A/N: This is one of two prompts I've written for christmas presents this year. This one is for my friend, the lovely femphoenix on here, under the prompt of snow/ice, and angst. Not entirely sure when this is set, but post curse breaking, anyway...Hope you enjoy and please review! :)

Four twenty.

Four twenty and the grey slate that plays backdrop to a weak winter sun begins to seep a delicate indigo.

Four Twenty and evening begins to fall; the daylight hours short, sweet and perfectly characteristic of Northern Maine weather this time of year.

Perfectly normal.

And just about the only thing in their little town that is.

Four twenty and the Mayor purses her lips as she regards the stylish silver clock adorning the west wall of her kitchen for just a moment longer.

She had come here, into the kitchen, in order to make a start on dinner; the hour a little young to be sitting down to an evening meal, but she is as militarian in her cooking preparation as she had once been about her running of the town... And at least potatoes are not subject to cheap leather and store-bought dye getting in the way of her plans.

Or, so she would have liked to believe...

But, yet, here she is; four twenty, darkness creeping in for the night, and not a sign of her son to be seen.

It would seem the Sheriff is able to get in the way of even the most simple of life's tasks after all.

"It's too bad even that idiot might see through the offer of another turnover... Perhaps a pie...?"

She muses irritably beneath her breath as she plucks her phone from her pocket and places a call to the Station while resting her free hand impatiently on her hip. Her call requires only the depression of a single key, as both the Station and Emma's personal number are stored into her phone's speed-dial; a fact that- though it has proven necessary- is still much to her displeasure.

Six hollow rings and then she is downgraded to voicemail.

Graham's voice.

Still.

But then by now, she doesn't know why she even bothers to find herself surprised.

"Honestly, dear, if not for the fact that my head would be on a plate due to your most undeserved favour amongst the idiot cretins we oversee, I feel I should have a perfect right to demand your abdication from your position for the simple fact that this town is seemingly paying you to drink coffee and perfect your chair-balancing technique..."

She growls as she hangs up; subsequently adding her increasing habit of conversing with herself to the long list of grievances for which Emma Swan can- and must- be blamed.

She doesn't bother trying the younger woman's mobile- history having taught her that the very fact that she owns such a device frequently escapes the blonde's memory- and proceeds simply to march into the hallway and don her coat and winter boots; damning both the snow and the Savior beneath her breath.

Pulling into the thick snow that blankets the Station's parking lot with a moment's blind panic as the back end of her Benz fishtails towards the Sheriff's bug, Regina applies the handbrake forcefully and glares up at the dull brick of the building before her.

A strand of plain, white christmas lights hangs in merry waves above the main door, and the brunette has to admit, this is a vast improvement on the garish, flashing bulbs she had seen the Sheriff help desecrate the Diner with; Ruby standing obediently at the bottom of a rather rickety looking ladder like a well-trained, scantily dressed puppy dog, while the blonde had balanced precariously atop its highest rung, clad in ghastly red leather and wielding a hammer.

The Mayor had sniffed as she'd made her way past this little scene, with the thought that it was perhaps too fanciful a wish that Emma might incur a fatal accident tumbling down onto the pavement below... And perhaps take Ruby out with her for good measure.

"It never hurts to dream..."

She mutters now, pushing open her door and stepping out into the soft crest of snow with a crunch.

The immediate ruckus that heralds her exit of the car has her clenching her teeth angrily.

Through the curious lull of natural sound that seems to occur as an inexplicable, subsequent phenomena of thick fallen snow, she is greeted with an excited, gleeful whoop, carried flawlessly by the frigid wind, which is answered by a breathless holler, culminating in a communal shriek and harmonious giggling.

"That does not sound like work..."

A low, sultry growl, and the Mayor slips her hands into her pockets and bows her head against the worst of the icy wind as she stalks purposely past the path leading to the Station, and around the back of the building.

Coming to a stop at the corner of dusky brick, she lets out an audible sigh as she surveys the vast expanse of emptiness that usually sits as an untouched excess of abandonned tarmac overlooked by the Station's bathroom and kitchenette.

Now, the entire area is blanketed a blinding white; broken sporadically by deep imprints zigzagging haphazardly this way and that. The sorry remains- or, perhaps, the unfinished beginnings- of a snowman bars her way, beyond which several long grooves in the virginal white powder lead to what she is irked to discover is the lid of one of the Station's trashcans onto which a long piece of rope has been tied.

Skirting the forlorn snow-creature irritably, she makes her way further into the yard; marching up to where Henry and the blonde run around like lunatics, completely oblivious to her presence.

"This is how you behave while on the clock?"

She raises her voice to be heard over a theatrical scream as Emma overhands a snowball to smack smartly into the boy's outstretched, defensive hands.

The Sheriff stumbles slightly as she comes to a sudden halt in her movements of scooping up a new weapon with which to smite their child, and she looks up at the Queen with a comically guilty expression; cheeks pink and the tip of her nose red with cold beneath a ridiculous woollen hat and hellishly tousled hair.

"Regina..."

She dusts her gloves off briskly against the garish leather of her jacket and surveys their surroundings for a moment before seemingly deciding there is no way of making this look like she's somehow working as she should be. Accepting her charge, she simply shrugs sheepishly and offers the darker woman a bemused half-smile.

"Not really a whole lot to do with it being a snow day and all..."

"Oh really? Pavements covered in ice and people driving in unsafe conditions spells a slow day at the office for you, does it, Sheriff?"

"Well... I mean yours is the only car I've actually seen out on the road... And... Uh... Look, we've only been out here for about twenty minutes, okay?... Maybe thirty... I've made sure the place is gritted, I've put out the caution signs, I've done the paperwork I had set aside for today... I mean, I even sent through and signed those documents you wanted by Monday-"

"-You've done something I asked, and it's not late! Congratulations-

"-Regina... Come on... The kid wanted to play out in the snow and it's all supposed to melt before Friday..."

"I have no qualms with Henry playing in the snow. My issue lies with you..."

"Mom, we were just-"

Henry pipes up, but Regina shakes her head at him sternly.

"- I can see what you were 'just' doing, Henry, and, while I'm sure you were having fun- though Miss Swan has neglected to find you a scarf or even a hat I see- there is really no excuse for slacking on what is already a complete farce of a job."

"Hey!"

"Oh come on, Sheriff, what is it that you honestly do?"

Regina grumbles; cordially ignoring the small flash of orange that catches her peripheral vision from where the blonde has indeed put up signs here, and in the rest of town to demand caution due to the weather conditions.

This irritable inquiry garners a scowl from the Sheriff, who sniffs and turns to the boy a little defeatedly.

"Go with Regina, Henry. I'll see you tomorrow... Not that I actually have any work to do now, but I can't be bothered to argue for the sake of twenty minutes."

She offers a warm smile despite her clear agitation, and the Mayor huffs angrily; immensely tired of Emma's expert way of making herself sound like the victim in any situation, while subsequently implying that she herself is entirely in the wrong.

"Henry, go wait in the car..."

Her son rolls his eyes to match the way the blonde rolls her own, and Regina balls up her fists irritably within her coat pockets.

Waiting until the small brunet has trudged off out of sight, followed by the audible slam of a car door, Regina turns back to Emma with her hands on her hips.

"Do you honestly expect me just to let this show of insubordination go?"

"Oh, cool it. This has nothing to do with the fact I'm out here rather than in the Station, and you know it."

"I beg your pardon? I believe it has everything to do with the fact you're out here despite being paid to be at your desk-"

"-No. It doesn't. It's about the fact I was out here with Henry... Seriously, Regina, when are you going to let it go? The curse broke, you tried to poison me and then convinced me to slay a dragon. I saved you from a wraith, you in turn pulled me out of a goddamn well-portal-thing and saved my life, and you're still going to make my life hell in hopes I'll leave!? Why? Why can't you just let it go? He lives with you now, things are basically the way they were- just with more dwarves and a werewolf that wears heels- I'm not trying to take him away from you... So why can't you just let us have some fun?!"

"... Are you done? Because you're on the clock, Miss Swan, just as I told you a minute ago..."

"Regina... Every kid wants to play in the snow... When I came here, you were the one that told me that Henry didn't really have any friends. Kind of makes sense now, gotta say... But... It's not like you were about to go do it..."

"Excuse me?!"

"You heard me."

"How dare you-"

"-I never said it was a bad thing! I never said 'oh, Madame Mayor, your lack of snowman building expertise points to you being a terrible mother', I'm just saying you and I have different ways of interacting with Henry! I-"

"-Correct! I feed him, clothe him and watch over him, just I have done for the last eleven years! Meanwhile you show up as and when the idea of having some fun suits you! My way of interacting with Henry is as it should be- as his mother- you?! Well, you just seem to be after a friend that likes fooling around and feeding off of your chaos now and then! It's not good enough, Miss Swan! Since your arrival in town my son's grades have dropped, his nightmares have soared, and he's suffered at least two near-death experiences!"

"How were those my fault?!"

"Because you should have never come back with him! You can't just have a child when you fancy it! This has nothing to do with you taking pity on Henry and wanting to make sure the boy got to play in the snow! A mother would at least have checked their child was wearing suitable attire! You wanted to play in the snow, and Henry made a convenient companion... Get a dog, Miss Swan!"

Regina growls, throwing her hands up in the air in finality as her breath comes out in misted, angry puffs. She narrows her eyes as Emma's own widen with childish hurt and shakes her head; telling herself she is not seriously about to let the idiot blonde stir up feelings of guilt from her.

Surely not.

She had simply-

"Ah!"

A choked, uninhibited cry, and the Mayor staggers back with her hand pressed to her cheek in stunned disbelief.

"Just go away, Regina!"

The blonde yells; her own words coming out choked with salt rather than shock as she sniffs angrily.

Two seconds later, she is already regretting throwing a snowball at the Mayor, but then, she argues this to be a time when the brunette had well and truly deserved it.

"Have you lost your damn mind!?"

Regina shouts furiously; her mouth open and her hand still pressed over the blinding pain below her left eye.

"Oh chill out! It was just a snowball!"

Emma growls irritably, but just a little guiltily. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she glowers at the Mayor awkwardly; not sure whether she should be making a run for it right about now lest Regina smite her with something a little more powerful.

"It was not just a snowball! You're out in a disused yard once used for storing machinery, you complete and utter idiot, part of which used to be gravelled!"

"Oh, come on, seriously?!... Seriously?... "

She repeats with a little less irked sarcasm as she takes a hesitant couple of steps towards the darker woman.

"Regina... Are you actually hurt? Let me see.-"

"-Get off!"

The Queen snarls; shoving the younger woman hard in the chest as the latter moves in towards her and loosely tugs at her wrist to try and coax away the hand covering her eye.

Emma falls on her ass with a yelp and glares up at the Mayor moodily.

"I was just trying to help..."

"Well don't! You've done enough! I think I'm bleeding!"

"You are not bleeding, Regina..."

The Sheriff grumbles with a roll of her eyes as she pushes herself back to her feet. She wrinkles her nose as the brunette finally removes her hand to display a very red cheek and a tiny scratch just below her eye at which a couple of drops of blood well lazily.

"Ok... Maybe you're bleeding..."

"What?!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

Emma mutters; taking a hold of the Mayor's forearm and dragging her along a little awkwardly through the snow towards the backdoor to the Station.

"Well, how bad is it?! Is it obvious?!"

"Relax, you're as beautiful as ever, Your Majesty, and I think we might just be able to hold off on the stitches-"

"-Stitches?!"

"I'm kidding!"

"Why on earth would you do that?!"

"...I'm kind of a dick sometimes."

Emma replies simply; pushing open the door and beckoning that Regina should follow her.

"You don't say..."

The Queen replies darkly, but she is a little surprised that the Sheriff leads her into the ludicrously compact bathroom in order to take a look at the damage she has caused, rather than bleat a pathetic excuse and storm off to feel sorry for herself on the matter.

Not that her opinion on the younger woman is biased, of course...

"I was unaware you were a doctor..."

She muses cooly as the blonde gathers up some toilet paper, pumps some soap onto it and wets it with a couple of drops of water; the Sheriff's movements effectively blocking the darker woman in as the two of them are forced to stand uncomfortably close due to their minuscule quarters.

"Never claimed to be, but I'd rather you didn't conjure up some tall-tale about how I beat you up if Henry asks you why your face is bleeding."

"You did beat me up!"

"Did not! I threw a well deserved snowball at the Mayor. That's all."

"Well deserved?"

"... It was unfair what you said to me..."

Emma replies as she hesitates in her dabbing of the paper to the Mayor's cheek; her ass resting against the lip of the sink and her thighs touching against the brunette's as the latter stands leant against the wall. Their close proximity leaves only a few inches between the Sheriff's sharp nose and the Queen's, and her eyes seem like damning pools as she regards the brunette sombrely, waiting for an answer.

"... Some of it was... Perhaps."

Regina sighs as though bored, but when the blonde negates to go back to the task at hand, she looks away- down at the younger woman's shoulder- and offers a weak smirk.

"You just infuriate me, dear..."

"I know."

Comes the simple response, and the Sheriff goes back to gently wiping away any possible dirt from the shallow graze below the Queen's eye.

She turns around and shuffles back as much as the space allows in order to open up the cupboard below the sink and retrieve the small first aid kit, which- regulations state- should really be mounted on the wall somewhere in the Station in a visible and easily accessible place. In doing so, she presses her backside up into the brunette who strives not to give in to the sudden urge to clear her throat; lest it the action be audible.

Not this again...

Oh yes, this again. One of the factors that resides about midway up on her 'reasons to hate Emma Swan' list. That strange tension that exists between the two of them that seems to be some curious result of hate, and the realisation that each is a good match for the other.

In character, of course.

It is not something either of them- for she spares no doubt that it is the two of them that are affected- have ever admitted out loud, but simply a most peculiar urge that takes over when yelling and bickering for one to simply launch themselves onto the other with the goal to shut her up violently, wetly and efficiently.

Not wholly unpleasant- Regina muses as her eyes flicker down to where rough denim brushes against her long winter coat- but sometimes rather distracting.

Like now.

Now she is rather distracted indeed.

Emma turns herself back around- hat slightly askew- clumsily; holding out a small pack of disinfectant between two fingers with a smirk, and Regina scolds herself as she nips her tongue in the act of wetting her full lips when presented with faint, sporadic freckles and glittering green.

"Take this. You'll live, barely, but use it tonight to clean off the concealer."

"What concealer?"

"Good question... You have any? I'd offer, but for one, makeup and I are friends only as far as what takes my fancy when browsing through Mary Margaret's crap in the bathroom, and two... Next to you, I'm practically albino..."

The brunette chuckles in spite of herself and reaches into her pocket with a roll of her eyes.

"It's not what you think; I don't make a habit of walking around with coverup- I don't need it- I just happened to buy this the other day and hadn't wanted to waste the bag."

She sniffs haughtily, pulling out a small, silver tube.

"Laura Mercier, fancy!"

"... As if you have any idea what you're talking about, dear."

"Just because I drink Jack Daniels, doesn't mean I don't know about Blue Label Jim Beam-"

"-I beg you pardon?"

"I know the brands, I just don't coat my face."

"I do not 'coat' my face-"

"- I have lipstick in my car that I'm pretty sure is older than Henry. Other than that, as far as what I own, it's chapstick and that stuff that makes it so your face doesn't peel off come February... I'm not judging... I'm just... Trying to make this a little less awkward..."

She grumbles, taking the makeup from the brunette's palm with a roll of her eyes at the huffed reprimand this action garners her.

"I can barely see my goddamned silhouette in that old mirror, Madame Mayor, so I doubt you'll have much luck with a touch up... I'll do it..."

Regina opens her mouth to sark back that she has no intention of looking like a two dollar whore, but then sharp white teeth close around the lid of the tube to pull it free and the Sheriff gathers some dusky cream on her finger in a smooth, liquid action, and the brunette finds herself shutting up as her gaze flickers over pretty, virgin skin and sooty lashes.

"Fine."

She mutters, turning her head slightly to the side to allow the younger woman to dab some of the thick cream over the small mark that comprises all that is left of her injury. The Sheriff's ministrations are gentle yet efficient, and the Mayor tries to ignore the soft flutter of peppermint breath that whispers against her features as the blonde leans in to check her work.

"What are you going to tell Henry?"

Emma murmurs as she pats down the last of the concealer with slow care.

"I suppose just that I came to talk with you... There seems little point in telling him about the fact that you pelted me with a-"

But she is stopped mid-sentence as the younger woman presses her lips firmly against painted scarlet; sienna coals opening wide, but making no move to push the blonde away.

Eventually, the Sheriff pulls back of her own accord, her expression endearingly sheepish as she studies the floor.

"... Sorry... I just wanted to see if it would be how I thought it'd be... What are you going to tell him now?"

"You... I... You... What?!"

"You haven't wondered?"

Emma asks, but her tone carries none of its patent awkward stammer, but instead a teasing knowing, and Regina frowns, sighing, before pressing her lips back to the Sheriff's and demanding entrance with her tongue.

Ten minutes later, as darkness has well and truly fallen over Storybrooke, the Mayor bustles into the warmth of her car and offers a curt smile at her son before kicking the engine into gear.

"What happened to your face?"

"My face?"

She mutters distractedly, her hand going swiftly to her cheek as she pulls out into reverse and turns into Main Street.

"Yeah... You're all pink..."

Henry muses curiously, and the brunette lets out a short, choked sound as she signals right.

"Oh... I guess it's just the cold... Miss Swan really needs to get her pipes fixed..."

"Did you get mad at her?"

"I... A little... We talked..."

"Is she mad at you?"

"Hmm?... No... No I don't think so... But I suppose we'll find out tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes... The Sheriff's... Well she's coming over for dinner."

"Sweet!"

"... We'll see, dear."