The first time, Emma's rather insulted. She knows the mayor doesn't exactly have the highest opinion of her, but she ought to know the blonde isn't this dumb. Brow creased, and tongue cramped, she pulls out and scuffles with the blankets she'd burrowed under.

"Wh- why're you stopping?!" The mayor sounds the most distressed Emma's ever heard her, voice reaching the same high pitched note when her son got himself trapped in the mines. Her chest is rising and falling at an alarming pace, and locks of her short hair are matted down with sweat. Unruly curls have mussed up the impeccable cut, one dipping across her eyes, mocha chocolate sheen glowing amber in the daylight.

Emma huffs, forced to admit the woman puts on a good show. "Do you have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"All - all that." She motions with her hands, and then goes ahead and mimics the mayor's exaggerating moaning. "Oh - oh! Em-mah! You're incredible, the best - oh, uh uh uh I've ever had!"

Regina stares up at her, eyes wide.

"I'm not some amateur, I know the difference between porn and reality, if this is some stupid attempt at manipulating my ego, or - "

A sudden impact of the mayor's foot against her ribs has Emma practically somersaulting backwards over the edge of the queen sized bed. "Get. Out." The words are delivered through clenched teeth. "Get out," They're repeated again after only a couple seconds of Emma groaning on the floor, and then, "Get out! Get out! You complete asshole, Emma Swan! Get the fuck out of my house!"

The bedside table is a diverse community. A glass of water resting on a coaster, lipstick staining the rim; an alarm clock reading 11:56 AM; a blackberry at 75% battery; a black hair tie belonging to the deputy sheriff. Each of these items Emma manages to successfully dodge as she hurriedly tugs on her tight jeans, hopping around on one foot while her boss screams obscenities at her. Even with her hardened life, some of the Spanish vulgarity manages to make her blush.

"Oh! Regina! Jesus!" Emma drops back onto the floor and covers her head when the mayor rips out the roots of her laptop charger to free the entire device and launch it through the air.

Fury has consumed the older woman in shades of red and purple. Emma imagines for a wild moment sparks spitting out of the mayor's fingertips. The floor trembles from enduring the brunt of the abuse and again Regina shouts at her to leave, angry tears welling up and the bedsheet now wrapped tight around her body.

"I - "

"Go!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Get out."

She scrams.

Two years later, they've never mentioned it. Their sleeping quarters on the Jolly Roger are incredibly cramped. A dozen swaying hammocks create a labyrinth of fabric Emma struggles to navigate by rays of moonlight streaming through cracks in the wood. The low hanging ones are out of the question, an open invitation for the rats on this ship. Some of the hammocks sport incriminating stains, some of them have been torn asunder, surely unable to sustain much added weight. Emma learns this the hard way, her tailbone freshly bruised and incessantly throbbing.

"Gah!" Emma jumps several feet in the air as a shadow squeaks while running over her feet. Immediately, her parents, Gold and Hook shush her hysterics, each of them occupying a corner of the ship's dormitory.

Scowling in the vague direction of their voices, Emma resumes her nocturnal prowl. They've decided against sleeping in the individual cabins for the next couple of nights in case of unwanted boarders trying to pick them off one by one. Ducking beneath the wooden planks, she sees the hazy outline of her son's mother in the darkness.

"Hey," Emma approaches the gently swaying hammock, the Evil Queen's curled up body just below eye level. "Regina!"

Another chorus of shhhhh rebounding off the walls.

"What?" The woman rolls over, voice congested with sleep.

"You're in my hammock."

"What? Miss Swan, what on earth are you talking about?"

Are they even on Earth anymore? Emma takes a moment to ponder that, then shakes the distracting thought away. "This is my hammock," She curls her fingers over the flimsy edge. "I was gone for like a minute, and you took it."

"I did not," The Evil Queen huffs, turning back around again. "Find another hammock, you child."

"Regina, I know this one was mine!"

"There are plenty others!"

"Most of them are disgusting, you find a decent one!"

"You know what, Swan," The captain's voice is like a salt soaked breeze. Emma can almost taste him on her tongue. "I'd be more than happy to accommodate you here."

Mouth partially buried by his wife's hair, Emma hears her father mumble at the pirate to shut up. She turns back to see a flicker of something in the moonlight, the Evil Queen's features provoked by the captain's offer. Their eyes meet in darkness, and the brunette immediately scowls up at her.

"Give me back my hammock," Emma lowers her voice, the ship rocking beneath her feet.

"It is not your hammock."

"I'm warning you..." The queen doesn't budge, and Emma scowls right back at her, swiftly launching herself up, the hammock creaking noisily, swinging with wild abandon.

Muttering obscenities under his breath, the Dark One casts a silencing charm, and their scuffle is swiftly saturated with the sound of waves crashing against the hull, the creak of wet wood and flap of torn fabric.

"You... contemptible... deplorable... worthless - "

"It is my hammock!"

" - brute!"

Emma grunts at the knee shoved into her belly, her own slipping between the queen's thighs, both of them wearing stripped down versions of their day clothing. "That's a compliment coming from you." The queen's breath is hot against her cheek. "We're only in this mess thanks to you, your majesty."

"Had you not messed with the curse, my son would be safe at home this very moment!"

"If we were back home, you know damn well he'd be running away from you to hang out with m-argh!"

The fabric tears and the two of them dropped onto the wooden floor, the queen's painted nails scratching at the savior's face. "Bitch!"

"Cunt!"

"Asshole!"

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!"

Emma draws back her arm, fingers curling into a fist. Magic crackles in the air, electricity skirting the surface of their skin, like a match dragged down the length of both their spines. Chest heaving, face burning, Emma scowls down at her rival, features drenched in shadow, in moonlight. "I hate you."

There's a prominent vein pulsating in the middle of the queen's forehead. "And I despise you."

"Good, glad that's settled." Emma shoves off the floor, kneecaps bruised. "And now, thanks to you, yet another damn hammock is ruined. Where the hell am I gonna sleep? All the rest are - "

A sonic boom drowns out everything else. Then comes the splintered wood, and the holler of adolescent boys boarding the ship from above. "Gold!" Emma reaches down and hauls the queen up to her feet, glimpsing the wild gleam in dark eyes. "Hook! Guys!"

The Dark One's silencing spell holds, their companions locked in uneasy slumber. Regina pushes past the blonde and makes for the stairs, an orange flame growing in her hand. "Are you coming?"

Emma spares one last look at the dark outlines swaying undisturbed below deck. "Right behind you."

When the sun rises, when the spell dies upon the Dark One's waking, when the rest of their bleary eyed crew emerge from the belly of the ship, it's to see two mothers sweating above deck, their clothing singed and the queen leaning heavily against the ship's rim while Emma finishes up tying their new prisoner's hands behind his back.

"Ah, Slightly," The pirate captain greets with a razor sharp smile. "My old friend."

Leaving the teenaged boy to be interrogated by the rest, Emma makes her way on unsteady legs towards Regina, catching her around the waist.

"What're you doing?"

"Helping you downstairs."

"You can barely walk yourself, Miss Swan."

"Then you can help me."

Regina hesitates, her dirty fingers tentatively curled around the back of the savior's neck. "Your parents are looking."

"There's nothing to see. We're just getting cleaned up. Anyway, what do you care?"

"I don't." Regina draws a breath. "Alright, lead on, Miss Swan."

The heat vision emanating from her parents' eye sockets are like lasers burning tiny holes in the back of the blonde's head. Sweet relief comes in the form of shadows and a locked door, the two of them stepping inside what had been the quartermaster's lodgings.

The queen's magic is a little shaky, and Emma's still an amateur, but summoning water is not so difficult when there's an ocean cradling their ship. Regina extracts the salt, and they take turns dipping in strips of cloth and gently mopping the other's cuts. Hissing at the sting, Emma's chin is lifted up, cradled by the queen's chilled fingers, dark eyes running over scratches that had given way beneath her own nails only seconds before the attack. "Sorry," The queen says, the word stiff and abrupt, but so unexpected and uncharacteristic that Emma is nearly floored.

"Don't worry about it." She remains still, unsure how aware the queen is as her fingers have begun to caress the savior's jawline. "I was the one who - "

"Acted like a deranged idiot?"

"Can you please just admit that it was my hammock?" Their argument slips into something slow and lazy, the gentle stroke unceasing. A captured Lost Boy means they're that much closer to recovering their son. The tensions which had rose like steam on their dead-end vessel seems to have dissipated, the knots in Emma's chest and Emma's mind are beginning to loosen and untangle. That manic energy converts into something dangerously familiar.

Their thighs touch, cuts and singed clothing still not fully dealt with. The sun continues to rise, light flooding each window of the cabin. Their shadows swim closer together, and warm breath crusts the swell of the savior's pink mouth. "You're free to claim it now, my dear." The queen's fingers appear darker in contrast to the fine strands they push back behind the curve of the savior's ear.

"I'm good right here," Emma murmurs, and reaches up to tug her rival into a kiss.

As if she'd been waiting for this every day for the past two years, Regina instantly succumbs to the pressure against her mouth, sighing as she sinks deeper and deeper into the embrace.

The wet smack of their lips is broken only by helping the other take off her shirt. Emma identifies and swiftly latches onto the pulse point throbbing near the top slope of her sworn enemy's neck. Sucking the flesh into the heat of her mouth, she sinks her teeth in and threatens to break skin. Immediately, Regina responds vocally and physically, her nipples stiffening beneath the calloused hand palming her breast. In the savior's hand, it feels like dough, squishing and twisting beneath her kneading grip, rolled beneath her greedy pressure.

Oxygen depletes, leaving both of them lightheaded. The ship rocks beneath them, weighed down by the anchor, the winds picking up, an oversized bassinet cradled by the burgeoning waves.

Gently pushing the older woman down, Emma crawls on top, sinking her thumbs into twin pressure points in the queen's wrists, forcing them above the brunette's head. "Keep still," She orders, and watches the way Regina's irises expand into glossy black orbs. She can see the milkyway in her lover's eyes, she can see the rose flush spreading from her lover's chest to the swell of her neck.

"You don't tell me what to do," The queen pontificates, the words heavy on her tongue, like she's drunk, and already her lashes are fluttering close.

Emma disagrees with a hard kiss, sucking her lover's bottom lip into the wet heat and refusing to yield until there's a soft cry at the back of Regina's throat, the queen's sensitive flesh sucked relentlessly, sucked raw, a bruise forming. These cries echo and build and mount the air. The salt air drenching their overheated skin, Regina's body glowing bronze in the brightening sunlight soaking their cabin. Through her dark lashes, the savior's hair looks as if it's been braided by a halo. Her eyes clench close and she sees nothing but vibrating spots of orange as the savior's mouth lays a savage claim on her belly, just above where she really needs her.

A belt of hickeys spread across her hipline. The queen bucks her hips and starts to whimper, the savior's torturous mouth branding her with wet heat. By the time Emma finally lays claim to the soaked treasure nestled between trembling thighs, Regina's already halfway there, reaching down to tangle her fingers in blonde curls, twisting them around her whitening knuckles, pulling sharply at the roots until the savior's teasing mouth finally gives in and grants mercy, grants relief, beckons forth the rising tide of soft, rolling cries and soaring agony.

This time around, her mouth drenched with smeared arousal, her ears ringing with the sound of her own name, her skull throbbing from the pressure of long legs wrapped around her head for two straight minutes, Emma's willing to concede the mayor may not have been playing her for any sick reason those two years ago. She's just a naturally loud lover, who gets a little carried away with her compliments. Emma knows from experience, she's not all that great in bed, having been critiqued by every lover she'd had whilst in the midst of things.

She tamps down on whatever sparks of pride she'd felt at listening to Regina to fall apart beneath her mouth. When they're dying embers cooling inside the pit of her belly, she crawls up the length of her lover's body and quirks her lips into a smile when the woman practically coos at the sensation of their nude bodies sinking into one another. "Too much for you, old lady?"

Dark eyes snap open, and Emma lets out a shriek of laughter as the queen flips her over with a savage snarl, determined to prove her wrong.