There are a lot of things that become Constant Topics of Conversation once they find out they’re having triplets. Emma’s personal favorite topic: Regina’s Fucking Amazing Pregnancy Tits. Regina’s changes depending on the week and time of day. Early in the morning, when she is crabby from lack of sleep and sore muscles, her only topics are getting Henry ready for school and cursing Emma’s magic—although as the months progress, she tries to soften her words (a little). Mid-afternoon, she talks about food. Emma thinks it’s hilarious and, one day, takes screenshots of Regina’s texts over the course of three hours in which she lists her favorite snack foods in every cuisine available in Storybrooke and then some.
(When she sends the pictures to Henry, he bikes over to the grocery store and picks up three boxes of frozen churros. Emma is sure that Regina will refuse, but by the time she gets home, the two of them have eaten a box and a half between them. The third box has Emma’s name written on it in Sharpie and she makes a point to thank Henry out of Regina’s earshot.)
There is a space of about a month and a half, right around month five, when sex comes up as often as food. When sex happens as often as food. Regina starts talking about sex in terms of food and when Emma sleeps through her lunch hour instead of meeting Regina for a quickie, she learns more than the original meaning of ‘aperitif’ before dinner. By month seven, when Regina starts entirely freaking out about her weight gain and refusing to let Emma touch her, Emma is almost grateful. At least, she sleeps like the dead for close to a week, and then remembers that their obstetrician warned against sex after 30 weeks—something about risks to multiples and also magic babies—and does her best to shower Regina with adoration-sex for the week they have left.
But the real Constant Topic of Conversation is names. And at first—when all they know is three babies and are still torn between giddy and petrified—it’s light-hearted and joking and they even spend two afternoons flipping through baby name books from 1983 and searching baby websites for the most outrageous names.
And then it gets real, and shit hits the fan.
Happy December, y’all! I actually started writing this fic last year, but never got it finished. So I decided to knock it out this year as a first of December gift. It’s set sometime in Season 1 before the curse broke. Hope you all enjoy!
Title is taken from the song of the same name, performed by the cast of Dirty Rotten Scoundrels on the BC/EFA Carols For A Cure Volume 8 CD. It also served as a bit of an inspiration for this fic.
"Are you sure about this?" Emma frowns as she takes the paper bag from Ruby’s outstretched hands and sneaks a peek at its contents.
"Positive." Ruby grins at her.
"I don’t know, Rubes."
"Emma, trust me. You wanna get the mayor? This is the way to do it. It’s fool proof."
Emma chews her lip as she once again looks inside the bag. “Really?”
"Fool. Proof." Ruby winks.
Emma should know better.
say something | regina & emma
I AM NOT OKAY. That is fucking beautiful and what kind of sorcery went into making it so quickly? And what even are my feels rn I can’t even begin to process this.
This kind of sorcery is called obsession. I wouldn’t recommend it. Only those who function with high levels of emotions 24/7 can handle.
look. at. the. way. they. look. at. each. uh. ther. gET. OUT. OF. HERE.
WHY.I. just noooooooo too much perfection and sadness!!!
my gift to you; [ emma/regina ]
Title taken from a joke Cecily Strong made on Weekend Update on Saturday Night Live.
Sunday, December 15, 2013
He’s sitting on Emma’s desk when she comes into the station that morning, bleary eyed and cursing the fact that she needs to work on a Sunday morning. Weekends are supposed to be time off, but with everything that’s happened since getting back from Neverland, she’s got plenty of paperwork to catch up on. She doesn’t notice him at first, too busy juggling her hot chocolate and bear claw while trying to get her coat off, but he catches her eye as she moves to sit down.
“Well hello there.” She says, a smile slowly stretching across her face as she takes in the sight of him, all dressed up in a red coat and Santa hat. “Where did you come from?”
1. Christmas 2013
“Regina!” Emma calls across the square as she jogs over, hands shoved in the pockets of her red leather jacket, and blonde hair streaming out behind her as she moves. Regina pulls her own black wool coat a little tighter, thankful for the warmth of it and the lined dress she wears beneath; sometimes just catching sight of Emma and her clothes that are never quite weather appropriate are enough to make Regina shiver.
The first time Emma Swan cooked for Regina Mills was as an apology. Sure, getting her fancypants Merc towed had seemed funny at the time but Emma wasn’t laughing after an irate mayor stormed into the sheriff’s office, hair looking like small rampaging birds had attacked it, her stylish, long black jacket soaked through and her stockinged legs mud-spattered.
Pinned with a glare that promised a decades-long, torturous vengeance, Emma finally understood why people once called Regina the Evil Queen. Because seeing was believing.
"I know what you did,"
there's something i haven't told you.