I hope you enjoy this little blurb. Review if you do!

I don't own anything to do with OUAT.

"Hey, beautiful." Emma said, without looking up.

Regina sighed and walked past the blonde to retrieve the television remote. She hit the power button and set a hand on her hip. "Seriously, Emma. I'm just about over this sitting at home, doing nothing thing you've been pulling lately."

Emma glared at the mayor and stood up, reaching out to snatch the remote back, "What am I supposed to do, Regina? Act like nothing happened? I can't even look at Henry right now! Neal is gone. My parents have had another kid-"

Regina held a hand up to silence her, "So you're just going to sit around in your sweat pants watching reruns of some stupid show for the rest of your life?"

"If I do, that's my business, Regina." The blonde hissed with the slightest little foot stomp.

The mayor cocked an eyebrow at the juvenile behavior, but ignored it, "Actually, Miss Swan," she intoned, her voice dropping into its characteristic dangerous lilt, "it's very much my business. This is my house, this is my couch, and you are my girlfriend." She used her magic to poof the remote back into her own hand and set it down on the coffee table. "Now, you are going to take that awful attitude of yours upstairs and take a nap while I make dinner, do I make myself clear?"

She crossed her arms and watched the sheriff huff away. On occasion, the blonde would get into a very sour and unmotivated mood. Regina couldn't blame her in this case, but she also knew that dragging it out wouldn't do either of them any good. With Emma, it was best to nip the darkness in the bud. The brunette would take it further if she needed to. Sometimes that happened, too.

She went into the kitchen and pulled a pack of chicken thighs out of the refrigerator. She set a heavy cast iron pan on one of the burners on the range and set the flame on medium. While the pan heated up, she busied herself with seasoning the chicken and peeling garlic. After she splashed some olive oil into the hot pan, she laid the chicken in, skin-side down and watched for a bit while the fat rendered out and sizzled. After a while, she set about making some accompaniments.

"Regina?"

The mayor closed the oven door behind the potatoes she had prepared and turned to face her girlfriend, "Aren't you supposed to be napping?" She wasn't angry, just curious. While Emma never voluntarily took naps, she was usually far too busy, she also never turned down the opportunity to take one when she was ordered to. Emma's eyes were a bit dark and sunken. She was definitely tired, but it was more than that. Regina held her arms up in invitation and the blonde shuffled over and leaned into her, letting the older woman envelop her in a tight hug.

"I know this isn't an easy time for you, Honey," Regina murmured against the blonde's forehead, "but I can't let you just waste away in here. It's not even like you."

The sheriff sighed into the mayor's chest and nodded.

"I think," Regina continued, lifting Emma's chin so she could look into her clear green eyes, "maybe we need to bring back a few rules."

Emma shook her head, "No. I don't want rules, Regina."

"You don't want them because you're not ready to follow them, and you know what that means, but I don't want to wait for months again, Emma." Regina responded. "I don't want to wait for you to climb out of your hole. Months for you to be stable for Henry again. Months for you to start caring about yourself and everyone else. Maybe you don't see that's where you're headed, but I've seen it before, and this is how it starts."

Emma pushed her girlfriend's hands off her waist and glowered, "We're not bringing back any rules."

Regina narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, frustrated and unwilling to explain her point of view again, "Fine. No rules. Do what you want, Emma." She moved away from the blonde to check the chicken.

"So... is that it?" The blonde asked cautiously.

Regina slapped a hand down on the counter as she turned back to her girlfriend. Again, her hand moved to her hip and her eyes cut a path through the younger woman, "What do you mean, 'is that it,' Emma? Am I supposed to argue with you all day?" She threw her hands up, "because I'm not doing that. I'm not going to put my happiness on hold while you sit in the corner at your own pity party." She pulled the potatoes out of the oven and set the baking sheet on a cork trivet. "Dinner is almost ready. Can you make a salad, please?" She asked as she lifted the lid off the chicken. "There's a head of romaine in the crisper."

"No." came the sullen reply.

The mayor's eyes snapped over to Emma who was standing near the door awkwardly with a frown on her face and her brow furrowed in agitation. Her arms weren't slack at her side, but strangely tense, as if she wanted to cross them, but wasn't sure if she should.

They had discussed this before. If Emma needed special attention, she only had to say, but Regina knew how difficult it could be... Sometimes, it can be almost impossible to ask for something you need when it's something you don't really want. Fortunately for Emma, they knew each other well enough to avoid most "lost in translation" situations. The last time Regina had ignored this cue, Emma had ended up going on a self-destructive bender and alienated most of her loved ones until Regina took matters into her own hands. She remembered the absurd story she had told Mary Margaret to account for Emma's sudden change in behavior.

"Emma..." Regina said in a low, warning tone, "you're being difficult. Wash your hands and make the salad, now. I don't want to do this back and forth with you tonight. You can't even make your own mind up."

"What if I don't want to make the salad? And it's you who can't make her mind up." the blonde retorted, leaning against the doorway and folding her arms over her chest, finding her defiance in stride. Her heart was pounding loud in her ears, but she was committed. She needed to know where the line was again.

Regina smoldered quietly, her eyes dark and piercing. On one hand, she was glad Emma was reaching out, on the other, she was irritated. She didn't like that these situations always played out with Emma purposely getting under her skin. It sometimes made her feel more like the evil queen or a disapproving mother than a loving girlfriend.

Again, in a testament to how well they knew each other, Emma had an uncharacteristic break of facade. "I don't want rules, Regina. I don't want you to be my mother all the time..." she sighed, looking down at her feet, her fists clenched, "I just need..." she shrugged and trailed off. Then she straightened up and lifted her chin, meeting Regina's eyes once more, "I'm not making that damn salad."

The brunette straightened up and sighed theatrically, wiping the wooden cutting surface in front of her with a hand towel. Without looking at her girlfriend, she opened the refrigerator and took out the lettuce, slapping it down onto the board. She did the same with a tomato and a red onion. She selected a chef's knife from the knife block and laid it next to the lettuce. She loved this woman. She loved her enough to see her through all of her bad days, and she loved her enough to take the steering wheel, even if it wasn't on her exact terms a hundred percent of the time.

She set her hands down on either side of the cutting board and looked at Emma again, "I'm going to give you one more chance, Emma Swan. Come over here and make this salad, or you are going eat your dinner standing up."

A familiar tense feeling twisted through Emma's lower belly and back. Eating dinner standing up wasn't an idle threat. If she pushed Regina to follow through, it would be thorough. It would hurt. She might cry. She would feel it for a couple days. More importantly, she would have to change her attitude. She didn't want it. She knew that much, but she couldn't help that she *needed* it.

She shook her head and looked at her girlfriend and gave a terse, "No."

Regina raised her eyebrows in a silent, "oh well," and reached into the drawer in front of her. She pulled out a wooden spoon and approached the blonde with purpose.