A/N: 3-part story based on a prompt someone gave me on Tumblr. It plays somewhere in Season 3, after they've returned from Neverland.

The first time it happens; well, she doesn't remember much about the first time it happens.

There's this hazy feeling when she wakes up, squinting against the sunlight that filters in through the blinders that cover the window. Her tongue is stuck to her palate and her throat feels like it got rubbed with sandpaper. That and her head hurts. A lot. Like, an entire drumband was having a party in her head, trashing the hotel room and throwing up, a lot.

Oh...and this wasn't her bedroom.

And there was someone lying next to her. Or rather half on top of her. Emma closes her eyes briefly. Fuck her life, she shouldn't have drank that much the day before. Should've seen this coming a mile away. It had to be Neal of course, because hell, who else could it be and it made sense in the grander scale of things.

Only..yeah.. Okay, when she moves her hand, that's mostly asleep because of the weight of the body pressing it into the bedding; that's definitely not a part of male anatomy she was touching. It felt a whole lot like..well, a breast. One she was currently semi-fondling because of her awkward position. Her cheeks flush hotly as she slowly tries to extricate the treacherous hand without waking up the person next to her.

She holds her breath when the figure stirs beneath the covers and they slowly slide down to reveal strands of tousled brown hair, Emma's pretty sure her heart skips a beat or two.

She couldn't have possibly..yeah she did, didn't she? Out of all the people in this town, how the actual fuck had she ended up in bed with the Evil Queen? That had to be a cosmic joke of epic proportions. Or you know..way too much booze in a single evening. Though to be fair there had been a few times, when she'd been alone in her bedroom, in the clinging darkness and horny beyond the telling of it, that she might've just entertained a fantasy or two involving Regina. And a pair of handcuffs. Or two.

Slowly she swings her legs over the edge of the bed. Her eyes scan the dimly lit room, in search of whatever articles of clothing strewn haphazardly across the room could belong to her. The moment she stands upright, the world spins in front of her eyes and she quickly puts down a hand on the headboard to steady herself. There's a small creaky noise when she does so and Emma cringes at how loudly it reverberates throughout the otherwise quiet room. Her eyes widen and quickly flash towards the general direction of the sleeping form. One of Regina's hands curls around the sheets near her head and tugs it up, but otherwise she doesn't move and Emma blows out the breath she'd been withholding.

She looks...adorable like this, Emma thinks with some dismay. There's this mental image of Regina snarling at being described like that and Emma shrinks a little with the thought. God she needed to get out of here before Her Majesty woke up.

Normally she wouldn't be the one doing the walk of shame. But then again, normally she didn't fall asleep in other people's beds. And she had a feeling that Regina wouldn't take too kindly to being kicked out of her own bed and house. It does come as a surprise to her that the woman had allowed her to stay over at all.

They must've been really, really, plastered last night.

She miraculously finds her panties, underneath the bed of all places and her socks are tossed somewhere against the far wall.

While looking for her jeans and shirt, Emma wracks her brain trying to remember what the hell had happened last night. She can vaguely recall that she had stumbled into something, she thinks it might've been a lamppost but it could've been a fire hydrant just as well. She also remembers that Regina had scolded her for being so careless, before she had walked straight into the same object a second or two later.

Wait...had Regina set someone on fire? Her mind keeps supplying the images of Regina throwing around fireballs while slurring together insults.

And then the puzzle-pieces slowly slide together.

The welcome-back party at Granny's. Regina had been automatically invited this time around, especially after the whole ordeal at Neverland. She had actually saved Mary Margaret and David's lives from a Troll attack in that fun place. Not too long after they had freed Henry and stumbled upon Neal too.

It all seemed so long ago already while in reality it had been just weeks instead. Thankfully they found a leftover bean that had taken them back to Storybrooke.

Which was where the welcome-back party came in. Most people had actually been civil towards Regina, especially after hearing how she had come through in Neverland. Of course that freaking Leroy, after consuming a few too many beers, had managed to destroy all of that with a flip of the coin.

Emma doesn't remember too much of what was said, but it hadn't been pretty. And Regina had set his hat on fire. Actually, his beard too..come to think of it. There had also been someone screaming like a little girl. She's fairly sure the sound originated from Leroy while he ran around the place like a headless chicken...well a headless chicken with his beard on fire, before Granny doused him with a bucket of ice-water.

Her parents had intervened and Emma had volunteered to walk the former Queen home. Which is the point where everything becomes a muddled mess.

And the worst part is...she can't even remember the sex. Because from the feeling between her legs, there had definitely been sex. And from the smell of the room, well, there had been a lot of sex. Drunken sloppy sex maybe, but sex nevertheless. Sex she can't freaking remember, damnit.

She spies the missing jeans hiding behind a chair and quickly yanks them on. Her shirt was thankfully right next to it. Which only left her shoes. Though she already has a suspicion where those might be. Drunk or not, she's pretty sure Regina had insisted that the shoes stay downstairs.

It's only when her hand touches the door handle that she feels reality crashing back down on her. She slept with Regina Mills. And she was going to try her damned best to pretend it never happened. With some luck, the former Queen had just as many holes in her memories as Emma and she wouldn't have a clue with whom she had shared her bed with.

Her eyes catch the dark eyelashes fluttering slightly against the pillow and there's a wistful look on Emma's face. It's strange, how torn she is between wishing she could remember every detail of it and at the same time wants to forget it ever happened.

Sighing, she closes her eyes for a second and slinks through the door while pulling her shirt on in a decidedly inelegant tangle of limbs, hopping across the foyer.

Her shoes were downstairs as expected and she quickly shuffles into them and slowly, carefully paces to the frontdoor. It catches a little when she opens it and she bites her cheek, tilting her head up and holding her breath. But nothing happens, so she quickly moves through that door too and closes it behind her with a little quiet snick.

Her heart's pounding a mile a minute as she finally stands outside and barks out a laugh. Because honestly...of all the fucked up things, in this fucked up town, this had to take the freaking cake.

And then she comes to a sudden halt. Stands stock-still, one foot hovering in the air, eyes huge as saucers. She thinks if anyone had passed by, what a comical sight she would've made like this, stuck mid-movement as her face contorts into an expression of utter horror.

Her bra.

Her bra. She forgot her fucking bra. She turns around and looks at the locked door in front of her, with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"Oh...fuck...me."