A/N 1: Started writing this before the events of 3x15, so the fic either takes place before 3x15 or should be considered AU.

Emma doesn't immediately move upon waking. Regina's left hand is curled securely around Emma's hip and her head's propped against her other hand, elbow braced on the arm of the couch. If Emma wanted to, she could nose further into Regina's neck and fall back asleep. Instead, Emma lets her gaze drift over an expanse of throat and collarbone. She feels aware of the immediacy of the present, of the sound of their breathing and the rise and fall of Regina's chest under her. Eventually (too soon, dammit) Regina stirs. She murmurs, "You're awake. How do you feel?"

Emma hums noncommittally. "'Bout the same. Still tired."

"You missed the movie."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Well," Regina says with finality. And here it is, Emma realizes with a pang. Regina thinks she's done her duty and she's about ready to leave Emma alone once more—"We'll just have to find one that will hold your interest."

Emma peers up at Regina. "Wait. Really?" Regina turns her head slightly, a smile pulling at her lips, and Emma feels her breath on her cheek.

"Miss Swan, are you that unfamiliar with the concept of a movie marathon?"

"No, that's, I mean, that sounds good." Emma's grinning weakly. Stop that, she tells herself. "But first I need to, uh—"

"Ah." Regina's arm loosens around her and Emma misses the contact. But her bladder is seriously going to explode if she doesn't get to a bathroom right the fuck now. She starts to stand. She thinks better of it immediately.

"Just gonna give that a sec," Emma says nonchalantly. Little stars burst behind her eyelids. Her head is throbbing. Regina's hand moves on her back, distracting her until her vision clears.

"Ready?"

"Nope." She stands anyway, coughs a few times. Regina cups her elbow but Emma waves her off. "I got this."

"If you're sure."

"Yeah. Thanks."

The toilet seat's cold and the heat leaks from her exposed skin quickly. She's shivering by the time she comes out of the bathroom. Regina's moving around in the kitchen, so Emma wraps the blanket around herself and slumps into the couch alone. Jesus, you'd think that taking a two-hour nap would have helped with the headache, but no.

"Emma. Drink this." There's another mug of green tea under her nose. Emma sighs but takes it anyway. She sips dutifully until she can't choke down any more. Shit, she could swear the coffee table's about a mile from the couch. How the hell is everything so far away now that she's sick, like, has the loft magically expanded? Has Regina magically expanded it? No, that's dumb, why would Regina even do something like that...

Regina's hands cover hers for a second as she takes the mug from Emma. "Perhaps we should get you back to bed."

"No," Emma says too quickly. "No, I've been in bed all day. Bed is boring. Besides, we're having a movie marathon, right?"

"Right," Regina says, lips pursing. "Then you should pick something, shouldn't you?"

"Oh. Yeah. Just pop in whatever you grab, doesn't matter." Emma's focused on burrowing into Regina's shoulder again. She shivers and draws her feet up behind her. God, she's freezing.

"You'd have to let me up first, dear."

"Hmm?"

"I can't very well put the movie in from here."

"From..."

Regina explains patiently, as if to a particularly dense child, "I'd have to leave the couch."

And deprive Emma of her personal heat source? Not happening. "TV's fine."

"I'm sorry?"

"TV instead."

Regina starts flipping through channels. All twelve of them. Of course her parents don't have cable. "Low-brow comedy reruns, a subpar thriller, Law and Order, infomercials."

"Do you even have to ask?"

Regina sighs, clicks back to Mariska Hargitay's face. "I suppose not."

"She's awesome. And hot," Emma mumbles.

"Whatever you say, dear."

"You can't deny it. Hot like fire."

"No, dear. You are."

"Ha, I knew—what?"

She can only see the corner of Regina's mouth, but she knows that damn smirk even from the side. "You have a fever, Emma. You're shivering, yet you're abnormally warm to the touch."

"I'm pretty sure," Emma says judiciously, "that you might have just made a joke."

"It's quite possible. I can be very funny."

"Oh, I bet you can."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Emma is about to make an ill-considered comment about having an evil sense of humor, but suddenly it feels like someone's pounding an ice pick through her temples. She squeezes her eyes shut and inhales sharply.

"Emma? What's wrong?"

"Headache. Bad," she manages to get out. She screws up her entire face at the next stab of pain, then groans in protest as Regina abruptly pushes her up and leans forward to dig in the bag.

"Here. Painkillers." Emma knocks them back and lets Regina take the glass of water from her after she's done. "You'll feel better in a few minutes."

"Unh." Emma shuts her eyes again and lapses into silence. Regina's still propping her up. After a few moments, a hand grazes Emma's temple and traces a tentative circle. Emma turns her head into it in a silent plea for more. Fingers slip into her hair and a thumb begins to rub against her temple. Emma whimpers and Regina's hand flattens against her cheek.

"Lie down, Emma."

She lowers herself gratefully. Regina's put one of the throw pillows in her lap and Emma sighs as she feels it against the pressure point at the base of her head. Then there are fingers skimming her temples and fingernails lightly raking over the top of her skull. They don't speak. The television is on low in the background.

"Better?" Regina asks after what has to be ten or fifteen minutes.

"Yeah, that felt really good. Thanks." Emma turns onto her side and curls up again. They watch the screen for a while. "Henry's lucky," Emma hears herself say. "To have you. You're really good at ... all this. At everything. You're ... you're pretty ... yeah." Regina draws in a breath. Emma sucks one in too—to say what, she doesn't know—and is overcome by a coughing fit. She sees stars again. When she's finished, she's shaking. Regina pulls the blanket up around her and rests a hand on her shoulder.

"You need to get some real rest, dear. I'm going to move you upstairs."

"Nah," Emma says. She turns her face into the pillow to muffle another cough. "Gotta finish this episode, right? Anyway, I'm good right here."

Regina sighs. "Difficult as always, Miss Swan," she says. She moves a few strands of hair off Emma's face.

"Yeah, well. 's why you like me."

"I do not."

"Aw, come on. You do, a little."

"I find you tolerable at best."

"Lying," Emma murmurs, not even opening her eyes.

Regina's still stroking her hair absent-mindedly. "No, you can be quite tolerable."

"Just like you can be funny, huh?"

"Emma."

"Yeah?"

"Be quiet and watch your ridiculous procedural."

"'s not ridiculous. But long as you keep rubbing my head like that, I'll do whatever you say."

"Oh, will you?"

"Within reason, yeah."

"...You should start curling your hair again."

Emma's eyes pop open. She turns onto her back again so she can look at Regina. "Are you serious right now?"

"Yes," Regina says matter-of-factly. "The waves are all right, I suppose, but you shouldn't straighten your hair. The curls complement your facial structure much better."

"Wow. Okay. Because they work so well with the sea breeze and the weather out here."

"You seemed to manage for an entire year."

"Oh, you were paying attention?"

Is Regina blushing a little? "Don't flatter yourself," she says, scowling. "You insinuated yourself into my life at every turn. And it's my practice to note even the little details about my enemies."

"Enemies? Wow, and here I thought we were bonding," Emma says lightly. She turns back onto her side.

Regina sniffs. She's not touching Emma any more. "Hardly. I'm only taking care of you at our son's request. If it were up to me, I certainly wouldn't be here."

"I'm well aware of that." Emma doesn't mean to sound hurt at Regina's dismissive tone. It slips out anyway, because ... Damn it. Emma clenches her jaw, which doesn't help with her receding headache. She knows Regina's bad at, like, friendship-type things. And of course Regina's gone all stiff again and they're staring at the TV in uncomfortable silence, which is really the opposite of what Emma wants. So—"Okay," she says.

"Okay?"

"I'll curl it. Not all the time. But some of the time."

"Oh," Regina says softly. "Well ... good."

When she feels Regina's hand sweep over her hair again, Emma lets her eyes drift shut once more. The tension dissipates with each stroke until her headache is completely gone. And yeah, so maybe Emma should get sick more often, because she's kind of enjoying it. Minus the gallons of tea Regina's pouring down her throat, of course.

Shit, she has to pee again.

The knock on the door is the last thing Emma wants to hear. "Expecting someone?" Regina asks. Emma grunts in response. She's really not a fan of the part where she has to move and let Regina get up. She is, however, definitely a fan of the view as the woman walks away.

She can't see who's at the door initially because Regina's in the way, but the way Regina abruptly goes still sets off every alarm bell in Emma's head. Whoever it is, this is bad. Emma starts to hoist herself off the couch, cursing the fact that her gun is still upstairs, but what the hell, Neal's peeking around Regina with that shit-eating grin.

"Gentlemen," Regina says, and by all rights the ice in her voice should be enough to freeze the balls off the two men standing at the door of Emma's parents' house. Because it's not just Neal, of course, Neal with his arms full of candy and a stuffed bear (seriously? Who is she, her mother?). Hook is there too. With a bouquet of roses in one hand and a goddamned balloon tied to his goddamned hook and what the fuck is her life.

"Hey, Emma," Neal says. "Uh, you didn't answer any of my texts, so..."

"So you thought you'd simply show up?" Regina says disdainfully. Neal looks at his feet.

Hook peers around Regina's other shoulder and winks at Emma. "Bit of a surprise and all that, aye, but seemed the thing to do on this ... quaint holiday of yours. Ran into the lad on my way here, of course; we clearly had the same idea." The men exchange a look.

She feels her headache coming back. "Guys. Can we just ... not? For once?"

"Emma is not feeling well," Regina informs them.

"Want us to stick around, love? Cheer you up a bit?" Hook says, looking hopefully at Emma.

Neal pipes up. "Chocolate might help you feel better. Got your favorites, Em!"

Her favorites. Yes, the cheap box of filled chocolates that taste like someone injected them with fruit-flavored puke, the ones she'd been happy to get just because Neal (someone, anyone) had cared enough to give them to her.

"Uh..."

"And I could bring over some of your favorite movies. Get you some ginger ale or something."

"Thanks, but..."

"I have this tea I picked up on one of my voyages. Said to have curative powers, and it can also double as an aphr—"

Regina's had enough. "Your presence is neither necessary nor desirable, pirate. Nor yours, Baelfire. I am more than capable of taking care of Miss Swan on my own. I will take your ... gifts ... and you'll leave Emma to her rest. Now."

Neal pouts a little, which used to be endearing. Hook looks at Regina, at Emma, back at Regina. "Aye, I'd say you're quite capable, aren't you," he says softly. "Come on then, mate, we're in the way here. Think there's a drink special down at that tavern you frequent..."

Regina shuts the door behind them, strides across the room, and unceremoniously drops the gifts onto the dining room table. The balloon goes sailing up into the loft's rafters. Emma follows it with her eyes. Someone's gonna have to get that down, she thinks distantly. Maybe Mary Margaret will shoot it with an arrow.

"Thanks."

"For what? Stranding your balloon?" The other woman's eyes flash.

"Uh, for getting rid of them for me. Wasn't really up to it."

"I don't understand why you tolerate those two. They're tiresome and unnecessary."

"They're not so bad. Aside from the weird rape-y humor and puppy-dog eyes and constant stalking." Huh. Sounds worse when I say it out loud.

Regina presses her lips together and leans down to collect Emma's mug and glass. "I'll be sure to invite them to stay for dinner next time."

"Why, when you so clearly want me all to yourself?" Emma says flippantly, and Regina freezes for a fraction of a second. Wait. What?

"Don't be ridiculous. As we've established, I'm here because Henry requested it. I have better things to do with my time than run off your pathetic suitors or play nursemaid." She stalks off to the kitchen. Emma lies there, blinking up at the ceiling, and tries to make her muzzy brain work.

"Regina," Emma says at length.

"What."

"Look, you can go home if you really want. You've seriously done a great job taking care of me and I'll be fine on my own. But I'm pretty sure there's a rule about not abandoning movie marathons right in the middle."

Regina appears in her field of vision. "Shall I call back your harem? I'm sure they'd love to help you finish."

"I don't want them here."

"Don't you? Then why do you keep encouraging them to follow you around?"

"I don't encourage them."

"No, you just hid behind me."

"Because I'm sick! Not really up for them right now."

"Right now?" Regina's lip curls. "Make up your mind, Emma."

"I meant dealing with them. Not—" Emma rubs her forehead. It's beginning to throb again. "Jesus, you know what I mean."

"I'm sure I don't." They glare at each other for a moment. "I should go," Regina says. "I will see to it you get to bed and then I am going home to my son. There's soup in the fridge and you will drink one more cup of tea."

Emma sighs. "Enough with the fluids, seriously. My back teeth are floating."

"You need to hydrate. You don't drink enough water anyway."

"And you know this how?"

"I told you. I make it a point to—"

"Know your enemies, yeah, yeah, yeah." Emma sits up slowly, blows out a breath. She knows what the other woman's doing, she's felt that pushback time and again, but before she didn't know what it meant. Her voice is gentler when she says, "Listen, Regina, I—"

"You should visit the bathroom first," Regina says, turning away. "I'll clean up."

Damn this woman. "Okay," she says.

She comes back out feeling dizzy. Regina's waiting for her with a fresh mug. Emma sways a little and Regina's hand shoots out to steady her. "You are pitiful, Miss Swan," Regina murmurs.

"Just get me upstairs. Please."

The goddamn teleport or whatever messes with Emma's inner ear again, because when they arrive the entire room is spinning and she feels like she's about to hurl. She stumbles forward, lands against Regina and holds on for dear life. "Shit," she mutters. "Sorry. Sorry."

"Miss Swan," Regina's throaty voice warns in her ear. "Let go."

"Regina. You real fond of those boots?"

"Am I—what does that have to do with anything?"

Emma says through clenched teeth, "'Cause I'm gonna lose it all over them if I move right now."

"...All right. We'll just stay here."

Emma keeps holding on, face pressed into the warm slope of Regina's neck, too tired and unsteady to move. She feels the other woman's free hand slide on her lower back after a few moments. Regina traces small circles until the dizziness subsides, and Emma wonders at this woman who has taken such joy in inflicting pain and who is so good at taking it away. "Tell Henry," she says into Regina's shoulder. "Good movie night. Sick day. Whatever. I had fun."

"I'll tell him," Regina says quietly.

"Yeah," Emma says. She pulls back, keeps a hand on Regina's forearm as she sits down on the bed. "Hey. I owe you one."

"You owe me nothing, Emma." Regina's eyes are almost regretful as she hands Emma the tea. Without thinking, Emma circles Regina's wrist with her free hand. Because Regina looks sad and because Emma wants to touch her, always wants to touch her. Because of that half-second pause earlier.

"Okay. Well. Maybe you owe me something." She tugs a little. Regina makes a face, but she perches carefully on the edge of her bed.

"Oh? And what would that be?"

Emma holds up a finger and slurps at the steaming liquid for a few moments. When she's let Regina stew enough, she sets the mug down and grins a little. "Payback for all this tea. I want a chance to pour something down your throat."

"I see. Do you have a plan for your revenge, dear?"

"Oh, definitely. You. Me. Drinks at the Rabbit Hole. Just, you know. Hanging out."

"Hanging out," Regina repeats. "Certainly sounds like a productive use of my time."

Emma's grin widens, because Regina's making fun of her and because she still hasn't pulled her wrist from Emma's loose grip or mentioned how Emma's toes are kind of tucked under her thigh. "I guarantee you it will be productive."

"I don't really do 'hanging out.'"

"Yeah, well, we were doing a pretty good job until those losers showed up. Come on ... I'm gonna go crazy cooped up in here, so it'll be fun to get out after I'm better. I promise you'll have a good time. I'll buy you your favorite drink."

The older woman hesitates. "Do you know what my favorite drink is?"

"Come with me and you'll find out."

"Hmph," Regina says, standing, and Emma chuckles and swings her legs under the covers because she knows Regina won't say yes but she'll show up anyway.

"Gonna tuck me in?" she says, snuggling into her pillow.

"You are a child."

"Of legal drinking age."

"Just so you know, I could drink you under the table, Miss Swan."

"Like to see you try," Emma says sleepily, eyelids lowering. "Drive safe."

"Safely."

"Whatever."

She's almost drifted off completely when she hears Regina say, "Good night, Emma." She wants to respond, but she's so, so tired. A fingertip traces her hairline along her temple and Emma surrenders to the pull of sleep.

When she wakes, she feels about a hundred times better. Her parents fuss over her after they get back. It's kind of uncomfortable, but she lets them, mostly.

She won't let Mary Margaret shoot the balloon down.

A/N 2: Thanks for reading! Sequel is in the works.