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“Emma.”
She ignored her. She was pissed. Not necessarily at her, but just in general. And when she was angry, she had a tendency to lash out – she never really meant it, but she just did. She needed somewhere to focus all of her anger and upset, really. She needed to break something.
“Emma. Darling, don’t ignore me. If I let you sit there and stew for too long, you’re going to end up exploding in either my or our son’s face, and that won’t be pleasant for any of us.” Regina huffed – not wanting to necessarily get in her girlfriend’s way. She didn’t know what had set her off today, but she had come home with her noise-cancelling headphones on, and some loud, shouty music blasting straight into her ears. She had taken a shower, come back downstairs, and now she was just… sitting. It was freaking her out.
Emma, again, ignored her. She didn’t want to yell at anyone, especially not some of the people she loved most, but if Regina kept prodding her, she didn’t know how much longer she could last. All she could think about was when Gold had walked into the Loft when she had been in Storybrooke for a little while – walking in on her destroying Mary-Margaret’s toaster with a screwdriver. She wished she could go back to her old coping mechanisms right now, just absolutely drilling into kitchen appliances.
Regina didn’t know that side of her, and neither did Henry. She had worked to keep it like that. She didn’t need either of them knowing that she brutally murdered toasters and occasionally washing machines when given the chance and angry enough.
Now she was debating if her girlfriend would let her take a screwdriver to the automatic whisk. Or maybe the slow cooker. Hell, she’d settle for blender if she was allowed. Just something she could dig her tools into.
“Emma, seriously-”
“What machine don’t you use in the kitchen? What won’t you miss?”
“...what?”
She crumbles, and now her girlfriend thought she was a psycho. Great going, Swan, nice going. Real nice.
“Forget it, I sound craz-”
“I suppose I could part with the espresso machine. It’s useless, honestly, and way too much effort.”
She gave her a look. A solid, 5 second look. Because damn, the espresso maker?? That sounded like fun. That sounded like something she could throw against the pavement and watch shatter into a thousand pieces. It sounded perfect.
Regina wasn’t stupid. Snow had had a conversation with her when her and Emma had first gotten together, to discuss how living arrangements worked with Emma. She didn’t want to get anything wrong right off the bat, and Snow had been living with her for at least a couple years before she had come into the picture romantically – of course the fact that she had a tendency to beat the shit out of kitchen appliances had come up. In fact, Regina had been anticipating it, weirdly enough.
She watched when Emma did yard work, from the kitchen window, or a recliner on the patio as she pulled weeds, mowed the grass – she always wore this wifebeater shirt that really defined her muscles, and when she was dripping with swat, hair slicked back… well, Regina wasn’t against magically making her grass go faster.
Emma froze, and then her eyes narrowed. Was she being tricked?
“Are you sure? I swear you drink coffee from that thing, like, every morning.”
“Yes, dear, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I enjoy having to take it apart and hand clean it every few weeks. I miss a good old pot. Or a kettle. Anything that doesn’t require more manual labour than my literal job.” she laughed, acting completely oblivious. If Emma was going to get her frustrations out some way, at least it got rid of a hassle for her. And since the espresso machine was quite large, with quite a few pieces, it would probably keep her entertained for a while.
Emma nodded, and then sat in silence for a minute.
And then she stood, and walked into the kitchen. She pulled the machine's plug out of the wall, and then left it out on the kitchen counter. And then she had to go to the mansion’s shed to grab her toolbox.
“Take my jacket, darling, it’s cold outside,” Regina called out to her girlfriend, almost teasing her.
Emma huffed, but put her arms through the coat either way – before slipping out of the house to grab the box. Once she was back, she went upstairs and grabbed an old bed sheet of hers and Regina’s – they’d gotten new ones recently, so they weren’t desperately needing them. She laid it out on the floor of the front room, because if Regina wanted to see it destroyed, she was going to see it destroyed.
She placed the tool box on the floor beside the sheet, and then picked the espresso machine up from the kitchen counter, and brought it into her little damage control zone. She looked up at Regina once she had sat down, screwdriver in hand.
“Sure?”
“Yes, dear. Get rid of it for me.”
And once Emma had taken off that baggy sweater of hers and revealed that damned white t-shirt, well, Regina knew she had made the right choice. She took a sip of her coffee, grinned, and watched carnage ensue