Came across a cute Facebook group prompt, so... I did the thing. :)

Thanks to Laura for sharing the fiftyshadesofswan prompt!

"Emma, I need you in early."

Ah, those dreaded words. Emma blinks dazedly across her bedroom, sprawled out on her stomach with her phone pressed to her ear. It's barely light out and - wait, what time is it? She holds out her phone for a moment. 5:18AM blinks at her.

"Do you know what time it is?" she grunts when the phone is smashed against her ear again. "I work an evening shift today, David."

"I know, I'm sorry," he says, and his genuine regret is clear even over the crappy connection of the old animal shelter's landline. "But we just had a new one brought in, and since Ruby's gone for the weekend and Mary Margaret's coming up on nine months, I don't have any other helpers-"

"Okay, okay." Emma rolls onto her back with a grunt, swinging her legs off the bed and dragging herself up into a sitting position. "I'll be there in… however long it takes me to brush my teeth and put on clothes."

"I owe you," David sighs with relief. "I'll buy you a bear claw every day-"

"Like you can afford to," Emma snorts, not unkindly. They're all unpaid volunteers for a reason. She can imagine the wry, apologetic smile on David's face already. "See you soon."

"Thanks, Ems."

She hangs up and forces herself through the usual morning routine; brushes her teeth, manages a quick eight minute shower, throws on a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt over a henley, and rolls out the door of her small apartment. Thankfully, they do have a coffee machine in the tiny break room at the shelter, so at least she won't have to survive the day without caffeine.

The animal shelter is a fifteen minute walk from her apartment building, but Emma makes it in ten because she figures a brisk jog will wake her up somewhat. It's a pleasant enough neighborhood, nothing shabby or shady, and she takes a shortcut through the park that they often use to exercise the animals. David and Mary Margaret's townhouse complex is just on the edge of the park and she glances over, as if hoping she might catch a glimpse of her very pregnant friend, but Mary Margaret is likely still asleep like any sane person. It's a good place for them, she thinks, looking over the modest little red brick townhouse, right next to the park and only ten minutes from the nearest elementary school. Especially once the baby is here.

Crossing the short lawn and pushing her way through the glass door of the squat little animal shelter just a few blocks from the park, the tinkle of the bell overhead alerts David to her arrival, as well as half of the animals in their care. A cacophony of barks and chirps start up as the man appears in the doorway next to the front desk, looking frazzled as he grips a straining leash and balances three bowls of dog food in the other arm.

"Help," he pleads. Emma hurries forward to grab the leash from him before he drops kibble all over the place. The animal on the other end of the leash is hidden around the doorframe and she gives a gentle tug to little avail.

"This the new one?" she asks, squeezing past him to get to the creature.

"Leroy dumped her off just half an hour ago. Picked her up in the downtown area after some residents complained about her halting traffic. It's a wonder she didn't get hit."

"Poor thing." Emma stoops down, trying to make herself as unimposing as possible to the delicate she-dog huddled against the wall. Her long brown fur might look beautiful and silky if it weren't matted and caked with mud. There's a tuft of white on her chest, her soft ears are floppy, and she has big, trusting brown eyes that make Emma's heart melt just a little bit.

"I know you usually don't handle the newcomers, but we're a bit overcrowded right now and-"

"Don't worry about it, David," she says, shrugging her shoulders at him as he stands there looking helpless with his arms full of dog bowls. The shelter's been overcrowded for months now and they've all been doing their best to keep the animals cared for, considering they're seriously understaffed and working with a next-to-nothing budget. "I'll get her settled. You worry about the rest. Graham's coming in at noon right?"

"Yeah, thank god." David hurries away to feed the animals, a feat that will take him the better part of an hour because they have at least a dozen different species of animals all with different dietary needs. Emma turns her attention back to the shivering she-dog that remains pressed against the wall.

"Hey, cutie. Do you have a name? I'm Emma." She slides onto her knees and holds out her free hand, palm open. Some might call her crazy for introducing herself to a dog, but she's a bit of a dog whisperer for a reason. (Or maybe dogs can sense crazy and assume she's just a harmless idiot.) Regardless, after a minute or two of eyeing the blonde suspiciously, the dog inches forward and stretches out her neck to sniff at Emma's fingers. Deeming her safe enough, a pink tongue darts out and roughly licks the length of her palm in a hesitant hello.

"Atta girl. Nothing to be afraid of." Emma keeps crooning soft reassurances until she's close enough to scratch at the dog's head, fingertips dancing at her crown before sliding down to rub behind her floppy ears. The dog gives a little whine and leans into her touch, craving human contact. "Aw, you're just lovin' the lovin', aren't you? Yes you are, yes you are."

The dog's tail starts a gentle tapping rhythm against the linoleum flooring, tongue lolling as she cranes her head to the side, urging Emma's fingers to scratch at where she wants them. Emma just chuckles, slipping her hand through the loop of the leash so that she can use both hands to ruffle at the dog's matted fur, fingers scratching gently into her neck and chest.

"You like that, don't you? Yeah, you're a spoiled princess, I can tell. How about we wash off all this grime and get you looking as pretty as before, hmm? Come on, girl, come on!"

She rises to her feet and slaps at her knee, injecting excitement into her tone that has the dog instantly wagging her tail with delight.

"This way, baby girl," Emma crows, mock-running down the way towards the rooms in the back. The dog bounds after her, following her past rows of cages where David is slowly making his way through to refill every animal's food and water bowls.

"Damn it, Emma," David complains, teasingly, "I couldn't even coax her away from the wall."

"What can I say? The ladies love me." Emma waggles her brow at him and leads the dog away into one of the back rooms, rolling her eyes at his peal of laughter. There's a big, low tub at the far side of the room for big dogs and she sets it to fill with warm water while the she-dog sniffs at her legs, floppy ears twitching with curiosity. Emma gives her head a loving scritch before turning off the water and testing it with her hand.

"Okay, cutie. It's time to get clean. Easy now, okay? Please don't bite me."

She crouches, carefully slinging an arm around the dog to see how she reacts. When she does little more than snuffle at her shoulder and loll her tongue, Emma shifts herself into a safer position and testingly circles her arms around the dog's body, exerting just enough pressure to mimic lifting her. Again, the dog doesn't lash out or try to bite her, so she finally lifts her up and gently deposits her into the tub.

"Good girl!"

Relieved, Emma grabs the animal-safe baby shampoo from the rack and starts washing her down, taking great care to untangle her silky fur and dig out the clumps of dirt. Poor thing must have been roughing it outdoors alone for at least a few days, but her gentle and easy demeanor means she was likely a well cared for pet. One with outstanding manners, as the dog just sits on her haunches and lets Emma work without any fuss. She seems to enjoy the warm water, though she makes the mistake of trying to drink it once and immediately sneezes when she laps up a cluster of soap suds.

"You goof," Emma murmurs, draining the tub so she can rinse the dog off with the showerhead. She leads the dog up onto another table and lays down a thick towel so the animal can lay down and relax while she carefully dries her off with a hairdryer. Some of her longer strands of fur are stubbornly tangled so Emma grabs the sheers and gives her a minor trim, then brushes her out until her coat is absolutely gleaming again.

"Oh wow, look at her," David says, having slipped into the room to grab some prescription medication for some of their older or ill animals. "She's gorgeous."

"I know, right?" Emma smooths down the dog's ears and the animal happily nibbles at her wrist. "Did she come with any tags or form of ID?"

"Nothing. No chip, no ear tattoo, no collar." David fills up a dropper for one of the dogs with an ear infection and waves it briefly at her. "You wanna choose her temporary name?"

"Sure." Emma glances at the dog, squinting momentarily at her before a smile splits her lips. "You look like a little Lady to me."

"Lady? Like Lady and the Tramp?"

"What? No. It's the name of Regina Mills's dog."

"Regina Mills? Your all time supermodel crush who's always taking pictures with shelter dogs to help get them adopted Regina Mills?"

"Yes, that Regina Mills."

"Gaaaaay." He snickers and slips from the room again. Emma rolls her eyes and looks back to the dog with a shrug, as if the dog is judging her too.

"What? She uses her fame to help get shelter animals adopted. That's kinda the coolest thing a supermodel has ever done. Besides, you kinda look like her dog Lady." Nevermind that she might have a few Vogue spreads of Regina Mills lining the walls of her apartment like the fangirl she is. She's got posters of Scarlett Johansson and Angelina Jolie too. No big deal.

She gives the dog a chin scratch and the dog just huffs in delight, leaning into the touch.

By the time Graham arrives a little past noon, she's already gotten Lady settled into the break room (they have no kennel space left, much to their distress,) and helped David finish the rounds with the rest of the animals, feeding and cleaning and handing out affection as much as possible considering there's too many animals and never enough time.

"Hey, I brought goodies," Graham calls, dropping off a large box of donuts and a tray of fresh coffees on the front desk. David and Emma race out, partially to greet him but mainly to stuff pastries into their mouths.

"Ugh. So much better than the break room coffee," Emma moans, swishing a mouthful of coffee after dumping a packet of sugar and two creamers into it. David doesn't even defend the little coffee maker he'd bought for the break room because he's too busy licking sugar icing off his fingers and going for his third pastry.

"Nice to see you two as well," Graham teases, hanging up his leather jacket and peering past them towards the kennels. "Leroy told me we have another new dog?"

"Mmhmm. Gorgeous thing, mixed breed."

"Ooh, can I go say hi?"

David shrugs. "Go for it. We're already overcrowded though so we had to put her in the break room for now."

Graham slips past them both, heading past all the kennels and popping open the door to the small break room. Lady sits in the middle of her temporary enclosure, tail wagging and tongue lolling, looking like the friendliest little girl he's ever seen. Graham swings the door wide and kneels down with his hand out and she pads over to greet him, sniffing at his hands and giving him little licks of hello.

"Aren't you a darling?" He rubs at her head, but is immediately disappointed when she scampers away towards the front. "Hey, she's coming for you."

Emma moves in to block the dog from getting to the front door in case anyone walks in (though the likelihood of that happening is pitifully low), but the move is unnecessary because Lady goes right up to her and smears herself against Emma's legs like a cat seeking affection.

"She likes you," David chuckles as Emma dusts the crumbs from her fingertips and gives Lady another head scratch.

"Yeah, she's just the sweetest." Emma straightens up, pleased when Lady just sits down on her foot and remains pressed against her leg with no intention of leaving her side. Dogs naturally tend to like her but Lady seems absolutely enamored and to be honest, it's the most affection she's gotten from any living creature in a long time. (Sad, she knows.) "Even if her owner never shows up, she won't have any trouble getting adopted."

David nods in agreement. "She can't be more than four or five, and in perfect health. I'm not worried. We should keep her on hold for a few days at least, though, just in case someone comes by to look for her."

"Where are we going to keep her? We have a few dogs sharing kennels already and the rest are too big to share their cage."

David grimaces, rubbing at the back of his neck as all three of them gaze down at the softly panting animal. He and Mary Margaret are already fostering two small dogs, and two pets are the limit at their townhouse. Graham is also at his limit, still rehabilitating a pack of five dogs in the backyard enclosure of his house, none of which are ready to be adopted or socialized with strangers.

"Maybe Ruby?" Graham offers, and David just shakes his head.

"She won't be back until next week. We need somewhere to place Lady until then."

"Maybe I… could…?" Both men look to Emma in surprise. Emma, too, snaps her mouth shut, before scrunching her shoulders up and smiling awkwardly. "She's really well behaved, I could probably sneak her into my apartment and no one would notice."

"Are you sure?" David asks, though a smile quirks at his lips regardless because there's something adorable in the way Emma and Lady lean into each other like fast friends.

"Yeah," Emma says, glancing down and meeting those big brown eyes. "Why not?"

The tenants of her apartment really don't give a shit so as long as Emma doesn't run into her animal-hating landlord, she'll be fine. Lady seems to understand that this is all happening on the down-low and thus she remains almost glued to Emma's ankles, silent and light on her paws. They take the stairwell since Emma lives on the fourth floor, pause just long enough to ensure that the hallway is clear, then rush over to her door and hurry their way inside.

"Well, welcome to my apartment," Emma murmurs, shutting the door firmly behind her and feeling mildly embarrassed as Lady pads into the middle of the sitting room, sits down, and stares expectantly at her. The dog doesn't even sniff around - which says something because she owns only the barest of furniture and very little in the way of sentimental possessions.

"I know it's not much, but it's somewhere for you to stay until your owner comes for you. Or until we put you up for adoption."

Lady's ears twitch, head cocking to one side in confusion.

"Well uh… Anyway. You were fed and pooped just a while ago, so you should be good for a while. I'm gonna catch up on a few more hours of sleep before I go to work later."

Maybe she's just a little crazy for talking to the dog like it was a person. Maybe that's what happens when you live alone in a sad little apartment and work a crappy job and spend whatever free time you have left volunteering at a sad little animal shelter.

Filling a metal bowl with water, she sets it on the kitchen floor and gestures towards where Lady can see her.

"Water. Cool? Cool. You be good. I'm gonna sleep. I'll see you in…" she glances at the clock and mentally calculates how many hours she can get in before she needs to get up for work. "... four hours."

Ducking into her bedroom, Emma kicks off her shoes and dives straight into bed, shoving her face against the pillow and trying to will herself to fall asleep as quickly as possible. There's the soft skitter of claws on hardwood, then a weight jumps onto the bed and Emma sits up in surprise.

"Someone's making themselves right at home," she says with a soft laugh. Lady just ignores her and curls up into a fluffy donut against her thigh, wriggling around until she's settled in. She has a little stuffed giraffe gripped in her jaws - something Emma had won once from a fair and promptly forgot about in a corner somewhere - and chews at its long neck with a little huff of delight. "Well, okay then. I guess that's yours now. Are you comfy, your majesty?"

The dog just blinks at her, unamused, before those big brown eyes are drawn past Emma to the posters on the wall. Tail bobbing happily, Lady drops the giraffe between her forepaws and gives a soft whine. Emma turns around.

That side of the wall is neatly lined with posters - they're all professional photoshoot shots of models and actresses, a mixture of some Scarlett Johannson and Angelina Jolie and Rosario Dawson. Most of them are Regina Mills; Regina in a Valentino dress, Regina in a Versace pantsuit, Regina in a slinky Prada gown, Regina in a Gucci bikini. The woman is a goddess no matter her clothing or hair style or makeup, but Emma's personal favourite is the photo of Regina in designer ripped jeans and a cashmere sweater, her arms encircling a silky brown she-dog with their cheeks pressed side-by-side, Regina with a big smile and her dog Lady with her tongue lolling out.

After a moment of gazing, Emma turns back to the dog on her bed, eying her critically. She looks almost like an exact match to the Lady in the photo, right down to the cute flop of her ears and the sweetness of her big brown eyes. There are probably a million dogs in the world who are brown and silky and have white patches on their chests, though, and Emma laughs at the ridiculous notion that she could possibly be fostering the dog of her favourite supermodel.

Yeah, only in her wildest dreams. That kind of shit doesn't happen in real life.

"Sleep tight, Lady," she sighs, rolling her eyes at herself a little before snuggling back down. Before sleep completely claims her, she murmurs out sleepily, "You're not Regina Mills's dog, right? There's no way."

She thinks she feels Lady's tail thump happily in recognition against her leg.

But there's no way.

Her cellphone wakes her up half an hour before her alarm clock is supposed to go off. Lady grumbles and shoves her head against Emma's thigh until she rolls over to grab the device and silence the sound. A familiar name lights up the screen and, with a sigh, she answers it, still sprawled out on her belly.

"Hey, Ru-"

"EMMA!" Ruby screams into her ear. "Did you see Twitter?!"

"Shit, Ruby! What- no, I haven't seen Twitter. I had to go into the shelter today and I've been trying to catch up on sleep before I work tonight. What the hell? Aren't you in Chicago right now?"

"Sorry, sorry," Ruby chants, but she doesn't sound sorry at all. "Yeah I'm still in Chicago, but nevermind that. Check your Twitter right now."

"Just tell me, you're gonna tell me anyway," Emma grumbles.

"Regina Mills's dog is missing! She's been tweeting about a reward for whoever finds Lady!"

Emma goes still, turning slowly to look at Lady. Lady stares right back, blinking.

"Shit."

"I know, right? And she's been in town for her latest string of photoshoots! Her dog is somewhere in our city, Emma!"

"Shit."

"Do you know if any dogs have been brought in lately? You should ask Leroy to go on patrol. How cool would it be if our shelter rescued Regina Mills's dog?"

"Shit!"

"You said that already, Emma-"

"Shitsorrygottago," Emma babbles before ending the call, sitting back heavily against the headboard as Lady just lays there and blinks innocently at her. Fumbling, she opens up the browser on her phone and Googles 'Regina Mills dog Lady 2016.' The image tab offers up photos of the supermodel's dog. She finds a suitable photo and zooms in, holding the phone up next to Lady's head.

Yup, perfect match.

"Shit, fuck, oh my god."

She jumps out of bed, hands tangled in her hair. She has Regina Mills's dog.

She has Regina Mills's dog.

"Oh my GOD." She spins around and stares down the dog still lying curled up on her bed.

"Lady! You're the Lady!"

Lady lolls her tongue, panting softly and looking like she has the biggest smile on her maw.

"Why didn't you tell me you were Regina Mills's dog?!"

Unfair question because a) Lady is a dog and cannot speak, and b) it shouldn't be possible that she has her all time favourite supermodel's dog in her possession because this shit does not happen in real life.

Except it's happening right now and she has no idea what to do about it.

"Oh my god. What do I do?" Sitting down heavily on the bed again, Emma opens up the Twitter app on her phone and goes immediately to Regina Mills's official account. Sure enough, there are almost a dozen tweets from the past three days about her missing pooch. The first few are requests that her fans keep an eye out for Lady in the Boston area. The next few promise a reward of five grand if her dog is safely returned. The most recent Tweets beg Boston natives to check their local parks or streets for the missing dog, garnering tens of thousands of retweets and responses from her fans.

There also happens to be a shockingly large amount of people claiming that they've found Lady, which means that trying to respond to Regina Mills's Twitter handle is not going to cut it.

"We need to get you back to your owner," she says aloud to the dog next to her. Lady's tail thumps happily. "Now how the hell do I do that?"

She ends up leaving Lady with her neighbor Belle, who's the sweetest person she's ever met and also a bit of a hermit bookworm who isn't likely to leave the apartment any time soon. As much as she'd really like the extra day's pay, Granny isn't too put off when she calls the diner and claims to have to deal with a "personal emergency." A little bit of sleuthing on the internet later and she's found out that Regina Mills's photoshoots have been happening in the Back Bay area near the convention center and the five star luxury hotels. A little bit more sleuthing and running around Back Bay, and she's discovered the location of the studio they're supposedly working in today.

Now the hard part is finding a way to get her message to the supermodel directly.

With the photos she'd taken of Lady on her phone, Emma sucks in a breath and pushes through the glass doors into the reception area of the high class studio. The place is relatively quiet for six in the evening, and she's not even sure that the photoshoot is still happening right now, but the receptionist has already made eye contact and fuck it, she's just gonna go over and say it.

"Hi," Emma blurts out, to which the female receptionist lifts a brow. "Uh, is Regina Mills still doing her photoshoot here?"

"That's confidential information," the woman says in lieu of a greeting, turning her nose up at Emma - who only now realizes, of course, that she's still in skinny jeans, a henley, and a plaid shirt, and probably stinks of dog. She's making a great first impression. "Are you paparazzi?"

"Wha-? No! No. I, uh, I think I found her dog. Her missing dog?"

The receptionist pauses, blinking. "Really? She's been going on about that dog all day. Javier was worried they'd never finish the photoshoot at this rate."

"Yeah... I work at a dog shelter. I'm pretty sure it's her dog. I've, uh, I've got pictures."

After a moment of being scrutinized and squinted at, the receptionist rises. "Wait here."

She saunters away on five inch heels, the click of heel against hardwood fading off. Left alone, Emma perches awkwardly on one of those weirdly shaped plastic waiting chairs that look artistic but are about as comfortable as sitting on gravel. She suffers it for only two minutes before the receptionist returns with a man trailing after her.

"Her," the woman says, waving a hand towards Emma before returning to her desk. The man approaches and Emma immediately jumps to her feet, feeling naked under his judgmental stare. He wears a three piece Armani suit that probably costs a hundred times more than her yearly income, his shoulder length hair perfectly coiffed and a golden tooth gleaming as his lips part in a crocodile smile.

"Good evening, Miss…?"

"Swan," Emma mutters, wishing she'd had the foresight to dress nicely. "Emma Swan."

"Miss Swan, I've been told that you have my client's dog."

"Your client? Are you her…?"

He blinks, then smiles again and offers his hand as if having momentarily forgotten his manners. She shakes it wearily. "Robert Gold. I'm Regina's agent. Now, the dog…?"

"Uh, yeah." Emma awkwardly holds up her cellphone. "I took a few pictures on my phone, I mean, if she wants to make sure it's really Lady."

"I'll have her confirm for you." He reaches out and Emma immediately recoils, grimacing.

"Whoa, hey, I'd rather you not walk off with my phone, y'know?"

He looks to be on the cusp of arguing before snapping his mouth shut and straightening his shoulders, lips pursed in a slight frown. "As you wish. Follow me. And if I catch you trying to sneak any photos, I will call security on you."

"I'm not paparazzi," Emma insists, scowling. Gold just shrugs and motions for her to follow, leading her through the door behind reception and down a hall. They take the stairs up one flight and come out onto a large, spacious studio room on the second floor. The photoshoot is still going on, strangely enough, if the large number of people mulling around is any indication. They're not doing much at the moment though, costumers sitting by racks of clothing with a book in hand and makeup artists lounging by their tables, bored. The photographers stand chatting in one corner, a few other executives mutter quietly on their phones, and at the far corner of the studio, Regina Mills herself sits in her chair, head bent over her phone.

"Is everyone on break?" Emma asks Gold in a hushed whisper, trailing after him as he beelines it towards his client.

"Regina is checking her Twitter for the hundredth time," he replies under his breath, clearly annoyed. "Everything you see in this room is not to be spoken of on social media, do you understand?"

"My lips are sealed," Emma promises, which is likely going to be true in the next five seconds because she's walking towards supermodel extraordinaire Regina Mills in all her red-blouse-leather-skirt glory and she doesn't really remember how to breathe anymore.

Oh my god, she's even more beautiful in real life.

"Regina, darling," Gold says, drawing the entire room's attention because evidently no one is able to work until Regina is done obsessively checking her phone. When Regina looks up at them, her expression is one of distraught, like a mother desperate to hear about her missing child (or in this case, fur-baby.) Those dark eyes are a swirling pool of worry and fear and - yup, Emma can't remember how to breathe. "You were posing for Javier when I left three minutes ago. You can't keep checking your phone like this, it's unprofessional-"

"It's been three days, Gold!" she hisses, fiery anger replacing her concern. Gold sighs dramatically even as Emma backpedals a few steps in nervousness. "Don't nag at me to work when my baby is out there somewhere, lost and alone! This would have never happened if you had actually paid attention instead of letting her out without her leash on! I should have never let you-"

"Regina," Gold interrupts, holding up a hand. "Miss Swan believes she has found your dog."

"Miss Who?" Those dark eyes fall on Emma, and if one could die from an overdose of beauty, Emma would have collapsed dead by now. Instead, she sucks in some much-needed oxygen and stutters out, shyly,

"Hi."

They stare at each other for a moment in silence. The entire room is silent, in fact, everyone waiting on bated breath.

"You found Lady?" Regina finally says, ignoring the pitiful greeting. Emma swallows down the lump in her throat and is glad her voice doesn't crack.

"Yeah, I mean I think so. She was brought into the animal shelter I volunteer at. I took some photos if you want to make sure it's her." She fumbles with her phone and then hands it over, heart almost exploding when Regina's fingers bump against hers as she takes the device.

She scrolls through the images, dark eyes intensely examining the dog in the photos. Emma had taken a few of Lady curled up in a ball on her bed, one of her standing in the living room, and a few more closeups of her face. The last photo she stops on is a selfie that Emma had impulsively taken with the cute pooch, their cheeks pressed together, Emma grinning and Lady with her tongue lolling out. When Emma notices it on the screen she turns a bright red in embarrassment, regretting her entire life right then and there.

"That's my dog," Regina says, hand tightening around the phone as her head snaps up to look at Emma. For a moment she thinks her supermodel crush might actually smile at her in appreciation for her finding Lady, but all she gets is a hard stare. "Where is she? Is she at the shelter?"

"No, no, I was temporarily fostering her. She's at my apartment. I would've brought her here with me but I was running around this area looking for you and I wasn't even sure I'd find you."

Something relaxes in Regina's posture, relief that her baby is safe, but then she straightens up and shoots a glare at Gold. "Bring me my checkbook."

"Shouldn't you see the dog in person before-"

"You don't get to speak," Regina snaps. "You lost her in the first place. Bring me my checkbook. Miss Swan will get her reward and I will get my Lady back."

The thought of accepting money simply for being the one to find Lady makes Emma's stomach turn. The thought of accepting Regina Mills's money for simply finding her dog makes her want to bend over and puke, because god, how shameless is that, taking money from her favourite model for a good deed?

"No," Emma says, which has Regina and Gold both shooting her sharp looks. "Look, I'm not here for a reward. I don't want your money."

"Then what do you want, Miss Swan? Are you trying to negotiate my dog for something?" Regina storms up to her and - where Emma would normally collapse into a puddle at the other woman's nearness - her pride has her puffing up her own chest in indignation.

"Hey, relax! I'm not- jeeze, why would I do that? I don't want your money for doing the right thing. You can have your dog back, I'm just saying I don't want anything in return for her."

Dark eyes narrow into slits, gauging Emma's honesty. Her gaze flickers down to take in Emma's ratty skinny jeans, her fur-covered henley, and her baggy plaid shirt with judgmental eyes. "You're refusing the reward money for returning my dog?"

Don't need to sound so surprised, Emma thinks sourly, frowning. "Yeah. Some people don't need to get paid to do a good deed. Look, I'll go home and bring her back here right now, okay?"

"Excellent," Gold says, clapping his hands together and glancing towards the impatient photographer hovering nearby. "While we wait, Regina-"

"I'm coming with you," Regina says, prompting Gold's outburst of, "What?!"

"Err, that's not-" Emma's eyes are wide as saucers because the thought of supermodel Regina Mills seeing her stale little apartment is kind of totally terrifying.

"It's been three days, I am going to see my baby girl right now," Regina says, glaring at Gold to disagree. "August! Bring the car around."

A man in a dark suit jumps up from where he's been leaning by the wall and hurries out of the room with a curt "yes, ma'am."

"Regina, you're not done here, it would cost us to reschedule-"

"Then reschedule," Regina says, jabbing him in the chest with a finger before snatching up a jacket and storming for the door, Emma's phone still in her hand. "Come, Miss Swan."

If Emma perks up and scampers after the brunette like an obedient dog, no one says anything about it at all.

The car ride over is uncomfortable, to say the least. Regina spends the first half of it drilling Emma with questions about what she fed Lady or how she groomed her or whether or not the dog is injured, and the rest of it staring hard at the photos on Emma's phone, as if she can discern whether or not her baby is hurt. By the time they finally reach the apartment building, Emma jumps out with relief, grimacing when Regina steps out and shoves the phone back into her possession. Much to her surprise, their driver - August - jumps out too, shadowing Regina like a stone-faced bodyguard.

"The, uh, the stairs are way faster than waiting for the elevator," Emma says feebly, motioning to the stairwell once they're inside. Regina just struts right on ahead, taking those stairs with all the elegance of a Queen despite her six inch stilettos and very, very tight leather skirt. It's hard not to stare at that shiny leather-clad ass when Emma's taking the stairs right behind her and, gods, Ruby is going to murder her when she finds out that their mutual favourite supermodel is about to enter Emma's apartment.

"It's this floor," Emma says, dodging past Regina to lead them out into her hallway and down to her door. She swings it open to find Belle and Lady sitting side-by-side on the couch, the former reading a book while the latter chews on the little giraffe stuffy.

"Lady!" Regina cries out, dropping to her knees and throwing out her arms. Lady gives a little yip and just about falls off the couch in her haste to throw herself into Regina's arms, whining and crying and smearing herself all over her owner in her joy to see her.

Emma stands with her jaw dropped, because Regina fucking Mills is in a designer shirt and leather skirt and fuck-me stilettos on the floor of her apartment, wrestle-hugging a dog and laughing a rich, husky laugh that makes all the blood in her body rush to one very specific place. If the brunette notices the amount of dog hair sticking to her very expensive clothing, she doesn't seem to care.

"You're okay, sweetheart. Mommy's got you. I'm so sorry Gold lost you-" Regina croons soft reassurances as she ruffles Lady's fur, pressing little kisses all over the dog's nose and muzzle and accepting the loving licks in response. The sight is so unexpected and unexpectedly adorable that Emma can't find it in herself to interrupt the moment, standing there with her mouth opening and closing soundlessly.

"You found her owner?" Belle asks when she sidles up to the blonde's side, oblivious as to who said owner is. Emma just nods. "That's wonderful! Well, I'll see you later, Emma."

"Thanks, Belle," Emma manages as her neighbor slips out and disappears back into her own apartment. August, who remains standing by the door, finally speaks up.

"Miss Mills, we should get you back to the studio."

Regina frowns at him briefly before rising to her feet, clearing her throat and trying uselessly to brush some of the dog fur off her clothing. With her tail still wagging, Lady switches her attention to Emma and bounds happily to the blonde, jumping up onto her legs in search of affection.

"Aww, cutie pie. I'll miss you." She ruffles the soft fur of Lady's ears and cheeks, letting the dog lick at her wrists. Regina watches the exchange with an odd look in her eyes.

"She's very familiar with you," the brunette notes, her tone giving nothing away. Emma just shrugs and smiles a little.

"She's very affectionate."

Regina looks like she wants to deny that because she has never seen her dog trust another human that quickly, but instead snaps her mouth shut and straightens her back a little more, plastering on a smile that is a hundred percent professional.

"Right. Well, thank you again, Miss Swan, for returning my Lady to me."

"No problem. I'm glad she's going home safe and sound. Hopefully the little Lady stays out of trouble next time?"

"I don't think she'll be getting lost again anytime soon," Regina says, chuckling.

"If she does, let me know, I'll help you find her again. I'll always find her." The remarkably stupid and ridiculous words are out of her mouth and she laughs awkwardly and wonders if she can disappear into the floor. Regina just stares at her for a moment, speechless. If Emma doesn't know any better, she'd swear she can see a tinge of pink under all that makeup.

"Come, Lady." Regina gives a jerky nod and turns for the door. Lady bolts back to the couch to snatch the little stuffed giraffe before following. August shuts the door behind them, and then Emma is alone in her sad little apartment again.

She doesn't hear anything back after that. She checks Regina's Twitter; there's a single tweet thanking all her Boston fans for their vigilance and reassuring them that Lady has been found safe and sound. No shout-out to Emma, of course, which kind of sucks, but then again Emma should be glad that her name isn't put in the spotlight, she supposes. David and Graham pester her relentlessly for information (because how crazy is it that Emma got to rescue her favourite supermodel's dog and then meet said supermodel?) but it only gets worse when Ruby returns from her trip to Chicago.

"I'm going to fucking kill you," is the brunette's first words when she walks into the animal shelter and corners Emma in one of the kennels. "This is so fucking major! How could you not tell me?!"

Suffice to say, Emma earned a few bruises in the shape of Ruby's hand from getting slapped across the shoulder one too many times that day. In apology, Ruby treated her to an extra large hot chocolate with cinnamon when they both finished their late night shifts at her Granny's diner afterwards.

It's a Saturday afternoon, a week and a half since last seeing Lady and Regina, that there's a knock on her door. Emma's in the middle of her home workout routine, sweaty in a pair of fitted shorts and a sports bra, and brushes stray hairs from her forehead as she moves to answer the door.

"Hel-" Regina's greeting breaks off as dark eyes widen almost comically and scan down Emma's body, gaze lingering on a firm six-pack before sliding down the length of very long, lean legs. Absently, a tongue darts out to wet dry lips. Emma wonders if she's hallucinating.

"Regina?"

"Yes." Regina's head snaps up and she tries to act nonchalant to little avail. "Miss Swan. Good afternoon."

There's no way she can stop the knowing grin from stretching her lips. Yeah, no, Emma doesn't even try. The blush rising to Regina's cheeks is entirely worth it. "Is there something I can do for you? Lady hasn't gone missing again, has she?"

"Hm? No, no, Lady is fine. Thank you, again, for returning her." She clears her throat, flustered, and suddenly holds up the little stuffed giraffe. "I hadn't realized she'd stolen this until we were driving away. I'm leaving the city soon, so I thought I would come return this now."

Emma just laughs, prompting a crease to appear between Regina's brows. "I let her take it. It's just a toy, I don't mind. She seemed to really like it."

"Oh." Regina's mouth opens and closes a few times before she settles on, "Thank you, then."

"No problem."

They stare at each other again, Regina visibly making an effort not to gaze down at Emma's athletic figure so obviously on display. This is the complete opposite of their last meeting; now Regina stands in a respectable pantsuit and coat, unable to stop gawking, and Emma is the one feeling a surge of confidence as she's gawked at.

"Well… I should… I'll just…" Regina motions vaguely behind her, inching away. Again, Emma's mouth goes ahead and says without her permission,

"Would you like to come in for a coffee?"

She's not exactly in the right clothes for it, but if the way Regina's not-so-subtly admiring her is any indication, the brunette won't mind. Said brunette just gapes like a fish out of water.

"Oh, but you're- I, I don't want to intrude-"

Ruby is going to kill her out of jealousy, Emma thinks as she steps back and motions for Regina to enter. "I'm not busy. Besides, you did come all this way."

Wordlessly, the brunette enters and follows her into the little kitchen area, taking a seat at the island barstool while Emma starts up a pot of coffee.

"So how's Lady doing?" Emma asks, turning around in time to see Regina's eyes jump away from where they were most certainly staring at her ass.

"She's doing well." Regina clears her throat, suddenly finding a lightswitch on the wall very fascinating. Emma leans against the counter with her arms crossed, smiling.

"And your photoshoot? Did you guys manage to finish it?"

"Yes. Everything proceeded quite quickly once I was no longer worried about Lady's whereabouts."

"I'm glad to hear it."

Silence descends upon them, awkward and uncomfortable. Emma is starting to regret inviting her in because what in the world could she possibly have in common with a supermodel, anyway? She's unfashionable and poor as dirt and has absolutely nothing to offer.

"So you work at an animal shelter?" Regina asks suddenly, which has Emma almost sighing with relief. Animals she can talk about.

"Volunteer, actually. The shelter's run by my old highschool friend, David. He and his wife run it out of their own pockets, though. They can't afford to pay for employees, so it's mostly our friends who volunteer their free time. I actually work at a diner nearby."

"That's very charitable of you," says Regina, relaxing somewhat and resting her forearms on the island. "I've always tried to promote animal adoption wherever I can. I adopted Lady when she was just a puppy. Her litter had been abandoned on the side of a road."

Emma's eyebrows lift in surprise before she lets out a little chuckle. When Regina looks at her oddly, she smiles. "Maybe that's why Lady and I got along so easily. I was abandoned on the side of a road as a baby, too."

Dark eyes widen in shock. "Oh, god. I'm so sorry."

"It was a long time ago." Emma shrugs. "It's part of why I volunteer. I mean, I'm not really qualified to work with troubled kids in orphanages or anything, I didn't go to school for that, but I can do my part for abandoned animals at least, you know? They need someone on their side. They all deserve to find a home and a family."

Regina smiles softly, the first real smile she's ever given Emma. "That's… that's very good of you. I feel the same way. I try to do photoshoots with shelter animals whenever I can; they get adopted pretty quickly and it helps bring customers into the shelters. It's all on my own dime, though, so naturally Gold and my mother think it's a waste of time." She purses her lips, as if having said more than she really intended to. After a moment, her eyes scan the little apartment around them and land back on her blonde host. "You don't have a pet of your own?"

"Not allowed in this building. I only snuck Lady in since the shelter had no room left."

"Well, I truly appreciate you taking care of her for me."

Again, Emma shrugs it off with an awkward little smile, turning to check on the coffee. She pours out a mug for each of them and then slides over the sugar and cream for Regina.

"Gold - your agent, right? I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he wore crocodile leather and real fur. Doesn't seem like much of an animal person. Is your mom one of your agents, too?"

"Gods, no. Gold is enough of a pain. But she exerts control over whatever she can, so I find myself having to put up with her more often than not as well."

Emma grins sympathetically. She wouldn't know what it's like to have to deal with any kind of mother, but by the way Regina's expressions turns somewhat cold, she imagines the brunette's mother is no walk in the park.

"Is your mother the reason you got into modelling?"

"Hm?" Regina blinks at her, gaze momentarily distant. "I… yes, I suppose so. I never thought I'd grow up to be a model."

"Yeah? What'd you want to be?" Emma shifts to take a seat next to her on the other barstool. Regina's gaze flickers distractedly to her abs again before settling on her mug of coffee.

"A horse jockey, believe it or not."

Emma's grin just widens. "I can see that, actually. You always looked so comfortable around animals in your pictures, especially that magazine cover of you with the stallion."

"Oh, yes. That had been Pistacchio. He'd been abandoned after sustaining a knee injury, so I did the photoshoot to help get him adopted…" She trails off, then stares at Emma, her lips quirking in a smile when something dawns on her. "You've seen many of my photos?"

"Uh…" Emma hesitates, blushing fiercely at getting caught. There's no use in lying, though, especially when half a dozen of Regina's posters are lining her bedroom wall in the next room over. "You're kind of a celebrity and role model among us animal shelter folk," is her diplomatic answer. Regina just smirks knowingly.

"So, why a horse jockey?" Emma asks after a moment, taking a long sip of her coffee and trying to hide behind her mug. Again, those dark eyes grow distant, staring off into someplace far away in both time and place.

"My father trained horses for a living, so I basically grew up on horseback. My mother always had higher aspirations for me, though. Said I could do so much better than a horse jockey. Pushed me into modeling as soon as I was old enough. Told me what to eat, when to exercise, how to stand, how to smile. I was her personal doll for much of my childhood, I suppose. She would pose me and I would do it without complaint."

Emma listens without interruption, watching the myriad of expressions cross Regina's face, many of them dark. After a moment, the brunette seems to snap herself out of it and offer Emma a quick, forced smile.

"Well, I have nothing to complain about. I make a lot of money and I have no trouble finding work, so it all worked out in the end."

"Money and job offers don't make a miserable childhood okay," Emma says softly. For a moment, Regina glares at her. "You actually grew up with parents. Their job should have been to make sure you were happy and support whatever it is you wanted to do. It's okay if you want to complain about it. You never got to be the horse jockey you wanted to be."

Regina doesn't respond, but her glare wavers only slightly, jaw tense as she grits her teeth.

"It must have been infuriating, right? Forced to be her toy doll. You didn't get to do what you wanted. You didn't get to let loose or be wild."

"I never said anything about wanting to let loose or be wild," Regina refutes, her voice a low growl. She says one thing but her dark eyes, nearly black now, say another.

"Really? You never wanted to defy her? To be something other than your mother's perfect little model?" Emma finds herself leaning in and oh, this is such a terrible, terrible idea, but Regina's eyes are flickering down to her lips and she can almost feel the heat radiating from the brunette's suddenly-still body. "You never wanted to rebel? To lose control?"

She's not sure who moved first - all she's aware of is Regina's lips on hers and their tongues entwined, her fingers digging into the soft, sculpted flesh of Regina's hips and Regina's hands tangling into her hair and pulling her closer, closer, closer.

"I've never-" Regina gasps between kisses, her voice rough with breathlessness.

"It's okay," Emma rasps back, and then they're stumbling their way into the bedroom and collapsing onto the bed in a heap of limbs and heated flesh. Emma tugs at the brunette's jacket, every movement gentle in case there are second thoughts, but Regina throws them off desperately and then drags Emma against her again, starved for skin contact. Her fingers dig into Emma's sides, palms sliding along sweat-slicked skin and the hard muscles underneath, finding the bumps and ridges of old scars, scratch marks and gouges from animals and orphanage abuse both. Emma's marks are as much on the outside as Regina's are on the inside.

"Looks like I'm not the only one with a crappy childhood," Regina notes, cheeks flushed when Emma hovers over her, biceps flexed and blonde hair cascading.

"It's not all bad," Emma says, smiling when Regina's fingers trail over a long scar down her back. "Some are more recent. Sometimes, losing control can feel really good."

Regina's eyes darken considerably, pools of black that threaten to drown Emma in their depths. When Emma smirks, she glances away, momentarily caught by uncertainty. Her eyes alight on the posters of herself on the wall; posed, wrapped in designer clothing, every look and every expression so very carefully controlled in the way her mother raised her to be.

"That's not me," she whispers, chest heaving as she glares upon the passionless woman in the photos. It's only the one of her with Lady, the unpaid photoshoot of her with her arms around her dog and and easy smile on her face, that the real Regina Mills shines through.

"Then let go," Emma whispers back.

They crash together, lips and teeth and needy hands, ripping off articles of clothing with an almost desperate kind of passion. Emma pins the brunette down and finds her aching core with searching fingers. Regina arches her spine, nails digging into the blonde's back, kissing her as if her very life depends on it and rocking against the fingers that drive into her.

"Name," Regina gasps, tearing her lips away to pant against Emma's ear.

"What?"

"Your name, Miss Swan."

"Emma."

Emma braces her hips against her hand and slams into her harder, thumb rubbing down hard against where Regina wants her most. The brunette leaves a trail of claw-like welts across the blonde's back when she climaxes with a cry of Emma's name.

"More," she rasps even as she trembles around her lover's fingers, pupils blown wide with frantic desire. She shoves Emma over and crawls onto her, taking her turn by entering her with three fingers. The blonde is soaking wet but she cries out at the sudden intrusion nonetheless, fingernails digging into the soft, unmarred flesh of Regina's back and her teeth clamping down on that smooth, perfect shoulder.

They rock together, moaning and panting, sweat-slicked skin and damp hair and heavy gazes of lust and something more. Emma sucks and licks and bites on Regina's neck and the brunette responses in kind, drawing beads of blood from a particularly hard bite by the blonde's pulse. When Emma comes, she growls Regina's name against the bruising lovebite she left on her neck, nails leaving a matching set of welts down the brunette's back.

Later, when they lay tangled together under the sheets, bodies cooling and breaths settling back into a normal rhythm, Regina breaks the silence.

"You left marks," she says, almost teasingly accusing. Emma grins and delicately traces one such bite mark on the gentle slope of Regina's neck and shoulder.

"You liked it."

Regina tilts her head to glance up at her from where her face is tucked in against Emma's collarbone, dark eyes glittering. She'll have to cover them with heavy makeup, but there isn't an ounce of regret in her smile.

"I did."

They fall quiet again, warm and sated and content. Regina's fingers trace random patterns on the flesh of Emma' chest, feeling the thud of her heartbeat just beneath the skin.

"Thank you," she whispers, burying her head a little closer under Emma's chin and pressing a delicate kiss to the column of her neck. Emma pulls her just a little closer, arms circling the other woman's smaller body.

"Everyone should be allowed to lose control at least once in their life."

Regina's fingers still, reluctantly. "This can't happen again."

Green eyes blink up at the ceiling, absently tracing the patterns in the texture. "I figured."

They say no more, taking comfort in each other's calm presence for as long as possible. Emma drifts off for a while, her body too relaxed and worn out to resist slumber.

When she wakes, Regina - and the little giraffe chew toy - are gone.

Nothing changes. Not really. Emma goes to work at the diner and volunteers at the shelter and has microwave dinners alone at her apartment like she always does. Her weekends consist of beer with David and Graham or movie nights in with Mary Margaret and Ruby. What little time she had for flirting and one-night stands in the past are now completely dedicated to spending time at the shelter, socializing and loving the homeless animals until they find a permanent home. If her friends notice her tunnel-vision focus on volunteer work they say nothing about it, just like they stopped asking about Regina Mills and Lady.

"She's gone and there's nothing to talk about," Emma had said the first few times, her forced smiles and blatant dismissals eventually dissuading them from the topic like the plague.

Regina Mills's Twitter feed is professional and impersonal as always, making nice with her fans and thanking them for their gift baskets and - more often than she used to - posting photos of Lady. Lady almost always has that little stuffed giraffe with her in every photo now, gripping it between her teeth like a chew toy she refuses to let go of. In one selfie photo, Regina and Lady pose with the giraffe in Regina's hand, her red lips pursed as if pretending to kiss it.

The others recognize the stuffy - they were there with Emma at the fair when she'd won it at one of those dart throwing games - but that, too, is something they don't talk about.

Emma keeps up to date on all things Regina Mills more than she used to. Ruby sometimes shares a link about the supermodel's latest photoshoot on Facebook and she'll click it and read through it with an expression that gives nothing away. The brunette's tweets show up at the top of her newsfeeds and she always picks up the latest fashion magazine to appreciate Regina's cover art and read whatever article or interview she's featured in.

"She makes me actually not hate calf-length pants," Ruby complains one day when she and Emma and Mary Margaret are out on the porch looking at magazines and drinking iced tea. It's one of the rare moments of the day where the beautiful baby boy Mary Margaret had given birth to weeks before is actually quiet and asleep.

"I think it kind of depends on who's wearing them," Emma says. "You could totally pull them off, Rubes."

"Especially in denim, like this pair here that she's wearing," Mary Margaret agrees with a shake of her Regina Mills fashion catalogue, and then they all continue their conversation as if they're not talking about a woman Emma has met and made love to once upon a time.

"Are you sure you want to stay tonight, Ems?"

David stares at her forlornly, with Graham and Ruby playing backup because it's the night before Christmas and they're all supposed to have a misfits dinner together, except the heater in the shelter has been wonky and someone needs to stay there throughout the night to keep it running so that the animals don't get cold. It normally wouldn't be a problem in Boston but of course it had to be the one year where it's actually surprisingly cold, and the shelter is an old and run down building with the worst insulation.

"They need me," Emma says with an easy smile and a shrug. "You know some of the older ones and the sick ones aren't going to be okay if the heat goes out."

"If you need help at any time, just call us," Graham says, grimacing sympathetically.

"We'll make sure to pack up a week's supply of leftovers for you," Ruby promises.

Emma waves them off after getting her share of hugs and sloppy kisses and wishes of "Merry Christmas." The shelter is quiet, as always, and she spends the next few hours making her way through every kennel, playing with the animals and peppering them with love. When their regular closing time arrives she doesn't bother locking the door or turning over the sign. She's seen her share of families slipping in on the nights before Christmas looking to give a home to a cute new addition, and though most of the ones they have here are old or sick or not really all that cute, she still has hope that maybe someone will give them a chance.

She's just resettling a grumbling old cat into a cage after giving it its pain medication for its aching bones when the bell on the door chimes, startling her out of her mindless humming for the past few hours. She'd been humming Christmas carols to herself and to the animals to keep things from getting too boring, and the thought of someone actually showing up to take a look at the animals has her smiling with hope.

"Hi there, sorry, just a moment!"

Dusting fur from her sweater, she hurries down the hall towards the reception area, a smile already lighting up her face and dimpling her cheeks.

"Hi, Merry Christmas! Are you looking to adopt…"

The sight of Regina Mills standing by the desk in a charcoal coat and red wool scarf has her words dying on her tongue. Before either woman can properly address each other, a blur of brown fur darts away from Regina's side and tackles Emma with a yowl of affection.

"Lady!" Emma laughs, dropping to her knees and letting the dog smear against her and lick at her face, whining out her distress at not having seen her in more than half a year. Hugging the squirming bundle of joy, she smiles up softly at Regina, soaking in the sight of the beautiful brunette with something almost akin to love in her green eyes.

"Hi," she says, just as shyly as the first time. Regina's shoulders relax and she smiles back just as warmly, relieved at the positive greeting.

"Hi, Emma."

"What are you two doing here on Christmas Eve?"

Regina's cheeks, pink from the cold outside, turn even pinker. "We went by your apartment first but you weren't there, and your neighbor told me you might be here…" When Emma quirks a brow at her for a real answer, she says, "Lady missed you. She keeps your giraffe with her everywhere she goes and sometimes she cries at night, howling over the thing."

"Well I missed her too," Emma says, allowing the excuse as she ruffles Lady's fur and kisses her nose. "I didn't know you were in town."

"I was with my parents in Maine for the holidays, but then Lady and I decided to hop in the car and drive into Boston tonight."

Releasing the cuddly dog, Emma stands up and leans against the desk, giving Regina a somewhat bemused smile. "Quite the trip. Your parents, huh? How did that go?"

"I told them I'm taking a break from modelling for a while," she blurts out, arms gently curled around her stomach and gloved hands fidgeting nervously. "That I wanted to pursue working with horses and… and volunteer work, at shelters."

"Well that's very noble of you, Miss Mills." Those green eyes crinkle at the corners, glittering with pride. "And brave. I take it your mother wasn't very supportive."

"No," Regina says, voice softening. "But I've decided I'm done being the person she wants me to be. From now on, I'm going to do what I want to do. What makes me happy."

Emma pushes off the front desk, easing closer to her as Lady sits and watches them both with her tail wagging a mile a minute.

"And what makes you happy?" she asks, standing there in her frumpy sweater, her blonde hair falling loose around her shoulders and a soft smile on her lips, never judging, always accepting her. Regina curls her fingers into the front of Emma's sweater and pulls her in until the blonde's arms encircle her waist and their bodies fit together like they were meant to be.

"You do," she says, and then Emma kisses her and it feels just a little bit like coming home.

The End.