Furiously Gorgeous

A/N {| So, here is another dirty little one-shot! This one is for Jesica with the prompt idea from the meme: "Ohh so you think I'm cute when I'm angry? Well, get ready because I'm about to be GORGEOUS!" |}

Parenting is one of the most difficult responsibilities known to humankind. This was something that Sheriff Emma Swan had learned firsthand five years ago when her son made a sudden reappearance into her life and dragged her to a town so small that the '80s couldn't squeeze out of it. The scene was rather domestic -- if 'domestic' meant trying not to set the kitchen of her small apartment on fire. She was dressed for the occasion in yoga pants and white tank top, hair half in a ponytail and patience all the way gone. While she stared down at the eggs that she had started scrambling, she realized one thing: having a moody teenager was far, far more taxing than having a ten year old boy. While Emma would have appreciated the time to sleep in on a lucky day off -- her father was filling in for her considering she had babysat Neal for David and Snow half of the week before -- she was at least attempting to keep Henry on the schedule Regina had bitched at Emma about more times than she could count. The only problem was that Henry had all but literally dragged his feet. Arguing with a moody teenager was on the list of her least favorite things to do with her life. She had ended up telling him he either got his ass out of bed on time or she would let the food cook for the same amount of time that Henry remained in bed.

That had been a very, very stupid threat.

The eggs and bacon had smelled delicious, if Emma said so herself! She could whip up the basics with no problem, but waiting for Henry seemed like a recipe for continuing to carry the title of Worst Cook Imaginable from Madam Mayor.

"Henry," Emma bellowed in her utter frustration. "Get your skinny, beanstalk limbed ass down here right now before the house burns down!" She could already smell the bacon getting much more than crispy.

"It's not my fault you can't cook, Ma," came Henry's annoyed bellow back. Emma about threw the spatula across the kitchen. "By the way," he called back down. "The bacon's burning." She could hear how smug he sounded and that just spurred her stubborn nature right the hell on.

"And it'll burn until you get your ass down here," she said, exasperated as she checked the eggs, also on their way to earning themselves an over brown coloring. She could outlast a teen's appetite, couldn't she? She stayed still and perked up an ear, waiting to hear heavy, angsty footsteps on the loft stairs. Instead, all she could hear was the bacon protesting at being set on fire. She tossed the spatula down and took the stairs two at a time, storming toward Henry's small room.

"Henry Second Biggest Pain in My Ass Mills, get your-" and she stopped as soon as she spotted her son throwing the blanket over his boxer clad waist. "Ma," Henry yelled, the redness creeping across his face, anger rising. Emma stood in the doorway, eyes bulging. She knew boys had...morning issues that stood right on up, but she was not prepared for that to involve her son.

"Get OUT," he yelled, having been about to rush to the bathroom before his blonde mother decided to barge in on him.

"Jesus," Emma said as she turned, slamming her eyes closed as if it would clear her eyes and her mind forevermore the way she wished it to be. "Oh God," she said on a muffled, strangled, helpless sound. "Oh God," she kept repeating as she tried not to fall down the stairs.

"Ma," she heard again.

"Nope, kid. Put that thing away and then we'll talk," she declared, wondering how effective bleach was on the eyes.

"You've successfully burned the food," he said unhelpfully as the smell of burned bacon wafted through the tiny loft apartment. Emma released a long, beleaguered sigh.