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Regina’s jaw tightens as she looks up from the counter just in time to see Mal’s eyes widen as she watches her roughly kneading a lump of cookie dough with her fists. There are plates of cookies scattered around the small kitchen and she can smell some sort of apple pie or pasty baking in the oven.
“Um, love,” Mal begins in a cautious voice. “What are you doing?”
“What else does one usually do with a ball of dough?” She asks as he looks pointedly to Mal. “I’m making ginger naps.
“Mm, of course,” Mal murmurs as she tosses the dough back to the counter top. “But it’s three in the morning.”
Regina doesn’t look up from the dough; instead she just nods and punches her fist into the dough. “I’m aware.”
“Well, as much as I’ve loved the cookies and cakes and other goodies you’ve been serving for breakfasts and snacks and… lunch… and dinner and…”
Regina bristles as her brow arches. “Is there a point you’re trying to make?”
“Regina, we came all the way up here to–”
“All the way up here?” Regina cuts in as she looks pointedly to Mal. “We’re twenty minutes outside of Storybrooke. We’ve barely–”
“Okay,” Mal says, her voice soft and low as it rises over Regina’s. “I know you say baking calms you down, but it wasn’t working at home, so I don’t think it’s going to work here–and the whole point of coming here was to get away from everything that was stressing you out for a few days.”
Regina’s jaw tights as her eyes fall back to the dough, and then her palm slams down into it. “Well, the stress followed me.”
Mal sighs as she crosses the kitchen, coming up behind her and wrapping her arms around her waist as she hugs her and presses a kiss to her shoulder. “Oh, love…”
Regina’s eyes press closed and she draws in a breath. Mal is soft and warm and smells vaguely of burning embers. Months before she learned that she had a challenger in that year’s upcoming election–and earlier in the week the Storybrooke Mirror ran the results of a poll that showed her challenger the preferred choice. It was close–she was only down by a couple of percentage points–and Mal and Henry and Granny, and even David and Mary Margaret assured her that it didn’t mean anything and not to take it to heart.
But she did.
How could she not?
They’d never chosen her and they’d never wanted her–not as queen and now, not even as mayor.
“Come back to bed.”
“I… can’t.”
“Regina,” Mal coos. “You’ve barely slept and–”
“I can’t sleep. I can’t… do anything I just–”
“Well, that’s not true,” Mal cuts in as her loosens her hold on her and turns, leaning against the edge of the counter to face her. “You can obviously still bake.” She knows it’s supposed to be a joke, but she can’t even muster a smile–and when her eyes meet Mal’s, her smile fades. “Okay, well, just… come back to bed.”
“I can’t.” She sighs. “I told you, I can’t do anything. No matter what, it’s not good enough and it doesn’t change all of the terrible things I’ve done in the past. I just–” She stops and presses her eyes closed. “My magic is even… off.”
“You just need to relax.”
“Easier said than done.”
“I know,” Mal murmurs. “But maybe I could… help you.”
Regina blinks. “Help me?”
Mal nods and a little grin. “We could build a fire on the beach and–”
“It’s January.”
“So we’ll bundle up and…” Her grin turns coy. “I’ll find a way to keep you warm.”
“I love you, but I don’t think you could even keep me warm with weather like this.”
“Then, we’ll make a fire in here here,” Mal says easily, shrugging her shoulders. “We’ll cuddle up under a blanket on the floor and we’ll make s’mores and–”
“There’s no firewood,” Regina sighs. “I forgot to have it delivered.”
“You forget,” Mal says and a little laugh rises into her voice. “I’m a dragon. I don’t need firewood.” At that, Regina smiles–and Mal brightens. “So, we’ll make s’mores and get all sticky and–” Regina laughs out as Mal’s hand slips over her hip. “I promise, by the time the sun comes up, you won’t be feeling any stress.”
“What are you going to do? Put a spell on me?”
“You could call it that,” Mal says, biting down on her lip. “Now, come on, you go wash the dough off your hands and I’ll grab the marshmallows.”
Regina nods as Mal presses a kiss to her cheek and she watches her disappear into the darkened living room of the beach house–and already, her shoulders feel a little looser. Taking a breath, she turns to the sink and washes her hands and then she grabs a tupperware container filled with still-warm brownies before joining Mal in the living room.
A soft little grin tugs up at her lips as she looks around. Glowing candles sit atop the end tables and at the center of the coffee table, they line the mantle and are even clustered around the hearth–and then, she spots Mal, watching as she leans over a candle, puckering her lips and blowing softly just before a little flickering flame catches the wick.
She grins when she notices Regina and holds out her hand–and she can’t help but smile and her finger fold down between Mal’s, and she lets her lead her to a pile of pillows and blankets on the floor.
They settle together and Mal snakes her arm around her hips, placing a quick and fluttering kiss on her jaw as a shiver runs down her spine–and just as she turns to try to catch her lips between hers, Mal pulls back and reaches for a skewer. Swallowing hard, she blinks and watches as Mal pushes two marshmallows onto the skewer–and her breath catches in her throat as she watches Mal breath fire onto them, leaving them brown and crisp. And when Mal’s eyes meet hers, her cheeks flush slightly–there’s always been something so erotic about watching her breathe fire and it’s never failed to rile her up in all the right ways.
“We, um… don’t have graham crackers here,” Regina murmurs, her mouth suddenly dry as she lifts the container of brownies. “So, I figured we could put the brownies I made to good use.”
“Ooh, I like that,” she says as she chooses one and the breaks it in half, carefully using each piece to slowly pull the marshmallows from the skewer. “You first,” she says, handing Regina the brownie s’more. “You need it a little more than I do.”
Regina nods and takes it from her, biting into the s’more as she watches Mal push two more marshmallows onto the skewer–and then, just as her lips pucker, preparing to roast them, she turns and grins, licking her bottom lip before leaning in and sucking a smudge of marshmallow from the corner of her mouth.
And just as promised, she can’t even remember why she was stressed–all she can think of is Mal.