areas had been magicked away, their clothes looking as crisp as the day they were laundered.
"It's good to see you using magic for good."
"Good is a point of view. Who's to say we're not out for ourselves?"
"You're helping me now. That is not the actions of a selfish man."
"This is low level magic," Gold returned simply, gesturing to their spotless clothes like it wasn't worth the praise.
"More is not always better, Rumple." She took his hand, spurring him to meet her eyes. "It's the little things, the simple ones that make life beautiful: a hamburger, a chipped cup, a kiss…"
Belle planted her soft lips on his. "That is magic."
"It's so easy to forget after… after everything."
Belle nodded her understanding. "And I wish I could be with you every step of the way, now and forever. I don't know how long I am allowed to be here, but I don't think you need me, not after what I've seen today. I think you are remembering, Rumple, and all because of this journey and these people beside you."
"What are you talking about?" Gold stepped back with an expression of appall. "We hate each other. Did you forget the anarchy of flying crab cakes and potatoes not an hour ago? Regina threw a bundle of linguine in your face!"
"It was an accident," she censured. Belle bit down a smirk. "She was aiming for you, anyway."
Gold opened his mouth in retort but was cut off.
"Those are not same people I knew back in Storybrooke. You know I have a gift for reading people, Rumple. I see people without judging. Bloodlines, past mistakes, prophesies… I don't think of those things when I look at them just as I do not with you. I've observed each and every one of them and they no longer carry the burden of revenge – at least not for you. Their way of fighting has changed. Before, it was about total destruction, humiliation. Now your quarrels are for the purpose of… well, entertaining. It is quite amusing to watch, don't ask me why," Belle added with a chuckle. "How Hook was able to stab David eight times in the same place is beyond me. For a pirate he is highly uncoordinated – unless detaching the prince's limb was his intention... And Regina's assault of asparagus spears after you threw octopus at Emma? I had never seen such wrath."
"Oh, yeah. They are an item," Gold mentioned off-handedly.
"Really?"
"But you can't tell anyone."
"I would never," Belle replied, waving a hand. Knowing what the former queen was capable of she would keep any secret of hers to the grave.
"This is absurd, Belle. You can't know these people. You've only been here a few hours."
"That's all it takes." Her hand found a place on his shoulder, squeezing some courage into him. "They're changing you. This journey is turning you into the man I know you want to be. I think being here is good for you. They are your family, after all."
"Not all of them…"
Belle bowed her head, taking the morose tone. She cursed her tactlessness. Heart aching for his loss, her chin fell to her chest. Fingers picked absently at her pressed blouse. "Do you wish it was Bae here and not me?"
"I had wished for him to be here – even brokered a deal to make it happen. But now I know that wish can never come true. You being here has made me realize what I have, not what I've lost. I'm sure Bae would understand his father choosing life over impossible resurrection. It is a far better choice and a reality I am content with. Happy, even." His head dropped, hair hanging limp to disguise the lingering pain. "There will always be some part of me that longs for my boy."
A palm cupped the side of his face, bringing his chin level with the floor. "I would never ask you to forget him. I would ask you to celebrate his memory," both hands stroking his stubbled face, "by living in happiness."
"That's were you come in."
"Yes," a sly grin rose to her lips, "if it is I who makes you happy."
"You already know… it is you. Always, my Belle."
They kissed, whispered, and caressed, luxuriating in the quiet solitude of Gold's beloved galley.
Mary Margaret was having a problem with the shower. It wouldn't start.
Still covered in the ripe scent of tomato sauce and fish, Mary Margaret worked tirelessly to get the community shower back in business. There was an entire crew probably lined up to use the thing as everyone had been hit with some food missile or another. Mary Margaret, for her part, was still gagging over the smell of decomposing shrimp and the soggy, sludge that was tomato sauce in her bustier.
Badass warrior that she was, she took to batting the shower head over with a wrench – like all it needed was some good common Charming sense knocked into it.
"Honestly, you're as dense as my husband!"
Bang! went the tool to fixture.
"You callin' for me, hon?"
David came upon his non-stealthy wife in midair, legs braced against the shower sides just like the spies she read in her favorite Tom Clancy novels. She froze with a most comical expression of 'You did not catch me butchering our one and only community shower.' Yet actions spoke louder than countenance, and her arm looped around the shower head in a choke hold and a wrench held in a downward killing strike rendered as 'assassination' to a guy like David.
"What are you doing?!" he cried, liberating the weapon from the child. "Killing is not the answer, Snow!"
"It is being a little bitch! It deserves to die!"
"There are more honorable ways to deal with 'little bitches,' you know that. Remember that bandit who stole your jewels?"
Hands flew to hips and chin jut out defiantly. "Robin was a bitch!"
"Yeah, but we decided not to execute him for that offense, didn't we?"
"I guess," Mary Margaret mumbled, bare foot toeing at the ceramic tile.
He sighed. Taking pity on his wife, he joined her in the small space and started tinkering with the fixture.
"Are you sure you should be doing that? With your hand and everything?"
"Regina did a good job of healing it." His palm went out for her to examine the evidence for herself. "See? Good as new."
"It's strange, Regina doing favors. It's unlike her to offer something that is not strictly to her advantage."
He cleared his throat and licked his lips. "Who knows?"
She nodded because who did know? Nobody.
David worked the wrench inch by painstaking inch around the base of the shower head. Taking the nail she had been worrying at between her teeth, Mary Margaret pointed at the leaking nozzle.
"Is it wise to be doing that? I thought after that one episode with Gold's magical dishwasher you wouldn't want to get anywhere near another plumbing issue."
"That was an unforeseen setback," David huffed. "I had no idea he rigged it to explode at my hands."
"Maybe we should ask Emma. She would know what to do."
"Let's not bother her."
Suspicion shadowed Mary Margaret's face. It was unlike her husband to contradict her so quickly and in such a clipped tone. "Why not?" she asked slowly.
The wrench paused in its turning. David's head cocked. He glanced over at her and said, "It's good to spend quality time together. Just us, you know?"
"I suppose."
There was a manly sigh. The wrench resumed its turning until a low groaning emanated from the shower wall. A metallic clinking rang out followed by a sputtering shower of water. Husband and wife shrieked under the stream of frigid water. David immediately went to turn the temperature up.
Their shivering turned to short giggles and eventually grew to full on laughing. Drenched from head to toe, clothes stuck to skin, and putrid leftovers running down the drain, they laughed until it hurt.
It was silly, really, how their fights got so out of hand to the point of throwing one out and leaving them alone with no one to talk to. It was silly to leave the other in a sobbing mess on the bed while you get drunk and suicidal.
"You look absolutely ridiculous," Mary Margaret wheezed, sputtering on water.
Hair plastered to his forehead, David drew his soaked, yet clean wife to his chest. "You look worse."
Smiling into their kiss, they continued to occupy the community shower into the late hours of the night.
Cleanliness is a virtue that every man, woman, and child take to heart in their own capacity. Some prefer luxurious baths or a dip in the ocean over the hot spray of a shower. Others use what special gifts given to them in the form of purple, sparkling magic. Then there are those that waste no time with magic, showers, baths, or the entire ocean surrounding them.
"Regina, slow the fuck down!"
They hadn't yet gotten to their cabin and Emma was already stripped half naked. Because Regina was too preoccupied with licking up pasta sauce in the crook of a neck it was up to the other to pick up the discarded clothing. How her bra and tank top was in the middle of the hallway was not a story she'd care to tell her mother.
Carelessly tossing her blouse over a shoulder (for Emma to pick up), Regina curled her arms around Emma's neck and placed her lips tantalizingly close against an ear. Emma's cheeks grew apple red at the throaty suggestion and proceeded to moan softly as the Italian grew thicker and more adventurous in its proposal.
"That sounds like fun," she mumbled unsteadily, walking in reverse towards what better had been their cabin, "but let's hold off until we're behind closed doors."
The reply came in the form of sharp nip to her earlobe. Emma bit down on a moan, wondering why the fuck it was taking so long to get to their cabin.
"You callin' for me, hon?"
Emma's eyes flew open.
"Shit!" she hissed, clamping a hand over her mouth. "That's my dad!"
Regina replied something about how there's nothing he had heard before that would surprise him and continued suckling on the flesh of Emma's ear.
Grabbing her hand, Emma hauled them the few feet to their quarters, growling, "Come on!"
They winced as the door slammed with a crack. Making sure the lock was engaged Emma fell back against the door with a sigh. Regina just went on giggling in her drunken state, arms now around the blonde's waist, and nearly inclined on her body.
Among the many Italian phrases and expressions she was filing away for present and future use, Emma was also figuring out how frisky a drunk the queen could be. Things would have gone so much easier for Emma if she had taken advantage of that information back when the mayor was in power. Though uncoordinated and frighteningly brazen, Regina had no problems turning on her partner. Powers of persuasion intact, she could literally get Emma to do anything with the simple sigh of, 'Per favore?' It was ironic how the drunk was the one taking control and advantage of the sober one. But that was Regina for you.
Bypassing the shower, bath, ocean, and even the magic at hand to both, Emma and Regina resorted to cleaning each other up in more pleasurable ways. As per Regina's suggestion, they sucked, licked, and savored every food splattered surface of their bodies, garlic butter sauce and all. The feeling of a tongue curved into an orifice sent their spines quaking. Lips lapping deeply while nails raked, causing one to let loose a string of Italian profanities – the other a plethora of curses in English when the lavishing was returned with biting teeth and an unforgiving drawing of the mouth.
Giving Emma a run for her money, it only took Regina a tweak and a kiss to get her on her back in bed.
"Voglio che tu… " Regina breathed against a pale, nipped throat. Her vision blurred slightly, whether from the wine or Emma's submission she didn't care. "Voglio… I want che tu… mi faccia urlare…"
The effects of the wine were wearing off and so was the accent.
Emma sighed, neck arching into lips and hands roughly pulling the licked clean figure closer. "English, now," came the order.
"I… I want you to make me scream," moaned Regina. Another sigh escaped, low and long when a hand cupped her sex. Neglected and achingly wet, she was begging for release. Multiples if she played her cards right.
"Fuck," gasped Emma. She was proud that it was a curse rather than a sob because her fingers were bathed in Regina, and the sensation of heat coating her hands coupled with sloppy open kisses to her neck and their erect nipples brushing… well, 'fuck' was a more appropriate response.
Regina keened to the fingers entering her. Remarkably at peace with the invasion, she started a rocking motion that intensified every thrust from Emma.
Emma frowned and pulled back regretfully. "What about someone hearing? These walls are –"
Hips stilled. "Soundproof spell, dear." Regina waved her hand pointedly. "I did it ages ago ever since you made that sound when I did that one thing…"
"Ahhh," she drawled. Situating her body more comfortably under the weight, Emma squirmed atop the strewn blanket. "Yeah, by the way you have to show me how you managed that," she added nonchalantly, as if they were not naked and in the middle of more pressing activities. Emma's brows went up to show her captivation. "It felt wonderful."
"Well, if you stop talking and…" Regina gazed pointedly to the hand unmoving between her thighs, "…follow through I would be more than happy to return the favor."
A mischievous sparkle (the one so often shining in green eyes when Regina was on the edge of orgasm or nearly there) displayed. Emma curled the tips of her two fingers just enough. She smirked when a broken cry emanated from Regina. "If I'm getting lucky tonight I better be quick about this."
Regina chuckled and replied, "Not at the expense of quality, I hope." She kissed Emma's mouth soundly.
Emma brought a free hand up to a breast, massaging and feeling the weight against her palm. Her fingers found a rigid peak, giving it all the attention with a brush around the area to tease, and scraping nail to elicit a hitched breath, and a rolling pinch for good measure.
"You saying I don't take care of your needs?" Emma inquired after sucking and nipping casually on a bottom lip.
There was a noncommittal grunt. Regina ran her hands up the woman's sides and curled around the back of her shoulders. Not timid enough to start begging, she used the leverage to bound on the fingers too shallow for her liking.
"It's funny because every time after you… you know…"
"No," Regina hissed impatiently in her ear, "I don't. Tell me."
"Well, um…"
Regina chuckled at the adorable blonde, face scrunched in reticence. "I don't understand such nonsense words. Why don't you demonstrate for me?"
Her hips ground down on Emma, signaling her meaning.
Minutes later Emma had the woman panting to her boring fingers. Back arched and nails dragging down bare flesh Regina rode to a screaming finish (as promised). Emma watched with subdued need, giving her partner all the time she needed to make the moment last, to make it meaningful. She refused to blink, not bearing to miss a single ripple of pleasure, or sigh, or rush of heat running through her fingers. The muscles in Regina's neck stretched to the cries of a name that had Emma grinning like a fool. In that moment, as in every moment from then on, she would not – could not – imagine choosing anyone else over this woman.
Gasping, Regina allowed herself a few minutes of blissful serenity before resuming the conversation. "You were saying?" she asked, drawing shapes above a pale breast.
"Well, every time after you…"
"I think we've established that part."
Emma smirked through her blush. "…I always wait for some snarky comment to come out of your mouth."
"What 'snarky comment' are you referring to, Princess?"
"Well, like at that town hall meeting when I totally misjudged your playground initiative you said, 'I hope you're satisfied.' Or those dozen or so times you leave saying, 'Enjoy this,' 'Enjoy that.'"
"Mmm, I almost forget how much fun those days were."
"Heeey!"
"Oh, don't worry. You still look like a frightened rabbit every time I get one up on you."
"Wow," Emma huffed, crossing her arms and looking unreasonably put out despite her naked state, "what grateful behavior after that wall shattering moment I gave you."
"I promised to return the favor. Do you not trust me?"
Emma turned away, brows crinkled together to get across the point that she wasn't taking this shit.
"That's too bad because I was set on making waffles tomorrow." Regina shrugged, unaffected, and peeled herself off the woman.
A blonde head turned back. Never had an expression turned from offense to outright enthrallment at lightspeed quickness. "Wait, what?"
Regina scoffed at the expectant, wide green eyes. "It really says something about you that you'd take my waffles over my more pleasurable services."
Emma's head cocked innocently. "I can't have both?"
The pout paired with puppy dog eyes did wonders on Regina and Emma knew it. That sweet, harmless 'I'm just a girl looking at another girl asking for a little food and good lovin'' did things to the cold, hard parts of Regina. The brunette cursed her softening reserve.
"My princess gets anything and everything," she responded with all the sincerity her mouth offered.
Emma pressed her lips back in silent thanks.
Without hesitation Regina kissed a path down Emma's body to dine on the sweet nectar between spread legs.
"And if I catch you saying, 'Enjoy that' I will turn down those waffles for real."
Returning from a nice swim in the ocean, Hook whistled down the hallway on his way for a snack. A few laps around the ship was good to work up an appetite, not to mention he got rid of some of the blood from his hook and food caught in his hair.
A few paces from the galley, he hoped Gold cleaned the place of rotting fish and asparagus spears lodged in the walls. He stroked his belly, dreaming up delectable options available in the form of an ice cream carton. The moans and banging against a table could not be heard over his rumbling tummy.
Opening the door to the galley he stumbled upon a sight no one with eyes should see.
"Aw," he groaned, "not the table! We ate on that table!"
A mortified Belle leapt away from Gold who threw down the zucchini as if it was a hot potato. It was too late, though; the captain saw it and wailed like a little boy who walked in on his parents going at it.
Hook flew from the galley, clawing at his eyes and bumping into the hallway walls at a speed fast enough to transport himself to the final circle of Hell.
"It's like the Food Network version Ghost! What the bloody fuck is wrong with you people?!"
His screams of anguish echoed throughout the Jolly Roger, but could not be heard over the lucky, good times being had by the rest of the crew.
