hunnyfresh - Letters from War

"So this is the famed Honeycrisp tree I keep hearing about," Emma said when Henry sprinted off toward the tree, climbing onto a nearby bench that neatly lined the base and standing on it to hug the trunk. "Your dad gave it to you, right?"

Regina nodded as she and Emma walked together toward the tree. "I've had it since I was a little girl."

She strung the basket to the crook of her elbow and reached Henry in time to steady him as he stretched to grab an apple from a low-hanging branch.

"So we just pick them?" Emma asked

Regina looked to Henry, giving him a squeeze to prompt him to answer as he gently laid his carefully picked apple into the basket.

"You wait till they're hard," he announced expertly. Regina kissed his head proud.

"You feel them. Make sure they're firm and feel crisp," Regina explained motioning toward the tree. "Apple trees ripen from the outside in so try to avoid the fruit toward the center."

"Seems simple enough." Emma looked up to see an apple hanging above her. She gave it a squeeze and deemed it firm, plucking it carefully and placing it beside Henry's apple. "Did I do good?"

Regina placed a hand on her shoulder as she passed by Emma with a grin, the blonde returning her own crooked smile. "You're a natural."

"Did you know the Honeycrisp tree is the most vigorous and hearty of all apple trees?" Regina asked from the other side of the tree, catching Emma's eye between the leaves. "It can survive temperatures as low as forty below and keep growing. It can weather any storm."

"Is that why your dad gave it to you?" Emma asked, ducking her head under the branches, hooking an arm around the trunk to swing closer to Regina's side. "Because it's a resilient tree?"

"Perhaps," Regina shrugged coyly, turning her back to Emma to pick another apple and handed it to Henry who had become the official apple-putter-in-the-basketer, as he had dubbed it. The basket was near full, nearly reaching the brim of the basket. Regina cast a glance over her shoulder and smirked. "Or it could have been the flavour. I have yet to taste anything more delicious than the fruit it offers."

"Oh yeah?" Emma asked, closing the gap between her and Regina with careful steps. "I'll be the judge of that."

"Catch." Henry suddenly threw an apple haphazardly Emma's way.

Regina was quick with her reflexes, catching the fruit mere inches before it made contact with Emma's face. "Henry," Regina scolded.

Henry covered his mouth with both hands attempting to suppress the giggle that wanted to escape though a small part of him looked apologetic and fearful. Regina gave him a pointed look and a silent lecture before turning back to Emma, only just realizing how little space was between them.

"Nice catch," Emma whistled impressed.

Regina shrugged with a smug grin and proceeded to wipe the apple by the collar of her blouse then offered it to Emma.

The blonde eyed the fruit then Regina whose pupils had dilated in the last five seconds before taking the proffered Honeycrisp and biting into the flesh. Juice slithered from the apple and trickled down Emma's chin as she chewed methodically, keeping her own hooded gaze on the older woman before her. "You're right," Emma said once she had swallowed. "Delicious."

There it was again. That nauseous feeling like Regina wanted to throw up or float away or hide her face in the ground. It started in the pit of her stomach before heating up her torso and cheeks. She turned suddenly, forcibly ripping her stare away from Emma and placed a palm on her warm cheek. Perhaps it was a fever. Whatever it was, she pushed it down and clapped her hands once. "Are we ready to get these into the oven?"

Emma moaned as she took another bite of her second pastry. "Does everything you make taste like this?"

Regina smiled smugly and reclined along the arm of the sofa, her own plate nestled on the coffee table in front of them with flakes of pastry as the only evidence there had been anything on the plate. Henry's own plate was still on the table, and after he had finished his dessert and juice, and after his face was washed of the whiskers he'd painted on his cheeks with flour, he was in his room, settling down for a much needed nap.

"You could sell these," Emma commented again, catching the apple chunks threatening to spill out with the tip of her tongue.

Regina smirked, partially due to Emma's amazement at Regina's culinary skills and partially because of the flour that still marred her face. The blonde and her son had discovered flour face painting and Emma was currently sporting a look similar to Gene Simmons, though who that was Regina had no idea, but the look was quite, well, adorable and idiotic on the blonde all at the same time.

"I'll keep that in mind should my underground mafia business go under."

"With the amount of times you've joked about that, I can't tell if this is one of those truths within a lie type of thing."

Regina laughed, reaching over toward the table to grab her glass of cider and murmured into it. "You'll never know."

"You know what would make this better?" Emma asked rhetorically, suddenly standing with her turnover and heading toward the kitchen.

"Excuse me?" Regina gaped offended, turning to watch the blonde go.

Within moments, Emma returned with the cinnamon shaker in her hand and sat back down, carefully slicing through the crust of the pastry to get to the filling where she sprinkled cinnamon within the filling.

"There's already cinnamon in it," Regina argued petulantly.

"Not enough. It'll give it more of a kick." Emma bit into it, enjoying the more pronounced taste of cinnamon as the filling melted in her mouth. She offered the plate to Regina. "You try."

"No," she glared crossing her arms.

Emma scooted over so her tucked in legs were nearly on top of Regina's. She gave the older woman a light smack on the arm, receiving a smouldering look in return. "Come on, don't be mad. Give it a try."

Regina rolled her eyes, letting Emma flounder for another moment before relenting and opened her mouth to be fed. Emma grinned and placed the turnover where Regina could bite and then sat back, waiting for her reaction. "So?"

Regina chewed slowly, keeping her face blank not to let Emma inflate her ego any bigger than it already was. When she swallowed, she rolled a shoulder casually. "I still prefer my original recipe."

Emma laughed rolling her eyes and took another bite. "Party pooper." She adjusted her spot, cleaning off the last of the pastry before placing her plate back delicately on the table. Her arm held her head up on the back of the couch while her left leg was tucked under neatly with her right. "What about this lasagna I heard so much about?"

Regina shook her head. "You haven't earned that one yet, especially after tampering with my turnover recipe."

Emma nudged Regina's heel with her foot. "Hey, I'm leaving soon. What if this is the only chance you can show me how to make that?"

There was a brief moment of hesitation on Regina's face that she masked quickly with a belligerent scoff. "That is not my problem, soldier."

"Then I won't teach you how to hotwire a car."

Regina scrunched up her face. "Why would I need to know that?"

"You never know."

Regina shook her head at the absurdity and stood, gathering the plates. "I think I'll take my chances."

Emma followed with the glasses and stood side by side Regina at the sink where the brunette had already let the water run and was squirting some soap onto a sponge. They washed dishes in companionable silence, Regina washing and Emma drying until the blonde nudged the older woman lightly. "Apple picking was fun," she said in a quiet voice.

"I'm going to get Henry his own fruit tree so that we can start some sort of tradition."