A/N: Prompt from the lovely thewriteday for being my 200th reviewer on A Trail of Destruction – Emma teaches Regina how to use a gun.

Please bear in mind that I live in England, therefore I have never even seen let alone fired a gun. I based pretty much 100% of the technical stuff on a wikihow article and that episode of Desperate Housewives where Bree shoots George in the foot, so this fic is without a doubt going to have some serious inaccuracies in it. Please feel free to just blindly ignore all of that.

I hope that you all enjoy this comparative bit of fluff as a bit of a break from the angst-riddled coma that is my other fic... :)

'I still don't understand why I have to do this.'

Regina was stood awkwardly in the centre of the clearing, her arms hanging by her sides. In one hand she was holding the sheriff's gun. Emma has never seen someone clinging so unsurely onto a weapon before in her entire life.

'Because they don't have guns here,' Emma explained for the sixth time that morning, gesturing around to the island where the only feasible weapons were considered to be swords and cannons and metal hooks for hands. 'They probably don't even know what a gun is. Therefore, we have an advantage.'

'I highly doubt that,' Regina muttered, watching as Emma went back to lining up the remainder of the ship's tin cans along the top of a fallen tree. 'Also, what exactly do you expect your parents to say when they find out that you've wasted the last of their food on teaching me how to shoot a gun?'

'I don't know, but I know what I'll say: it'll be something along the lines of, maybe you should have packed something else in that backpack other than creamed corn and peach slices?' Emma said, kneeling down beside the line of tins to make sure that they were straight. 'Seriously. Creamed corn? They're lucky that I'm shooting the cans rather than them.'

Regina forced herself not to laugh. Emma finally deemed the line of targets to be straight enough to meet her standards and stood back up again, walking back towards the brunette who was stood with the gun clamped in her trembling hand. Emma seemed remarkably unperturbed by this fact.

'Are you ready?' she asked, choosing to ignore the look of pinched terror on Regina's face when she nodded in response. 'Good. Now, first thing's first: I need you to relax.'

Regina immediately sighed in frustration. 'Miss Swan – is this really necessary?'

'Yes,' Emma said simply, grabbing Regina by her shoulders and turning her body until she was facing the line of targets. 'Relax.'

'I don't see how hard this can be,' Regina muttered through pursed lips. 'You can manage it, and so can your idiot father. Surely you just point and shoot.'

'Oh! Okay then,' Emma said from somewhere behind Regina's shoulder. 'I'd never thought about it like that before. God, how stupid of me. Go on then, your majesty – shoot one of those cans. Show me how it's done.'

Regina swallowed. 'Miss Swan…'

'No, no – I want to be taught by the professional. Come on, your highness, let's have it.'

Regina gritted her teeth, her bones already starting to ache from clenching against Emma Swan's infuriatingly smug tone. She turned back to the cans, her jaw set in a tight line.

'Fine,' she bit out, raising her outstretched arm and aiming the pistol towards the central tin.

This is ridiculous, she thought, forcing her hand to remain steady. She closed one eye: the gun seemed to be aimed at the can, although it was quite hard to be sure. She switched to the other eye, and suddenly it was nowhere close.

Shit.

She glanced over her shoulder and, seeing that Emma was still watching her with her eyebrows raised and her arms folded across her chest, let out a defiant sigh. She held her left arm to her side, begging the outstretched right one to stay still.

It's just a gun, Regina, she told herself, curling a finger around the trigger. Just do it.

She did. The force of the thing rocketed her backwards as the bullet lodged itself in a tree some six or seven metres away from the can that she'd been aiming for.

She staggered backwards, slipping on the damp grass and hitting the floor with a thud that knocked the air from her lungs. A dry choking noise came from her throat. It was a sound, however, that was immediately drowned out by the hysterical laughter coming from the woman who was now stood over her.

'I'm sorry,' Emma spat out, leaning forwards against her knees. 'Oh, God. I'm so sorry, Regina. I didn't think that you'd actually do it.'

Regina eventually managed to regain her composure, forcing herself to sit upright. She placed the gun on the ground beside her, then kicked it away from her with disgust. 'So you told me to go ahead and shoot it why, exactly?'

'I wanted to see if you were really that stubborn,' Emma said, scrubbing a fist below her eyes. 'Oh God. Your face. I wish they had video cameras here.'

'Miss Swan,' Regina snapped, pushing herself into a standing position even though her chest still felt like it was filled with cement. 'If you're just here to laugh at me and mock my efforts to actually be taught something by you, then that's fine – but I suspect that you can probably do it just as well without me being forced to listen to it. So I think that I'll be leaving now. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.'

She turned on her heel and went to stride off through the trees, even though she had absolutely no idea of what direction she was going in. She had barely taken three steps when she felt a pressure on her arm as Emma pulled her back again.

'Regina, don't storm off,' she said, still trying not to laugh. 'It was funny. I'm sorry, but it was.'

'I could have killed myself,' Regina muttered, looking down at the ground between them.

'You were more likely to have killed me, if I'm honest,' Emma said, raising one eyebrow. 'But okay, I take your point. Now: can we get on with actually learning to shoot it properly, please?'

Regina raised her chin, trying to meet the blonde's green eyes with the same defiance that she always had done in Storybrooke. After half a second, however, it seemed fairly futile: the irritating woman stood in front of her had just heard her gasp of surprise, then seen her sprawled across the forest floor with the air choking from her lungs. Trying to retain her dignity was quite pointless at this stage.

'Fine,' she bit out, folding her arms across her chest. 'If I must.'

Emma looked at her with derision dripping from every feature. 'You mustn't do anything – I'm just trying to help you out, you know.'

'By making a fool of me?'

'You did that yourself,' Emma said, bending down to pick up the gun and checking that it was loaded. She held it out with a steady hand. 'I just watched.'

Regina glared at her. Emma seemed remarkably unphased. The gun still remained in her outstretched hand, and after a few moments Regina reached out and reluctantly took it from her.

'Fine,' she muttered, turning back towards the cans. The abominable weapon hung loosely in her hand, like she wanted to have as little physical contact with it as possible. 'I'm relaxing. What now?'

Emma let out a short burst of laughter. 'You are not relaxing.'

'Yes I am.'

'Regina, you're as coiled as a fucking spring. This isn't Die Hard, you know – you try shooting a gun like that and you'll break your elbow.'

Regina had never even seen Die Hard, but she gritted her teeth with resentment nonetheless.

'I am relaxed, Miss Swan!' she spat, turning to glare at the woman who was stood several paces behind her. 'This is me relaxing, okay? So let's just move on.'

'Not a chance,' Emma muttered, forcing herself to close the gap between them. 'Face the cans. Go on.'

Regina turned her head back, keeping the gun carefully by her side. She felt Emma step up behind her and immediately sucked in a breath, waiting for the weapon to be taken from her so that the sheriff could show her how it was done.

It didn't happen, however. Instead, Emma gently rested her hands on the jutting bones of Regina's shoulder blades, pressing her thumbs against the knots.

'Miss Swan,' Regina said flatly after a moment. 'What are you doing?'

'Getting you to relax,' Emma said, running her thumbs down the curve of Regina's spine. Regina felt her muscles shudder against her will. 'It'll help. Trust me.'

'This is…' Regina mumbled, closing her eyes as Emma's hands slipped back up to the fiercely tense muscles of her shoulders. 'This is how you learnt?'

'Not exactly,' Emma said vaguely, twisting her hands until all of her fingers were pointing inwards, massaging at a knot at the top of Regina's spine.

'Then how did you?'

'Long story,' Emma said, twisting her hands back again and running her thumbs outwards along the ridges of Regina's ribcage. 'It was kind of a… shoot or be shot kind of thing.'

Regina's head snapped around to look at her. 'What?'

Emma promptly grabbed hold of the brunette's temples and firmly pushed them back around until she was facing the cans once more. 'Relax, Regina. This isn't about me.'

'You had to shoot someone?'

'I never said that.'

'You quite literally just did.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about,' Emma said, but there was laughter in her voice. Regina felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, despite how hard she fought against it. Oh, for goodness sake.

Emma ran her thumbs back down either side of Regina's spine, counting the nodules one by one.

After a few minutes she asked, 'Has that helped at all?'

'I suppose so,' Regina conceded. The gun in her hand felt so much heavier now that her back wasn't tearing itself into knots holding it away from her.

'Okay then,' Emma said, taking half a step back. Regina could still feel her breath on her shoulder as she spoke. 'Raise the gun.'

Regina did as she was told. It was painful to be taking orders from her: that infuriating, smug, abrasive woman who constantly got in her way and made Regina want to put her at the other end of the gun that she'd naively just given her possession of. And yet she did what she asked anyway. Her right arm was shaking slightly as she did so.

'I won't hit anything like this,' she grumbled. Emma laughed.

'We're not done yet,' she said. She suddenly appeared at Regina's right side, straightening out her arm with surprisingly gentle hands. 'Hold your arm like this: think of it as your barrier between you and the gun. It packs a punch when it goes off – as I'm sure you're probably now aware. If you keep your arm strong, and your feet apart, like this… you should be okay.'

Regina adjusted her position accordingly. 'Lock your frame,' she muttered under her breath.

Emma blinked. 'Sorry?'

Regina immediately winced.

'From Dirty Dancing,' she reluctantly offered. 'It's like… keeping your dance space.'

Oddly enough, a smile crossed over Emma's face. 'Exactly. No spaghetti arms.'

Regina nodded. 'Okay.'

Emma quickly crossed over to Regina's other side, her arm brushing against her back as she moved. 'Now, you can't leave your left arm just hanging by your side. It's a part of the… the frame. You have to utilise it.'

'Right.'

'Wrap it around the handle, like this. Don't grip onto it – it's not meant to hold the gun. It's just to support it, and to help it aim. If your right arm starts shaking then it'll stop you from blowing a hole in someone's head.'

'Worried about your safety, are you, Miss Swan?' Regina muttered. A dark laugh came from somewhere near her ear.

'After seeing your first attempt? You bet I am.'

And suddenly Emma had disappeared from her side. Her voice, however, continued to waft over to Regina's ears.

'Take a deep breath. Focus on the target. Don't shoot just yet – keep your finger outside of the trigger guard. But focus.'

Regina swallowed, narrowing her eyes as she looked at the central tin can once more. Creamed corn, she thought to herself. She has a point – who the hell packs creamed corn?

'Are you focusing?'

'Which eye am I meant to be looking through?' Regina asked. She wanted to turn her head, to see where Emma was. She could feel her presence from somewhere behind her; feel her breath on the back of her neck again. But she couldn't see her, and that made the muscles in her shoulders automatically tense right back up again.

'Whichever you think is stronger,' Emma said, moving an inch to the right so that she could look over Regina's shoulder. 'You're pointing a bit to the left. Try using the other eye.'

Regina switched to the right eye.

'Better,' Emma said, her chin resting on Regina's shoulder just for a second. She reached out, wrapping one hand around Regina's elbow, and straightened it ever so slightly.

'Now,' she said, returning to her position at the side of the queen's oustretched arm. 'I'm going to hold your back – when you shoot, you'll probably want to fall backwards again. I'm going to hold you up. Just please, please try not to hit me in the face.'

Regina let out a short laugh. 'I can't promise anything.'

'What a surprise,' Emma said, rolling her eyes. She moved back round to stand behind Regina, pressing a hand on either side of the queen's ribcage. She felt her inhale sharply beneath her fingers.

'Relax,' she muttered into her ear, leaning back across her shoulder to check that the gun was still pointed in the right direction. 'You're doing fine.'

'Unlikely,' Regina replied.

'When you pull the trigger,' Emma said, ignoring her. 'You have to squeeze it slowly. Okay? Don't go heaving it back like a fishing line, it'll ruin your aim. Be gentle. And don't panic when it goes off.'

'I won't panic, Miss Swan.'

'Says the woman who ended up on the floor the last time she tried it,' Emma responded, feeling the muscles beneath her hands immediately tense up. 'Relax, Regina. Take a deep breath. Focus. Okay?'

Regina gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the breath that was tickling her shoulder. 'Yes. Okay.'

'Slowly,' Emma said, pressing her thumbs against the brunette's back. 'Whenever you're ready.'

Regina inhaled through her nose, closing her left eye once more. The tin can suddenly seemed much further away that it had done a few moments before.

Even so, she forced her arm to remain steady. She let out her breath. Her finger began to curl around the trigger and, even though it still startled her so much that she nearly dropped the weapon altogether, at least she didn't fall back onto the floor the second that the gun went off.

Emma let go of her the moment that the bullet had left the weapon. It had missed the can again, but this time it was lodged in a tree slightly closer than the one that had fallen victim to Regina's first attempt. Little more than a metre away from her target, Emma was surprised that Regina had, in theory, done reasonably well.

Regina, however, didn't seem to think so.

'I think I'll just stick with magic,' she said, holding out the gun to the blonde woman who was still surveying the damage that she'd done on the surrounding landscape.

Upon hearing this, Emma's head snapped round to face her once more, her eyebrow raised in derision.

'Not likely,' Emma said warningly. 'Not here.'

'Miss Swan—'

'Try again,' Emma said, pushing the weapon back towards her. 'You did well. I promise: that was much better.'

'Just because I didn't nearly break my spine,' Regina grumbled, turning back to the line of cans.

'Yeah,' Emma said, stepping up behind her once more. 'But also because you actually nearly hit the thing this time.'

'Hardly.'

'Oh, Regina, shut up, will you? Take a compliment. It won't kill you.'

Regina's head snapped back round again immediately. 'Look, Miss Swan—'

She was interrupted by Emma grabbing hold of the back of her skull, forcing it back round again. 'Eyes front, your majesty. You aren't going to learn anything by staring at me.'

Regina forced herself not to throw the gun to the floor and storm off for the second time that day. 'You really are the most horrifically annoying person that I've ever met.'

'I take that as a compliment,' Emma said, not bothering to suppress the smirk that was crawling across her face. 'Coming from you, that's a pretty bold statement.'

Regina said nothing. She wondered for a moment how unlikely it would be that she would be able to turn around and shoot Miss Swan between the eyes even at this short range.

'You're still too tense, Regina,' Emma said with a sigh. 'You can't hold yourself like a marble frigging statue – it won't work. Trust me.'

'You just told me to have a firm stance!' Regina spat out, rolling her eyes to the sky. 'What kind of teacher are you?'

'One with a really dense pupil, by the looks of things,' Emma muttered in response. She took a step forwards, pressing her whole body against the queen's back. Regina immediately froze.

Both of Emma's arms found their way around her body: the left remained on Regina's waist, squeezing firmly against her ribs to hold her in place. The right, however, wound up on her arm. She lifted it up until the gun was aimed at the central can once more.

'Just wait,' Emma said, her chin resting on the queen's shoulder. Her breath was tickling her ear, and yet Regina couldn't bring herself to push her away again. 'Take really deep, slow breaths. There's no rush.'

'There will be if someone's coming at me with a sword.'

'Yeah, okay. Then you have my permission to panic and shoot as blindly as you like,' Emma conceded. 'But for now, just humour me – it's just us two, and as much as I'd like to, I promise that I'm not about to drive you through with a blade.'

'How noble of you.'

'Well. Like father, like daughter,' Emma said. Regina fell silent, her eyes falling to the floor between her and the target.

'No,' Emma said, placing her hand on the toned underside of Regina's arm. 'Don't drop your stance. Spaghetti arms, remember? Nothing is allowed to enter this space.'

'I think you'll find that you're in it,' Regina said, although there wasn't any bite to her words.

'Of course I am: I'm the exception.'

Regina rolled her eyes.

'Regina,' Emma snapped once more. 'Stop dropping it.'

'Sorry,' Regina replied, holding her arm up more firmly. She felt the fingers that were laced around her tricep relax slightly. 'Better?'

'Yes,' Emma replied. 'Keep it like that this time.'

She removed both of her hands from the queen's body for a moment, waiting for her to try and alter her position. When she didn't, Emma placed her hands back on Regina's hips.

'Now bend your knees slightly,' Emma said into her ear. 'And I mean slightly – you're not riding a rodeo cow. Do it gently.'

'I have never ridden a rodeo cow.'

'You haven't?' Emma drawled. 'I'm shocked, Madam Mayor. I would have thought that you would be a regular down at old Rodeo Joe's.'

'Miss Swan—'

'Your frame, Regina. Lock your frame.'

'For goodness sake…'

'And bend your knees. God, you're worse than Henry – do you ever do as your told?'

Regina immediately froze up at the mention of Henry's name. She swallowed, looking back down at the ground once more. Then she bent her knees, and she stayed like that.

Emma blinked. Her chin was still resting on Regina's shoulder.

'Good,' she said after a few moments, swallowing down the hard guilt that had abruptly risen up inside her chest. 'This time: stay like that.'

Regina immediately felt the warmth of Emma's body leave her as she took two steps backwards, moving away to survey her stance. It was perfect to the letter: but Emma knew without question that Regina's muscles were still tighter than rocks. She'd shoot her own foot before she shot that can.

She stepped back up behind Regina, taking a deep breath before her put her hands back on the queen's body. Her right returned to its position underneath Regina's outstretched arm. Her left went back to her side, then, at the last moment, slipped around until it was spread out across her toned stomach.

'Relax,' she whispered again, feeling the taught muscles of the queen's back pressing against her chest. 'You can do this you know, Regina. You just need to take a breath and let yourself.'

Regina swallowed. For some reason, she was glad that Emma was holding her upright once more.

'I don't think I can.'

'Of course you can,' Emma replied. 'Just think of it as laser tag.'

'…I've never played laser tag.'

'Oh. Of course you haven't.' Emma frowned, releasing her grip on the queen ever so slightly. 'What about water pistols? Every used one of them?'

'No,' Regina muttered.

'Henry has never had a water pistol?'

'I didn't want him growing up to be some kind of hooligan, Miss Swan.'

Emma's mouth tightened into a smirk before she could stop it. '…from using a Super Soaker? What is that, some kind of gateway weapon now?'

'Miss Swan, I mean it, if—'

'Oh, it's a joke, Regina,' Emma sniggered, going back to holding her tightly once more. The queen immediately fell still. 'Focus on the target. Take a deep breath.'

Regina swallowed, then closed one eye. 'Am I… am I aiming it right?'

'You're fine,' Emma said, adjusting the position of her arm by half a centimetre even so. 'Just take a deep breath.'

Regina did so. She felt herself leaning back against Emma's chest as she did so.

'Good,' Emma muttered, wrapping her fingers more firmly around Regina's arm. 'Loosen your wrist. You're going to hurt it.'

'…like this?'

'A bit less. That's it. Good.'

Regina smiled to herself, then inwardly groaned. Stop acting like a toddler getting praise from your mother, she spat at herself. It's just a gun. You can do this.

'Are you still focusing?'

Regina forced herself to stare at the can. 'Yes.'

'Okay. Whenever you're ready, Regina.'

'…you're still holding onto me.'

'I know,' Emma said. 'I'm your frame. I don't trust those spaghetti arms.'

Regina let out a short burst of laughter.

'No laughing, your majesty,' Emma whispered in her ear, making her snigger yet again. 'This is serious, you know.'

'Stop distracting me!'

'Stop being so easily distracted.'

'I hardly that think this is my fault.'

'Do you want me to let go?' Emma asked.

'No,' Regina replied much more firmly than she'd intended to. She swallowed. '…no,' she repeated at a lower decibel.

Emma smiled to herself. 'Then: whenever you're ready. Take a deep breath, and go.'

'You're sure?'

'I'm sure.'

'Okay.'

Regina sucked in a breath through her teeth, willing her wrist to stay as relaxed as Emma had positioned it moments before. Her knees were aching from being slightly-but-not-too bent. As she slowly let out the breath, she felt Emma's left hand press more firmly against her stomach. Her heart skipped.

She pulled on the trigger, letting that exhalation of breath carry the bullet with it. It hit the can with a decisive clang. Regina jumped, looking around her at the clearing that was now suddenly covered in a thin layer of creamed corn.