Here's a short fic I wrote, which is more Snow/Bigby themed than overtly shippy. It fits in between the camping trip and the wooden soldiers, and is probably about PG-13.
“We’re friends again, right? I mean, we can talk about anything without it starting a fight, like we used to?”
Snow arched an eyebrow at her sister. “Yes, I suppose.”
“Good.” Even for the wildchild Rose, it took a moment to work up to blurting out, “So are you trying to kill all of us, or just Bigby?”
Snow stiffened. “If you’re just going to be randomly abusive--"
Rose hurried to interject, “No, I’m not, it’s just... You remember when we had that dog when we were little?”
“Well,” she continued at a nod from Snow, “do you remember how she went into heat, and all the dogs from miles around were trying to get to her, and having fights outside the house when they couldn’t get in?”
“If this is somehow leading to me being a murderer, I’m not following your logic,” said Snow. “Assuming you have any.”
Rose bristled. “Look, Miss Bitchy Britches, that’s exactly what I’m talking about. You’re so horny you could snap, just like the pregnancy book said would happen, and it’s driving Bigby up the frickin’ wall.”
“It’s not like he’d know,” snapped the undoubtedly tense Snow.
“Oh, because you totally didn’t tell me he could smell you.” Sarcasm practically billowed in clouds around Rose. “And you’re not so completely obviously on edge that anyone can tell you’re not getting any.”
Snow remained seated, her back completely straight as she said, “Excuse me for being unwilling to just jump into bed without a thought to morality or to the future.”
“You know, normally that’d be enough to really piss me off,” said Rose. “No, scratch that, it still is, because you’re being a judgmental bitch, again. But, for the good of everyone who has to be around you or Bigby, here.”
She left, leaving Snow to open the gaily wrapped package containing a modern version of the Victorian cure for hysteria.
Within half an hour, as Rose was hanging out in the front lobby to chat with Grimble, a furious looking Bigby stormed by. The Fabletown sheriff had a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth, as always, but also had another one in his hand, along with a lighter. His other hand held the rest of the pack, and it looked for a moment like he was going to light the whole pack at once.
Pausing briefly, he pointed at Rose. “This is your fault, isn’t it? What did you do?”
Silence was not an option with how very dangerous the wolf looked at the moment, and Rose squeaked out, “I gave her a vi--"
”Why?” Bigby roared.
“I was trying to help!” Indignation helped restore a bit of Rose’s backbone, and she said, “I thought if there was a bit less tension, then she wouldn’t be in heat and things would be easier.”
Bigby lowered his face into his palm, the smoke from both cigarettes obscuring his face. “Did Snow give you the impression of being a dog, somehow?”
Before Rose could decide whether or not she dared say something on the theme of bitches, Bigby sighed heavily. Hunching his shoulders as he turned to leave, he said, “Don’t help, okay? Just don’t help.”
- Fic: Don't Help