As soft yellow light filters through the partially drawn blinds- dappling her pillow before finally playing patterns over her hair- Emma begrudgingly opens one eye to squint at the red digits displayed on the alarm clock before her. It is still what she considers much too early to traipse downstairs, despite the faint noises coming from below indicating her housemate thinks otherwise. She has kicked the paisley-print duvet Mary Margaret bestowed on her what seems like forever ago down to her hips whilst asleep and reaches down lazily to engulf herself fully. The hand traveling down to perform this task halts abruptly when it discovers something warm draped over her waist.

... Oh, shit...

Keeping as still as possible- no mean feat when her entire being is screaming at her to run, run, run, get the hell out- she lifts her head just enough to let her stormy eyes travel down her torso with slow trepidation. Her fears are quickly confirmed. The warm thing is indeed a hand- and with her shitty luck it's most probably attached to a body.

For god's sake, Swan, you're the damn sheriff, you can't just hop into bed with people in this backwards town. Especially ones with such... small... hands...?

Continuing to keep her body immobile, she turns her head as far as possible and peeks behind her. A dark mop of chestnut hair comes into view, the owners face hidden to her behind the white slope of her shoulder. Inwardly dueling between groaning and grinning, the latter lucks out and she swiftly flips her body around to face her bed-mate. The movement is violent and causes the bedsprings to screech painfully and mattress to give her an angry rebound bounce.


Henry grins widely, a small dribble of dried toothpaste clinging to the side of his mouth. Licking a finger and sleepily rubbing it off, Emma raises an eyebrow at his term of phrase. As far as she's concerned, morning isn't for at least another hour.

"And what exactly was wrong with your bed?"

She nods her jaw in the direction of the far corner where a small camper mat and sleeping bag lie abandoned- last night finally coming back to her with memories far more pleasant than she is accustomed to with 'morning afters'.

"You weren't in it"

Henry had meant it as a compliment, so his brows furrow when the words are met with loud, sleepily uninhibited laughter. Emma waits for her hysterics to die down before rolling onto her back and smiling at the ceiling with her eyes closed.

"Oh, kid, promise me you won't say that again to anyone else for at least twenty years... actually make that fifty"

He looks at her curiously, but Emma provides no further explanation. In fact, with the unusually serene expression and the light intakes of air she almost looks...

"Hey! you fell asleep!"


Her eyes fly open in surprise as he pokes her in the ribs. He laughs quietly, amused by her behavior. Regina is an 'up-at-the-crack-of-dawn-no-need-for-an-alarm-clock' kind of woman, and seeing Emma behave so groggily intrigues him. He had previously believed all adults just got up at the crack of dawn simply because they were supposed to. His amusement falters slightly when he realizes, bruised ribs or not, the blonde's eyes are closed once again, her mouth slightly open.



"What do you want to do today?"

His excitement is so great it's tangible. The previous evening he and Regina had been eating an early dinner, trying to ignore the continuous ringing of the telephone. The incident at the mine shafts had caused quite a stir, and as the mayor in a town where things were once more happening hard and fast, his mother was in high demand. After a series of angry conversations and stating for what seemed like the hundredth time that she simply couldn't attend an emergency meeting that evening or tomorrow due to it being a weekend and having no one to care for Henry, Regina had furiously relented and snatched up the phone, scrolling through her contact history.

The conversation had been short; Regina's answers curt, snide and cutting, but half an hour later he was being dropped off outside Mary Margaret's apartment under strict orders of 'no sugar, brush your teeth, bed by eight, home in plenty of time for dinner the next day'. This meant a whole day with Emma without having to sneak around, and Henry planned on making it a good one.

Emma, it seems, does not do excitement at this hour. After playing dead for ten seconds she can no longer ignore the soft tugging at her hair or tickling breath on her face. Grabbing the duvet she pulls it up over them both, awkwardly puts an arm around him and closes her eyes.

"Twenty more minutes, kid"

"I thought I heard voices"

Henry pokes his head out from under the slightly suffocating duvet and grins at Mary Margaret who has appeared in the doorway. She smiles back at him before making her way over to the bed and regards the blanketed heap in the middle of the bed, hands on her hips.

"Henry's right, enough lazing around, Emma"

Emma navigates a hand out from under the duvet with the intent of flipping her housemate the bird, but remembers Henry in just enough time to turn the gesture into a peculiar little wave. Rolling her eyes dramatically at Henry, Mary Margaret seizes the bottom of the duvet and yanks it forcefully off the blonde who flails around blindly for a second before slumping back and admitting defeat. Henry giggles delightedly at the scene the grown women are making, returning an amused high five from Mary Margaret before she slaps Emma lightly on the thigh and heads downstairs, yelling behind her that their hot chocolates will be stone cold. Emma yawns and stretches cattily before grinning up at Henry.