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Title: Menu Planning
Fandom: Once Upon a Time
Pairing: Emma/Regina (Swan Queen)
Summary: Emma has a secret that she's kept for years. She's gotten very good at deflecting certain questions from being asked, but her luck is about to run out. The anti-lasagna fic only a few people asked for.
Notes: You know how every SQ fic has Emma swooning over Regina's lasagna? This is the anti-lasagna fic. Because sometimes fandom is weird. Also, evergrove wanted to read this fic, which my brain interpreted as them wanting me to write it.
Menu planning.
Two seemingly innocuous words that struck terror into Emma's heart. They required all of the things Emma liked least in the world: preparation, subtlety, and undivided attention.
Still, she'd been doing very well. They had gone months, now, without an Incident. She'd become so good at this game that she almost felt it was second-nature. She went so far as to relax, a little, make a couple of jokes--not great jokes, but Regina had rolled her eyes at one and smothered a smile at another, so… win.
Her confidence was her undoing.
Her pride wenteth before the falleth.
She had let her mind wander for one second, just one! And now she heard the dreaded words:
"Hmm… we haven't had lasagna in a while," Regina said, thoughtfully. "I know how much you like it--we'll have that on Friday."
Emma went cold. She stopped leaning back in her chair and the front legs came down with a loud thump.
Regina looked up from her list, eyes wide.
"Are you okay?" she asked, then, "I told you to stop doing that to my nice chairs."
Emma shook her head. "Sorry. Sorry, but… we don't have to have lasagna this week. That's fine. I'm sure you have something else you'd rather make…"
Regina's expression cleared. "Oh, no, it's fine. It's been ages, and I wouldn't mind some myself." She nudged Emma's foot with her own. "It's not something I want to eat every week, but you don't have to stop asking for it altogether." She bent down over the shopping list to make notes for ingredients.
Emma considered just letting it go. There was a reason, after all, she hadn't just come out and said something. It would hurt Regina's feelings to know the truth. No, it was better to keep quiet. They'd have lasagna on Friday, she could deal with that for one night--
"I think I'll make a double-batch. We can have leftovers."
"Leftovers?" Emma squeaked.
Regina looked up again, frowning, obviously knowing something was up. "You like leftovers."
Emma nodded. "I love leftovers." She did. Real food that no one had to cook? Excellent idea. Left more time for… other things. Leftovers in general were great, but leftover lasagna... she was not going to say it. She wasn't. "It's just... "
She couldn't do it.
"It's just what?" Regina said, only now there was an edge to her voice. An edge that meant that Emma was already in too deep for rescue.
Emma sighed, closed her eyes, and said, the words all coming out in a rush, "I don't like your lasagna."
There was total silence.
Emma chanced to crack open one eye. Regina looked thunderstruck, then furious.
Emma realized her mistake. Her most recent mistake, anyway. "Not yours! I mean, not just yours. I mean, your lasagna isn't bad, not for lasagna, but lasagna itself is… it's the ricotta cheese..." she trailed off. Regina's face was getting harder and harder to read the longer she talked. Not a good sign.
She shrugged uncomfortably. "Sorry?"
Regina's face went through another few expressions, all of them incomprehensible, before settling on totally confused.
"But… everyone loves my lasagna." This was said in a small voice that was almost a whisper.
Emma leaped in, nodding vigorously. "They do! It's great! You should hear Mom and the dwarfs go off--they're practically in raptures at the mere thought of your lasagna."
Regina looked a little brighter at this, then she seemed to focus on Emma. "But… you don't?"
Emma gulped.
Regina narrowed her eyes. "You never said anything. In fact, you've happily eaten lasagna every time I served it, for…" her eyes narrowed further "... the last several years."
"I couldn't tell you," Emma said, raising her arms in a pleading gesture. "I couldn't."
Regina looked ready to argue, but Emma forged ahead. "Every time you made it at first we were in a weird place, so I didn't want to say anything then, and then things were better and I couldn't tell you because you were obviously trying to make me happy, and then I figured I could suffer--I mean, I could manage--" she didn't miss the flash of anger or amusement at her poor word choice. "I mean… I just didn't want to ruin things, you know?"
Regina looked at her for a long moment before picking up her pen and neatly crossing out every ingredient she'd added to the list.
Emma watched her, horrified at herself. Stupid. She should never have said anything.
Regina finished crossing out lasagna ingredients and looked up. "I cannot believe you let me make you lasagna for years instead of saying something." She shook her head. "You let me know what you think about everything. I had to hear about your opinions on stuffed green peppers for weeks, but this you keep quiet about?"
Emma said, meekly, "I like red peppers--"
"Not the point!" Regina sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Next time just tell me." She shook her head and started muttering, "I can't believe this. Lasagna. She confronts me when she thinks I murdered someone, but she can't tell me she hates my lasagna. Insane."
Feeling much more cheerful, Emma nudged Regina's foot. "I really do like leftovers, though."
Regina sighed. "I know."
Fandom: Once Upon a Time
Pairing: Emma/Regina (Swan Queen)
Summary: Emma has a secret that she's kept for years. She's gotten very good at deflecting certain questions from being asked, but her luck is about to run out. The anti-lasagna fic only a few people asked for.
Notes: You know how every SQ fic has Emma swooning over Regina's lasagna? This is the anti-lasagna fic. Because sometimes fandom is weird. Also, evergrove wanted to read this fic, which my brain interpreted as them wanting me to write it.
Menu planning.
Two seemingly innocuous words that struck terror into Emma's heart. They required all of the things Emma liked least in the world: preparation, subtlety, and undivided attention.
Still, she'd been doing very well. They had gone months, now, without an Incident. She'd become so good at this game that she almost felt it was second-nature. She went so far as to relax, a little, make a couple of jokes--not great jokes, but Regina had rolled her eyes at one and smothered a smile at another, so… win.
Her confidence was her undoing.
Her pride wenteth before the falleth.
She had let her mind wander for one second, just one! And now she heard the dreaded words:
"Hmm… we haven't had lasagna in a while," Regina said, thoughtfully. "I know how much you like it--we'll have that on Friday."
Emma went cold. She stopped leaning back in her chair and the front legs came down with a loud thump.
Regina looked up from her list, eyes wide.
"Are you okay?" she asked, then, "I told you to stop doing that to my nice chairs."
Emma shook her head. "Sorry. Sorry, but… we don't have to have lasagna this week. That's fine. I'm sure you have something else you'd rather make…"
Regina's expression cleared. "Oh, no, it's fine. It's been ages, and I wouldn't mind some myself." She nudged Emma's foot with her own. "It's not something I want to eat every week, but you don't have to stop asking for it altogether." She bent down over the shopping list to make notes for ingredients.
Emma considered just letting it go. There was a reason, after all, she hadn't just come out and said something. It would hurt Regina's feelings to know the truth. No, it was better to keep quiet. They'd have lasagna on Friday, she could deal with that for one night--
"I think I'll make a double-batch. We can have leftovers."
"Leftovers?" Emma squeaked.
Regina looked up again, frowning, obviously knowing something was up. "You like leftovers."
Emma nodded. "I love leftovers." She did. Real food that no one had to cook? Excellent idea. Left more time for… other things. Leftovers in general were great, but leftover lasagna... she was not going to say it. She wasn't. "It's just... "
She couldn't do it.
"It's just what?" Regina said, only now there was an edge to her voice. An edge that meant that Emma was already in too deep for rescue.
Emma sighed, closed her eyes, and said, the words all coming out in a rush, "I don't like your lasagna."
There was total silence.
Emma chanced to crack open one eye. Regina looked thunderstruck, then furious.
Emma realized her mistake. Her most recent mistake, anyway. "Not yours! I mean, not just yours. I mean, your lasagna isn't bad, not for lasagna, but lasagna itself is… it's the ricotta cheese..." she trailed off. Regina's face was getting harder and harder to read the longer she talked. Not a good sign.
She shrugged uncomfortably. "Sorry?"
Regina's face went through another few expressions, all of them incomprehensible, before settling on totally confused.
"But… everyone loves my lasagna." This was said in a small voice that was almost a whisper.
Emma leaped in, nodding vigorously. "They do! It's great! You should hear Mom and the dwarfs go off--they're practically in raptures at the mere thought of your lasagna."
Regina looked a little brighter at this, then she seemed to focus on Emma. "But… you don't?"
Emma gulped.
Regina narrowed her eyes. "You never said anything. In fact, you've happily eaten lasagna every time I served it, for…" her eyes narrowed further "... the last several years."
"I couldn't tell you," Emma said, raising her arms in a pleading gesture. "I couldn't."
Regina looked ready to argue, but Emma forged ahead. "Every time you made it at first we were in a weird place, so I didn't want to say anything then, and then things were better and I couldn't tell you because you were obviously trying to make me happy, and then I figured I could suffer--I mean, I could manage--" she didn't miss the flash of anger or amusement at her poor word choice. "I mean… I just didn't want to ruin things, you know?"
Regina looked at her for a long moment before picking up her pen and neatly crossing out every ingredient she'd added to the list.
Emma watched her, horrified at herself. Stupid. She should never have said anything.
Regina finished crossing out lasagna ingredients and looked up. "I cannot believe you let me make you lasagna for years instead of saying something." She shook her head. "You let me know what you think about everything. I had to hear about your opinions on stuffed green peppers for weeks, but this you keep quiet about?"
Emma said, meekly, "I like red peppers--"
"Not the point!" Regina sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Next time just tell me." She shook her head and started muttering, "I can't believe this. Lasagna. She confronts me when she thinks I murdered someone, but she can't tell me she hates my lasagna. Insane."
Feeling much more cheerful, Emma nudged Regina's foot. "I really do like leftovers, though."
Regina sighed. "I know."
