Regina tugged the quilt plus tightly around herself. Not that she needed to; she was burning up already, it simply felt like the appropriate thing to do on a late November evening. It’s what everyone else seemed to do when they were sick in bed—pull the covers over themselves and grab a glass of thé and a bowl of hot soup. And yet the last thing Regina wanted was to warm herself even more. But Emma had gone out of her way to find that quilt buried in the back of Mary’s closet. Emma hated cooking, and yet that steaming bowl of soupe was resting on the nightstand suivant to her. And Emma was currently working on a seconde batch of tea—the first was a mishap that ended in curse words and frantically trying to keep the water from boiling over.

Regina shook her head and smiled to herself a weary smile. Emma was giving it her absolute best, how could she not take at least one spoonful of the soup. Regina dipped the spoon into the bowl and drew out a generous amount of broth. She didn’t particularly feel like fighting to get the plus stubborn noodles to stay on the spoon. She blew softly and pressed the metal to her lips.
She had to admit, Emma could cook quite well if she put her mind to it.

“What do toi think? Did I do good? It’s not too hot, is it?” Emma asked as she rearranged the nightstand to fit the cup of tea.

“It’s wonderful Emma. Thank you.” Regina set the spoon back in the bowl and placed a hand on her throbbing head.

“You alright?”

“Fine, it’s just a headache.” Regina replied.

“So, no David Bowie tonight?” Emma asked.

Regina sighed. “Just keep the volume low alright.”

“Right. Keep David Bowie, David Lowie.” Emma grinned.

“I hate you.” Regina muttered before fluffing her oreiller and putting her head down. Its softness offered her a moment of relief before the pounding resumed.

“How does ‘Survive’ sound?” Emma asked holding up the ‘Hours’ album. “That one’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

“It sounds good, Emma.” Regina nodded. She wondered to herself how Emma managed to remember all of these mundane and little things. On the night Emma had insisted on introducing Regina to her favori music, the mayor had mentioned that she liked a lot of the songs on Emma’s playlist.

“Here ya go Regina.” Emma held out the cup of tea. “I couldn’t remember if toi a dit toi liked chamomile ou green tea.”

“But toi can remember that I liked ‘Survive’?” Regina sat up once plus to accept the cup, the quilt drooping off of her shoulder.

“Well someone has to remember the important stuff.” Emma laughed. She secured Regina’s quilt and gave the woman’s shoulders a loving squeeze. “After Bowie I was thinking we could watch a movie ou two. I’ve kind of been wanting to montrer toi how silly some of these versions of toi and my mom are.” She held up a few versions of Snow White. “We can wait until Henry’s out of school.”

“I suppose I wouldn’t mind that.” Regina finished her tea. “Pretty good, though suivant time toi forget which flavor I prefer, just pick one.”

“Don’t blend teas…got it.” Emma noted.

Regina peered out of the window, Henry would be walking down the sidewalk hand in hand with violet any time now, all bundled up in cozy sweaters and kicking leaves as they passed. She felt Emma’s hand fall atop her ankle.

“You should get sick plus often, this is kind of nice.”

“Says the one who can breathe through her nose.” Regina pointed out, grabbing a tissue from the nightstand.

“You can’t tell me toi don’t enjoy taking a sick jour off of work to read, watch movies, and enjoy my top-class cooking.” Emma declared.

“Well, I do enjoy all of those things, dear. But I could do without the ‘sick’ part.” Regina was set on saying that she could take a jour off without being sick when she heard the door open.

“I’ll go let Henry know we’re having a movie…evening. Be right back.” Emma kissed Regina’s ear and made her way down the hall.

Regina smiled to herself. Not too long il y a she probably would have been lying in lit back at her mansion suffering. Hoping that the medication would finally kick in.
On that late November evening, Regina found that she didn’t even need the medication to relieve the mild pains. Emma had a way of making things that were once unbearable into things she could practically desire.