AN: I was able to find time to write so yayy fast update, Enjoy! (drama ahead, you guys. Shit is real.)

Emma's hands unclasp from the broken shards of the once-fine china, staring in almost disbelief at the hard lines settling into her son's face. Disbelief that he had heard, but what had she been expecting? Damn the brunette for always sneaking her way past her skin, making her forget where she was or any of the consequences of her actions. A glance towards the accused shows that Regina's just as shell-shocked as Emma is, but the shock soon turns to anger as she turns towards the blonde, pure fire blazing in her dark eyes.

"Congratulations, Miss Swan. Your theatrics and unnecessary loud, foul tones earned you getting our son involved. Are you quite pleased with yourself?" Her voice is dripping with sarcasm, a dainty hand clutching the side of the soapy sink, squeezing hard enough to allow her knuckles to grow white.

"Moms-"

Emma lets out a loud bark of laughter just then, her subconsciously clenched fist causing a deep red bead of blood to erupt from the tip of her finger, the small cut made by the jagged edge of the plate smashed in anger. "This is how it's always gonna be right? How nothing is your fault and I'm always the one in the wrong? You can't own up to the fact that you're a bitch, Regina, and that I usually react in a shitty way like now because of something you did!"

"MISS SWAN!" Regina actually yells out, then clamps her mouth shut, biting her cheek to bring her seemingly unfeeling persona back into her features. She begins again, much calmer, but it's a fake, unsettling calm. "I would appreciate it if you would refrain from using such language around my son. He does not need to hear--"

"Oh, we're doing that now? 'My son'? Nice. And you know what? Quit acting like he's a child." She snaps, the tone of her voice slowly climbing higher.

"Moms!" This time his voice is sharper, more exasperated; he takes another step into the kitchen, with a hand out in front of him as he approaches them, but neither seem to take notice of him.

"He IS a child! And one who doesn't need to hear his mother being called a bitch!"

Emma's silent for a heartbeat; having realized that she stepped much further out of line than she meant to, but there was no way she could back down now. "You just keep playing the victim don't you?" There's a red hot fireball of anger settled in the pit of her stomach, the memory of Regina mocking her rape all too fresh and feeding her lividity.

"Oh, my fucking god, STOP!!" Both mothers turn, blinking at their son, his outburst ringing in the air seconds after he'd said it.

Regina's heart, though beating heavily as anger rolls off of her from her and Emma's heated conversation, temporarily pauses as she stares at her son, gaping even. It doesn't matter what type of situation they could have been in; hearing her son emit such a word--one she previously couldn't even imagine his lips forming--scares her. So, she turns to the only thing she knows how to do in situations such as these. "Henry Daniel Mills--" she begins, her son's full name leaving her painted lips with authority and a tone she hadn't used since he was much younger.

"No." He counters, and with one word he sounds so much older, leaving her wondering if she should say anything, if he wants her to. She's so unbelievably angry with the blonde next to her, but she somehow can't stop herself from stealing a glance. Emma's standing there, looking a taken aback, but somehow hardly surprised. The bead of blood from her fingertip now adorns the tiled floor with a single drop of red, directly beneath her bony fist. She has a moment to wonder about that, before Henry's continuing again, and she flicks her eyes back to him, almost afraid of what he's about to say.

"No, not now. You two are acting like-like children. Look, I'm sorry that I forced us to spend Christmas together--Ma, I really am sorry, but you realize this sucks right? I honestly don't have to come home to this shit. Is that what you want, for me not to come over anymore?" He knows that that last part was a little unfair, but can't help the way he's feeling, and he's so guilty about all this, and--

Regina's eyes sting as she forces a reply. "Henry--no," she stops short, realizing she can't continue, can't allow her mouth to form the words sitting on her tongue, but then Emma's stepping up to the task, and Regina hates, no; loathes that she finds herself grateful for it.

"Kid, of course that's not what we want." Emma says hurriedly, an almost pleading look settled deep in her glassy green eyes. "I'm so sorry if we ever made you feel unwelcome, or made you want to stop seeing us, I'm...sorry you had to see this." Because that's what it is: humiliation. The rich shade of humility brushes over both mothers' cheeks like a single stroke of a giant paintbrush, because there's no feeling quite like your own child calling you childish, and knowing, absolutely knowing that he's right.

"Here's what I don't get: how a year and a half can pass, and you two can't even look at each other without saying awful shit. Ok; you two had sex, you regretted it, now get over it." He says it so matter-of-fact, like listing steps in a tutorial, but dripping with annoyance.

Regina takes a visible step back, unknowingly brushing her hair against Emma's cheek because they're entirely too close; and the pink twinge on her cheeks erupts into full flames of embarrassment from her son's remark. "Don't talk like that about things you don't understand. It's complicated--much more complicated than that." Though he's a full-grown adult she will never stop using this tone when he's out of line, in her book at least.

"Yes--I don't understand everything that went down. And please, I don't want the details. But until you two can stop being complete assholes to each other, saying things you know you're going to regret the minute you say them, this is useless. Again, sorry I forced this. I just thought...." He trails off, pressing his lips together, staring at the ceiling.

"What are you trying to say, Kid?" Emma prompts, the bite in her tone that had begun the sentence fading out to affection when she reaches his nickname.

He shakes his head. "I'm gonna go. And while you two are alone, cry, yell, fight, scream, do whatever you have to do to get it out and end it." He commands, and leaves the kitchen to swing his coat over his shoulders.

"Where are you going?" Regina demands, but the sharpness is completely evaporated, only shades regret and desperation making it to the surface. She looks at him, pleading with her eyes, telling him wordlessly that she's sorry, and please come home, and--

"Grams and Gramps' probably. Don't worry," He's staring at her in a mixture of almost pity and slight disdain, and oh god, she can't keep his gaze--and the next thing she knows the front door slams shut, sealing the outside chill after a few stray snowflakes had managed to sneak their way in from the porch.

---

An hour. A full hour has come and gone and not a single word has been exchanged between the women. After the door shut, leaving both women on the landing, engaging in an intense game of not looking at each other, Regina had left, not able to handle everything that had just went down.

So now she's sitting in the living room; just staring, nearly mesmerized by the twinkling lights on the brilliant tree she and Henry had set up, trying and failing to forget that Emma's in her house, god knows where, doing god knows what. Hell, what if she'd left already?

One hour and fourteen minutes since Henry left the mansion, and Regina's just beginning to get antsy.

One hour and seventeen minutes since Henry left the mansion, and Regina's fiddling with her dress, clearing her throat repeatedly after not having used it for an extended period of time.

One hour and twenty-two minutes pass since Henry's departure, and Regina's had enough. She finally stands, only fighting to regain balance for three seconds before she stalks through the lower level, searching for the blonde. She's coming up empty; and before she would have never admitted that she was worried but now...

She passes a window and that's when she sees her. Emma, the goddamned idiot, sitting on the swing on the porch, in negative-degree weather, hands stuffed under her thighs for warmth. Regina audibly sighs and swings the door open, trying not to seem affected by the more than significant cold as she shuts the door behind her. The noise causes Emma to lift her eyes from her knees to Regina, and gives her a tiny, almost shy blue-lipped smile.

"Hi.."

Regina rolls her eyes, stepping in front of the seated blonde, ignoring the goosebumps erupting on her own bare skin, (and why hadn't she worn a sweater in the middle of winter again?) crossing her arms as she stares down at Emma. "You idiot. You can't be outside this long without a coat. Are you trying to make yourself ill?' She asks exasperatedly, but the bite is forced. As much as she wants to, she can't bring herself to be as unbearable angry at the blonde as she had been an hour before. No; now she's relieved to find her sitting on her front porch rather than finding that she'd sped away in that insufferable yellow bug of hers? Regina rolls her eyes again, but this time at herself as she helps Emma up and through the door.

Her lips are forming the words--yes, that's her telling Emma to stay put on the couch, but Regina's somehow on autopilot. She knows that she should be an inch away from the blonde's face, screaming unforgivable words at her stemmed from the anger still pulsing within her; but all she can concentrate on is Emma's blue-tinted fingernails and the nasty cold she'll probably wake up to tomorrow morning, (on Christmas, for god's sake,) and then she's talking again. "I mean it, stay put, I have to get you something hot to drink. Is tea alright?" She asks, and she's trying to tell herself that she's just acting how any host should, after all this is how she was raised--but then Emma looks up at her with a brow cocked in a way that she definitely learned from the Mills family, and something inside Regina shifts.

"Please. Got anything stronger?" Without meaning to, a beat passes between them, a silent understanding that Emma had purposely referenced their first meeting, and Regina allows what she hopes looks like her politician smile, but something about the way she feels her eyes crinkle the slightest bit tells her that it doesn't look fake at all.

"Scotch it is, then." Regina turns her back then, but she doesn't have to see the blonde to know that a small smile graced her pink lips. She returns with two glasses, and yes, alright, the bottle--and sets them on the coffee table in front of a dark, cold fireplace. She lights a fireball in the palm of her hand, and tosses it into the logs, bursting them into flames in seconds.

She pours two glasses, hands one off to Emma, and they sit in silence for a few minutes, watching the crackling, hot wood send orange sparks into the air with overly-satisfying popping sounds.

"That was fucking humiliating." Emma says abruptly, and Regina doesn't have to think to know exactly what she's referring to. She scoffs in reply, tossing a little more of the drink back down her throat. She takes a moment to make up her mind, and then she's ready to make an effort to actually have a conversation with Emma for the first time in over a year, but wait, Emma's talking again. "Henry was right. We were childish, and I'm so embarrassed he heard all that."

Regina smirks sourly. "You could say that again."

She watches Emma take another sip of the scotch through her peripheral. Emma sits up higher on the couch, and shifts so she's facing Regina. "I'm still pissed at you, just so you know. I'm so pissed."

Regina makes a sound resembling a snort, a poor attempt at a chuckle. "I know, dear; I could say the same."

A silence. Then, "God, what's wrong with us?"

A bitter smile tugs at the corners of the brunette's mouth, and her hand curls around the slim stem of the glass, metal rings making the slightest clanking noise. "I wish I knew."

AN: Sorry this chapter is short, but I wanted to update sooner because I'm just so excited about this chapter/what's going to come. Chapter 14 will be a continuation of this scene, don't worry; I just like to keep my readers hungry for what will come next.

Did anyone notice the title drop?

Comment your favorite section or scene from this chapter! Seriously--your feedback, especially comments, are what keep me writing :)