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Chapter Text

Emma Swan runs her fingers through her hair and pushes her glasses further onto the bridge of her nose while she peruses her cue cards. Her eyes scan the keywords written there in her messy scrawl, settles briefly on a dried coffee stain, before landing on the small, neatly cursive written love you followed by a heart at the bottom.

She throws her cue cards onto the table in front of her and closes her eyes. Breathes in. This is the last show. The last time she will ever deliver these exact jokes and tell these exact stories. The butterflies flutter in her stomach, and she knows she should probably be more melancholic about it, but she can’t help but look forward to whatever happens next. Not travelling around for a while, settling down, doing some writing and making podcasts.

She feels blessed. This show has been a bigger success than any of her previous ones, and it’s most likely do to with the fact that people can totally relate to everything she says. Her previous shows have been known to be more niche, even though her jokes have always made people laugh their asses off. This show is so popular that she had to make extra shows in most of the bigger cities on her tour, and it’s great to be wanted, to feel like people really want to see her shows.

She’s no longer just the self-deprecating orphan, lesbian comedian, but she’s Emma Swan – and people fucking know her name. What a feat that is for someone like her.

There’s still roughly twenty minutes until she has to psyche herself up, get her adrenaline flowing, and Emma rolls over on the couch and stretches her legs. She can hear Killian ordering someone around on stage, no doubt having troubles with the tech, and she thinks she hears Tilly singing loudly at the top of her lungs. There is a knock on the door, and Emma lifts her head from the plush couch to find her girlfriend’s sister’s child poking their head through the door.

Robin has embraced their dorkier side lately, and they wear their glasses with pride these days. “You about ready, Em?”

Emma nods and pulls herself up.”Yeah, I just – I’m taking a moment to remember where I was a year ago.”

“So much can happen in a year, huh,” Robin replies and slips inside, closing the door behind them with a soft click. “My mom says you better deliver by the way, now that she has decided to spend money on listening to your horrible jokes that she gets for free on Sunday dinners.”

Emma makes a face. Zelena and her funny, funny jokes. One would think that she was the stand-up comedian. “Is everybody out there?”

Robin hands Emma a bottle of water and says, “Yes. Aunt Regina is very excited. Tilly and I leave with the kids in a moment. I just wanted to check on you.”

“Kiss Henry and Lucy from me,” Emma whispers and takes a long gulp of the bottled water. Her throat is drier than usual today. Nerves.

With a smile, Robin backs towards the door. “Good luck, Emma. I can’t wait to hear all about it!” they eagerly say, before they slip outside again and the door closes, leaving Emma to her own thoughts.

She reaches for her phone and sees a text from Regina. We can’t wait! it says, accompanied by a selfie of her, Zelena, Sabine and Jacinda. Emma chuckles to herself and shoots back a thumbs-up, knowing that her girlfriend and her friends are seated at the best seats in the house, probably already a little drunk on wine from their dinner.

Emma goes over her additional ending in her head once more, visioning the keywords in her mind and rehearsing the delivery. It should come almost natural to her once she is out there, it usually does, but this is one thing she cannot mess up. She finally pulls herself off the couch when her agent August pops his head into the room, motioning for her to get her ass in gear. She gives herself a once over in the mirror, quickly deciding that her jeans, her tank and her red leather jacket are all on point, and she runs her hands over her pockets to make sure that they are securely zipped.

“Ready?” August asks as she steps outside, and they huddle together in their three-way circle; her, August and Killian, her brothers from the system, the two first people she ever got to call ‘family’. Now they have expanded their family; Killian has his daughter who is basically Emma’s niece, and August found his real father three years ago, who never even knew that he existed. And Emma? Emma got fostered by Mary Margaret and David when she was sixteen, and she still considers them the closest things to parents she’s ever going to get.

“Yeah, I uh, I’m ready,” Emma whispers and clutches them closer.

Killian nudges her in the side. “You got this, Swan.”

The nerves tingle in her belly, and her warm-up comes off stage with a roar of applause, and Emma gives her a high-five. Ruby Lucas is a few years younger than Emma, but she’s funny, and exactly what Emma’s audience wants: Beautiful and gay. “They’re all warm for you, boss,” she laughs and unscrews the lid on her water.

Emma jumps up and down a few times before she runs onto the stage. The cheer from the audience excites her, gets her blood pumping, and she basks for a second in their enthusiasm as her eyes get used to the light focused on only her. Their faces are a blur – grey blobs in the darkness of the room, hundreds of eyes looking up at her, and she relishes it; the last of this feeling for a while.

She places her water on the small table in front of her and squints. “Hi,” she greets, and there are scattered chuckles in the room. “So how about Ruby Lucas, huh? Isn’t she great?”

A loud whoop can be heard in the back of the room.

“Enthusiasm! I love it!” Emma laughs, pushing her glasses to the back of her nose and shuffling on her feet. “So welcome to the last show on this tour. I’ve been, you know, I’ve been around the country for a while with this show, and it’s been really great so far, and I have to say,” she pauses, perusing the audience slightly, before continuing, “it’s also kind of hard to be travelling like this while also looking for true love, you know?”

She motions towards the screen to her left where the title of her show – HAPPILY EVER AFTER – emerges.

“Yes. This is a show about finding love, because I know you all know this,” she licks her lips and stuffs a hand into her back pocket, “But it can be kind of hard to find a girlfriend. Especially when you’re a lesbian, I mean, there’s just not as many options, you know? And as someone who grew up reading fairytales and dreaming of true love and the whole shebang, it’s kind of hard to accept the fact that you might not get it.” She laughs to herself, shaking her head, “So this show kinda came to be after I got dumped on my ass by my ex-girlfriend-”

A group in the audience starts heckling loudly, clearly making their opinion on Emma’s ex-girlfriend known, and Emma laughs and does a funny bow in their direction.

She continues, “Thanks, thanks, she’s, she’s OK, I guess, kind of a hard-ass, but OK, and yeah, she dumped me good and hard, and I was starting to believe that maybe I just didn’t deserve love, you know? That maybe someone as fucked up as me just didn’t deserve it, but my friend Killian told me that that’s bogus and thus my hunt for True Love – the Disney kind of True Love, with magic and dwarves and the whole thing – begun. This show is a testament to that.”

Emma takes a gulp of water.

“So uh, yeah. I didn’t really think that it could happen to me, you know? But while on the quest for this love that everyone was always talking about, while I’ve been touring with this show, I kinda…” She shuffles on her feet and she can feel the goofiest smile come onto her face, “I kinda actually got a girlfriend.”

The audience aws, and Emma grins.

She places the bottle back down on the table. “So while this is most definitely my show that you’ve all been dying to see-” she pauses and lets them all agree loudly, “-this is actually also the story of how I actually found my happily ever after. The story of me meeting Regina.” She licks her lips, takes a dramatic pause and turns slightly, “…and this is how it happened.”

Chapter Text

“So like, you all know how when you’re dating, yeah? And uh, it’s the tricky age when half the people are settling down and having at shit tonne of babies and the other half is out getting drunk off their asses three days of the week?”

The audience hums in agreement, and Emma strolls across the stage, cord of the microphone expertly wielded between her fingers.

She continues, “And you’re swiping left on tinder, just swiping, or hitting that heart on the HER app, and uh, there she is! A perfect woman your age and you match, and you chat, and it just feels too damn good to be true?” Emma pauses and stares out at the audience, “That’s because it fucking is!” She laughs to herself, continuing, “So yeah, she says that she has a kid, maybe three and a dog, y’know? And you wonder, can I really get attached to someone who has a kid? I mean, there’s risks involved in that! They’re little human beings, you can fuck them up real good, like just, real good, y’know?”

There’s a littered chuckle from the audience.

“Yes, so you have that decision to make? Do I get involved with this person? Do I want to set myself up for even more potential heartbreak? ‘Cuz you know it’s gonna end, because it always does,” she adds. She takes a long break, gulps down some water and lets the audience sit there for a while. “And like, I love kids, I do. They’re like, fucking funny and they’re usually really good at ball games or playstation, and that’s the stuff that matters, y’know? And so I know I’m gonna have to not only lose the amazingly sexy lady who for some reason wants to get into my pants, but also the kid? And do I really want to set myself up for that kind of heartbreak?

“But no shit, I always end up getting involved. And it feels good for a second, to be something to this impressionable little human being, but then it’s over, and damn, if I’m not more sad about the kid than the mom! Cute kid, alert!”

The audience laughs, and Emma sighs.

“It’s the same with pets really. Dogs or cats, even a talkative bird. I – you know, I dated this woman once? And I don’t know if you know this, but I date women,” she jokes, licking her lips, “And so I dated this woman. Ab-so-lute-ly horrible human being. Just horrible! We’re talking a real Cruella de Vil here. Like, I’m not joking. She drank way too much gin and smoked too many cigarettes, but she had these dogs, y’know?”

Another round of laughter.

“She had these amazing dogs, and I’m there for that. I’m just like – use me, use me, treat me horribly, because you have dogs!” She laughs and continues on with a slight shrug, “And that’s the real struggle, y’know? Because I fucking love dogs, and I love kids, and I know it’s gonna hurt as fuck when I have to part with them.”

—-

There is a knock on Regina’s cubicle wall, and she glances up from the chapter she’s reading to find Jacinda leaning awkwardly against the flimsy wall, long legs crossed and with a slight frown marring her face. Regina pulls her glasses off her nose and folds them on her desk, before spinning on her office chair to look up at her co-worker slash best friend. “Yes?”

“Am I interrupting anything?” Jacinda asks. The sole of her Converse squeaks against the linoleum floor of the office.

Regina grimaces. “I’m just finishing up my notes on the next chapter from Sidney Glass. He keeps trying to litter his novels with poor quality poetry. I’m half convinced they’re for my benefit, but I’m frankly growing tired of weeding out his writing.”

Jacinda winces. “You wanna catch a break and get some coffee? I have freshly baked beignets from the bakery waiting for us in the kitchen.”

Chancing a glance at the clock, Regina realises that it’s past two in the afternoon, and she has yet to take her lunch break. She nods. “Sure. I just think I’ll be having my salad.”

They make their way to the office kitchen, Jacinda lovingly chastising her for not eating her lunch yet, and thankfully, due to the hour, the room is empty, so they each pour a cup of coffee, and Regina takes two bites of kale before reaching for a beignet.

Jacinda pretends not to notice, and she rips the pastry into smaller bits, eats them and slurps them down with drags of too black coffee. The silence between them is lit, and Regina knows that there’s something she wants to say, and she also has a pretty good idea of what it’s about. “So uhm,” she begins, lines appearing on her forehead, “Marian stopped by yesterday.”

“I assumed as much given there’s enough beignets in this box to feed a small army,” Regina replies as she reaches for another one.

“How are you holding up?” Jacinda finally asks, which really, is this purpose of this entire conversation.

Regina frowns and focuses all her attention on the pastry in her hands; crumbs already litter the office table and she reaches for her coffee to stall for time. “I’m just fine, thank you very much,” she manages to say when she puts her mug back down.

Jacinda’s lips curl upwards slightly. “Hm? You haven’t – you haven’t heard from her since… you know? Or seen Roland?”

“Roland is not my son to see,” Regina replies and tries to ignore the pang of hurt clenching at her heart at the thought of his freckled face and that curly hair.

There is a small silence, before Jacinda replies, “No, but… you were with Marian for a while, Regina. I know how much you cared for Roland. It’s OK to miss him.” She pauses, brown eyes flickering slightly, “It’s OK to miss Marian, too.”

Regina huffs. “I don’t miss Marian. I don’t miss people who cheat on me with their ex-husbands and stomps all over a two-year relationship.”

Jacinda visibly flinches. “Regina, it’s OK to be sad. You lost half of your family.”

“No,” Regina says and wipes at the corners of her mouth with a finger, expertly coming back without traces of lipstick. “Henry is my family, and that’s the way it’s going to be.”

Reaching for her own coffee mug again, Jacinda continues to press on; and really, she’s one of the only people who’s ever been able to press Regina like this, and that’s just because they’ve known each other since college. “Don’t be like that, Regina, you’ll meet someone new.”

“You know, I don’t think I will,” Regina fires back, eyes ablaze. “Not everyone gets lucky the way you did with Sabine. Some of us are just meant to be alone. I can live with that as long as I have Henry.”

“Henry is a ten-year-old boy!” Jacinda argues, and her fingers clench slightly against the porcelain of her mug. It’s one of her own, one she’s brought from home that Lucy made last year in school, her messily handwritten message of I love my mommies accompanied by a childish drawing of two big stick-figures and one smaller one.

Regina stares at her; wants to set fire to the damn mug the same way she wants to hug it close, because she loves Lucy and her messy art; Regina has several picture frames and mugs herself at home, all decorated with Aunt Regina is the best, and she supposes she ought to throw out the ones that also say Marian. “Just drop it, Jay,” she says and lets the half-eaten beignet fall to the table, “I don’t need your pity or Sabine’s apology pastries. I know she feels guilty, but you can tell her I don’t blame her for Marian’s decision. Apparently, it was not meant to be, Marian still harboured feelings for her Husband, but Sabine could not have predicted that.”

Jacinda frowns. “We don’t want things to be awkward. You’re going to have to see her again.”

There is a snarl on her lips, when Regina replies, “And I reckon The Husband will be right there along with her?”

The look on Jacinda’s face tells her everything. “She’s Sabine’s friend. Even if what she did was real jerky.”

Regina pushes her salad away with a defeated sigh. She’s not really been hungry the past few weeks, and the meals she’s eaten at dinner have been more for Henry’s sake than her own. Nothing looks good to her, and she’s surviving on coffee and too many glasses of wine. “It felt like a family for a moment,” she finally admits, thinks of the mornings waking up next to Marian and making pancakes for Henry and Roland in their small kitchen. Marian and Roland had never officially moved in, but it sure had felt like it. She guesses the unofficial part had made it all the more easier for Marian to pack up their things and leave.

“I want that for you,” Jacinda whispers and reaches a hand across the table, quickly grasping Regina’s left one, as if to make sure that she doesn’t make a run for it. “And you can find it, Regina, I’m sure of it.”

With a sigh, Regina squeezes her hand, “I’m not certain I want to look anymore.”

Jacinda smiles sadly at her for a second before she wriggles her shoulders and teasingly queries, “What are you doing tonight?”

Arching an eyebrow, Regina says, “Dinner and homework with Henry. Then a glass of wine and a good book.”

“No you’re not,” Jacinda eagerly says and pulls her hand out of Regina’s. She reaches into her pocket for her cell phone and makes a few quick swipes across the screen. “Because you’re going out with Sabine and I! I already got Robin to watch the kids. They’re coming to your house and we’ll drop Lucy off and pick you up.”

“It’s a week night,” Regina says with a sigh, but truthfully, if this outing involves alcohol, she’ll not be difficult to convince.

“It’s a comedy show!” Jacinda rushes to explain as she turns the phone over, shoving it into Regina’s hand, “It’s that uh, that female comedian! Emma something.” She snaps her fingers and grins.

Regina furrows her brow and stares down at the white tickets on the screen. Emma Swan – Happily Ever After it says. For nine o’clock tonight, three seats. She puts the phone down and shakes her head. “No. Jay, you know I don’t like comedy! Everything’s racist and homophobic and unfeminist, and I don’t want to waste my time watching-”

Jacinda cuts her off, “Relax, OK? This is not like that! She’s a lesbian, Regina! And this show is about her way to finding true love. Sabine and I just figured that it might cheer you up to see someone who has a worse love life than you.”

Huffing, Regina retorts, “Well, aren’t you real gems?”

With a roll of her eyes, Jacinda continues, “It’s supposed to be a lot of fun. And she’s that comedian who had that show a few years ago, the show that Henry loved?”

Regina pauses and stares briefly down at the tickets on the phone again. “The one about being an orphan and being adopted?” Generally she’d never let her son watch something like that, but the subject of this show had been important to him, so Regina had acquiesced and bought him the show.

“That’s the one,” Jacinda eagerly replies and pockets her phone again. “So what? Can I text Robin to tell them you’re in?”

With a slight nod, Regina pushes her chair back, “I suppose so,” she replies, and she pretends not to notice Jacinda’s silent fist-bump when she leaves the kitchen with her now lukewarm coffee.

——-

Henry is not impressed that she has to leave him for the night, and even less impressed when he hears that she’s going to an Emma Swan show without him.

“But Mom,” he whines and kicks his legs against the chair, “I’m the one who likes her shows. I should come!”

“This one is not about adoption, Henry, this one is for grown-ups only,” she scolds him and runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll tell you all the funny bits, I promise. Now, eat your broccoli.”

Henry despondingly picks up his cutlery and forks a piece of broccoli. “How come Lucy is coming?”

Regina is busy fidgeting with her hair in the hallway mirror. “Because your aunts are the ones taking me out,” she replies as she peeks at him through the doorway, briefly meeting Robin’s eyes above his head. The teenager gives her a thumbs-up.

“Is Marian coming, too?” Henry whispers, and it’s almost inaudible, but Regina hears it anyway, and so does Robin, whose eyes immediately turn wide behind their glasses.

Regina rushes into the kitchen and kneels down next to Henry. “Sweetie,” she says and runs another hand through his hair, “no. I’m not going to see Marian for a long while, I told you that. We broke up.”

Henry’s eyes are wet when he looks at her. “I miss her, and I miss Roland.”

“So do I, mijo,” Regina whispers and presses a kiss to his hair. “I’m sorry.”

Robin munches on their own piece of broccoli and says, “So Kid, how about I make the three of us some real good hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon and everything, and you and Lucy can choose a board game for us to play, hm?”

Henry’s eyes light up, “Can we play Monopoly?”

“Sure thing, Kid,” Robin replies with a furrowed brow.

Seeing this as his chance to skip out on the rest of his vegetables, Henry hops off the chair and rushes up the staircase to his room. Regina turns to look at Robin with a relieved smile, and she leans down to press a kiss to their hair as well. “You still need to do your homework, or you mother will kill me,” she reprimands.

Robin grins. “I’ll do it when they’re conked out. I just want you to have fun tonight, Aunt Regina.” They push their chair back and stands up, awkwardly carrying the plates to the sink to rinse them. “I was wondering – do you think I should cut my hair?”

Regina pauses in the doorway, lips pursed as she crosses the floor to stand next to Robin. “Uh, your hair?” She reaches a tentative hand out and runs her fingers through Robin’s locks, spilling down their back in long waves. “No, I don’t think so. I love your hair, and I thought you did, too.”

Dropping the plates in the sink, Robin turns to look at Regina with a sigh. Their eyes are wide behind their glasses, and they lean slightly against the counter as they speak. “So did I. I mean, I still do, y’know?”

“Then what brought this on, querido?” Regina softly questions, tentative hand coming up to cup Robin’s cheek; Robin who’s now somehow taller than her, even though it feels like yesterday they were just a little kid bundled in green in Regina’s arms.

Robin fidgets with their sleeves for a second, and it’s pretty clear that something is troubling them, and Regina wishes she had more time to talk about this before Jacinda and Sabine show up. “It’s just – with the long hair,” Robin says, not quite meeting Regina’s eyes, “people keep misgendering me a lot, and I thought that maybe, if I had shorter hair that it’d happen less.”

Regina feels her heart break slightly and she wraps an arm around Robin, hugging them tight. “I know it might feel like that, my darling,” she whispers, not quite letting go of the other person yet, “but you should never conform or alter your appearance because of what other people think. It’s a tough battle, one that you’re maybe going to fight for a long time, but just know that all of us love you and support you no matter if your hair is long or not.”

“Thank you, Aunt Regina,” Robin whispers.

“Anytime,” Regina replies and presses a kiss to Robin’s cheek, leaving a smear of lipstick behind. She affectionately rubs it off with her thumb. “Now, if it gets too late, you’re gonna sleep in the guest bedroom so you don’t have to bike home, you hear me?”

Robin nods eagerly and moves to the cupboard where the powder for hot chocolate is stored. “Have fun, Aunt Regina, you deserve it.”

There is a loud knock on the door at that, and Lucy comes bustling into the kitchen, eagerly waving a piece of paper, PJ’s on beneath her open coat. “Regina,” she greets, and Regina has to open her arms and catch her almost on instinct. “I made you a drawing, look!”

Regina stares down at the drawing on the paper; three grown-up figures, vaguely resembling her, Jacinda and Sabine, joined by two smaller figures, which are clearly supposed to be Lucy and Henry. “That’s beautiful, mija,” Regina replies and squeezes the young girl.

Lucy beams and falls to the floor.

“Are you ready to go?” Sabine asks and places a Tupperware container on the kitchen island. “Jay is in the car, if we get there quick we can catch a beer beforehand.” She pauses, bites her lip when she sees the look on Regina’s face, “Or, you know, a glass of wine. Whatever.”

“I’m ready,” Regina says and reaches for her purse on the counter.

Sabine grins, “Robin, there’s a pastry for each of you in the box. Have a good night!”

Robin grins, and Lucy shrugs off her jacket to go find Henry upstairs, and Regina presses another kiss to Robin’s cheek, reminding them of all of their numbers and the emergency cash in the drawer of her study, and everything that Robin already knows, because babysitting the kids is a regular thing. Robin ushers them out of the door, assures them that everything will be fine, and when the door clicks shut behind them – and Regina hears the lock turn to click – she sighs and wraps her peacoat around herself.

“Come on, losers,” Jacinda hollers as she rolls down the window of their beat-up Volvo, “we haven’t got all night, you know!”

Regina and Sabine share a short smile, before they hurry off the porch and into the idling car.

——-

“So, what do you think?” Sabine asks them when they step outside of the small theatre, huddled in their jackets in the cold night air. “I’m kinda hungry for a late night snack. I know a 24-hour diner just a few blocks from here that makes awesome fries.”

Regina casts a glance at her watch. “I really should get back home and relieve Robin.”

Jacinda shakes her head, “Nope, nuh-uh, missy!” She blinks rapidly, frown appearing on her lips, “The kids are already sleeping and Robin will already be in the guest room. You’re coming with us. Don’t think we haven’t noticed how thin you’ve gotten.”

Sabine hums in agreement, “You need some fries, girl.”

Acquiescing, Regina groans. “Fine, but then I’m having a burger!”

Whooping, Jacinda hooks her arm into Regina’s, and Sabine takes the lead, leading them a few blocks away from the theatre to a quiet diner off the main road. The neon-sign above the door says Granny’s and the place is littered with people as they make their way inside and grab a booth in the back. There’s some people drinking beer, but Regina can also smell the fried foods and she hears her stomach rumble – hungry for something unhealthy that she otherwise never lets herself enjoy. Sabine goes to the counter to order them something to eat, and Jacinda gets comfortable across from Regina.

“So, how are you feeling now, huh? That show sure put things into perspective.”

Regina checks her phone, just to make sure that there are no emergency messages from Robin, as she replies, “That’s why I don’t want to be single. I was perfectly happy in my predictable relationship, and now I’m going to have to start dating again.” She stuffs the phone back into her purse as Sabine takes a seat in front of them.

“Who’s dating who now?” she asks and presses a short kiss to Jacinda’s cheek.

Jacinda grins, “Regina will have to start dating again. Hopefully it won’t be as bad as Emma Swan’s dating life, huh! I mean, I know options are limited, but her love life seemed disastrous.”

Crossing her legs, Regina says, “It’s probably made worse for the extra comedic effect, Jay.”

“Still,” Jacinda mumbles.

Sabine chuckles, “She was right though, about all those dating apps. I’m so glad I don’t have to go through that.”

Regina narrows her eyes at her, “Yes, well, good for you.”

They’re silent for a minute while a waitress in a short skirt places their drinks on the table and informs them that their food will be out in a minute. Regina takes a long sip of her lemon water, feeling parched after so long in a stuffed theatre.

“She was kind of cute though,” Jacinda says out of nowhere, fingers curled around her glass of beer. “Emma Swan, I mean. In a messy kind of dorky way.”

Sabine nods eagerly, “Yeah! I mean, I bet I know a tonne of lesbians who’d like to hit that.”

Regina arches an eyebrow, “I didn’t notice,” she replies as her eyes scan the room. Sure, Emma Swan had a kind of nerdy thing about her, and she was definitely beautiful, but she was also way too young, and Regina hated that she was even able to relate a little bit to her stories. “I’ll have to disappoint Henry. There wasn’t many jokes for his ears this time around.”

Jacinda shrugs. “Nah, but I guess I can understand why he likes her so much. If all her shows are inspired by her own life, the thing with her childhood must have really hit home with him. I mean, I know he found a good home with you pretty quickly, but he was still dumped in front of your mother’s office. That does something to a kid.”

The statement doesn’t need a reply, and thankfully Regina doesn’t have to make up one, because the waitress returns with their food. She immediately snatches a sweet potato fry and stuffs it into her mouth, tired and filled-up with laughter and jokes and too many people around her. The taste coats her tongue, and she closes her eyes briefly, listening to Sabine and Jacinda’s marital banter about the plate of onion rings, and when she opens her eyes again, she frowns at the group of people who has just entered the diner. Isn’t that-? “Look,” she mutters beneath her breath, and Jacinda and Sabine shut up immediately and whip around in the booth to stare.

“No way,” Jacinda cheers, and her eyes turn wide like saucers. “You should go get a picture for Henry.”

Sabine nods eagerly, “Totally. And I want a picture, too.”

Regina reaches for another fry. “Well, let them get a seat first, you idiots. There’s no need to ambush them.”

Her friends reluctantly agree, so they keep eating their food – Regina digging into her burger and savouring every last bite – while keeping a watchful eye on Emma Swan and her group of friends. She’s accompanied by two men and the girl who warmed up for her, and they’re greeted warmly by the staff behind the counter, almost as if they’re regulars. They have a seat in another booth at the other side of the diner, and Regina has the perfect view of them; she sees them goof off and joke, but she can also see Emma Swan jotting down words in a notebook while the others talk, and it almost seems like they’re going over the show.

She almost doesn’t want to interrupt them if that’s the case.

“Alright,” Sabine says and wipes her mouth with a napkin. She’s slightly tipsy because of the extra large jug of beer she drank with dinner, and she looks determined. “I’m going over there now. You coming, Mills?”

Regina bites her lip. She kind of wants to – for Henry’s sake – but something is holding her back. “No, I,” she sighs and stares down at her burger, which she’s still only halfway done with, “I’ll finish my burger. Maybe before we leave.”

Both Jacinda and Sabine scoot out of the booth and Regina watches with half an eye as they approach the table across the diner. She cuts into her burger, forking a piece the best way she can, and fidgets with her phone for a moment, before she decides to send a text to Robin. She hopes that they are already sleeping as well, and she knows that Henry will be in bed, and Lucy will be conked out on the couch, ready for Jacinda to carry her to their car when they drop Regina off. She forks another piece of burger and drops her phone to the table, only to realise that Emma Swan – awkward, red leather jacket and jeans-wearing, messy bun of hair Emma Swan – is cautiously making her way over to her table.

Regina dumps her fork to her plate and sits up straighter as the blonde woman sheepishly approaches, offering her an awkward wave. Behind her, Regina can see Jacinda and Sabine chatting with the other three at the table, and Emma comes to a halt in front of her, hands tucked in her pockets.

“Hi,” she grins, and her eyes are spectacularly green behind her black-rimmed glasses.

“Hello,” Regina replies, and for some reason she feels her cheeks flush slightly.

“Uhm,” Emma hooks a thumb over her shoulder, “your friends said something about your son?”

Regina shoots a glare in Jacinda’s direction for good measure, before she motions to the seat in front of her. “Yes. My son, Henry. He’s a fan of yours. He’s ten.”

Emma takes a seat and pushes Sabine’s plate to the side. “Ten. Wow. That’s a bit younger than most of my audience.”

Nodding, Regina explains, “Yes. But your show about adoption really resonated with him. I’ve adopted him as well.”

“Oh.” Emma’s lips curl slightly upwards. “Do you have a pen I can borrow?”

Regina quickly rummages through her purse while Emma selects a napkin from the holder and smoothens it excessively against the table. Regina hands her the pen – their fingers brushing slightly as she does – and she watches the way the blonde’s brow furrows and her tongue peeks through her lips as she concentrates and jots down a rather lengthy note for Henry on the white napkin. She signs it with a messy Emma Swan and sheepishly pushes both the pen and the napkin across the table to Regina.

“Thank you,” Regina mutters and carefully folds the napkin up to keep it safe in her purse. She’ll read it later.

They are silent for a little while, Regina nervously folding her hands in her lap, and Emma just watching her with a bounce of her leg, and Regina wonders why Emma hasn’t left to return to her friends yet, but also why Regina herself doesn’t mind that much at all, really, even though it’s slightly awkward, and what does one even say to a person whose comedy show you went to?

“So did you like it,” Emma finally says and meets Regina’s eyes again. Her cheeks a slightly pink.

Regina clears her throat. “Did I like what?”

“My show,” Emma clarifies.

“It was very good,” Regina replies with a nod. She clears her throat again and tells herself to elaborate. “I could relate to a lot of the things you said. About, about dating women. It can be very hard to find a suitable partner.”

Emma nods, and Regina think she sees a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yes. Women. Urgh. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them, am I right?”

Regina raises an eyebrow. “I, too, have seen RENT, Miss Swan.”

“Wasn’t suggesting otherwise,” Emma replies and awkwardly sticks her hand out. “I’m Emma by the way. I think it’s only fair that I know your name, since you already know mine. And uh,” she pauses, wetting her lips, and there’s something extremely endearing about the way she does it, “so many things about my dating life, I guess.”

Sticking her own hand out, Regina shakes hers. “I’m Regina. Regina Mills.”

“Nice to meet you,” Emma replies, and she sounds absolutely sincere. She drops her hand to the table and appears reluctant to leave. “So you like the fries here? My warm-up, Ruby, her Granny owns the place.”

“Like the name,” Regina muses and motions towards the neon-sign that’s casting a pink glow around the entrance. “And they’re quite delicious. It’s not often I eat fried foods.”

Emma chuckles. “Somehow I’m not surprised,” she says. And then adds, “We come here a lot. After shows at the theatre and stuff. It’s a good way to wind down.”

Regina nods and picks up another fry. “I’d imagine so.”

Emma is quiet for a second, eyes studiously watching Regina as the brunette nips at a fry. The air between them is tense, inexplicably so, and Regina doesn’t know what to say, because for some reason, she’d like for her and Emma to continue their conversation, but on the other hand – she just wants Emma to leave so she can get home to her son.

“Anyway,” Emma says and moves to scoot out of the booth, “I better get back to my burger and my notes. My manager has things to say.”

Regina can’t help the small smile appearing on her lips. “Well, thank you for the napkin.” She pats her purse, imagining Henry’s joy when she gives him the note. “And can you please tell the lovebirds to get back here so we can get home?”

Emma pauses. “Oh you mean,” she glances towards her table. “Your friends? They’re together?” A small smile play at the corner of her lips and she pushes her glasses further up the bridge of her nose.

“Yes. Married for seven years. They have a daughter,” Regina replies, carefully trying to understand the blonde’s reaction.

Shoulders sagging, Emma says, “Oh. I thought, you might’ve-” She pauses, fingers curling against the edge of the table.

Regina glances up at her. “You thought I might have what, Miss Swan?”

“Nevermind.” Emma’s cheeks flush slightly. “Maybe I’ll see you around though?”

With a sigh, Regina says, “Don’t count on it. I really don’t come to these places very often.”

If the look on Emma’s face seems almost disappointed, Regina must surely be imagining it, and the blonde slips out of the booth and crosses the diner, while Regina watches her, eyes lingering on her ass in those extremely tight jeans. How can she even walk in those, Regina thinks to herself.

Jacinda and Sabine return to their table five minutes later, and when they leave the diner to return home, Regina can’t help but cast a glance towards the other table, only to find a pair of green eyes watching her go. She feels herself flush and ducks out of the diner and down the street.

Chapter Text

“Internet stalking.” Emma states and stares out at her audience with raised eyebrows. She lets it linger there, an awkward silence in the theatre, until there are small chuckles around the room. “Yeah?” she laughs, “I can understand by your silence that you know exactly what I’m talking about!” She walks around the stage and continues, “So we’ve all done it, right? Met a cute person at a party or on the street or even at the gym-” the audience laughs loudly at that, and Emma frowns, “hey, I work out, OK?” She pauses, “I mean, I sometimes run to catch the bus, but you go figure. Oh, which reminds me! I once internet stalked a girl I met on the bus.”

The audience chuckles.

“So I think it’s all pretty normal in this day and age, y’know? With all the social media available for us. Why not check out your date or that cute girl with the freckles online, just to, you know…” she wriggles her fingers, contemplates, “test the waters. Suss out the re-la-tion-ship status.” She swallows, takes a breath. “In all seriousness, I’ve done my fair share of internet stalking. I mean, let’s get back to that girl on the bus. I heard that her name was Merida, because, y’know, she picked up her phone, and I listened. As you do.”

Another round of laughter.

“And she had this weird accent, you know? I mean, I’m not that great a pinpointing that shit, but I was for sure certain she wasn’t American!” Emma shakes her head to herself, “Maybe a weird-ass Canadian, but you know, I was thinking maybe Scottish or Irish, mh? So that was something to go by. And she picked up her phone, and I was a few seats behind her – I’d originally seen her when I entered the bus, and so like the crazy stalker I am, I sat as close to her as possible-” Emma mimics sitting down on a bus seat and leaning forward to eavesdrop. “And so I’m listening in, and she says her name and a few other things, and I’m, I’m pretty sure she’s gay, I mean, I’m pretty sure.” She licks her lips, a slight whine to her voice.“Maybe it was the flannel, maybe it was the combat boots or maybe it was the septum piercing, but I definitely got a vibe, you know what I mean? So all those informations?” She makes a swiping motion and clicks her tongue, “Yup, filed away for later.”

The audience laughs again and Emma stands up and returns the mike to its holder.

“And so I get home. And I uh, I internet stalk. As you do.” She breathes, gestures. “And uh, there’s facebook, twitter, instagram, tumblr, all those other sites that some people like, and since I’m pretty sure she’s gay, I figured – I might know someone who knows her, or someone who knows someone who knows her, and that’s the way these things start. I eventually did end up finding her, but she was dating this beautiful black woman, and I’m like-” She motions to herself and snorts, shaking her head, “Can’t compete with that! I’m just a skinny white girl with bad humour.

“Actually, I’m like – I did this at another show, just to test out my theory, so I hope you’re all game – because like, in this community, everybody knows someone who knows someone, and so just to prove a point, I’d like to ask you all, and just by a raise of hand – who knows Merida? Because I figure she’s kind of familiar, easy to pinpoint, so like – who knows her?”

Emma squints her eyes and stares out at the audience, trying to locate hands in the air, and for a second she’s truly surprised that she doesn’t see any, until a cluster comes up near the back to the left, and someone stands up and yells, “shut your pie hole, aye!” in a brash, familiar voice, even after all these years.

Biting her lip to hold back her laugh, Emma ducks away from the mike, incapable of doing so. She laughs, clutches her stomach for a second and returns to the mike. “Merida everybody,” she presents, and the audience gasps and laughs, and Merida sits down in her seat, red hair and eyes aflame. “We never did end up dating, by the way,” Emma adds, staring awkwardly down at her feet, “so yeah, that was… awkward.”

She smiles at the scattered laughter.

——-

Henry is overjoyed when she gives him the napkin. In fact, he almost starts crying of happiness and carries it along with him for all of the next day. Afterwards, they hang it on the fridge with magnets – the best spot, usually reserved for Lucy’s prettiest artwork – so it doesn’t ruin or smudge and Henry can look at it whenever they eat. I’ll treasure it forever, Mom, he says to her with grave seriousness.

They spend the next evening watching one of Emma’s other shows on Netflix, and if Regina doesn’t object to Henry’s suggestion, it’s only because she’s slightly curious to learn more about the blonde comedian. For Henry’s sake, of course. She can’t have her son looking up to someone if they’re completely bonkers.

She’s dressed in basically the same way she was the other night; tight jeans, boots and that red jacket. Regina thinks, that if they were dating, she might want to burn it. Her hair is slightly longer though, but it’s the same black-rimmed glasses. She talks about her childhood, being dumped by the side of the road, and Henry listens with rapt attention, while Regina types in Emma Swan on the search bar in her phone.

Nothing wrong with some thorough investigation, she’ll reckon.

She finds a facebook page, a page called emmatellsfunnyjokes.org and a twitter page littered with jokes, political commentary and random pictures of dogs. There’s the occasional selfie, but it seems like this Emma Swan is not much for putting herself on camera if she can help it. Regina can’t imagine why, with those cheekbones and that hair, but it does fit with the theme of her show. Emma Swan doesn’t seem to like herself very much at all.

On Friday at work, Jacinda is retelling the best part of the show at their mandatory Friday morning meeting, and Regina drinks her coffee and tries to figure out what to do with Henry on Saturday. Sundays are for weekly family dinners – which in reality should be her and Henry, Zelena and Robin, but most often includes Sabine, Jacinda and Lucy, too. Of course Marian and Roland had been there for the past year and a half, but Regina tries not to think too much about that. Either she’s filled with anger or complete devastation when she does.

(She does, however, visit both Marian’s instagram which she’s still following, and The Husband’s which is not set to private, to catch a glimpse of Roland and his brown curls. Her heart clenches painfully when she sees that a tooth has started to grow in place of the one she’d helped him tuck beneath his pillow one night, and later snuck in to retrieve and place a dollar in its place).

At lunch on Friday, she and Jacinda go to the bagel place down the street. Regina has a bit more appetite today, so she gets a large salad with fried chickpeas and beetroot, and Jacinda gets a bagel, and they sit outside and eat; a nice reprieve from the stale office air and their insipid co-workers.

“You look a lot better,” Jacinda comments when they’re halfway through their food, the first part of it consumed in relative silence as they had both been in the need for some.

Regina swallows down some root beer. “Yes, things are – things are better, I reckon.”

Jacinda wriggles her eyebrows. “Just admit it. That comedy show was a great idea!”

Rolling her eyes, Regina retrieves her fork and stabs a piece of tomato. “That has nothing to do with it. Emma Swan isn’t even that funny.”

With a snort, Jacinda reaches for her coke. “Yeah sure. I guess I heard someone else laugh madly right next to me. Must’ve been ghosts in that theatre.”

“Yes, there must have been,” Regina replies drily and munches on a piece of lettuce.

Jacinda is silent for a second as she takes long drags of her drink, placing the bottle down on the counter and sighing loudly in happiness. She picks up the bagel with both hands and says, casually, “So what did you talk to her about?” before biting into it.

Regina is nonchalant, “What did I talk to whom about?”

With a groan, Jacinda clarifies, “Emma. Of course.”

“We didn’t talk,” Regina replies.

Jacinda rolls her eyes. “She was at our table for fucking ever, Regina, don’t tell me you just sat there in silence for all that time.” She takes another bite of her bagel.

Regina brushes off her slacks and squints her eyes against the autumn sun. “She just wrote a note for Henry, that’s all,” she explains, before tucking back into the salad.

“Mh-hmmm.” Jacinda is not impressed. “And you didn’t talk at all?”

Regina quickly says, “No.”

Jacinda smirks, “When she came back to the table, she said that she thought you were, quote-unquote, really fucking beautiful. But I guess you really didn’t talk all that much, yeah?”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Regina shakes her head. “No. She doesn’t need to speak to me to observe my looks.”

With a sigh, Jacinda says, “You’re impossible,” before continuing on to another subject, “So Lucy has decided to try out for ballet for some reason…”

————-

Regina decides to take Henry to the park on Saturday, and so they go there by car, parking just near the theatre where they had parked the other night, and when Henry rushes off to play with the other kids, Regina takes a seat on one of the benches and unfolds her book – a gift from an author who’d really appreciated her work on his novel – and digs into it. It’s a boring heterosexual love story, as most stories are, and she finds her mind wandering away from the words on the pages towards a certain comedian instead, and she thinks about that message she had written Henry, which had been inexplicably sweet. Littered with phrases as stay cool, Kid and you sound super awesome she’d also written and it’s so cool to meet another kid like me who had no one but is loved anyway and it seems like you have a really great mom, kid, so be good to her, and who was she to write such things on a diner napkin?

The audacity of that woman.

Regina shudders in her peacoat, and digs her nose into her scarf, trying to keep out the cold. It’s more windy than she had thought it would be, and she’s starting to feel it to her bones. Looking up, the sky even seems greyer, angry with rainy clouds, and she tries to calculate how much time they’ll need to get to their car if it suddenly starts pouring.

A message ticks in on her phone. From Zelena. And it says Pumpkin stew good for tomorrow? Regina taps out a reply, just pleased that her sister hasn’t asked her (yet) to prepare anything to bring, and when she looks up, it’s to Henry making his way towards her, tucking his grey and red scarf around his neck and biting his lip.

“Done playing, mijo?” Regina asks him and tucks her phone into her jacket.

Henry’s cheeks are red from the cold, and his hair is windswept and he looks tired. “I gotta pee,” he says and sidesteps slightly, no doubt because he’s been holding it in to keep playing for as long as possible.

Regina stands up from the bench and tucks the book beneath her armpit. “Well, then we’ll drive right back home, sweetie,” she tells him and leans down to press a kiss to his hair. He’s growing too quickly, she thinks, and she once more hurts with missing Roland, who is four years younger and needs her even more.

“It’s too far,” Henry cries, and his green eyes are wide with apologies, “I can’t hold it in.”

Pausing to assess the situation, Regina tries to recall where there is a place nearby that’ll let Henry use the bathroom, but she can’t for the life of her figure it out. She clutches his shoulder and guides him towards the entrance of the park, and it’s only when she’s starting to turn towards their car – determined to make it home and have him use their own bathroom – that she remembers sweet potato fries, a burger and a written message on a napkin, and turns him around, guiding him towards the small diner off the street. “I know a place just nearby, mijo,” she promises when he looks up at her with questions in his eyes, “you can pee and we can have a hot chocolate, what do you think?”

Henry’s expression turns from pained and sorry to happy, and they speed walk down the street, and Regina is thankful when she sees the bright Granny’s in the distance. She guides him through the door and they rush past the counter – Regina throws a quick we’ll be right back – towards the waitress – and Henry discards his jacket and rushes into a stall in the men’s room – like a big boy, he had said the first time she’d let him go somewhere in public alone – and Regina waits against the wall and breathes a sigh of relief. Crisis averted.

Marian always said that she coddles Henry (and Roland) too much, but Regina can’t find it in herself to stop. Besides, is it really coddling when it’s your child and you just want to make everything okay for them? Regina thinks not.

Looking decidedly more happy, Henry reappears from the bathroom and folds his jacket and scarf over his arm. “Thank you, Mama,” he says, cheeks flushed. He hardly ever calls her mama, mom always came much easier for him, but she so enjoys it when he does.

“Let’s get something hot to drink and warm up, mijo,” she affectionately says and presses a kiss to his hair, before guiding him back into the diner. She pushes him towards a booth, and she turns to the counter, surprised to see that it’s that girl, Ruby Something, behind the counter, dressed in a waitressing uniform and holding out a pen.

“He really had to go, huh?” she says and stares happily towards Henry, who’s smiling at them from the booth.

Regina nods. “Yes. Thank you.” She glances towards the menu written on the wall behind the counter. “Can I have two hot chocolates? One with whipped cream and cinnamon on top, and the other with a dash of coffee?”

Ruby pops her gum and nods, “Sure thing. How about some of those sweet potato fries you were eating the other day? I’m sure your kid would love them.”

Brow furrowed, Regina says, “You remember me?”

“Hard not to,” Ruby comments and tucks her notepad into the waistband of her skirt. “Emma’s right over there, by the way,” she adds and points a finger towards the window, nails blunt and painted red.

Regina whips around and glances towards the window, and sure enough, there sits Emma Swan, nose buried in a book, and with her red jacket slung across the back of her chair. Regina is surprised to see that she’s tattooed up and down both arms, and she pauses when she realises that it’s not at all an unpleasant sight with that white tank top. She turns back around to look at Ruby, who’s smirking wolfishly at her. “Oh yes, I guess she is,” she says, brushing it off.

Popping her gum again, Ruby says, “I’ll be right down with your drinks and fries.”

Sliding in across from Henry, Regina slips out of her jacket and scarf, folding it neatly on top of Henry’s in the booth. He’s kicking his legs against the side, already drawing on the cartoon placemats with the accompanying markers, and his tongue is poking out between his lips in concentration, and Regina can’t help but glance towards Emma Swan across the room from her. She doesn’t appear to have noticed Regina – not that Regina would expect her to say hi or anything because they don’t really know each other – but she turns a page in her book, green eyes rapt with attention, and Regina narrows her eyes to look at the title. She’s surprised once more to see that Emma is reading Men Explain Things to Me, which Regina read a few years ago and just loved. There’s bright sticky notes littering the sides of the book, and it’s evident that Emma’s making notes as she reads and placing them on the corresponding pages.

Just as Ruby appears at their table with hot chocolate and fries, Regina catches Emma make a small note, hastily scribbled on a pink sticky note, brow furrowed and tongue poking out, and then tucking it into the page she was at.

“Fries!?” Henry eagerly exclaims, green eyes popping wide open, “Thanks Mom!”

Ruby chuckles and leaves their table, but the loud exclamation must have caught Emma’s attention, because when Regina looks up from the plate, it’s to Emma’s gaze watching her from across the room. She offers the blonde woman a small smile, and Emma grins goofily, and waves.

“They’re sweet potato fries, mijo,” Regina explains as she reaches to the side to pour out some ketchup for him, “I thought you might be feeling a bit peckish. We still have to have a proper dinner when we get home.”

Henry nods and dunks a fry into the red puddle, before stuffing it into his mouth. “I was playing with Ava and Nicholas at the park, but then they didn’t wanna play with me no more, and so I thought they were lucky to have a sibling,” he informs her, once he is done chewing.

Regina places her cup on the saucer, daintily licks her lips. “Yes, siblings can be nice. They can also be tiring. Just look at your Aunt Zelena.”

He squints his nose and grins. “Aunt Zelena’s funny!”

“But imagine growing up as her little sister,” Regina wistfully whispers as she snatches a fry from the shared plate as well.

Henry seems to think about that for a second as he takes a sip of his hot chocolate, his lips painted in white as he sets the cup back down. “I was a big brother before,” he muses, “kinda.”

Regina’s heart breaks a little bit, because Henry had been a wonderful big brother, always including Roland in his games and doing his best to entertain him, even when Lucy was there and it had been more appealing to run around without him. “I know, mijo, I really miss Roland, too.”

“Not Marian?” Henry quizzically questions as he reaches for another fry.

The question is innocent, and Regina is not entirely sure how to answer it. “I guess so. A little bit. But it’s different with Roland, because he didn’t decide to move away from us. Marian did that.”

Henry’s brow furrows. “So do you think if Roland could’ve decided, he would’ve stayed with me?”

Regina nods enthusiastically. “Oh, I’m certain he would. He loved having you as a big brother.”

Apparently having needed that reaffirmation, Henry digs back into the fries and munches away. Regina lets her eyes move from her son to across the room, surprised to see that Emma is packing away her things and throwing them messily into a rucksack. She’s even slipping on her jacket and not looking up to catch Regina’s eyes at all. No. Certainly not. That won’t do. She nudges Henry with her boot beneath the table and leans slight closer when she has his attention.

“Isn’t that Emma Swan right over there?”

Henry whips around in the booth immediately, and it takes him all of two seconds to confirm her question. “Can I go over and say hi?” He looks so excited, and Regina gives him a short nod, before he’s out of the booth and rushing across the diner to tug at Emma’s sleeve. Regina can’t hear what they’re talking about, but Henry’s smile is bigger than she’s seen it since Marian left, and Emma shoots small glances her way as they speak. Regina just drinks her hot chocolate and tries not to intrude on their moment. She’s so absorbed in it, that she doesn’t even notice that Henry has returned, until he’s sitting in front of her, and Emma is standing next to the booth, looking sheepish.

Regina puts her cup down. “Miss Swan.”

“Hi Regina,” Emma says and tucks her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. She shifts on her feet. “Henry invited me to drink hot chocolate with you two. Is that okay?”

Glancing towards Henry’s excited face, Regina can hardly contain her own smile when she sees how happy he looks. His lips are pulled into a pout, as if Regina is going to be horribly tough to convince. She motions towards the place next to Henry. “By all means, since you’re here already.”

Emma sits down immediately. “Awesome!”

Henry points at his hot chocolate. “I take mine with whipped cream and cinnamon, it’s really awesome, you should try it!” He reaches for the cup – so big that he has to use both of his hands to lift it – and takes a long sip of it.

“I might just do that, kid,” Emma chuckles and turns her attention back to Regina. Her green eyes are shining mischievously, and Regina can’t help but love the faint flush to her cheeks and the upturned lips. “I thought you didn’t eat fried foods very often?”

Regina says, “We were at the park, and Henry had to pee. I made a decision, and Ruby she – she baited me with sweet potato fries.”

Emma laughs, “That’s how she gets all the ladies.”

“I’m not a lady,” Henry interjects, before he reaches for his previously discarded placemat and starts drawing on it. He’s added his own creatures to the mix of zoo animals. At least Regina believes so, because she’s pretty sure three dragons are not regular animals at the local zoo.

“So, I watched one of your other shows with Henry,” Regina casually says and returns her eyes to Emma’s. “The one on Netflix. About adoption.”

Emma smiles. “Yeah, it was my third show. The others weren’t quite as big.”

Regina hums. “I really like what you said about creating your own family. It really resonated with me.”

“Because of Henry?”

“Sure,” Regina nods in agreement, “because of Henry, but also because of Jacinda and Sabine and their daughter. I mean, I’ve known Jacinda since college, and she’s family.” Regina takes a sip of her hot chocolate, which is soon turning slightly too cold, and continues, “I do have a sister, and Henry has a cousin, but I view them the same as I do Jay and Sabine.”

Emma nods. “Yeah, I might kinda get that! I got adopted when I was in my teens, and David and Mary Margaret are awesome, just like parents should be, but my first family? That was my two brothers from the system. One’s my tech guy, the other’s my manager.” She shrugs and steals a fry from their plate, coating it in too much ketchup. “Family’s what you decide.”

Regina motions towards the discarded rucksack. “I saw that you were reading Men Explain Things to Me and making a lot of notes?” She curls her lips. “You mind if I ask why?”

With a grin, Emma pulls the book out of the rucksack. “I’m already working on my next show, and it’s – it’s part of the research, I guess.” She frowns, leafing through the book with her thumb. “I’m not really much of a reader, I was never taught how, and changing schools so much didn’t exactly help but-” She puts the book down, smile sideways, “I’m always thinking about my next show, and I’d like this to be a bit more feminist, and so I’m reading everything I can get my hands on, it just takes a while.”

“Because of the dyslexia?” Regina questions, remembering that a part of Emma’s show on adoption had been about her time in the system, and how her dyslexia wasn’t caught until high school because no one bothered with the new kid from the group home.

“Yeah,” Emma agrees and grins sheepishly. “I mean, I never did any studying after high school, so I’m not that good at reading. I’d like to be able to read more academic texts, y’know? About feminism and uh, intersectionality, but – but to dumb it down, yeah? Make it understandable. That just means I have to understand it first.” She scratches the side of her head with a finger and looks completely lost.

Regina glances briefly towards Henry – he’s occupied drawing a unicorn now with great detail – before she says, “Well, I happen to know a lot about that, and my book case at home is filled with books on feminism. Some are academic and some are not. You’re welcome to stop by and borrow some. I’d love to talk about them with you.”

The smile that followed that proposition could have possibly lit up the entire room. “Are you for real?”

Nodding, Regina continues, heart beating madly in her chest. “Yes, I most certainly am. I supplied my major in literature with gender studies. It’s always been an interest of mine.” It would truly be her pleasure to read a bit more again, perhaps even purchase some new books on the subject that she hasn’t done since Henry was five, and sure, if it helps Emma as well? Well that’s just an added bonus.

“That would be beyond awesome,” Emma says, and her voice is laced with honesty. Her eyes shine with excitement, and she reaches into her rucksack and pulls out her phone. “Can I like, get your number so we can set it up?” She digs her front teeth into her lower lip and smiles shyly as she slides the device across the table to Regina.

Picking it up, Regina taps her number in and tries to bite back her own grin. “Yes. Certainly, Miss Swan. Then we can find a time that’s agreeable for the both of us.”

Henry pipes in, “I wanna be home too! I can talk about fe-muh-nisn.”

As Emma chokes back a laugh, Regina reaches a hand across the table to pat Henry’s hand. “Yes, mijo, I’m sure you can. You’re such a clever boy.”

Henry smiles happily and returns to his drawing.

Their eyes meet again, and Regina nurses her cold drink – there’s no way she’s going to drink that now, but she likes to have something to do with her hands – while Emma studies her carefully. After a beat, she says, “Are you Latinx? It’s just… mijo?” Emma imitates her word with a sheepish grin and lowers her gaze to the table.

Regina hums. “Yes. Obviously I don’t know Henry’s background, but we speak a little Spanish at home. Naturally, I hope he decides to take more of an interest in it when he gets older.” She glances towards her son again, warmth enveloping her and caressing her from the inside as she looks at him.

“I’m sure he will,” Emma softly says, and her eyes grace over Henry’s form as well, “He seems to be a really great kid.”

She has often been told by other people – parents, teachers, co-workers – that Henry is such a great kid, but she’s pretty sure she’s never heard anyone sound so sincere before. Emma means it. She thinks that Henry is a great kid, and if there’s anything that warms Regina, it’s that. “Thank you,” she says, and she feels the smile – the smile only reserved for Henry and Lucy (and Roland) – creep onto her face.

Emma stuffs her phone back into her rucksack and says, “Anyway, I better bounce. We’re leaving for the tour on Friday the 20th, and we still haven’t sorted out all of the hotels we have to stay at, so I have to meet Killian for that, my uh, my manger.” She slips out of the booth.

“Get your ass in gear, Swan!” Ruby yells from the counter as she’s pouring coffee into a take-away cup.

Regina grins. “Well, be sure to text me when you can.”

“Mom can make lasagne!” Henry suggests and looks at Regina with hopeful eyes.

She titters, “Henry, you can’t just be certain that Miss Swan will want to have dinner with us. And regardless, you need to ask my permission before inviting dinner guests.”

Henry keeps grinning, “Can I invite Emma for lasagne?”

“Lasagne?” Emma pipes in and she reaches a hand out to ruffle Henry’s air, “I’d not say no to that.”

Regina leans back in her seat and regards her with curious eyes. “Alright, it’s decided then. I’ll make lasagne when you visit. Have a good day, Miss Swan,” she says, before she reaches for her cell phone to see if Zelena has answered her.

Emma grabs her things, and Regina eyes her as she makes her way to the counter to give Ruby a hug and receive a take-away cup with coffee. Regina pretends to stare at her phone, but watches them both as Ruby makes wide eyes at Emma and wriggles her eyebrows suggestively. Emma hits her lightly on the arm and hisses out a stop it before she sweeps out of the diner with one last look to Regina and Henry.

She’s been caught staring, but Regina pretends not to notice as she shoots off a reply to Robin who’s practically begging her to bring a back-up dish tomorrow when Zelena inadvertently ruins the pumpkin stew and thus their Sunday dinner.

“Henry,” she says eventually as she pockets her phone and reaches for her jacket, “get your things, we’re heading back home now.”

Henry does as he’s told, but he spends the entire drive home talking about Emma Swan and how awesome she is, and Regina hums and ah’s at the appropriate places while she drives, and she can’t help but let her mind linger on tattooed arms, sheepish grins and especially those pink, upturned lips.

Chapter Text

Emma sighs happily and leans herself slightly against the mike’s holder. “Happily ever after is how the stories go,” she begins and eyes the audience with a knowing grin. “But when you’re 14 you don’t know shit about real life. Happily ever after is a concept to strive for, y’know? It makes you still want to believe that it can be found.” She nods to herself, pushes her glasses to the bridge of her nose and continues, “I mean, it’s not before you’ve had your heart broken that you realise that that happily ever after might be a liiiiiitle hard to find.” She drags out the ‘i’ in ‘little’ and pushes herself away from the mike. “My first love was a girl named Lily.”

The audience awes, and Emma smirks.

“I know right? Totally a good girl name. But lemme tell you something. She was not.” She shakes her head to herself and shuffles awkwardly in her boots. “I mean, she was totally my gay awakening too. There was never a time in my life where I dated someone who wasn’t female. Or non-binary,” Emma adds, for good measure. “But like, we ran away together, because she convinced me that she was also a foster kid and that her life sucked as much as mine, so we squatted in this giant beach house. We stole booze and made out on the couch and I was on a fucking high.” She sighs again. “What did you do with your first love, hm?

“But no kidding, no kidding, she was a snake. She totally lied to me. She had this amazing family who loved her and cared for her, and she just threw it all away. Lilith Page.” Emma tastes the name on her lips as she walks around the stage. “I was totally in love with her. Like falling over my own feet, stuttering and making bad jokes in love with her. She drew a star on my wrist, did you know that?” She holds out her arm, her wrist just visible beneath the cuff of her jacket. “It resembled this birthmark she had, and we were supposed to be together forever. I was an idiot,” Emma shakes her head and continues, “because I wanted mine to be permanent too, so we found this shady-ass tattooist who was willing to ink me even though I looked like a fucking kid. My first tattoo everybody!”

There is vague applause from the audience, and Emma knows they are probably wondering where she is going with this.

She blinks against the bright lights. “First loves are hard for everybody, but I guess they might be a tiny bit easier for heteros, or is that just me? Hmm? No?” She licks her lips, “I guess there is an advantage to having your stories portrayed to you through Disney and books and magazines, hm? Makes life a little less confusing when you’re the norm, am I right? It’s so hard dating too, so hard,” she continues randomly, “like, how do you even know if the girl from Spanish class likes girls, too? You’re in high school for fuck’s sake, standing out is impossible! And you’d think it gets easier when you grow older, yeah? Like, now you can just sorta – sorta spot all the lesbians at a party.” She takes a breather, lets it hang there, “Well you can’t! You can’t even be sure now, because those damn straight girls have copied our tremendously awesome fashion sense and they have the nerve to get angry at us when we hit on them!?”

The audience whistles and someone yells “Hell yeah!” in agreement.

“Like, take it as a compliment, Aurora. Who is Mulan to know that you have a husband named Philip and a cute kid at home when you’re dressed like that!?” Emma laughs and scratches her head. “Mulan’s my friend by the way, I didn’t just…” she chuckles, “…make that up.” She takes her time, grabs her bottle of water and unscrews the lid. The audience waits as she gulps down half the bottle, before clearing her throat. “So yeah, confusion all over. Lesbians running amok. The horror. Ahhh!” She mimics a scream, hands in the air, which gives her a good laugh.

Emma continues on, slowly getting to the point. “Which makes me think of all the times people have come up to Mulan – my friend Mulan, who’s like, my friend, did I tell you about her? Her name’s Mulan.” She clears her throat. “And uhm, Mulan’s kinda – she’s kinda androgynous, I’d say? Perhaps even more masculine presenting, which is why we never hooked up, because let me tell ya’ something, I like my girls feminine.” Emma laughs, “Getting off track here, anyway… Uhm, so we’re at a party, yeah? And uh, one of those straight girls, you know? Straight girls? The type. They’re like,” She sticks out her pinky finger and mimics a saunter as she walks across the stage. She makes her voice more high-pitched as she continues, “‘Uhm, excuuuuuuse me? Are you, like, a boy or a girl? Like, I couldn’t figure it out, because, like, your long hair … confused me. But then, like, you have those boots, they are the same as my boyfriend’s’.” Emma bites her lip as the audience laughs. “And I’m just there next to Mulan thinking what the actual hell? Why do you even care? We weren’t talking to you. We were just drinking our beers and trying to pinpoint the queer women. Regular Friday night!”

The audience laughs loudly and Emma sighs. She’s getting to the point.

“So it made me think, you know? That we should all invent a secret codeword or something, y’know? I mean, something you can whisper into the ear of the hot chick on the dance floor, and if she whispers another codeword back, you both know that you’re both gay.” She takes a step back from the mike as someone whistles. “Thank you, thank you very much. I made that up myself.” She laughs. “Or it could be, I don’t know, a specific piece of clothing, y’know? Like, wear a green bow, you’re a lesbian. Boom! Wear a yellow one, you’re bi.” She pauses. “Dotted one for ace. Perfect system! You’re all welcome.”

A scattered laughter is heard.

“The point? I’m getting there,” Emma breathes out in a chuckle, “So picture this at a club, y’know? This chick in a yellow bow approaches this chick in a green bow and she whispers, I don’t know, like, mango chutney into her ear, and the other woman? She replies with Socrates, and bam! It’s a match! You know it! They know it! Everybody on the damn floor knows it! They go home. They fuck. They find their happily ever after. Fool proof system everybody, thank you very much!”

———-

Robin and Henry are playing Mario Kart in the living room while Regina fusses around in the kitchen. She is not anxious, she just doesn’t like to have company when everything is not perfect. So she’s made it perfect. She made cookies with Henry this morning, and she’s got everything set up for coffee and hot chocolate, before she and Emma dives into the books. It is easier now that she invited Robin to join them, because she knows they will be able to entertain Henry when he inevitably grows bored of their talk on feminism.

She makes sure that her newly purchased books are blended perfectly with her older books just as the doorbell rings. It’s not like she had lied to Emma about owning books on feminism, but suddenly she had just been nervous that perhaps she didn’t own enough, so she and Jacinda had raided the corner bookstore yesterday on their lunch break.

Now she definitely owns enough. Along with some very interesting books on colour and ethnicity. It’s not like she thinks they’ll be discussing Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex, but she’s nervous anyway. She wants to do good, perhaps impress Emma with her knowledge, but she also bought a book she thought might be especially interesting for Emma to dive into – Feminism & Popular Culture, a look into how women are portrayed in the media, which might hit the mark well on what Emma’s trying to do with her shows. At least what Regina thinks she’s trying to do with her shows.

Henry rushes from the living room, abandoning Robin mid-race, while chanting, “I’ll get it, I’ll get it, I’ll get it,” and Regina laughs to herself as she makes last attempts at her hair while ignoring Robin’s raised eyebrows from behind her.

“You’re not Emma,” Henry’s surprised statement reaches her through the door, and Regina’s eyes widen as she rushes from the living room and into the hallway.

There’s a blonde teenager with wavy hair and a pierced nose standing in front of her son. She’s dressed in flannel and jeans, and she smiles greatly down at Henry. “No, I’m not, I’m Tilly,” she says, eyes darting back and forth.

Regina furrows her brow and stops behind Henry, hands protectively on his shoulders. “And what are you doing here?”

“Emma just forgot something in the car,” this person – Tilly, was it? – explains and leans slightly forward, glancing into the house. “So uh, can I come in?”

“Are you friends with Emma?” Henry wants to know.

Tilly seems to think about it for a second or two. “Uh-uh,” she mumbles, just as Emma appears behind her, carrying a rucksack and a Tupperware container. “This is Tilly, it’s my niece,” she says. “And hi, thanks for inviting me.”

Regina steps back and lets Tilly and Emma enter the house. Robin’s appeared in the doorway, curiously peering at them through their thick glasses, and Regina watches them regard Tilly with slight interest. “I hope I made enough food,” Regina mumbles and accepts the Tupperware container from Emma. “I didn’t know you’d be bringing someone.”

“I texted you,” Emma says, and Regina knows she hasn’t looked at her phone for hours, fussing around instead, “It’s okay, it was kinda last minute. Killian had a – a thing, and Tilly’s not always so good at being alone for too long.” She motions towards the container in Regina’s hands, “But no worries, she brought her own food. Marmalade sandwiches, right Tilly?”

“Uh-uh,” Tilly agrees and peeks around the hallway and into the living room. “Sweet, Mario Kart! Can I play?”

Henry juts out his chin and proudly offers, “You can play with me and Robin!”

Robin shoots Regina a grin and follows Tilly and Henry into the living room.

“That’s my sister’s kid Robin,” Regina explains to Emma as they make their way into the kitchen to store the container in the fridge. “They uh, they use they and them for pronouns.”

“Cool,” Emma says and leans herself against the counter. “Sweet place you’ve got here.” She looks around the grand kitchen – one of Regina’s favourite places in the house simply because she likes to cook so much – and smiles.

Regina closes the fridge and says, “Thank you. Sabine and I have held many a baking party in here with the kids while Jacinda cheers us on from the couch.” She pours the coffee from the machine and places an extra cup on the tray she had prepared earlier. “Is Tilly a coffee or a hot chocolate kind of person?”

Emma grins. “Hot chocolate for sure.” She eyes the tray and Regina can’t help but love the faint pink on her cheeks and the upturned lips when she sees the cookies on the plate. “I’m sorry I sprung another guest on you. You didn’t have to prepare all this.”

Pouring hot chocolate into a pitcher – made from scratch and not just the powdered kind, in today’s occasion – Regina says, “Pay that no mind. I could have checked my phone. I’m sure Tilly will get along great with Robin and Henry.”

“Do you want me to carry that?” Emma questions, and she swoops in and picks up the tray before Regina can say anything. She carries it into the living room – tongue poking out between her lips as she concentrates – and Regina bites her lip to keep from making a snide comment, because she has seen Emma’s show and more than once had the blonde woman alluded to the fact that she is quite clumsy. Regina just hopes that she doesn’t fall over and spills hot drinks on her floors. They are quite spotted though, after Henry, Lucy and Roland’s actions, but she always manages to scrub and clean them enough whenever it happens.

“It’s the good kind of chocolate!” Henry cheers, and Regina feels her heart swell.

“What’s in those cookies?” Emma mumbles to Regina beneath her breath as she sees Tilly eye them with a wide gaze and slightly open mouth.

Regina leans closer to Emma. “They are plain milk chocolate. That’s how Henry likes them the best.”

Emma grins. “Tilly’s a picky eater, especially on days when she’s not feeling too good.” She turns to her niece and says, “It’s chocolate cookies, no nuts or anything, so you can go ahead.”

Tilly grins and snatches a cookie off the plate immediately. Robin pours themselves a cup of coffee, as well as two other cups, before turning to Tilly. “You’re a chocolate kind of person, aren’t you?” they say, and Regina takes note of the complete lack of judgment in their voice and the slightly interested tone instead. Tilly hums in agreement, and Robin pours two cups of chocolate.

“Are you ready to hit the books?” Regina turns to Emma and clasps her hands in front of her stomach. “I planned for us to sit in my small alcove office. It’s where I keep all of my books.”

Emma tears her eyes away from the paused game on the screen with a sigh. “Guess so,” she mumbles, and she bends down to snatch up a stack of cookies from the plate, tucking them into a napkin, and reaching for her cup of coffee.

Regina hides her amusement as she daintily takes her own cup and urges Emma to follow her into the office. She’d pulled up another chair earlier – making the total amount into two comfortable ones, and one office chair – and she takes a seat on one of the softer chairs and places her coffee on the side table. She’d initially made this place so she’d be able to work from home if necessary, but also pulled in this chair to be able to enjoy a good book every now and then. Sadly it is not really used that much, but she thinks she’d like to change that.

“Holy shit, you have a ton of books,” Emma moans as she slides into the chair. She tucks her feet over the arm and leans over, getting comfortable in the cushion.

With an arched eyebrow, Regina says, “Can’t you sit like a normal person?”

Emma sticks her tongue out at her. “Gays in chairs, am I right? The riveting tale.” She flicks her feet into the air, and Regina notices that she’s wearing two different kind of socks.

“So what kind of books are you looking for?” she asks and takes a sip of her coffee.

Munching on a cookie – but carefully not spilling any crumbs on the chair, which Regina notices with fondness – Emma says, “Uhm yeah. I don’t know? Like, the only thing I know for sure is that I don’t want it to be just white feminists, y’know? Like, I wanna read something by someone of colour.”

Regina picks up one of her older books from the stack on the coffee table. “Good on you. There’s Sara Ahmed’s Queer Phenomenology.” She flicks the pages, fond smile on her lips, “But that might be a bit difficult, especially with your dyslexia. I did do a paper on it once, so I might be of some assistance.”

“Tell me about it,” Emma wishes, eyes watching Regina in awe, and the brunette can’t help the faint flush she feels rise on her neck as she starts to talk about objects, disorientation and queer spaces.

——-

Regina and Robin prepare dinner together while Emma, Henry and Tilly battle each other in Mario Kart. Regina can hear Henry laugh excitedly plenty of times while Emma curses loudly. Robin is chopping up bell peppers for the salat, and Regina opens the oven to put in the lasagne. She pulls off the apron and hangs it on the hook by the fridge, and she sits down in front of Robin and takes a long drag of her red wine and sighs happily at the bitter taste on her tongue.

“That good, huh?” Robin asks with a glint in their eye as they look up from the chopping board.

Humming happily, Regina says, “Yes. I needed that. Emma’s been asking me all kinds of questions, and I feel like I haven’t used my brain this much in years.” She likes it, but it feels good to complain a little.

Robin grins wickedly at that, and they look so much like their mother that Regina’s heart swells. “She’s kinda cute, huh,” they grin as the knife slices through a red bell pepper – Henry’s favourite.

Regina rolls her eyes and drags a finger along the stem of the glass. “Yes, Tilly does seem rather cute. I do think she’s more interested in you though, dear,” she replies with a snark, before raising the glass to her lips for another sip. At this rate, she will quickly have emptied the glass.

“Oh, shut up,” Robin jokes and drops the knife to the chopping board. They motion towards the glass and wriggles their fingers. “Can I have some of that?”

“Don’t tell your mother,” Regina replies easily and slides the glass across the table.

Robin grins and takes a long gulp of the red liquid. “Ahh,” they say as they put the glass down. “That’s very bitter.”

Regina smirks. “You get used to it.”

Sliding the glass back over the table to Regina, Robin leans their chin in their palm, elbow resting on the table. “Are you serious though?”

Regina can see that Robin is smitten already, and she can understand why. Tilly certainly has some appeal, and it is not often that Robin meets anyone who so easily adjusts to them. “Yes, darling, I most certainly am. You should ask for her number.”

Robin bites their lip, deep in thought and picks at a piece of bell pepper. “I’m not sure…” they vaguely begin, cheeks flushing slightly.

“It’s up to you,” Regina shrugs, taking another sip of her wine. “I just don’t think it hurts to try.”

“Perhaps I’ll think about it,” Robin replies, and there is a healthy flush to their cheeks. “Mom will have a fit though, whenever I tell her I want to go on dates, she freaks out and talks about her beautiful baby.”

Regina throatily laughs. “Your mother is wicked and sentimental – a scary combination, I reckon.” She breathes in the scent of the wine and sneaks a hand across the table to pat Robin’s reassuringly. “But don’t you worry, dear, I’ll handle her. I’ve got 34 years of practice, you’ve only got 16.”

Robin grins and says, fondly, “Thank you, Aunt Regina.” They pick up the knife again and slice through another bell pepper. “So uh, you and Emma? What’s going on there?” They wriggle their eyebrows, teasing.

“Nothing,” Regina quickly – perhaps too quickly – says. She shifts awkwardly on her chair. “Nothing is going on with me and Emma.”

Robin sees right through her. “Hmm-hmm,” they say, eyes pointedly trained on the chopping board.

Rolling her eyes, Regina says, “I’m just helping her with more information on feminism. Research, you know. She needs it for her show.”

“Yes, that might be true, but Aunt Regina,” they pause, eyes wide. “She’s funny, and she’s not bad looking. And you deserve to be happy, even after Marian.” They’ve always been so perceptive, bright beyond their years and interested in so many things that Zelena has never understood how happened. But Regina and Robin have always had a kinship, an understanding, and Robin calls them like they see them, even with Regina.

Regina takes another sip of her wine. “I’m not interested in her like that. It isn’t like that,” she says, but she can hear how defensive she appears, and how that must sound to Robin.

Robin huffs. “And I’m not interested in Tilly like that, it isn’t like that.”

With an eye roll and a heavy sigh, Regina leans slightly forward, acquiescing. “She is kind of hot, I’ll give you that.” She sighs, peeking towards the doorway, but she can hear Henry, Emma and Tilly having fun in the living room, so she should be in the clear. “And those princess curls.”

Sounding pleased, Robin hums.

Regina leans even more forward, and Robin leans closer as well. “She’s got all these tattoos on her arms,” she reveals, feeling giddy. They haven’t been visible all day, but Regina is dying to get a closer look at them. She’s been kind of thinking a lot about them.

Robin’s grin is wide. “Oh really,” they drawl. “And how do we feel about that?”

Teeth digging into her lip, Regina leans back again. There is this odd bubbly feeling in the pit of her stomach, and it’s not like she’s an idiot. She likes Emma, finds her attractive. But does that mean that something is going on between them? Most certainly not. For one, Emma is a lot younger than her, and she’s probably not even interested in a 34-year-old, single mother. Two, Regina does not think she’s ready to throw her heart into anything – not after Marian and that impossible heartbreak. She’s been trying to accept the fact that she’ll be alone until Henry is older, so a small crush is certainly not going to change that. She can’t hide her excitement though; her cheeks are warm and she grins. “We actually feel pretty good about that,” she murmurs.

Laughing, Robin says, “Uh, I didn’t think you’d be into that. Surprise, surprise.”

“Hush you,” Regina titters and takes a long gulp of her wine.

Emma pokes her head through the doorway at that, casting a glance at them. “Something smells good in here,” she comments as she crosses the floor and leans herself against the back of a chair. “Can I help? Henry keeps beating me in Mario Kart, it’s no fun.” She pouts, and she looks like such a little child that Regina can’t help the smile on her lips.

“I’ll school the kid, if you don’t mind finishing this up for me,” Robin offers and dries their hands off in a dishtowel. They cast a hopeful glance in Emma’s direction, eyelids fluttering.

“Bugger off,” Emma says and hip-checks Robin, which causes the younger blonde to squeal and hurry out of the kitchen. Emma laughs and pulls off her jacket – which she’s been wearing even inside, like Regina senses that she has a tendency to do – and throws it on the back of a chair. “Killian is going to pick up Tilly soon,” she says as she picks up the knife and starts back up on those bell peppers.

Regina is busy eyeing the colourful patterns and pictures on Emma’s arms – now seeing them up close in a way she hadn’t been able to the other day at Granny’s – and it takes her a moment to register that Emma has actually spoken to her. Her eyes linger for a second on an intricate pattern on Emma’s upper left arm, before she manages to tear her eyes away. “That sounds fine,” she replies, not quite meeting Emma’s eyes. Those tattoos have not gotten less unpleasant to look at, she has to admit, and her conversation with Robin spins in her mind.

Emma is visibly trying to bite back a grin, front teeth digging into her lip, and she says, “Mhm, he’s driving this way anyhow, so he figured he might as well.” She swipes the knife across the board, letting the chopped bell peppers fall into the bowl with the rest of the salad. “So do you have any?”

“Huh?” Regina tears her eyes away from the bulge of Emma’s bicep, raising her eyes to meet Emma’s amused look. “Do I have any what?”

“Tattoos,” Emma whispers and leans slightly over the table, top dipping low and disturbing Regina’s concentration.

Regina takes a long drag of her wine and says, “No, I do not have any tattoos. I guess, I never,” she pauses, eyes trailing down to graze over Emma’s arms once more, “saw the appeal.”

There is an interested sparkle in Emma’s eyes as she replies. “And now?”

“They’re not…” Regina swallows loudly, breathes, “…terrible.”

“Hmm,” Emma hums, and Regina can feel the way her eyes wander appreciatively down her body; lingering at her clavicles and the swell of her breasts, before ending at her slender fingers wrapped around the glass. “What are we drinking?”

Regina slips off the chair quickly. “It’s pinot noir, I’ll pour you a glass,” she says and if she makes sure to give her hips an extra sway as she crosses the floor, it’s purely incidental. It has nothing to do with the fact that she can feel Emma’s eyes on her back. Even as she reaches into the cupboard for a glass, she feels her eyes on her, and it sends a shiver down her spine. She pours a healthy amount of wine for the other woman, and their fingers touch briefly as she hands over the glass.

Emma’s voice is hoarse when she says, “Thank you.”

With a hum, Regina slips onto her chair again.

“And thank you…” Emma trails off, waving her hand, “for this afternoon, really. It’s been awesome learning about these things. I’m looking forward to reading those books you let me borrow.”

Regina hesitates slightly, but says, “You’re welcome. Perhaps we could… meet again to discuss them once you’ve read them?”

“I’d love that!” Emma says, just as Tilly pokes her head into the kitchen. “What’s up, cutie pie?” she adds and places the glass onto the table.

“Dad’s just outside,” Tilly replies and hooks a thumb over her shoulder. “You gonna come say hi?”

Wiping her hands on her jeans, Emma retrieves the Tupperware container with Tilly’s sandwiches before she crosses the floor and places an arm around Tilly. “Sure, let him yell at me for not doing shit,” she says with a wink.

Regina can’t help but watch them, fond. “It was nice to meet you, Tilly. Perhaps we’ll see each other again sometime.” She most certainly hopes that they will, if Robin had the guts to ask for Tilly’s number.

Tilly nods. “I hope so,” she softly says, and Regina doesn’t miss the shy flush on her cheeks.

As Emma goes outside to talk to Killian, Regina sets the table and gets the lasagna out of the oven. The four of them eat together, Henry questioning Emma about all of her tattoos and her shows and how she makes up her jokes, and it feels good, it feels okay, kind of like something familiar that she could get used to. It’s been a wonderful afternoon, far more natural and relaxed than she had thought it would be, and when Robin has gone home and Henry is in bed, she and Emma are sitting on the couch with yet another glass of wine each.

There is a wonderful buzz running through Regina’s body; her limbs feel heavy, but great, and she’s far more relaxed than she usually is with new people. It could be the wine, but Regina knows it’s more than just that. It’s Emma and the way her green eyes are focused so intensely on Regina as she talks about her college days and a lot of her ex-girlfriends.

“Since I know everything about your first love,” Regina husks and slips off her high heels, toes wriggling against the couch, “Lilith Page,” she adds, for good measure.

Emma grins, obviously impressed and a little bit dazed.

“...I should probably tell you about mine.”

“Go on,” Emma says, and her lips shimmer when she sweeps her tongue out to wet them.

Regina relaxes against the couch, face flushed. “Her name was Danielle, and we both loved horses,” she explains. “We were young and in love, foolishly so.”

Emma tucks her feet beneath herself, cuddled on the couch. “Why was it foolish?”

“My mother,” Regina replies, fingers tightening around the stem of her wine glass. “She didn’t like me being gay. And she definitely didn’t like me being gay for the stable girl.” The title slips off her lips, said with disdain, just like Mother used to do it. Regina remembers Danielle and their time in the stables with a fondness unlike anything else.

There is a soft look on Emma’s face when she carefully says, “Oh… was she homophobic?”

It’s a serious topic, but not one Regina minds talking about. It’s a part of her story, and she does not talk to her mother anymore. Not after choosing to give Henry a safe and loving home. “Very much so,” she whispers, tilting her head upwards to smile at Emma, “In the beginning I chose to live with it. I thought I needed her to be happy. But I haven’t spoken to her since I adopted Henry. I don’t need that kind of poison around my son.” She sips her wine, the bitter taste coating her tongue.

“I’ve had my share of homophobic foster parents,” Emma says and tilts slightly forward, smile tugging at the edges of her very pink lips, “I’ve got the scars to prove it.”

“Ouch,” Regina softly replies, and a silent emerges between them, pierces them to the spot as they stare at each other. The house is silent, and Regina resists the urge to reach out a finger and touch Emma’s cheek. “Anyway,” she says, pulling herself out of the daze and backtracking slightly, “it’s never been particularly easy for me to get dates. Not even in college when I was finally away from Mother.”

Emma regards her with amusement, an odd twinkle in her eyes, and it’s clear that she’s biting back a grin.

Regina huffs, “What?”

“You’ve had a hard time finding dates?”

“Mh.”

“Uhm. How?” Emma questions, eyebrows knitting together.

Regina bristles, confused and a little bit drunk. “Just because! What’s it to you?”

Emma laughs. “I just find it very hard to believe that you’d have a a hard time finding dates.” She gulps down an enormous sip of wine at that.

“And why is that, Miss Swan?” Regina demands to know.

“Because you’re very beautiful,” Emma whispers, and her green eyes sweep across Regina’s face softly, appreciatively, “and sexy. And also incredibly kind.”

Rolling her eyes, Regina tries to sit up straighter, but her limbs are heavy, and she’s suddenly feeling oh so very tired from all of that red wine. “Don’t say things to flatter me, Emma,” she demands, before finishing off her glass and placing it on the table.

Emma flushes. “I’m not. I’m just being honest,” she softly says.

Regina looks at her, their eyes locking, and it’s that weird and intense silence again, erupting between them and filling the air with intensity. “A lot of people read me as straight,” she whispers instead of anything else. “Perhaps that’s why I’ve always had trouble finding dates.”

Amused, Emma says, “People read you as straight? How?” She’s obviously in disbelief, and her eyes trail down Regina’s arms, over her slender fingers and to her nails. “I mean, with those nails to that dress? Gay.”

“You’re really something else.” Regina replies with exasperation. “I would like for you to kiss me, but I think it’s better if you leave instead.”

With a chuckle, Emma places her glass on the table and leans slightly forward, pecking Regina on the cheek. “I’d like for me to kiss you, too, but I also think it’s better if I leave.” She stands up from the couch and awkwardly tucks her hands into her pockets. “Stay put, okay? I’ll text you.”

Regina eyes her with fondness and tucks her feet onto the couch, letting herself fall further into the soft cushion. “You should have kissed me anyway, Em-ma,” she whispers, and she’s dozing off when she feels a blanket being pulled upon her and the distant sound of the front door closing.

Chapter Text

“Long distance relationships,” Emma says, and stares seriously out at the audience.

There are chuckles from around the room, but otherwise it’s mostly silent.

Emma continues, “I can tell by your silence that you know exactly what I’m talking about, hm?” She takes a deep breath. “But yeah, it’s my experience that queers know a lot about long distance relationships, am I right? I mean, I’ve been in my fair share of those, and for queers it’s like – the long part of long distance – it just goes a lot longer than for some straight people.”

Someone whistles.

“I’ve known a few straight people in my life, y’know?” Emma states as she walks across the stage. “They’re not all bad, a few of them are reasonable human beings, even though I know it can be hard to believe!” She pauses, and some people laugh, “It’s alright, laugh it out, laugh it out. There we go,” she chuckles, before continuing, “but in all seriousness, when one of my only straight friends once met this girl at a party that he really liked, he found out that she lived a little further away from him than he’d thought. And I swear, this girl was close to the perfect woman. She was beautiful, intelligent, had a great job, and for some reason – completely interested in Killian! But he told me, and this is a direct quote, I’m not even shitting you,” she makes her voice deeper and more dopey, a bad impression of Killian, ‘“but Emma, I have to take three trains and two buses, and it takes 70 minutes, and it’s just too much, it’s too much, Emma’,” she pauses and stares at the audience in grave seriousness. “And I’m just like? But she’s perfect? And she wants you? Are you an idiot Killian Jones?”

The audience breaks out laughing, and Emma takes a moment to get some water.

“So yeah. Straights can be really weird. For queers – that amount of time? Just nothing, just nothing. I mean. We date people in different cities. Hell, I once dated a girl in a different country.” Emma pauses, “Granted, she was Canadian, but still, still, it took a while to get there, y’know? Her name was Ariel by the way. She was the most beautiful redhead. She loved the sea, and all that outdoorsy stuff.” Emma pauses and shakes her head, “That might’ve been my first clue that she wasn’t my happily ever after, because I’m not exactly what you’d call the outdoorsy type.”

The audience laughs.

Emma hums. “So yes, I might find it odd that straights can’t take a couple of trains for that cute girl Milah they met at a party, but who am I to judge? I meet most of my dates and girlfriends online and they can be from all over the country, y’know? But yes, I dated Ariel for a while and we were happy there, for a couple of months. But eventually someone would have to relocate and that wasn’t exactly in the cards for either of us. And that got me thinking…” Emma pauses, sighs, “That I should want to relocate, you know? I’m actually in the weirdly privileged position where I’m able to work from just about anywhere, so why didn’t I want to? Because it didn’t feel right. Ariel wasn’t my happily every after.”

The audience is silent, and Emma continues.

“Which brings me to my next point that is – weirdly enough, I, I actually met my real happily ever after in real life, can you believe it? Like at this diner I like to go to, she was there with her friends, and we started talking. So crazy, you know? Who even meets anyone like that in this day and age? But I did, I did,” Emma sighs and rests her hands on the microphone on the stand, “And the even more crazy part? I’d move across the world from this woman and her kid, and I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

———

Emma texts her on Tuesday to ask if she’s free for lunch. She stares down at her phone with wide eyes, neck slightly bent at the cutesy message Emma has sent her. Jacinda finds her like that when she comes to deliver a cup of coffee and a cinnamon bun, eyes transfixed on her screen, and she places the food on the table, just in the periphery of Regina’s vision.

“Uhm? Hello?” Jacinda says and pokes a finger into her shoulder. “There must be something really interesting on your phone right there, if you ignore Sabine’s cinnamon buns and non-office coffee.”

Regina stares up at her, cheeks warm. “Emma wants to have lunch with me today.”

Jacinda drops onto the spare chair next to her. “What?” She makes a grab for the phone. “Are you for real?”

Letting her phone into the hands of her best friend, Regina takes a sip of the take-away coffee and sighs. “She just texted me out of nowhere.”

Eyes scanning the text, a wicked grin makes its way onto Jacinda’s face. “I haven’t even heard about Saturday, and you’re already planning second dates. What is this, you trying to keep me out of the loop?” She rests her sneakers against the table and reaches for one of the buns in the bag.

Regina barely manages not to roll her eyes. “It was not a date, it was research,” she says and twists off a piece of the other bun, popping it into her mouth. “And it went fine.”

“Hmm-hmm,” Jacinda says and makes a face, like she’s contemplating the truth of that statement. “So why am I getting texts from Robin about how much you – and this is a quote, by the way – totally wanna kiss her?”

It’s not like Robin is completely wrong, but Regina is not going to tell Jacinda that. “I want no such thing. We just read books and shared some wine after Henry went to bed.”

Jacinda looks like she just hit the jackpot, and she leans forward, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. “Wine? After Henry went to bed? Are you kidding me? It sounds like a date!”

Regina gulps down some coffee. “I fell asleep on the couch, I guess. You know what red wine does to me.” She eyes the phone again, wary. “Should I join her for lunch?”

Shooting her a look that conveys are you really this much of an idiot?, Jacinda says, “So what? She fell asleep on the couch too, or?”

“She put a blanket over me and left. I woke up a little past midnight and went to bed.” Regina nips at more of Sabine’s delicious baking and contemplates that lunch suggestion some more.

Jacinda appears thoroughly amused and snatches the phone back into her hand. “Aaaw, she put a blanket over you?” She bites her lip and taps out something on Regina’s screen before Regina can stop her. “There, lunch date accepted.” She smirks and continues, undeterred, “I emailed you Lucy’s birthday wishes, did you see them?”

Regina nods. The list is long and filled with items regarding Lucy’s newest obsession – ballet. “Yes, I did see it. And how seriously do we take this ballet business?”

“Very seriously,” Jacinda nods and takes another bite of her bun. “Sabine and I feel like this one might just stick, so go nuts, I guess.” She takes a sip of her coffee, washing down the bun. “If you’re dating Emma, you can bring her. Might stick it to Marian and The Husband.”

Almost slipping off the chair, Regina schools her features and tries not to appear too bothered. “Oh. Marian and The Husband are coming?”

Jacinda makes a face. “She’s Sabine’s friend. Of course they’re coming.”

Her heartbeat is speeding up slightly, and Regina pulls off a bigger chunk of the cinnamon bun. “Well, I’ll just try to stay clear of them.” She feels the tension in her neck by even the prospect of seeing Marian (her hand tucked inside The Husband’s), and she takes a long gulp of her coffee, almost burning her tongue. “However, I’m, as you very well know, not dating Emma, so I am not bringing her to Lucy’s birthday.”

Brow furrowed, Jacinda makes a show of peeking at the message again; tapping the screen of Regina’s phone, brown eyes trained on the words written there. “Are you sure Emma knows you’re not dating Emma?”

Regina rolls her eyes. “Yes. It’s purely professional, and Henry loves her.”

“But she’s sending you emoticons!” Jacinda argues with a slight whine.

“She’s sending me emoticons because she’s a 28-year-old woman-child who does stand-up for a living,” Regina sighs and pushes her phone out of Jacinda’s line of sight. “Which by the way should also tell you that she’s too young for me.” It might have been something Regina thought a lot about yesterday, because age isn’t just a number, not when you have a child.

Jacinda sticks her tongue out a her. “She’s very mature for her age, I’m sure.”

“Again, she does stand-up for a living.”

“Which means she’s perceptive and political and fun to be around!” Jacinda slips on the chair and sits up straighter. “That was a flirty message, Regina Mills. Are you seriously sitting here telling me that nothing was going on last Saturday?” Her brown eyes are wide, serious, and it’s that look that makes Regina drop all pretences and tell her the truth. Jacinda had that look perfected in college when Regina swore that she was not sleeping with the Women’s Studies professor Mallory Drake, and eventually Jacinda stared the truth right out of her.

Regina concedes. “Alright fine,” she sighs and wipes daintily at her lips to avoid smearing her lipstick, “There might have been a moment, Jay. I know I was slightly tipsy, but I recall telling her that I’d like for her to kiss me. But then ordering her to leave instead.”

Jacinda doesn’t say anything, but when Regina looks at her, she can tell that she’s bristling with words. She’s digging her teeth into her lower lip, cheeks popping, and her eyes are practically shining. “Oh my God, it’s totally a date,” she finally exhales, grabbing for Regina’s knee.

“I don’t think so.” Regina furrows her brow. “She left. She didn’t kiss me.”

Waving a hand in dismissal, Jacinda says, “She respected your boundaries. I’m sure she wanted to. You’re a catch, Regina Mills, don’t let Marian leaving tell you otherwise.” She brushes her hand over the desk, effectively letting their crumbs fall to the floor as she crumbles up the now empty paper bag. “Anyway, I have to proof read an entire cookbook today – rush job – so I better leave you to obsessing over your date in peace.” She leans down and presses a kiss to Regina’s hair. “I love you, Mills.”

Regina gives her a halfway hug, arm tucked around her side. “Love you, Jay,” she replies easily, like they have done since Jacinda broke through her walls back when they first met each other. “And it’s not a date!” she hisses after her, but the only reply she gets is Jacinda’s bark of laughter as she closes the office door behind her.

——

She meets Emma at this café that she and Jacinda has gone to eat at a few times in the past. It’s casual, but the food is great, and Emma looks a little like she feels out of place when Regina comes into the café. She’s glancing towards the door, and her face lights up in a huge smile when their eyes meet. She’s wearing a white dress shirt today, the top few buttons are undone, and her sleeves are folded up; giving Regina a peek at her colourful tattoos. Regina smoothens down her slacks and takes a seat in front of her.

Emma grins, “Hi.”

“Hello,” Regina replies and tries not to let her eyes wander to the swell of Emma’s breasts.

“I’m so glad that you wanted to do lunch with me,” Emma tells her and opens up her menu, fingers skittering nervously across the plastic. “Are you feeling okay after Saturday? I hope you didn’t wake up with a cramp in your neck or anything.”

Regina opens her menu as well. “I woke up after midnight and went to bed. Thank you for taking care of me though.”

Emma replies, “Anytime.” Her eyes scan the menu, sweeping across the words, and she says, “What’s good here?”

“You should try the risotto with me. There’s cheese in it,” Regina suggests.

“Sold,” Emma replies and smacks the menu close. “So uhm. What did you and Henry do yesterday?”

Regina closes her menu too and leans back in her chair, watching Emma carefully. She’s trying to figure out why Emma asked her to join her for lunch – because they saw each other two days ago, and it’s highly unlikely that she’s managed to read any of the books that she borrowed from Regina – but Emma is not showing her anything. She’s just grinning sheepishly at Regina from across the table, looking absolutely beautiful with her princess curls and her sporadic freckles. “We did homework and went to Sunday dinner at my sister’s. What about you?”

The waiter comes to take their orders, and Emma rattles them off, ordering a pitcher of water for them both to share, and once the waiter leaves, she looks back to Regina. “I uh, I was totally into one of the books I borrowed. It’s great stuff, y’know? And uh, I uh,” she pauses, clearly nervous as she wipes at a strand of blonde hair, “I was reading that part about the uuuh, feminist, uhm, postfeminism, and the uh, ghostfeminism, and I wasn’t sure, if…” She trails off, lowering her gaze and scrunching up her nose.

Biting her lip to keep herself from smiling at Emma’s attempt, Regina softly says, “Emma?”

“Yeah?” Emma hums quickly, looking up from the table. Her cheeks are slightly flushed.

“If you wanted to ask me for lunch, you didn’t need to make up an excuse about the books.” Regina’s pretty sure she’s read the situation correctly, and she can’t help the surge of fondness for the other woman; so desperate to spend time with her that she’ll do whatever. It’s cute in a way Regina has never experienced before, and she has never dated anyone like Emma. Not that they’re dating, but it’s the principle of the thing. She feels flattered, like Emma has just opened one of the books at random and jotted down words to question her about. “We can do lunch regardless.”

The flush on Emma’s cheeks grows an even deeper red and she shuffles awkwardly. “Busted, huh,” she says, “I’m smooth like that, I guess.”

“Did you-” Regina pauses, nervous. She fidgets with her hands beneath the table, wringing them together. “Did you just want to have lunch with me?”

Emma nods eagerly, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Yeah, I-” she pauses, breathes out deeply, “I kinda spent all day yesterday thinking about you, and it’s really insane, because you’re like, so smart, and so, so beautiful, and you’ve got a kid and the whole thing, but I just…” She stops talking, now fidgeting with the folded up napkin as she lowers her eyes to the table. “I just wanted to hang out with you is what I mean.”

Regina can’t help the flutter of a smile that comes upon her lips, and she watches Emma’s fingers; blunt nails, painted grey. She doesn’t know what to say; she spends a great amount of time thinking about Emma’s green eyes and dopey smile, but she’s also a mother with a job and a lot of responsibilities, and can it really be that Emma will want that? Regina finds it hard to believe. Maybe Emma wants to hook up with her, because she finds her attractive, but that is most definitely something Regina can’t just do. “You were thinking about me?” is what she blurts out instead of any of the other many questions that she should probably be asking.

“…yeah,” Emma softly murmurs, eyelashes fluttering against her fair skin.

“Hmm,” Regina says, and it feels good. It warms her heart and makes her flush, but she hopes that Emma doesn’t see it. It’s all so incredibly stupid, this excitement fluttering in her chest, because they can’t do this, she’s sure of it. So she says, “And so you wanted to have lunch with me?”

Emma’s smile is radiant when she says, “Yeah? You mind?”

And it’s all so very bold, and no, Regina doesn’t mind. “I do have to eat, Miss Swan. Do I mind that it’s with you? Most certainly not.” She knows she’s being vague on purpose, and it’s perhaps not quite fair to Emma, but this is the best she can do.

Grinning, Emma bashfully says, “Cool.”

“Indeed,” Regina replies.

“So uh, we can hang without talking feminism and stuff?” Emma asks, and she looks so hopeful that Regina just has to agree. Not that she was planning to deny Emma her request anyway.

“Yes, we can do lunch, Emma,” she replies, and she likes that Emma is not talking about Regina’s tipsy desire to have them kiss, and that Emma agreed, and instead they are just now sharing a meal and sitting across from each other, and it’s easy. So very, very easy in a way that Regina doesn’t think anything has ever been.

“So uh, Henry is kind of awesome?” Emma starts with, an excited grin overtaking her features.

Regina bites her lips to keep herself from grinning too widely. “That he is.”

“He totally beat me at Mario Kart.” Emma fidgets with her cutlery and almost manages to wipe it off the table in her clumsy eagerness, “I’d like to kick his ass back someday.”

“You’re very welcome at our house at anytime,” Regina reveals, and she doesn’t say just how much exactly both she and Henry would like for Emma to come by at their house. For Mario Kart or lasagne or something else entirely.

Emma’s grin grows wider if even possible. “Awesome,” she says, before she reaches for her napkin, worrying it between her fingers. “So tell me about your sister? She sounds like a hoot.”

Regina sighs. “She’s something else,” she replies, and the waiter brings them their food and they talk about their families and friends while they eat risotto and flirt casually across the table.

———

Emma texts her several times a day while she’s out of town. She’s doing several shows a week in different cities, and she’ll be gone for three weeks. Regina answers her tirelessly, eager to reply back to her and keep that nervous flutter in her chest. It’s weird, because they haven’t kissed and it’s not like that – she doesn’t even know if they are going to kiss, because despite Emma’s honesty, Regina can’t seem to shake the feeling that it’s just a little too easy – but she replies anyway, and before she knows it, they’re a sending pictures back and forth (and Emma teases her mercilessly for not knowing how to work snapchat), and they’re calling each other at least once a day, and it’s… nice. It’s really, really nice.

And Regina knows she shouldn’t, but she flirts a little bit, sending suggestive texts and implying things, and she’s pretty sure Emma’s flirting right back. It does something strange to her insides, and she smiles and ducks behind her computer screen at work so Jacinda doesn’t see her.

It’s kind of odd, flirting like this. Flirting via text and not really knowing if it’s going to lead anywhere, not really sure if she really wants it to. She hasn’t really done that since college, since before Henry. With Marian it was different, because they met through Sabine and Jacinda; they’d known each other when Marian was married to The Husband and once she wasn’t – so sure that she was bisexual – the attraction that Regina had always felt towards her became known and they had an opportunity to act on it. Things went fast for them; Regina throwing in her heart because she was sure that they wanted the same things, which only came back to hurt her.

So this is different, but it’s in a good way. Robin teases her lovingly about her teenage crush, but Regina tries not to let it bother her and just enjoy the rush of giddiness she feels every time she sees Emma’s name on her screen. A giddiness she doesn’t have it in her to examine further.

They are talking late one evening, after Henry has already gone to bed, and Regina is laying in her own sheets, while Emma fidgets around on her end.

“So what did you do today?”

Regina says, “Robin came by to hang out with Henry, and I tried to get them to text Tilly, but they’re convinced that Tilly’s not interested, so that was an uphill battle.”

Emma laughs loudly into the phone. “Robin thinks Tilly isn’t interested? I don’t miss being a teenager. Man, Tilly’s so interested, she’s been going on and on and on about Robin every time I talk to her.”

“Robin doesn’t have any game,” Regina replies and thinks fondly back at the latest Sunday dinner where Zelena had teased her kid mercilessly; an odd mix of happiness because she doesn’t want Robin to date at all combined with rightful banter because Robin’s too afraid to make a move on the girl they like. “Zelena’s convinced that they must get that from me.”

Emma chuckles, lowly, attractively, and Regina feels her breath hitch. “What? You don’t have any game, Regina? I find that hard to believe.” Her tone is suggestive, like it so often is when they talk, and Regina squirms in the sheets.

She hoarsely chuckles. “Once you get to know me, you’ll find that I am not always good at going after what I want. Not when it comes to matters of the heart,” she replies. She finds it oddly easy to be honest and open with Emma, and the truth slips across her lips quickly. Perhaps because she wants Emma to know this about her, perhaps because she wants Emma to do something about it? Regina isn’t sure.

“Duly noted,” Emma whispers teasingly, and Regina can imagine her, going about her nightly routine, getting ready for bed after a long show. It’s a pleasing picture, Emma in her tank-top and boy short underwear, hair ruffled, face tired. Regina thinks she’d like to see it in real life.

“Duly noted how, Miss Swan?”

“Oh you know,” Emma is quick to answer, voice alight, “just if someone I know were to ever try to ask you out, I think that’d be important information to share. Regina Mills – the pursued, not the pursuer.” There’s an odd lilt to her voice, but Regina finds she doesn’t mind.

Closing her eyes and breathing deeply in and out for a few seconds, Regina listens to the silence; comfortable and familiar. Eventually, she says, “Zelena’s different though. We’re both bold, but she’s more forceful. She doesn’t protect her heart as much as I do.”

Emma murmurs, wistful, “That happens once your heart has been broken too many times.” She pauses, voice cracking slightly, “But she goes after what she wants, hm?”

Regina hums. “Zelena’s always been very strong-willed and forceful. Wicked in a way that I haven’t been. Robin doesn’t much remind of her.”

Emma laughs. “I have a feeling that you Millses are all very strong-willed about most things. When you want to be.”

“We are not,” Regina retorts, but she laughs and lets herself settle further back into the softness of her sheets. “So how did your show go tonight?” It’s late, a lot later than Regina likes to stay up, but she’d wanted to talk to Emma.

“It uh, it went okay, I guess,” Emma says, and it appears that she’s falling into her bed; there’s the rustling of sheets, a sigh of contentment. “I got some good laughs. But uh, I can’t wait to be back soon.”

Regina smiles to herself. “What do you have to get back to, Miss Swan?” She knows what she wants Emma to say, but she’s pretty sure she’s not going to say it.

Emma sighs as she gets comfortable. “Granny’s. My car. My lonely apartment with a tonne of books. And Tilly dropping by at all hours of the day when she’s skipping school.” There’s a long pause, before she softly adds, “And uuh – you I guess? I kinda owe you a dinner from the last time. We can go out again. Like friends.”

There’s something rushed and not quite believable about the word friends slipping past Emma’s lips like that, but Regina launches for it and grabs onto it with both hands, eager for something, anything, to tie her to the blonde woman. “We still have those books to discuss,” she says, as a matter-of-factly. “Assuming you’re still planning to make jokes about feminism.”

Laughing into the phone, Emma says, “I’m always planning to make jokes about everything. You should see my twitter.”

“Perhaps I should,” Regina replies, but she’s not really confident enough in her abilities to navigate through all that. When she’d been stalking Emma online, finding her tweets had been pure luck. She knows Jacinda could help her out, but she’s not going to give her the satisfaction of asking for help with something like that. The jokes would be endless.

“Anyway,” Emma says, voice breathless, “maybe we can ask Robin and Tilly to tag along if we do do dinner? I think they need a push in the right direction.”

Regina smiles into the phone. “I think you’re right,” she replies. She shifts over, glancing briefly at the clock and the time, knowing she has to be up in five hours to get Henry ready for school, and she’s really pushing it.

Emma hums. “I’m really glad you decided to wait up for my call. It’s always nice talking to you,” she honestly reveals.

There’s that nervous flutter in her chest again, thrumming steadily against her ribcage. “Be that as it may, Miss Swan,” Regina manages to get past her lips, the red numbers on her alarm clock taunting her, reminding her once more of real life. “I really need to get some sleep. But Henry told me to remind you to take pictures of all of your hotel rooms so he can see them, so be sure to do that.”

“I’m on it, I’m on it,” Emma moans into the phone, “damn, stop bossing me around, lady.”

“You like it,” Regina retorts and gets even more comfortable against her pillow. She yawns loudly, unable to hold it in.

Emma sighs, and there’s a slight whine to her voice when she says, “Alright, alright, I’ll let you go.” She pauses, then softly adds, “We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah?”

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Regina promises her, before she’s able to stop herself and think about what all those promises might mean. “Goodnight, Miss Swan.”

“Goodnight, Regina,” Emma softly whispers and hangs up the phone.

Regina snuggles closer into her comforter and falls asleep quickly, dreaming about tattooed arms, blonde princess curls and horrible, truly horrible jokes slipping past pink, kissable lips.

Chapter Text

“So uh, my girlfriend,” Emma says and grins happily into the microphone. “Yeah, I have a girlfriend now, score for Emma!” She nods to herself, hurrying on, “She uh, she had almost just come out of a pretty serious relationship when she met me, so everything was a bit raw there, you know? I’m pretty sure you know, because who hasn’t met someone awesome and then the timing just wasn’t right?”

She glances out at the audience and sees some faces nod in agreement in the low light.

“I mean – I met this incredible girl once, and this is a story for you, it’s a story, you’re gonna hear it,” she chats, “Her uhm, her name was Jasmin. She was so fucking beautiful, I’m not even kidding. Gorgeous. She had the longest hair, it went all the way down to her butt and I loved running my fingers through it. She liked to braid it, and I liked to mess it up, we had a good game going there.” Emma chuckles, “But uh, but Jasmin had just come out of a looooong relationship with her high school sweetheart Al. She was pretty messed up about it, I think she had believed that she was going to be with him forever, y’know?”

Someone gasps loudly in the audience, and Emma narrows her eyes as she pauses.

“Yes, yes. He. He was a he, penis and everything. A cisgender male, so he had a lot going for him on that account, uh – except he wasn’t white, so there’s that. Privilege denied.” She pretends to check off a box in the air and makes a clicking sound. “So uh, as you can probably guess, Jasmin is what you would call bisexual.” She wriggles her eyebrows, watches the crowd, “Yes, legendary creatures those bisexuals, just made of legends, am I right?” She laughs to herself, “But they do exist! There are living and breathing bisexuals right here in this theatre, I’ll bet!

“But seriously, I’ve never been one of those people who refuses to date bisexual women because of some fucked-up reason about purity or whatever. That’s just bi-phobic, am I right? I mean, dick, vagina, they come in all shapes and forms, I just like a woman, y’know? But yeah, back to Jasmin and Al, I’m getting off track here. Sorry about that.”

There is silent in the theatre as everyone waits with baited breath for Emma’s punchline.

She scratches her cheek and continues, “So I meet Jasmin, and she turned single a few months before, and I’m thinking ‘shit man, I gotta snatch this girl up’. Someone so beautiful won’t stay single for long, y’know? And if I, pale and self-deprecating Emma Swan, was to have a chance, I’d better do it quickly! So I woo her. As you do.” She licks her lips briefly, wetting them with her tongue. “And uh, I do flowers and chocolate and shit, a real charmer I am! And we fall into this thing pretty quickly, and it’s nice and it’s great, and Jasmin’s really awesome. Still so very pretty.” She pauses, leans slightly forward and says, “But uh, she wasn’t ready for that, y’know? She wasn’t over Al yet, and that came back to bite me in the ass. Because we eventually ended up stopping our thing because she wasn’t ready for it. I’d swooped in too quickly, y’know? I think – I think – you know what I think?”

Someone shouts, “No!” in the audience, and Emma laughs.

“Your enthusiasm is duly noted. I’ma tell you what I think, m’kay?” She fidgets with her water bottle, green eyes scrutinising the white blobs of faces before her. “I think that that’s what it’s all about, y’know? That line, you’ve gotta find it. You understand what I’m saying? You gotta find the perfect moment to like – swoop! You can’t do it too quickly because then the person won’t be ready and you’ll have wasted that gorgeous woman with the butterfly earrings, but you can’t wait too long either, right? Because then she’ll have found another cute person and moved on with them. So you gotta, dude, you gotta time your swooping is what I’m saying!

“Seriously though. Last I heard, she was back with Al and they have two-point-five kids and a beautiful home, a dog and a car, and they, they seem pretty happy, pretty happy to me.” Emma takes a gulp of water and adds, “Which is just as well, because I met Regina. And Regina? Regina’s my happily ever after. Even though I was slightly worried about my swooping for a moment, because she had just gotten out of a long relationship as well. There were kids involved and they’d lived together, shared the same friends. I knew it was a delicate moment and I had to do it right. So I waited. I waited with baited breath. And then I swooped.”

——-

It is a backyard party for full blast when Regina and Henry make their way through the latched gate to the community yard behind Sabine and Jacinda’s small house. There’s streamers and music and kids running around, and Regina sees Jacinda handing out party hats near a table scattered with gifts for Lucy.

Henry runs forward as soon as he sees his best friend; Lucy is dressed in a purple dress and her hair is braided back for the occasion; however, she is Lucy and she has combined this with dirty sneakers and a scrapped knee. Regina sees Henry greet her with a hug before he joins in on the game they’re playing. It appears to be some sort of tag.

Adults are lounging around the place, drinking beers and chatting, and Regina steps up to Jacinda and places their gift on the table.

Jacinda tucks a pink party hat onto her head and delicately snaps the string around her chin. “Hi babe,” she greets with a laugh and kisses Regina’s cheek. She’s obviously excited for this day as well. Her baby is turning eleven, and it’s a huge thing. Her cheeks are red and she’s grinning. “Zelena is around here somewhere, hiding from Sabine so she doesn’t have to help with the food.”

Regina rolls her eyes, “Sounds like her.”

Agreeing, Jacinda nods, “And Robin’s brought some girl named Tilly. What’s that about?”

Unable to stop the grin from appearing on her face, Regina excitedly says, “Tilly’s here? I didn’t think Robin would be brave enough to ask her. Zelena must be having a mental breakdown somewhere.”

“You know her?” Jacinda stares at her quizzically, brown eyes sweeping over Regina’s face.

“It’s Emma’s niece,” she explains, and she can’t stop herself from imagining Emma’s reaction when she sends off a text to her soon, telling her about these developments. The blonde woman is going to have a fit wherever she is right now. Regina can’t remember if it is New York City or Orlando this week. She’s not even sure Emma’s completely aware of her schedule.

Jacinda grins. “Oh, that makes sense.” She tips her fingers to her chin and gives Regina a once-over. “You look hot. Good. Marian’s hiding around here somewhere, trying to make herself scarce.”

A sickening feeling sweeps over Regina’s chest at that, but she’s surprisingly okay with the news. She has prepared herself for this, and she can handle Marian and The Husband. Thankfully, her mind has been occupied with thoughts of a beautiful, blonde comedian lately, and Marian hasn’t taken up much space. “I’m going to find Sabine and help her with the snacks, hm?” Regina eventually says and presses a kiss to Jacinda’s cheek.

She stalks across the green lawn, dodging a few running kids, and into the house through the open backdoor. Sabine is fussing about in the kitchen, frosting spread across her cheek and dark hair frizzy, and Regina bites her lip to keep herself from laughing.

“It’s not funny, Mills,” Sabine grumbles, but she thrusts a pair of oven mitts into her hands. “Get those cookies out of the oven, this frosting is a bitch.”

Regina meets Robin’s eyes across the counter; they are cutting vegetable sticks, undoubtedly on Sabine’s demand, and Tilly is munching on a piece of carrot next to them, tryingly dipping it into the dip to give it a taste. “Hi Robin,” Regina greets, “and Tilly. Nice to see you again.”

“Hi,” Tilly replies and bites into a piece of cucumber.

Robin grins shyly and looks back at the chopping board, and Regina bends down to get out the piping hot tray from the oven. She disposes of it on the counter and Sabine immediately moves to inspect them while she’s still whipping quickly in a bowl. “Can you take paper plates and cups out? And the drinks?” Sabine’s eyes are begging her, desperate to get this party out of the way smoothly so her daughter can have a wonderful day.

Regina leans over to press a kiss to her cheek. “Just watch me help you,” she promises, and she grabs a stack of paper plates under one arm and two stacks of cups under the other, and makes her way outside again. She scouts the space for Henry or her sister – someone she knows, really – but she comes up empty. That is, of course, until she places the plates on the table and looks up to come face to face with Marian on the other side, smiling nervously at her.

“Regina,” she greets, and if she doesn’t look as beautiful as Regina has always found her, so soft and welcoming, motherly in the truly attractive way.

But she feels her face harden, defences creeping up around her, because if Marian is here then The Husband is not far away. “Hello,” she cooly says, fidgeting slightly with the plates as she rearranges them between flags and flowers and small bowls of snacks. Quickly, she remembers that she’s wearing that ridiculous party hat, and she tugs it off and places it on the table as well.

Marian tucks her hands behind her back and says, “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Regina quickly snaps, voice acerbic. She stands up straight and wants to make an excuse, tell Marian that she needs to get back into the kitchen to help Sabine with the drinks and the cookies and whatever she might need, but their eyes meet, and Regina has this ache inside of her chest. Anger at Marian for cheating on her; cheating when she could have just told Regina that it wasn’t working out anymore, that she had unresolved feelings for her Husband, and that she wanted to give it another try with him, and they might have been fine. They might have been friends. For Roland’s sake, and for Henry’s sake. And for everyone’s sake, really. But she also aches, aches because she misses her, despite of everything. They had shared their life for some years, and something like that just doesn’t disappear into thin air. Regina forces herself to add, “And you?”

A small smile tugs at Marian’s lips. “I’m – I’m okay. I just, I wanted to talk to you. See if maybe we could get together and talk through everything once more. I feel so bad about the way things-”

But she’s cut off by the loudest squeal of “‘Giiiiina,” that Regina has ever heard, and before she knows of it, she has Roland wrapped around her legs, holding onto her for dear life. Her hands fall into his curls immediately, brushing them backwards and meeting his brown eyes. Her heart swells with fondness and he grins his dimpled smile up at her, and goodness, she has missed him. She picks him up, although he is technically too old for that, and his small arms are around her neck immediately. “‘Gina,” he repeats and buries his face in her neck.

“I’ve missed you, Roland,” Regina whispers into his ear, and she meets Marian’s eyes from across the table. The other woman’s smile is warm, and Regina knows that it has pained her for Roland to be away from Regina for so long. “You must come by soon and play with Henry,” she promises him.

Henry eagerly nods, having been right behind Roland, and he sneaks a hand into the snacks before creeping up to Marian’s side and leaning slightly against her. “And Emma! You can play with Emma! She’s not very good at Mario Kart so maybe you can even beat her!”

Roland turns over in Regina’s arms and stares expectantly at his mother. “Can I, Mama? Can I go play with Henry soon?”

As if anyone is ever able to say no to that face. Marian nods. “Sure, baby, you can go any time Regina says so, okay?” She lets a hand tuck Henry closer to herself, and it’s evident that she has missed them too, even if her heart didn’t love them like that anymore. “But now you must go play with Lucy, okay? It’s her birthday and she wants to be with you.”

Pouting, Roland presses a sloppy kiss to Regina’s cheek and she whispers him a promise to talk later, and he slips down her body and follows Henry towards the life of the party; Lucy, as determined as ever, bossing her friends around in their game, which appears to have changed course to hide and seek. Regina fidgets awkwardly with her blouse, and she clears her throat and says, “Roland’s really welcome whenever. You know that.”

“I know,” Marian quickly replies, as if there was ever any doubt. “It’s just…” She glances backwards, and Regina follows her gaze to where The Husband is sitting on a lounge chair with a few other guests, drinking a can of beer and shooting an unreadable look in Regina’s direction.

Or maybe not so unreadable at all, because Regina thinks he looks threatened. Her shoulders sag, “…you husband doesn’t want him to see me, does he?”

There’s a slight blush on Marian’s cheeks and she reaches for a handful of nuts. “It’s not that he doesn’t want him to, it’s just that he doesn’t understand why Roland wants to. He doesn’t understand that bond you two made.”

“I love Roland like my own son, and this has been terribly hard for me,” Regina says, voice edgy and rough. Marian knows these things, so it should not come as a surprise to her. She’d been there when Regina and Roland bonded, seen it with her own two eyes.

Marian’s face falls soft and she nods. “I know.”

“Good,” Regina replies. She’s not sure what else to say, because the ache is still there, and she’s not certain how to handle it.

There is a slight pause, and Marian tries, “I really do want to-” she stops herself, looking pained, “I really do want to talk to you, Regina. Sabine says that you’re really angry with me, and on your worst days you call our relationship an experiment on my part,” she pauses again, having the audacity to look hurt, “but please tell me you don’t really believe that? Because our relationship was anything but that to me.”

Staring at her, Regina feels her nostrils flare and her heart beat faster. “You do realise why it can seem like that from my end, right?”

Marian deflates visibly. “I know, but just – I’d hoped you also knew me well enough to realise that I love you, Regina. Our relationship was fantastic, it just – it just wasn’t right for me. And not for you either, which I’m hoping you’ll realise soon, because I want Roland to see you, and I want to see Henry, and just – I miss you, too.”

Regina takes in a deep breath and clasps her hands in front of her stomach. Perhaps Marian doesn’t deserve this, but she misses her, too. “I know it was real, I was there,” she eventually breathes out and tries to ignore the stink-eye from The Husband behind them.

“Good,” Marian says and gives her a tentative smile.

“Yes,” Regina agrees, before she motions towards the house behind her, “Well, you can text me anytime about Roland or that talk you want. I should really go back inside and help Sabine with the drinks.” She turns to leave, for a second so sure that she just survived her first encounter with Marian after their break up, and survived it well even so, but Marian’s voice stops her in her tracks.

“Who’s Emma?”

The question is laced with curiosity, something demanding yet apologetic on her tongue, as if Marian knows that she isn’t allowed to ask, that she’s not in any place to demand answers from Regina regarding anything. Regina turns around on the spot and wets her lips. She’s not sure what to say, because who is Emma except so unabashedly Emma?

Marian must sense her hesitance, because she quickly adds, eyes wide, “You don’t have to answer, it’s just – if you’re dating, I just wanted to say that I’m really happy for you, because you deserve to be happy, and I just,” she stops talking, winces and wipes a hand across her forehead, “I’ve really stepped in it now, haven’t I?”

There is a surge of fondness at Marian’s words, and Regina bites her lip to keep herself from smiling too widely at it. “Emma is just this woman I’ve been spending time with,” Regina offers, vaguely, because she can’t say anything more, “it’s not – perhaps it’s something, someday, but only time will tell. We are very different.”

Marian relaxes visibly at her words and her cheeks tinge slightly pink. “Oh… okay.” She nods, and unclenches her fist. “Well, I hope for you that it is something then. If you want it to be.”

She is soft and uncertain, and Regina is reminded why she fell for her in the first place; kind above all and wanting everyone to be okay. That didn’t stop her from sleeping with her ex-husband however, and Regina has to remind herself of that. “We’ll see,” she says, before she gives her ex-girlfriend a curt nod and turns to walk back into the kitchen.

“You forgot your hat!” Marian calls after her, and Regina freezes for a second, before she turns around with a determined huff. She grabs the hat and tucks it back on, pointedly looking at Marian who’s fighting back a grin, and when she walks back towards the house, she does so with a raised and proud chin, because she did good.

For some reason she feels a lot lighter, and perhaps this confrontation was exactly what she needed.

——-

Zelena brings them both a beer, and two ginger beers for Tilly and Robin, and sits down on the lawn chair next to Regina. Robin and Tilly are sharing a piece of birthday cake from one plate as they are sitting on the grass wrapped in blankets, and Regina is patiently waiting for the right moment to snap a picture to send to Emma. Tilly is wearing a green party hat, and she looks absolutely cute, and Zelena has promised to drop her off at home when they leave. Emma is going to absolutely love it.

“I saw you talking to Marian,” Zelena says as she uncaps the beers and hands one to Regina. It’s a special raspberry flavoured one, otherwise Regina would have never tasted it.

Regina takes a long sip, letting the flavour coat her tongue. “Yes. She wanted to see how I was. To ease her own guilt, I suppose.” She sounds bitter, she can hear it, and she’s only partly joking. If Marian feels guilty, Regina reckons it’s only fair. She did cheat and break up their makeshift family after all.

Zelena snorts. “I’m surprised The Husband let her out of his sight long enough for her to do that.”

“Believe me, she wasn’t out of his sight,” Regina bitterly says and takes another swig of the bottle. “But I suppose something good did come of it. She has allowed Roland to come visit Henry and I sometime.”

A warm hand finds its way onto her knee, and Zelena gives it a tight squeeze. “Good on you, sis.”

Henry comes running up, scarf dangling behind him, and Lucy right on his tail. “Mom!” he yells and stops before them, slightly out of breath but with red cheeks and a wide smile.

“Yes, mijo?” Regina asks and sits up straighter.

“Can Henry spend the night?” Lucy asks, as excited as always. It seems that she has acquired more scrapes to her legs this fine afternoon, and there is now a big tear in her princess dress. Regina supposes she’ll have to mend it for her soon.

Henry eagerly nods, “It’s just ‘cuz Lucy got this new game for her Wii and if I stay the night, we can get up really, really, really early tomorrow and play all day!” He jumps a little, small hands coming out to grasp at Regina’s jacket. “And Aunt Jay says it’s cool and then we can get pancakes for breakfast and it’d just be so very, very nice!”

Lucy pulls her lower lip into a pout. “Please Aunt Regina?” she questions and folds her hands, “Pretty please?”

As if Regina is ever going to say no to such an endearing request. “Alright querida,” she grins and tucks Lucy closer by the hand, “Henry can stay the night, but only if it’s really okay with both of your moms, hm?” She looks sternly at Lucy to make sure that they actually did ask her parents for permission before telling her. It wouldn’t be the first time the two of them got over-excited and told a little lie. “Querido? You’ll be a good boy, hm?” She turns to Henry at that.

“I promise, Mama,” Henry whispers and leans in to give her a kiss on the cheek, before he and Lucy run off together again. Hand in hand, no doubt on their way to confirm all of these plans with Sabine and Jacinda.

Zelena guffaws loudly. “Did you just get yourself a kid-free evening?”

Regina watches her son disappear into the house. “Yes, it appears so.”

Grinning, Zelena kicks back in her lawn chair, “Whatever are you gonna do to pass the time, darling sister,” she drawls, before taking a long sip of her beer.

Robin pipes in from the ground, “What a shame that Emma is out of town, huh Aunt Regina? Otherwise you could have asked her over.” They wriggle their eyebrows suggestively, and Regina shoots them a glare.

“Just worry about your own girl, querido,” she informs them and nods towards Tilly who’s busy finishing up the last of the cake, which thankfully appears to be something she likes very much.

Blushing, Robin turns to stare at Tilly. “Shut up,” they mumble, before scooting slightly closer to the blonde girl.

Zelena eyes her kid warily, eyes trained on the young teenagers. “No snogging in front of me, Robin,” she says, just a smidge too loudly, and Robin eyes her angrily. Zelena just laughs and turns to nudge Regina with her foot. “Sister mine, what is up with this Emma I keep hearing so much about? Robin’s not telling me anything. What a bore,” she adds for good measure, but Robin pretends not to hear her.

Regina crosses her legs and studies the label on her beer. “It’s just that comedian I told you about. We’ve seen each other a few times, nothing interesting.” She shrugs and takes another sip of the drink, stalling for time. “It’s really nothing.”

“Then how come Emma says that you guys talk on the phone a lot?” Tilly suddenly says, out of nowhere. Regina hadn’t even been aware that she was listening to their conversation.

Zelena turns to her, a wicked smile on her face. “Talking on the phone a lot, huh? Oh, what is that, sis? Certainly sounds like a lot more than ‘nothing interesting’, am I right?”

Robin nods eagerly, eyes shining behind their glasses. “Sure does, Aunt Regina. It really sounds like something, actually.” They nudge Tilly in the side with their elbow, “Why didn’t you tell me about that before, Tilly?”

Tilly shrugs, “I thought you knew for sure.” Then she goes back to sipping her ginger beer.

Still with her sister’s gaze expectantly on her, Regina groans. “Oh will you cut it out! It’s not anything.” She locks eyes with her sister, stares at her for a few seconds, but Zelena is unrelenting. “It might be something,” she reveals instead, before adding, softly, “but I don’t know yet, okay? So please cut it out.”

“Boohoo, you’re such a bore,” Zelena complains and whisks her phone out of her coat pocket. “Anyhow, let me take a picture of your cuteness with that party hat on, so we can send it to your lady love.” She leans forward, and Regina adjusts the party hat and forces on a smile, as always self-conscious with a camera in front of her. “Say cheese, sis!”

“Cheese,” Regina grins as the flash goes off.

———

She sees Emma’s name on her phone screen just minutes after she has sent off three pictures from today’s party; Robin and Tilly eating birthday cake, Henry and Lucy grinning at the camera together, and herself in a party har, curtesy of Zelena. She has just settled herself in the couch with a glass of red wine and a blanket, when Emma lights up the screen. She discards her book to the side and presses the phone to her ear.

“Emma.”

“Shit, you look adorable in that hat,” Emma says, in lieu of greeting.

Regina fights the smile on her face. “I do not.”

“Seriously, it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Emma insists. There’s a short pause, and then she says, “What are you doing right now?”

“Henry is spending the night with Lucy, so I’m just about to enjoy a good book,” Regina reveals and glances down at the thriller she’s just picked up at the office. It’s one of Jacinda’s recurring authors, and he always gifts her with books aplenty. Jacinda doesn’t read much outside of work though, so Regina snatched this up.

Emma breathes out deeply. “Shit. Am I disturbing you?”

Regina shakes her head. “No, no, I much prefer your company. How did your show go tonight?”

There is a groan on the other end, and it sounds like Emma is settling into her hotel room bed. “It went well. People laughed, and August and I stayed behind at the adjoining bar afterwards to drink a few beers. I got to talk to a few people from the audience, it was… nice.”

Regina’s heartbeat picks up slightly at that revelation, and she clenches her hand around the phone. “Oh?” She licks her lips, forcing herself to breathe, because she doesn’t know why her body is suddenly reacting like this. “Was it fun?”

Emma hums. “It was okay. This girl tried to convince me to give her my number, but I kept telling her that I don’t do long distance anymore, not after Ariel, but she didn’t really want to accept it, so…”

“So what?” Regina queries, holding her breath.

Emma laughs, “So I told her I’m unavailable. Little white lie, I guess.”

Regina perks up at that. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean,” Emma swallows loudly, “kinda?”

“Kinda?”

Emma chuckles awkwardly. “Yeah, well shit.” She laughs again and there is another silence between them while Regina waits with baited breath. She doesn’t understand why she’s suddenly filled with anticipation like this, and she stares out of her window at the star-filled dark sky. “Uhm. It’s, I’ve kinda been, uh…”

Regina forces herself to say, “You have kinda been what, Em-ma?”

“Shit, do you really want me to say it?” Emma asks, and there’s that nervous chuckle again. Regina can just imagine her; cheeks flushed and lips pink, fidgeting with the hem of the white tank top she always wears.

It’s not entirely clear what Emma is talking about, so Regina needs her to say it. “Yes,” she hoarsely whispers, fingers curling around her knee.

Emma breathes out deeply, the sound resonating clearly over the phone. “I didn’t wanna get her number, because I’ve been kinda thinking a lot about you,” she eventually reveals, the words falling out of her mouth in a hurried mess.

Regina’s heartbeat speeds up at that, and she feels warmth running over skin; pleasant, loving, comforting. “I’ve been thinking about you, too,” Regina discloses in a whisper next, and it’s incredibly stupid, this excitement fluttering in her chest, because they can’t do this, she’s sure of it.

Emma sounds surprised when she says, “You have?” as if even the idea that Regina could be thinking of her too is outrageous.

“Yes,” Regina confirms, sounding sure, even though she’s anything but. This is not what she imagined when she went to see Emma’s show, and she’s still so certain that it’s not a good idea at all.

“But you’re like-,” Emma cuts herself off, breathless, “-wow. And I’m just… not.”

Regina holds back a chuckle, shaking her head to herself. “You most certainly are something, Miss Swan, you’re quite… Quite a lot.” She smiles to herself as she imagines Emma on the other end, grinning goofily into space at their conversation. “But I must – I must tell you, Emma,” she adds, before the silence between becomes too comforting and familiar, “that I’m not in the business of casual hook-ups. It’s just not in the cards for me, so even though you’re very appealing to me, I just can’t-”

Emma cuts her off suddenly, defiant as always, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who said anything about casual hook-ups?”

Pausing, Regina furrows her brow to herself, that odd thumping back behind her chest. “I don’t know, I just assumed…” She stops talking, not sure how to explain what her assumptions of Emma were; assumptions based on three encounters, various phone calls and text messages, and two comedy shows.

“Stop assuming so much,” Emma demands. She sounds happy, regardless. “I want to take you on a date, lady.”

“A date?” Regina queries, truly surprised. It’s not what she expected, and it’s foolish, but there’s a nervous flutter in the pit of her stomach at the prospect of it. Emma and her on a date is not an unpleasant idea.

Emma sounds shy when she answers, “Yeah, like… You’re in my head, and I kinda like it, I guess?” She pauses, swallows loudly. “I don’t mind Henry and the baggage, if you worry about that. It’s – it’s a nice change, and he’s an awesome kid.”

Regina bites her lip to keep herself from grinning too widely. “That he is.”

“So like,” Emma fidgets on the other end, the sound clearly disrupting their conversation, disturbing Regina through the phone from the other end of the country, “would it be okay if I took you out once I returned from my tour?”

Would it? Regina is still not convinced it’s a good idea, but Emma is in her head a lot more than Regina had suspected she would be, and it’s thoroughly distracting. “A date would be acceptable, I reckon,” she reveals over the phone.

Emma laughs, “Yes! That’s a ‘yes’ in Regina speak, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps so,” Regina replies, and she can’t help but laugh, too.

“So,” Emma says, and there’s this new comfort between them; as if the awkwardness, the shyness has settled and they have reached a new point. “Tell me about this book you’re reading.”

Chapter Text

“So,” Emma states as silence has overtaken the theatre once more. She watches her audience, doesn’t say anything and lets the awkwardness grow.

Someone in the audience laughs nervously.

Emma wriggles her eyebrows. “Yes. You want me to talk?” She laughs. “Alright, alright. I met Regina, but let’s put a pin in that, yeah? Because I wanna spend a second to tell you about my last girlfriend before I met Regina. It was a girl named Elsa, and we were – we were actually together for a while, can you believe it or not. Pretty serious to some extend, pretty serious.” She leans against the microphone, fingers tangled. “She was very, very tall, and very, very beautiful, and uh, we had a lot in common, y’know? We were both a bit damaged, angry at the world, but she uh, she sort of had a different support system than I, which is actually why I’m telling you this…” She trails off and wipes a hand on her jeans. “She uh, she had this sister, y’know? Super annoying, and super chirpy, so, so different from Elsa, who could be a bit of an ice queen, and – and this is the point, and I’m getting to it.”

There is a scattered laughter in the theatre and Emma holds up a finger as she chokes back a laugh.

“Me getting to the point,” she says and scoots over on the stage, boots scraping against the floor. “I met Regina’s sister. Regina has a sister. Her name is Zelena, and, and when I met her I was absolutely blown away. She’s a character, if you know what I’m saying? And that. That reminded me of Elsa’s sister Anna. Anna was Elsa’s sister. Still am, I guess.” Emma pauses, breathes out deeply, “And she was super annoying too.

“Anna was kinda like – too happy, y’know? Like, you meet these people in your life, and you somehow just know that they haven’t had a very tough life, yeah? Like straight, white cis-males, who hasn’t had a tough life based on who they are, except Anna was a straight, white cis-woman who had found the absolute best man when she was just sixteen years old. They’re still together to this day as far as I know. So you just – you know the type, yeah? While Elsa… Elsa has always had it more tough. The outsider. The weird girl. The gay girl, ooooh,” Emma finishes in a mimic, and the audience laughs.

“So yeah, it’s easy to say that I didn’t get along that well with Anna, and that’s actually some of the reasons why Elsa and I didn’t work out in the end, believe it or not. They were so close. Really close. And that’s cool, Regina’s close with her sister, too, but like- with Elsa and Anna it was just a little weird, so when I didn’t get along with Anna? Elsa ended up dumping my sorry ass.”

There is a collective outrage in the audience, and Emma laughs at them.

“But yeah,” she continues, bopping her head up and down. “So uh, I uhm, I didn’t understand at first, that Elsa was trying to dump me at all. If you can believe that, huh, like – how did I even get her in the first place, is the question I’ve asked myself countless of times afterward, but alas, I had gotten her, so I was just – I was just blind, y’know? And not just because I forgot to put on my glasses, but stupidly, seriously blind like some lovesick idiot. I was seriously in love with that woman, regardless of her annoying sister. So when it eventually caught on that something was wrong, it was because, at first, she started being really vague in her texts, she started cancelling plans, making up excuses. In the end I was desperate, I hadn’t heard from her in, like, six hours, and we all know that six hours is six months in lesbian time!”

That one gets her a good laugh, and Emma continues on.

“And the last time I saw her, we were at a party, and you know how things are when you’re at party, right? At a place that’s not queer, not gay, not lesbian, just, most definitely not a safe space, am I right?” She pauses, takes a breath, “So like, we got all the questions,” she adds, and when she starts to list them, she shows it on her fingers, “Who’s the man and who’s the woman in your relationship? How do you even have sex? Are you satisfied? And the kicker – if we’d like to have a fucking threesome. It’s this guy, it’s this sleaze ball of a guy, and when he finds out we’re dating – even if things weren’t going so great at this point – he asks us, of course, if we’d like to have a threesome with him. And I mean,” she shrugs, lifting up her hand in exasperation, “why wouldn’t we want to? He’s obviously amazing, you know? He’s got a great dick, and he’d like to put it in both of us, and it’s not like that’s inappropriate or disrespectful to both of us at all, am I right?”

There is laughter from the audience.

“So naturally,” Emma continues, “I decided to smack him across the face, because I’m tired, my girlfriend’s acting weird, I have wicked cramps, and I’m just done with that shit. Elsa kicks him where it hurts the most and then proceeds to dump my ass in the bathroom because,” she hisses, mimicking Elsa, “‘it’s just not working, Emma’ and ‘it’s not you, it’s me, Emma’, and so understandably I was heartbroken, so fucking heartbroken, I left the party, drunk off my ass, and who fucking texts me the next morning? Anna! Anna fucking texts me.” She mimics typing on her phone as she says, twisting her voice and making it high-pitched, “‘Cheer up, Emma. Someday you will find someone who is right for you, I promise. There is always a rainbow after the rain’.” Emma groans and stomps her foot. “Shut up and let me be depressed in peace, goddamnit!” she practically yells.

The audience laughs, someone whistles, and Emma chuckles as she says, “But anyway. Back to Regina and Zelena…”

——

The last few days before Emma returns back from her tour pass relatively slowly. Not that Regina is counting down or anything, time just seems to go at a snail’s pace, especially at work. Jacinda keeps throwing her knowing glances across the table at their Friday morning meeting, and Regina has to drink three cups of coffee during her meeting with Sidney Glass that afternoon, simply because she knows that Emma has come back into town.

They left San Fransisco that morning, and Regina is kind of impatient about hearing from her.

Emma finally texts her when she and Jacinda are gathering their things and making their way down the elevator to their cars. There is a ding from her cell phone, and she’s pretty sure it’s not Zelena, so she scrambles to get the phone out of her bag and almost loses her breath when she sees that name on her screen. Emma.

Jacinda chuckles and leans herself against the wall of the elevator.

Regina lifts her gaze and offers her a hard stare. “Not a word from you, Vidrio, not a word,” she mumbles as she slides the text open.

Studying her nails and pretending not to enjoy this, Jacinda says, “So uh. What does Emma want?”

Regina looks up from her phone and meets her best friend’s eyes. “She wants me to go to a party,” she says, just as the elevator doors ding open in the car park. The look on her face must be one of pure shock, because at least that’s what she feels, and Jacinda pauses, one foot in the doorway to keep the doors from sliding close.

“Uhm. What?” she questions, dark eyes wide. “A party?”

Turning the phone over to show Jacinda the message from Emma, Regina confirms it. “Yes. A party.” She’s thoroughly confused, because of all the things that she expected Emma to text her about, a party most certainly wasn’t it.

Jacinda squeaks. “But you don’t go to parties.”

Regina stares down at the phone again, wondering if she might have misunderstood something. However, that is not likely, because Emma is very clear in her communication. There’s a party at Killian’s tonight to celebrate a successful tour, and Emma wants her to come. The time is 8pm, which makes no room for confusion regarding Henry’s attendance or not. It’s not a party for kids. “No, I – I don’t,” Regina murmurs.

Shrugging, Jacinda finally slips out of the elevator, and drags Regina with her, almost mechanically. “Well, it’s about time then. When’s the last time you attended a party that wasn’t for one of the kids?” She stalks straight towards her beat-up car, and Regina follows on instinct, her car parked right next to it, as always.

“Are you suggesting I actually attend this thing?” she splutters, coming to a halt with her fingers halfway to her bag. “That’s preposterous!”

“Why?” Jacinda chuckles as she sticks the key into the lock and forces the door open. “You need to live a little, Mills. I’m kinda jealous that I’m not going to a fancy party.”

“I’m not going to the party,” Regina quickly brushes her off and stalks to her car, keys in hand. There’s no way she’s going to a party where she knows basically no one. She’ll just have to tell Emma that she can’t make it tonight, and, and she can invite her over for coffee tomorrow afternoon instead. Yes, that will do. Henry will like that, as well, he’s missed Emma, too.

Jacinda stares at her over the roof of the car. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she groans and hardens her eyes. “Regina, you’re going to the party. She obviously wants you there because she’s missed you, and it’s a good opportunity to meet some of her friends, yeah?” She wipes at her forehead and continues, “I mean it, you’re not cancelling on her. Go to the damn party, Mills.”

Regina gnaws at her lip, still staring down at her phone in contemplation. She’s really not comfortable with the idea of this. What if Emma leaves her alone to go talk to someone else? She hasn’t socialised with new people in years. She’s a single mom, she doesn’t do parties. She opens her mouth to tell Jacinda that, but the other woman cuts her off.

“Nope,” she quickly says and shakes her head, “no way. You’re getting all dressed up in a sexy dress and you’re going.”

Swallowing, Regina acquiesces. She has missed Emma and has also hoped to see her tonight. So what if it isn’t what she has thought it would be. Emma’s still Emma. “Will you come with me?” she asks instead. Because if either Jacinda or Sabine join her, at least she won’t be so alone.

“No can do,” Jacinda quickly says, and she does look at least a little apologetic, “we’re going to Sabine’s folks for dinner. Another time, querida.” She offers Regina a sly grin and turns to look at her watch. “Which reminds me – I better get a move on and pick up Lucy. We need to be on the way in twenty minutes. Go to the party, okay?” she finishes, before she slips into her car and smacks the door close.

Regina can do nothing but watch her as she drives the car out of the parking lot, and she slips into her own car with a sigh. Buckling up and pressing the familiar name on her screen, she drives out of the parking lot as her phone dials in the stand next to her, sound coming out through her speakers. Henry is with Robin this afternoon, and she needs to enlist their help if she’s going to do this thing tonight.

“Darling sister,” Zelena drawls as she picks up the phone.

Regina groans. She had called Robin for a reason – as not to deal with this. “I need to speak to Robin,” she says as she clicks on the blinker and waits at an intersection.

Zelena says, “They and Henry are busy blowing up things on the stationplay, so I kindly offered to answer the phone.” She pauses, and Regina bites back another groan, “What can I do for you, little sister?”

“I need Robin to watch Henry until tomorrow. I’ll pay them of course,” Regina quickly says as she takes a left. “I’m not sure how late it will be, so I think it’d be better if he just stayed in your guest room. I’ll bring by some of his things later.”

“Oooooh,” Zelena drags out, and Regina can just picture her, wriggling her eyebrows and being all Zelena-like. “And what are you doing tonight then? Got a hot date, hm?”

Eyes on the road, Regina decides to just tell her. Zelena’s going to get it out of her eventually anyway. “Emma invited me to a party. She’s just back from her tour, and I’m kind of anxious to see her, I guess.” She taps her fingers on the wheel and awaits Zelena’s response.

She does not disappoint with her enthusiasm. “A date!” she practically shrieks, “Henry, your mother’s got a date tonight!”

“It’s not a date,” Regina husks, but to no avail. She can hear Henry’s surprised yelp in the background and Robin’s cheer of you go, Aunt Regina.

“I wanna come too,” Zelena says, as a matter of fact, when she returns to their conversation. “I wanna see this Emma Swan.”

Regina’s fingers clench around the steering wheel, “You’re not coming, Zelena.”

“Yes, I am,” Zelena argues. There’s a sigh, and then, “Oh my god, what am I even going to wear? I have to do my hair! And find shoes! What time are you picking me up, Reggie?”

“Don’t call me that,” Regina mumbles, before adding, “and what part of you’re not coming did you not understand?”

Zelena titters. “Of course I’m coming, Regina,” she says, as if that is not something that is currently up for discussion. “If you want my offspring to watch your offspring, then you better bring me, because otherwise I’m going to be stern Mother Mills and tell Robin that they’re not allowed.”

Regina is not certain whether or not Zelena will actually do that – she doesn’t think that she will – but it’s a lost cause regardless, so she might as well give in now instead of risking it. “I’ll pick you up at 7:30 and drop off a bag for Henry,” she finally says.

“Yes, that is a deal, darling sister. See you later, love you, bye!” Zelena rattles off, before she hangs up the phone, and Regina drives the rest of the way home in silence, wondering what it is that she has gotten herself into.

——-

The party is already in full swing when Regina and Zelena get there, fashionably late – on Zelena’s insistence – and dressed to the nines. Especially Zelena has gone all out in a deep green dress, born to always want to stand out, and Regina has opted for something a little more lowkey – a black dress, her go-to colour, which accentuates her body in all the places she wants Emma to notice.

Not that she panicked earlier and tried on three different dresses before face-timing Sabine in the bathroom of her folks’ house to get advice.

“Hey,” a man says when he opens the door and gives them both a once-over, “you’re Regina, right? Emma said you’d be coming.” He flashes a grin at them and sticks out his hand, “I’m August, come on in.”

They trail after him into the apartment, and Zelena bends down to murmur into her ear. “He’s quite dashing, isn’t he?” as they enter a small kitchen area. The apartment is filled with people, and Regina’s never had the most reliable gaydar, but she’s pretty sure a lot of them are queer. Zelena, who has no shame at all, reaches for a glass on the counter immediately and goes straight for a bottle of rosé.

“I’m just going to locate Emma for you,” August says and offers her a small wink, before he disappears into what Regina suspects is the living room.

She follows in Zelena’s footsteps and pours herself a glass of rosé as well, and as she leans against the counter – Zelena is already battering her eyelashes at a man by the balcony doors – she surveys the place to figure out if there is anyone she knows there at all. Not that she knows many people outside of her family, but she pauses when she lays eyes on Ruby – that waitress from Granny’s Diner, who’s also Emma’s opening act, and as their eyes lock, Ruby grins wolfishly and waves her over.

Regina stalks closer, just pleased that there is one familiar face, and offers Ruby a kind smile as she says, “Hi.”

“It’s so good you’re here!” Ruby eagerly says and bounces up and down on her very high heels, “This is my girlfriend Dorothy by the way,” she adds and motions towards the brunette with the elaborate braid next to her, “Dorothy, this is Regina, Emma’s… you know,” she whispers the last part and wriggles her shoulders, as if Regina is not standing right there next to them.

“Nice to meet you,” Dorothy beams and takes a long gulp of beer.

“Likewise,” Regina offers and sips her wine. “So – did you get home safely from the tour?”

Ruby nods excitedly. “Yeah! It’s been really great – a lot better than August had thought it would – there was sold out almost everywhere, he’s pretty sure we could have done extra shows, so he’s looking into that.” She casually reaches her hand into the bowl of chips on the table and dumps some into her mouth.

Regina furrows her brow. “Emma didn’t say…” Every time she had asked Emma how it went, her replies had always been along the line of it went okay or I got a few good laughs so Regina hadn’t really considered that they might have actually sold out.

Dorothy rolls her eyes. “That’s Swan for you. She’s good at what she does, but she’s modest. Especially around the chicks she likes. She gets all dopey and awkward.”

Grinning, Regina stares at Dorothy, liking her already. “Did you just call me a chick?”

With a shrug, Dorothy takes another sip of her beer.

“So it went awesome,” Ruby continues to titter, bopping her head up and down in confirmation. “So like, you really like Emma? Because I know she seems like a dork in her shows but she’s really not that bad. I mean, I guess she is kind of a dork, and she likes to tell really bad jokes, but you know, as far as comedians go…” She trails off, brown eyes searching Regina’s face carefully, and a colourful arm – for once not covered in red pleather – snakes around her shoulders.

“Talking me up real good, are you, Rubes?” Emma says, and Ruby looks absolutely horrified for a moment, but Regina pays her no mind. She only has eyes for Emma, who has turned her green eyes onto hers. “Hi,” the blonde grins goofily.

Regina has to force herself not to smile too widely. “Hello,” she agrees and takes a sip of her wine.

Emma motions towards her friends. “I hope these two are not being horrible to you. I haven’t had the time to house train them yet.”

Ruby guffaws, Dorothy mutters, “Shut up, Swan,” and Regina just stares at their natural banter.

“I’m really glad you could make it,” Emma says and she pulls her arm away from Ruby shoulders, and it’s not like Regina does it on purpose, but she watches the muscle flex beneath the colourful tattoos and just loves it so much. The tattoos were a first for her, but the muscles are growing on her, too. She’s never been attracted like this to anyone with such visible biceps. “Do you maybe,” she glances towards the open balcony doors with a soft looks, “-I know it’s a bit cold, but do you maybe want to go outside with me for a bit?”

Regina, who’s still wearing her jacket, because she wasn’t sure where to put it, nods. “Yes, I could use some fresh air,” she reveals, but really, she just wants to talk to Emma without prying ears.

Emma reaches for her glass and says, “Let me top this off for you and get my jacket. I’ll be right out.”

“Thank you,” Regina replies, and she ducks past Ruby and Dorothy towards the balcony, careful to give Zelena a wide berth, lest she decides to join her and ruin the moment. The balcony is empty – probably due to the cold evening air – but Regina sees that it has been prepared for a party. There’s lights tangled around the railing, lit candles and a few blankets on the couch. She takes a seat and stares up at the stars littering the sky so beautifully.

It’s not like this is a date, but it sure does feel like one, even if it’s on a balcony outside of a drunken party.

“Here you go,” Emma pulls her out of her thoughts when she steps outside, tucking the door slightly more closed behind her to shield them from the music. She hands her the glass of rosé back – now filled a good amount – and takes a seat next to Regina on the couch. She’s put on her grey beanie and the red jacket, and she looks adorably cute in the lights.

Their fingers touch briefly as they make the trade, and Regina is pretty sure that she’s not imagining the surge of electricity running through her body. She shudders. “There’s a lot of people here tonight.”

Emma groans. “I know a small percentage of them. It’s all Ruby and Killian’s doing.” She sips her own glass of rosé and smiles fondly at Regina, “I’m really glad I got to invite you though.”

“I’m glad, too,” Regina reveals, and despite her initial reaction, she is. It’s doing strange things to her body – specially her chest – to be this close to Emma, and it’s a decidedly wonderful feeling.

“So how have you and Henry been?” Emma asks.

Regina leans back against the couch, somehow ending up a bit closer to Emma as she does this, and ponders. “We’ve been good. Just regular things, you know? School, work, family dinners. Life.” She sips her drink, eyes warm as she looks at her companion.

Emma smiles, “And Lucy’s birthday of course! It looked awesome. I would have beaten all their asses in the treasure hunt.”

Rolling her eyes, a warm hand swatters at Emma’s knee. “It’s for the children, Em-ma.”

“But I’m a child,” Emma whines, before she burrows a bit closer, reaching to snuggle beneath the blanket with Regina. If they end up touching thighs, heat palpable through Emma’s jeans and Regina’s dress, none of them say anything.

“That you are,” Regina replies, fond. She takes another sip of her wine, eyes shining.

Emma grins. “So did ya’ miss me?” she tries. Regina is pretty sure it’s an honest question, something that Emma has wondered about, and not just a statement to poke fun at her or stroke Emma’s ego. Emma’s curious. She wants to know if Regina’s thought about her, missed her even, and the brunette is pretty sure that she sees something akin to hope beneath that mischievous shimmer; Emma’s true feelings just breaking through the surface.

And Regina can do nothing but tell the truth – not able to lie or wave her off – when Emma looks at her like that. “We did,” she confirms, a smile tugging at her lips as she avoids Emma’s eyes. “Henry wanted to show you a new game he bought for his allowance, and he wanted to take a picture with you to prove to his grade that he knows a real comedian.”

There is a slight frown on those upturned lips, and Emma says, “And you?”

Regina breathes in deeply, breath almost hitching in her throat as she locks their eyes. “I missed you, too,” she reveals, and the heat between them, buried beneath the blanket, grows even warmer. She swallows, fingers clenching around the stem of her wine glass, longing to reach out, to touch that stray curl poking out from beneath the beanie, to tuck it behind Emma’s ear.

“You did?” It’s soft, curious. So very honest, and Regina feels herself nod. “I missed you, too,” Emma continues, and her free hand sneaks from her lap and towards Regina’s free hand, touching their fingers lightly, tentatively, before locking them at just the tips. “Like, a whole lot to be honest.”

She can feel her cheeks grow hot, and she’s thankful for the dim lighting so Emma can’t tell. She strokes the pad of her thumb across Emma’s hand, soothing. “A whole lot to be honest?”

Emma hums, “Mhm-mm.”

“That’s… a whole lot,” Regina finishes as she drags her eyes away from the intertwined fingers to look at Emma’s face. Her lips are pink, shining, and Regina gulps because she wants to kiss them.

“You look really beautiful tonight by the way,” Emma adds in a soft murmur, and the energy between them is electric, like a ticking bomb just waiting to go off, and Regina thinks of sleepy confessions on her couch where she desperately, just as desperately, wanted Emma to throw caution to the wind and kiss her.

She’d been drunk that night, after too much wine. But she’s not drunk tonight, and there’s nothing questionable about this. “You think?” she whispers, eyes ablaze.

Emma nods, face coming impossibly closer. “Like – that dress is wow. I couldn’t really appreciate it because you were wearing your jacket, but I’m pretty sure I’m a fan.” She breathes out, and her breath ghosts across Regina’s lips with a tease, “But I’m stupid for all of your outfits, so there’s that.”

“You’re just stupid for my outfits?” Regina softly challenges her, mostly because she knows she can, and she knows what’s going to happen in about thirty seconds if the longing in Emma’s eyes is anything to go by, and she wants to stretch it – wants to enjoy this tantalising anticipation for all its worth, because in a moment she’s going to be focused on something else entirely.

Emma’s fingers squeeze hers and she makes a cute, scrunchy face. “I’m pretty sure I’m stupid for you, actually,” she reveals in a breath, before she ducks her head and closes the last small distance between them.

Even though she was prepared and was sure that this was coming, Regina sucks in a deep breath and is kind of caught off guard. She feels the soft brush of Emma’s lips against hers, the nudge of her nose, and her fingers moving from her hand and to her hair, and it’s everything. Her kiss is absolutely everything, and it sets something on fire inside of Regina that she has never felt before. A whimper escapes her mouth to Emma’s, and Emma dives in further, kissing her with all she is worth, and it feels like she could fly.

“Regina, are you out- oh bloody hell!”

Regina and Emma pull apart, Regina’s eyes immediately landing on her annoying older sister, who just doesn’t know when to not interrupt, and Zelena is grinning from ear to ear, while Emma’s forehead has landed on her shoulder, and the blonde is breathing rapidly onto her neck. Regina groans, because trust her sister to ruin what was otherwise a perfect first kiss. “Zelena,” she sighs, her free hand combing softly through Emma’s blonde locks on her back, while she squeezes her glass of rosé in the other.

Zelena grins. “Oh, well, excuse me for wondering where my darling sister is,” she says, like the true drama queen they both know she is, “I was worried someone might’ve pushed you off the damn thing! But now I see you’re just snogging, so I’ll just pop right back inside with all these strangers that I don’t know.”

Rolling her eyes, Regina gently nudges Emma off her shoulder. “Emma, meet my sister Zelena. Zelena, meet Emma.”

“Hey,” Emma gulps and offers the redhead an awkward wave. She then takes a large gulp of her wine.

Zelena replies, “Hi,” before she turns to Regina with begging eyes. “Reggie, I’m bloody bored, all the men are interested in other men, so I need you to entertain me.”

Emma furrows her brow. “That’s not true, there’s plenty of straight and bisexual men in there.”

Waving her off, Zelena keeps staring at Regina, “Hush, hush. The only reason they’re not getting on this, if it’s they’re gay. What else would make sense? Get with the program, Emma.”

Regina bites her lip to hide a chuckle. “Zelena, you’re free to leave if you so please. You can take the car and I will get an Uber home.”

Zelena relaxes her stance visibly and stuffs her hands into the pockets of her coat. “Emma, are you going to let my darling sister take an Uber home on her own?” She turns to Emma with an expectant look in her eyes. “If you’re going to be shagging, I need to make sure you take good care of her.”

Emma splutters, wine spilling everywhere and she gapes at Zelena. “I’ll – I’ll drive her home if I’m sober enough,” she offers, green eyes wide.

“That is an acceptable answer,” Zelena replies and blows them both a kiss, “Tah-tah for now, my lovelies,” she finishes, before she turns on her heel and stalks back inside.

Regina turns to Emma with an apologetic smile, and as she meets the other woman’s surprised eyes, they both break into a fit of giggles. They slowly stare at each other, giggles fading out and silence falling upon them, and suddenly Regina feels herself shiver in the cold night air. She glances down at her half-drank rosé and back up at Emma with a soft smile. “Are you really going to drive me home?”

Emma’s smile is warm and so full of care when she replies, “Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Pensive, Regina tries, uncertain, “Well, if you’re going to drive me all the way home, we better leave now. Perhaps I could invite you in for a nightcap.” Butterflies erupt in her stomach as she stares at Emma’s lips, thoroughly kissed, with a mix of chapstick and traces of lipstick on them. She looks beautiful, and Regina longs to bury herself in her somewhere there isn’t here.

“I would love that,” Emma softly whispers, and when she stands up, she offers Regina her hand.

Chapter Text

“So let’s talk about being gay for a second, okay?” Emma says as she scratches her cheek. “Not like we’ve talked about much else these past forty minutes, but you go figure.” She sighs, smiles, and continues, “I’m pretty sure that no one who’s queer has been fortunate enough to live a life without some kind of abuse or harassment, am I right?”

There is a collective hum from the audience.

Emma nods. “Yeah, I know. And there’s all kinds of abuse, you know? Like, some people think that abuse have to be physically or mentally violent for it to be considered real, y’know? Like, that’s accepted as abuse easily enough in this day and age. What most people don’t realise – and by people I mean straight people-TM-,” she adds with a knowing smirk, “is that abuse can come in many other forms. Even from people who mean well, do you get what I’m saying? Like, if someone says that they just like how all gay guys are so well-dressed – it’s kind of like reproducing stereotypes and really stigmatising for the gays who aren’t well-dressed. It can be really fucking harmful, y’know? Like, if you are a gay guy and you’re not into fashion it’s not real? You're not a real gay guy, do you follow me?”

Emma takes a gulp of water and continues, “These things can come in so many shitty forms, and I actually got to thinking about this, because Regina is kind of not so stereotypical, you know? Like, she passes as straight, she really fucking does. And it’s been a problem for her, it has. It sounds like a silly kind of problem, but do you know how many times people have not believed her when she told them she’s a lesbian? Do you know, huh? Do you know how many times guys have thought she was joking when she said she didn’t wanna bang them, because she’s into chicks? Too many fucking times. And this comes from a woman who has never once thought she was straight. Never. I mean, fucking look at her nails, idiots! A woman dressed like that? If she were straight, she would have really fucking long nails!”

Emma laughs and stretches out her fingers, mimicking claws. “You know the type, yeah? The type who can’t fucking tug up and close their own pants because of their frigging acrylic nails. Heteros,” she adds with a sigh.

The audience laughs.

Shaking her head, blonde locks whipping around her shoulders, Emma continues. “And then there’s the kind of lesbian that I am. The kind where people always say stuff like ‘oh, I knew, I knew from the moment I saw you. You’re a real lesbo, ain’t ya’?’ Man,” she clicks her tongue, breathes out heavily. “That’s kinda bad too, ya’ know? Because there’s all these expectations, am I right? About how gay men dress, what lesbians look like, how transgender people need to have surgery to be a real woman or man, how non binary people just need to fucking choose a damn gender from a box they don’t fit into, and I’m fucking tired of it, I’m real fucking tired of it.”

She picks up her bottle of water and takes a moment to quench her thirst while she stares out at the people in the theatre. She swallows, empties the bottle and moves across the stage.

“Harmful stereotypes, harmful, harmful.” She sighs. “But back to Regina, yeah? She fucking defies expectations. She’s, hands down, the most beautiful woman I have ever met, and she’s interested in me. What gives, man, what gives.” Emma shakes her head. “But like, she’s Latinx, you know. She makes this fucking spicy food, and I’m just this white girl, I swear, she enjoys setting my mouth on fire. And her kid? He’s as white as me, but he’s like choking it down, he must’ve had chilli flakes mixed in with his formula when she adopted him. She dresses real feminine and shit, in like, beautiful dresses, high heels, pantyhose, the whole motherfucking shebang, and get this,” Emma pauses to let it hang in there, building the tension, “she’s like the one fucking lesbian who’s not in construction or a gym teacher. I swear to fucking god.”

Someone whistles, and their laughter warms Emma’s heart.

“I mean, adding all those facts together, I get why those poor, poor straight men can’t quite grasp the fact that she likes to go down on other women. I mean, it is destructing their entire belief system that hot, feminine women is in this world for their joy and pleasure only, am I right?” She chuckles. “Regina works in publishing by the way.”

There is a rather lengthy pause, before Emma goes in for the last part of her story.”I mean, straight males, am I right? They’re something else for fucking sure. Straight white males and we’re really talking about privilege here.” Emma laughs softly. “I mean, it’s like- they can’t quite fathom that some women do not like to get a dick inside their pussy. They’ll always question you like, are you really sure you don’t like men? Do you even have a vagina in there? And I’m like, yeah, the fuck I do! But to them? To them it’s not a real vagina unless it’s got a dick inside of it. I mean, it’s kind of like a swiping system, y’know? As, like, people with vaginas need to have a dick inside of them once a year to make sure it still works.” She makes a swiping motion with her hand and clicks her tongue, “Ca-ching! Pussy swiped, it still works, onto the next one!”

———

Regina is vaguely aware that someone is snoring into her ear as she comes to herself. It’s a low, kind of whistling snore and it’s partly the reason she wakes up. The other reason is the sound of the front door smacking open downstairs, Henry’s loud yell of “Mom!” followed by his feet padding up the stairs. She blinks awkwardly against the dim light in the bedroom and realises that she’s partly being held down due to a warm, heavy arm resting against her abdomen.

She’s confused for a second and turns her head only to almost swallow a mouthful of blonde hair. Emma’s tucked into her side, still snoring and oblivious to Regina’s inner turmoil as Henry’s thundering footsteps come closer. Regina takes a moment to stare fondly down at her, for a second caught up in the events of last night; their first kisses on the balcony of Killian’s apartment, Emma taking her home and joining her for a nightcap, before following Regina up the dark staircase and shedding her clothes carefully as she littered her skin with kisses. She feels wonderfully sore, and her chest is filled with a warm fondness, completely enamoured with the woman in her bed.

Regina pinches Emma, and her companion blinks in surprise; green eyes shiny and groggy, but fully focused on Regina. She smiles lazily, arching her back and mutters, “Whaaah-?” just as Henry slams the door open and enters the room.

Tugging the covers to cover both herself and Emma, Regina smiles at her son, who has come to a halt by the foot of the bed. He stares at them, wide-eyed, and Emma smiles dopily as she sits up straighter, just as Robin pauses in the doorway – looking like they might have expected this exact outcome. “Hello querido,” Regina offers. Her face feels slightly hot, and she pats down the covers, making sure that she and Emma are both covered completely.

However, Henry pays her no mind, his eyes are solely focused on Emma. He smiles, the picture of innocence and surprise. “Emma!” he says and almost trips over Regina’s heels from last night as he excitedly steps closer to the bed, “Why are you in my mom’s bed? Did you have a sleepover?”

Regina ducks her head to hide a snicker, and she nudges Emma beneath the cover, urging her to answer her ever-curious child.

Emma clears her throat. “Yeah,” she chirps, voice slightly dazed and hoarse after last night. “Sure thing, Kid. Sleepover.” She scratches the back of her neck awkwardly, and Robin is trying to bite back a devious smile from the doorway, looking truly delighted by this predicament, and so much like their mom it’s jarring. “We wanted to invite you,” Emma quickly adds when she takes in Henry’s disappointed face, “but uh… this was a special kind of grownup sleepover.” She looks pleased with herself at the explanation, and Regina reassures her with a stroke of the hand on her stomach.

Henry’s face falls slightly, and his eyes stares at the floor quizzically, eyebrows knitting together between his eyes. “Is that why you’re naked?” he asks next, when he looks back up at them. He catches Regina’s eyes briefly, before looking back at Emma.

Robin chokes back a laugh.

“Uhm,” Emma tilts her head back to look up at Regina, and Regina arches an eyebrow, challenging her to find a proper response. Emma stares back at Henry and says, “yeah! Because sometimes grownups have sleepovers naked, but that’s not something you’re gonna do ‘till you’re at least thirty, got it?”

He stares at her for a moment, truly contemplating her demand, before he slowly nods his head. “Got it,” he says, with mild concern, before he turns back to Robin, moving to grab their hand. “Grownups are weird. Come make me pancakes,” he rattles off, before he drags Robin out of the room, the teenager shooting Emma and Regina a teasing smile as they leave.

Emma falls back into the bed with a long sigh, eyes squeezed closed. “Well that was something.” She squints her eyes and stares up at Regina, quizzically, “How did I do?”

Regina is barely able to contain the fondness inside of her, and she settles for a smile, raising a hand to brush Emma’s hair back. The scene that just played out in front of her makes her swell with love, and she halts, leaning forward to press a good morning kiss to Emma’s lips. Brief, chaste, before she pulls back and says, “You handled that like a champ.”

Not able to contain her grin, Emma says, “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Regina agrees with a laugh.

Emma laughs too, pulling her back in for another kiss. This one is longer, an aftertaste of what they experienced last night, and Regina lets Emma pry her lips open, ignorant to morning breath and sticky teeth. She falls over somehow; Emma pulls her down, and their legs intertwine, and suddenly she’s breasts to breasts with the other woman, fingers roaming lovingly, a soft caress, and when she pulls back, she runs her hands down Emma’s tattooed and muscular arms before interlocking their fingers.

“Good morning,” Emma whispers and her eyes are so, so shiny.

“Good morning,” Regina replies, and it really is.

Emma strokes her fingers, softer than the jarred edges Regina has seen on stage, and she pulls back, lips curling upwards. “Do you have any pyjama bottoms I can borrow?”

Regina pauses, confused. “Yes,” she says, “I believe I might have some in my closet. Why?”

Emma grins. “You heard the kid. Pancake time!” And she rolls out of the bed and pulls on her tank top from last night, before going straight for Regina’s closet. As she bends forward, Regina’s eyes immediately fall to her full behind, entirely on their own volition, and she’s only pulled out of it when Emma turns, a glint in her green eyes. “See something you like?” she murmurs as she steps into a pair of pyjama pants that Regina hardly ever wears.

“Very much indeed,” Regina playfully retorts as she slips out of the bed and reaches for her robe behind the door. She shrugs into it, ties it thoroughly around her midsection, before she pulls Emma to her again, kissing her yet another time on the lips. These feelings and these moments had not been in her plans at all, not right now, but she can’t get herself to stop it from happening. She’s not even sure she could if she truly wanted to.

Brushing her nose against Regina’s, Emma softly queries, “Are you sure this is okay?”

“Hm?” Regina softly hums, distracted by pink lips millimetres from her own.

“Me, being here. Us,” Emma elaborates, thumb softly stroking at the nape of Regina’s neck. “What happened last night.”

Regina closes her eyes, savours this stolen moment. “It’s more than okay,” she promises, before she pulls back with reluctance, fingers moving to Emma’s wrist. “Let’s go have breakfast with my son.”

The reddish flush to Emma’s cheeks makes her heart soar.

———

Breakfast is a wild and interesting affair this morning. Robin and Henry cook them breakfast made of blueberry pancakes, while Emma and Regina sit by the kitchen table and nurse each a cup of coffee. Henry chats away, talks about his sleepover with Robin and Zelena, and Regina soaks in the late morning sunshine and basks in the feelings of last night.

When Emma sneaks a soft hand across the table to grab her fingers, she lets her, and feels that surge of fondness she’s so quickly becoming used to. She supposes she should feel more scared, afraid to let Emma in after what happened with Marian, but there’s already something so different about her interactions with Emma; something she can’t quite put her finger on. It’s nice and comfortable, and she doesn’t at all feel scared.

“Can I have syrup, please?” Henry asks her as he scoots onto his chair.

“Sure thing, mijo,” Regina replies, because it just feels like a day to indulge.

Robin picks the syrup out of the cupboard and places a giant stack of pancakes on the table. “I hope you like it, you two,” they say, and Regina wraps an arm around their midsection and pulls them close. “You hungover?” Robin whispers into her hair as Emma and Henry both dive towards the pancakes, oblivious to anything else.

Regina glances up at them, tired but not hungover at all. “We didn’t get to drink that much, actually,” she reveals with a soft smile. “We left the party pretty soon after your mom and I got there.”

Grinning, Robin says, “Oh, so just sleep-deprived then?”

“Hush and eat some pancakes.” Regina shoos them away, and Robin slips onto a chair and reaches for some food.

“‘Ish really good,” Emma mumbles through a mouthful and grins happily as she washes it down with a mouthful of coffee. There is a bit if syrup on her lip and Regina fights the urge to lean forward and kiss it off.

Instead, she forks a pancake and spreads a bit of jam on it. Henry has some stained around his lips, and she pushes a napkin towards him. “Wipe your face and slow down, mijo.”

Henry swallows and uses the back of his hand to wipe his face. “Did you bring me something from your trip, Emma?” He smiles charmingly, and Regina wants to chastise him for asking such a question, but Emma beats her to it.

“Sure did, kiddo! I’ve got it at home though, so you’re gonna have to wait for the next time we see each other, yeah?” Her smile is big, and her eyes are shining, and she continues, “It was so fun though! I stood on all of these different stages and slept in so many different rooms. You would’ve liked it, kid.”

He nods eagerly, “I know! But last night,” he eagerly continues, not stopping to catch his breath, “Robin and I watched your other show on Netflix. And it was soooo funny, right Robin?”

Robin nods, a grin marring their face as they fork a piece of pancake drenched in syrup. “Yeah, and it was like you hadn’t watched it four times already, because you laughed at all the same jokes.”

Henry rolls his eyes at them. “You just don’t get it.”

“Well, obviously,” Emma teases them, knowing that Henry takes this very seriously. “Some people just don’t understand great humour, Kid.”

“Can you teach me how to make a good joke?” Henry wishes to know, and he leans forward on his elbow on the table, his little nose scrunched up in concentration as Emma leans forward as well.

They don’t get to discuss jokes and punch-lines for very long though, before there is a firm knock on the door, and someone enters the hallway. Regina cranes her neck and catches sight of Lucy’s purple coat. “Mija,” she greets, and Lucy barely manages to kick off her boots before she enters the kitchen, coat trailing behind her on the floor.

Lucy wraps her arms around Regina. “Hi! I've missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, querida,” Regina promises and tucks her onto her lap.

Jacinda hollers from the hallway. “Something smells good in here! We just stopped by to see how last night’s party went!?” She enters the kitchen with a smile that only grows bigger when she catches sight of Emma sitting crossed-legged on one of the chairs; still in her sleepwear and with mussed hair and tired eyes.

Sabine pauses behind her wife and guffaws. “Very well, I see,” she teases Regina and reaches for a pancake on the table. She rolls it up and takes a bite of it, before sticking it out to Jacinda. “Want some, honey?”

Regina ignores them, arms wrapped around Lucy’s midsection. “And so you decided to just stop by to see how it went?”

“Sure,” Jacinda replies and takes the pancake at last.

“You weren’t answering your phone, girl,” Sabine adds, before she leans herself against the counter and crosses her legs. “So uh? The party last night?”

Regina sighs. “It went fine.”

Jacinda turns to look at Emma, an expectant smile on her face. “And what do you say, Emma? Did it go fine?” She doesn’t need to make the air quotes with her fingers to let them know that they’re there.

Emma sips her coffee and grins. “I thought it went pretty great, but obviously I can’t speak for Regina.”

Her heart soars a little, and she knows she must be making heart-eyes when she turns to look at Emma. “Obviously, I thought it was wonderful,” she reveals, and Emma grins back at her dopily.

Henry decides to take this moment to share his exciting story. “Emma had a sleepover with my mom!”

Jacinda steps forward and brushes his hair back. “Of course she did, querido,” she muses affectionately.

Lucy scrunches up her nose. “And you weren’t invited? Unfair!"

Henry nods in agreement, before he adds, “Yeah, but apparently it was a special kind of sleepover, because they weren’t wearing clothes, so I’m not sure I’d like to be part of it.”

Robin bursts out laughing, not able to keep their mouth closed, and Emma reaches forward to place a hand over Henry’s mouth. “OH-kay, enough outta you, Kid,” she says, but the damage is done. Jacinda and Sabine both look absolutely smug, while Lucy looks weirdly up at Regina, and Henry continues to eat his pancakes.

Regina sighs. “Can we talk about something else, please?”

“Yeah,” Jacinda shrugs.

Sabine adds, “Which day next week is Robin available for baby-sitting, because we’d like to go on a double date?”

----

Robin is available for baby-sitting on Wednesday. Regina hasn’t seen Emma since Saturday afternoon when she left to go back home, but they’ve talked over the phone and texted daily. She’s kind of missed the other woman, and it’s with a certain ease that she meets her outside of the restaurant that Sabine and Jacinda have invited them to.

Emma is waiting for her, leaning against the brick wall with her ankles crossed. She’s wearing tight black pants, shiny dress shoes and for once not her red jacket – but a black blazer on top of a white dress shirt, and Regina halts in her steps to drink in the wonderful view. Emma really is quite attractive, Regina must admit. Not that she was trying to convince herself otherwise (much).

Glancing up from her phone, Emma notices Regina and lights up immediately. “Hey,” she greets and pockets her phone. She looks nervous when Regina approaches her, and she fidgets with her hands, not able to put them in her pockets like she usually does.

Regina saves her the trouble of deciding what to do and steps closer, pressing her lips to a pale cheek in a light greeting. “You look beautiful, Em-ma.”

She blushes slightly, sheepish. “So do you.”

“Let’s head in, shall we?” She presses a hand to Emma’s backside and guides her inside the restaurant, through the glass door. They are met with a smiling hostess, and Regina says, “Hello. Party of four. Sabine Vidrio.”

The hostess smiles warmly at them. “Your party has already arrived. Best seats in the house, courtesy of the chef.” She waves at them, “Follow me, please.”

They walk through the restaurant, and Regina can spot Sabine and Jacinda from across the room; they are seated by the glass wall, a beautiful view of the street outside, and they greet them warmly when they take a seat. Jacinda and Sabine are both dressed up as well, which is such a weird look on Jacinda – not so much Sabine – who’s usually a t-shirts and jeans kind of woman.

“This place sure is fancy,” Emma comments as she adjusts on the chair. “I’m glad I decided to leave the beanie and boots at home.”

Regina chuckles, “Lucky guess.”

Jacinda says, “It’s Sabine’s friend Naveen who owns the place. He’s a really good cook. Sabine took me here for our anniversary. Man, I ate so much.”

Emma’s eyes shine happily, and Regina suspects those were the right words for Jacinda to say to convince Emma of their choice for dinner. She, herself, arches an eyebrow. “Naveen?” she questions and eyes Sabine warily, “Isn’t that…?”

“My ex-boyfriend whom I dumped when I met Jay?” Sabine lightly says as she opens up the menu, “Sure is. Hey, the salmon here is supposed to be really good.”

Regina ignores her obvious deflection, “And he still gets you the best seats in the house? How?”

Sabine shrugs. “My wonderful and sweet personality.”

Jacinda laughs, “He met his boyfriend Jack not long after Sabine dumped him. They’re still together, that might be why.” She turns to Emma with a head tilt, “Regina says you like burgers. You should try the one here. It’s no regular burger.”

“I love it already,” Emma confirms and smacks her own menu close. “So you guys met in college?”

“Mh,” Sabine hums, “I fell for her dorky side immediately. She used to work at this fast food joint called Mr. Cluck’s Chicken Shack – she had to wear the most ridiculous hat and the food was terrible!” She laughs, and glances at Regina, “Do you remember?”

Regina titters, “Oh, I remember.”

“-but I used to eat there all the time,” Sabine finishes and lazily places an arm around Jacinda’s shoulders. “I simply couldn’t stop myself. I had to be close to the cute girl behind the counter.”

Jacinda rolls her eyes. “Just mock the poor girl who had to work her way through college! Not everyone’s born into money like you,” she sasses and tickles her wife’s fingers. It’s the truth, Regina knows, but it’s said with such love and care.

Emma laughs. “I’ve worked some pretty shitty jobs too, believe me.”

Regina glances at her, “What kind of jobs?”

Emma turns to her, eyes going soft. “Oh, you know… Fast food joints. Uh, Zwyft driver. I uh, I even used to be a bails bonds-person for a year or two.”

Sabine chuckles and Regina bites her lip. “Really? So you used to track down people for a living?”

“Yes,” Emma confirms.

“And now you do comedy,” Jacinda chuckles. She brushes some hair behind her ear and rests her elbows on the table as she leans over to talk to Emma. “So, I started following you on twitter…” she begins as she raises an eyebrow. “Are all your tweets so…” she pauses, searching for the right word, “personal?”

Regina is about to ask what Jacinda means by personal when the waitress stops by the table to take their orders. They decide on the House Wine to go with their food, and the waitress informs them that dessert will be on the house, courtesy of Chef Naveen.

“Tell him to get his ass out here once service is over,” Sabine tells the waitress as she leaves.

Emma takes a gulp of water. “…but to answer your question, Jacinda,” she says with a sideways grin, “all my tweets are personal of nature. My material is, too. I’m a comedic, I have to talk about shit I know.”

Jacinda laughs. “I kinda get that, I do! But haven’t your family or friends sometimes been frustrated by that? I mean, if they say or do something and you make a joke out of it?”

The waitress stops by their table and pours them all some wine, and Regina reaches for her glass to take a sip as she awaits Emma’s answer. She seems to ponder the question seriously for a second, and Regina wonders what kind of tweet Jacinda has seen since this is of such importance to her.

“Sure,” Emma agrees with a slight shrug, “I mean, one of my ex-girlfriends hated when I tweeted jokes about the shit she pulled. But she also knew that it was said with love and that it was part of the deal, y’know? That it’s what I do,” she finishes with a sweep of her tongue, before she reaches for her glass of wine to take a sip.

Regina places a hand on er thigh beneath the table, squeezing subtly to let her know that she’s doing good. “What tweet was this?” she asks as she glances at her. Damn, Emma looks good with the blazer off too; her sleeves are folded up, at the white see-through material contrasts nicely with her colourful tattoos. Regina can’t wait to get her back home later, once they can tell Jacinda and Sabine goodbye.

Emma glances shyly a her, a colourful blush rising up on her pale cheeks. “I uh, I made a joke about being caught in the bedroom by a kid. It was… it was funny.”

Sabine laughs. “It was really funny.”

Regina thinks she has to check this tweet out later to see for herself. It’s kind of odd to know that there’s jokes being made about her and Henry online, for thousands of Emma’s followers to see, especially when she doesn’t even know what’s being written. She trusts Emma to know the limits though; to know Regina well enough to realise what is okay to share and what must stay between them. She gives Emma’s knee another squeeze and leans over to press a kiss to her cheek. “You’ll have to show me later,” she whispers with a suggestive lilt.

Emma swallows audibly and bites her lip. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

Their food arrives, Jacinda wriggles her eyebrows teasingly across the table from them, and Regina forgets everything about jokes on twitter.

Chapter Text

“So let’s get back to Regina for a second, shall we? After all, this is my quest to find True Love, and man did I find it. A know-it-all, bossy, sassy motherfucker of a true love, but I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Emma says as she stares happily into space. “Regina is – Regina is so fucking beautiful, let me tell you. She’s not all that cool with me sharing pictures of us too often, not her kid either, but man, she’s gorgeous.

“The most beautiful woman I have ever seen, I kid you not.” Emma shakes her head as someone whistles loudly from the front row. “But she’s also, as I just said, quite sassy, I mean, she uses sarcasm like nobody’s business, and she likes to boss me around. It’s okay, it’s okay, I can handle it, I’m a tough motherfucker, too. We butt heads quite often, but in a… I don’t know… not so horrible way?” She pauses, transfers her microphone into the stand in front of her and tucks both hands into her pockets. “That’s the thing though, you know? When two opinionated woman are in a relationship, it can sometimes be hard because there’s arguments, you know? Real, heart crushing arguments.”

Someone yells, “Preach girl!” from the audience, and Emma chuckles.

“Yeah, and uh, I admit it, I can have walls up this high, y’know?” Emma continues and stretches an arm out, as far above her head as it can go, as if to show just how tall her walls are. “And you might be surprised to hear this, given my chosen profession, but I’m not a very open person. I’m not, I’m not,” she adds with a chuckle as there’s disbelieving laughter hitting her from the audience. “If something is bothering me – especially if it’s my emotions – I tend to keep it inside, you know? I, I tend to, to keep in my head, and – this will come as a newsflash for ya’ – turn it into self-deprecating humour.”

The audience laughs once more, and Emma wriggles her eyebrows happily and leans forward to clutch at the microphone.

“It’s not, it’s not the best way to make a relationship work, let me tell you. It makes for amazing comedic content, but for an amazing romantic relationship? Not so much.” She breathes out heavily, before continuing. “So I’ve always had troubles connecting with people. Perhaps that’s why I’ve not had the best of luck you know… romantic stylez.” She wriggles her eyebrows. “But uh, Regina somehow managed to tear those damn walls down, y’know? She made the effort. It’s not often that people have made the effort with me.

“As a foster kid, it’s really fucking not often, but uh, but Regina… she saw something worthwhile, I guess. Saw something that not even I could see. Or maybe I’m just really good at eating pussy.” She laughs as someone whistles, “It’s probably actually that though, because that makes way more sense that anything else. Emma Swan, certified pussy-eater.”

There’s scattered applause.

Emma continues, “I swear if, like, they gave out diplomas for that, I’d have one. I barely finished high school and I have no further education, but eating pussy? I can do that like nobody’s business.” She takes a gulp of water, breathes out and lets that hang there for a second. “Actually, now that you guys mentioned pussy, perhaps we should talk a bit more about that. This is a story about a lady loving lady looking for love after all, so pussy seems to be rather important. Not that you need to have a pussy to be a woman, I’m very aware of that,” Emma quickly adds and nods her head. “I’d suck a dick if it was attached to a woman for sure, but eating pussy? Man,” she shakes her head and takes another gulp of water.

“I love eating pussy. Do you guys know that feeling that when you’re down there,” Emma says and moves slightly across the stage as she talks, “you’re down there, thighs around your head, fingers in your hair, pussy juices all over your face, and you’re really going to town, you know?” She nods as she waits for a second, “What do you do if you have to sneeze? I swear, I was down there once, and I sneezed.”

Laughter erupts in the theatre and Emma bows. “Yes, clearly I am a very skilled lover. You’ll just have to believe me on that one. My strap-on game is immaculate, too. You wanna hear a story? Wanna hear it?” She laughs and wipes her tongue over her dry lips. “So yeah, I’m with this pansexual chick at the time, we’ve been seeing each other for a few months, nothing serious, just casual, and uh, her nick name’s Tink? Because she’s very tiny, loves green and has this chimey voice, and anyway, I’m still living with my foster parents at this point, and they know I’m gay, but they weren’t exactly too keen on me having sex inside their home, you know, parent are like that.

“So uh, I’ve snuck Tink in through my bedroom window, up a damn tree and everything, and she’s brought us this strap-on that she’d like to try, it’s a first for both of us, but I’m like, hells yeah, I can fuck her with that, and so we’re getting into it, and it’s really fucking good, yeah, Tink’s really enjoying it too, and I don’t understand exactly how loud we’re getting, and because my foster mother is very much the most embarrassing human being I have ever met, she decides to knock on my door in the middle of our escapades.”

There’s a boom of laughter, and Emma chuckles, too. “Yeah, I know right? And uh, she knocks on the door all like,” Emma changes her voice, trying to mimic Mary Margaret as she continues, “‘Emma honey, I thought we said no girls in your room. Do you mind brining it down a little, your father is sleeping’, and Tink just – she just looses her shit, y’know? She gets all freaked out and tense, and when I try to pull back to, you know, stop the sex now that we’ve been caught – I fucking can’t. The fucking strap-on is stuck inside of her, because she’s freaking out, and I frantically tell her to relax, but it’s just not happening. At all.”

Roars of laughter hit her from the audience and Emma laughs, too.

“Yeah, so uh, I’m there, stuck inside my maybe-kinda-sorta girlfriend, and I have to call on my mom to help us, because we’re 16, and we have no idea what the fuck to do, and after my mom finished laughing her ass off, she gave us advice on how to proceed, and eventually I managed to get the phallus out of Tink.” Emma shakes her head to herself and finishes, “Yeah… needless to say, I never saw Tink again after that.”

——-

Emma and Henry are lying on the floor of the living room together. There’s crayons in all colours strewn around them along with discarded papers, a scissor and an eraser. They are laying shoulder by shoulder, heads almost brushing together, while they whisper and colour and Emma teaches Henry about making a good comedy show.

Regina is curled up on the chair in her office corner of the living room, book folded open in her lap, reading glasses on her nose as she tries to consume herself in her murder mystery thriller. She’s finding it pretty hard to focus though, with all the whispers coming from the floor, and the smile on her face only grows bigger as Henry giggles and Emma schusses him with a finger to the lips and a quiet, Kid, your mom is reading.

They don’t know she’s watching, because they are turned the other way, and Regina quite likes the visual of her son, so happily colouring as he chats away, and Emma listening intensely to every word that comes across his lips as if it is the most interesting thing in the entire world to her.

There’s something so wonderful and domestic about this, something Regina has missed since Marian and Roland moved out, but she’s quite surprised she’s found it so quickly with somebody else. Henry loves Emma, and he takes in everything she tells him with rapt attention, and Regina can almost see how he puts it away inside his head to store for later where he might need it.

Already he is growing so attached, but for some reason Regina is not scared. She’s growing attached too, but something tells her that Emma doesn’t mind. Emma seems quite ready for attachment, even if all the facts tell her otherwise. It’s quite confusing, because when she first met Emma, she did not think of her as a person who seemed ready to settle down like this – even though she was, quite loudly and publicly – looking for her happily ever after. But Emma’s surprised her in all the best of ways, most importantly with the way she seems to accept Regina for everything she is.

“What are you drawing there?” Henry curiously asks as he leans over and peers down at Emma’s drawing.

Regina eyes them from behind her book, not able to make out the colourful drawing on Emma’s paper.

Emma hums. “It’s my foster parents, Kid. That’s David,” she says and points at her paper, “and that’s Mary Margaret.”

Henry says, “Are they the people you lived with the longest?” His brow furrows, “What’s that above Mary Margaret’s head? Is she wearing a hat?”

“It’s a bird!” Emma whines as she reaches for another crayon with an eager hand. “Come on, I’m not that bad at drawing, am I?” she questions him in exasperation, and Regina snickers behind her book, “Mary Margaret loves birds. She has like, a tonne of homemade birdhouses in their yard.”

“Can she teach me how to make one?” Henry asks as he reaches for a crayon himself and presses it to his paper.

Emma nods. “Sure thing, Kid, she’ll love it for sure.”

Henry hums happily, focused entirely on his drawing for a few seconds, as only the sounds of crayons rubbing on paper are heard in the living room. Regina almost falls back into the book again; consumed by the murder there is to be solved, but then Henry thoughtfully asks, “So you don’t know your birth mom? Like me?”

Regina’s eyes snap back to watch the two of them, immediately intrigued by the conversation topic and the honest wonder in Henry’s voice. Emma however, shakes her head. “Nope. I sure don’t. But you know what, Kid?”

“What?”

“Birth moms are stupid,” Emma whispers, her eyes never leaving the paper in front of her. “If she didn’t want to know me, she doesn’t deserve to know me. I found someone way better instead, you know? Sure, I would have loved to have Mary Margaret and David when I was kid, but I was meant to be with them, so I had to wait. See? And you found Regina when you were little, ‘cus…”

“‘Cus I was meant to be with her,” Henry thoughtfully finishes and casts a glance in Regina’s direction. She lowers her eyes quickly, pretending not to be listening to their kind of private conversation. He adds, “I think I have the best mom, you know? Even if it was nice when I had Marian too, I don’t mind. One mom is all I need.”

Emma smiles warmly at him, as Regina dares to raise her eyes above the spine of the book again. “That’s right, Kiddo, and what a mom you have, huh.” There is perhaps an innuendo hid in there somewhere because she has, in fact, seen Regina naked, and Regina gasps behind the book.

“Ew,” Henry comments and rolls his eyes.

“What,” Emma whines childishly, “I like your mom, okay? She’s sex- severely pretty,” Emma finishes and changes the end of the sentence before she says something that Henry should not be included in.

Regina snaps her book shut. “Emma,” she firmly says, and Emma turns around and grins sheepishly. “Don’t use that language in front of my son,”

There is a challenging grin on Emma’s face as she says, “What, I knew you were listening,” she wriggles her eyebrows and swats Henry on the shoulder, “You knew too, right Kid?”

Regina narrows her eyes and sighs. “You’re childish, Miss Swan,” she says and opens her book again, while Henry and Emma laugh together – probably of her – on the floor.

———-

It’s the usual Friday morning meeting, and they are all waiting for their boss to show up to dash out this week’s praises and lashings, and Regina is leaning against the table, nursing her third cup of coffee and trying to keep herself awake. Emma had been all over her last night, and she didn’t fall asleep until well after midnight. Yesterday, it had felt amazing, but this morning when she had to get out of bed? Not so much.

She is wonderfully sore though, and she is pretty sure Jacinda had noticed her walking funny this morning when she tried to sneak into the office.

Jacinda’s loud bark of a laugh pulls her out of her morning nap, and Regina stares at her from across the table, along with the rest of their coworkers. “What is so funny?” she asks her best friend, annoyed beyond belief that Jacinda dares shake her out of her calm moment when she finally has it.

“Nothing, your girlfriend’s just hilarious,” Jacinda replies and takes a sip of her coffee like it’s no big deal.

Regina narrows her eyes. “Emma’s not my girlfriend,” she says quickly, although the label itself does do something wonderful inside of her chest. “And what do you mean, she’s hilarious? Where?”

Jacinda grins. “Twitter.”

Graham, their True Crime editor, leans closer to Jacinda and says, “What’s she writing on Twitter?” He glances towards Regina, familiar with her determined wrath after having experienced it himself from time to time. “It was Emma, right?”

“Yes,” Regina agrees and turns expectantly towards Jacinda. “Well, let’s have it.”

Jacinda clears her throat and straightens her back, over-exaggerating like she does best. “Regina wanted to watch a documentary on the Vietnam war, and I wanted to watch the Avengers, so we compromised and watched a documentary on the Vietnam War.”

Graham chuckles. “That’s standard humour, try again.”

“My girlfriend has her own order in her kitchen,” Jacinda starts again, eyes glistening, “and she once threw me out of the house for suggesting that it might be smarter to keep the oil next to the stove instead of on the opposite counter. Hashtag relationship problems,” Jacinda grins, making a hashtag by using her pointer finger and middle finger of both hands and crossing them.

Belle, the smartest literature nerd of all of them, now has her phone out too, and she chimes in, “This is Regina’s love song to me: Em-ma, stack the dishwasher. Em-ma, no not like that!”

Jacinda laughs so hard at that one that she almost chokes on her coffee, while Regina glares at Belle, which promptly makes her tuck her phone back into her pocket. Jacinda says, “Oh my God, this one’s gold,” she laughs as she begins to recite, “8:15. I am having an argument with Regina, and my anger is totally justified. 8:29. I have just apologised for institutional racism and the audacity of our government.”

All of her co-workers break out laughing at that, and Regina feels her eyes go wide as she launches forward to grab Jacinda’s phone. She moves so quickly she knocks her coffee over, and she doesn’t even get the phone, because Jacinda is too fast for her; sweeping it into the breast pocket of her plaid button up and leaning out of Regina’s reach.

Graham chuckles and wipes away a tear. “Mills, you’re going to have to be nicer to your woman, or you might just push her away.”

Regina shoots him a staggering glare before turning back to look at Jacinda. “Does it really say all those things on the twitter?”

“The twitter? Really?” Jacinda arches an eyebrow. “And yeah, it says this and so much more. Emma’s very active on twitter, we told you that.”

“Why don’t I know about this?” Regina huffs as she falls back into her chair. She tucks some hair behind her ear and searches her pockets to find her phone, before realising that she left it on the table in her office.

Jacinda shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re not much on twitter.”

Regina says, “But I didn’t know she wrote this much about me. Why does she write about me!?” She bites her lip as she questions her friend, truly and entirely confused by the fact that Emma would write about them. She’s not that interesting, and do people even read her tweetings? Regina can’t phantom why anyone would.

Their boss comes stomping into the office at that, and Jacinda must be sensing Regina’s confused and slightly panicked state, because she waves a hand at Regina and mouths later across the table.

———

She’s deep into the past at twitter. She’s gone back to way before Emma was even remotely famous and her jokes were even more self-deprecating and horrible. She’s clearly gained followers over the years, and she’s what Henry calls twitter-famous, too, because people retweet her jokes like no one’s business. Emma’s earlier tweets are not of much interest to her except to see that she’s clearly made fun of all her girlfriends in the way she does Regina, no, it’s the more recent tweets that are interesting, for instance from the last three months or so.

Emma tweets… a lot. She’s tweeted about Regina a lot. Henry, too. And not all of the things are good tweets. She makes fun of things, things that Regina is not quite sure she likes her to make fun of. Her followers eat it up, too; for instance, that tweet about the dishwasher has got a lot of attention, and people react with those – is it gifs, Henry calls them? He told her about these once.

Regina bites her lip and sends a text off to Zelena with one question: Have you ever been to Emma’s twitter? because she knows that Zelena will give it to her straight, tell her for sure if she is overreacting and needs to calm down.

It’s just – she’s not certain she is comfortable letting so many unknown people in on her relationship. She doesn’t know Emma’s fans, and with the things Emma writes about her, what won’t they think? It’s not like the jokes Emma makes are horrible, but they’re not exactly putting her in a great light either. She seems like a bossy girlfriend who is not satisfied with anything Emma does. And they’re not even girlfriends and she’s not that bossy. And she’s more than satisfied with Emma’s actions… most of them. Especially her actions in the bedroom, but at least Emma’s not writing about that.

Yet, some timid voice tells her in the back of her head.

Zelena sends her a series of question marks, and Regina waits with baited breath, because she knows that her sister’s curiosity is peaked, and that Zelena will currently be hiding away in the staff bathroom at West Clothes and Accessories while scrolling through Emma’s twitter feed. Regina knows she should be composing an e-mail to Sidney Glass about his revisions that she’s still not entirely satisfied with, but she cannot gather her thoughts enough to do it, and while she takes another sip of her coffee, her phone vibrates with another response from Zelena.

The response is a screenshot from Emma’s twitter with a tweet dated circa one week ago that reads

My relationship with Regina mostly consists of me apologising for saying something hilarious and Regina still not getting the hilarious part.

followed by a long list of hahas in capsized letters.

“That’s not funny,” Regina mutters and her heart is beating wildly inside of her chest as she pushes her phone away. What is Emma thinking? Why is she posting things about their relationship online without asking Regina first? She can’t just use Regina (and Henry) like that without their consent. Regina is not comfortable sharing their lives like that, she’s a very private person.

She grabs her phone and mutes it, knowing she’ll have to work through the rest of this day before she can go home and discuss this with Emma. They will have to figure this out, and she’ll just have to make Emma understand that she can’t just post things online about them like that.

——-

Apparently she can’t just make Emma understand that she can’t just post things about them online like that. The blonde woman refuses to see Regina’s point of view on this, that’s apparent. They’ve been discussing this for hours, it seems – from that point in the evening where Henry was shooed off to bed with a truly happy goodnight Mom, goodnight Emma! and Regina had tentatively brought them both a glass of rosé and said so I’ve seen your twitter.

Emma is not happy, and Regina stubbornly wonders why Emma can’t just understand. Surely, it’s not that difficult for her to see that sharing personal stories from their relationship is not a good course of action.

“It’s my job, Regina,” Emma says in exasperation. Her cheeks are flushed, and her hair is coming out of its ponytail. “I can’t just change the way I do my job.”

Regina argues, “But can’t you understand why I do not want my personal life out there for everyone to see? I’m a private person, Miss Swan, I do not want stories of my relationship shared, and most importantly, I do not want things of Henry shared online.”

Emma swallows. “I’ve never mentioned Henry’s name anywhere, I protect his identity.”

“And yet you cannot seem to do the same for me?” Regina fires back rapidly. Their wine is long forgotten on the coffee table, and that relaxing movie they were supposed to watch is paused on the screen of the television.

“It’s different,” Emma says and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “It’s completely different, Regina. Talking about my relationship and my own misgivings is what I do, OK? Sharing stories of our small, insignificant quarrels fit well with my current show, don’t you understand? It helps me sell tickets. People want to hear my stories.”

Regina arches an eyebrow, lips pursed, as she studies Emma. “I do not appreciate being made the fool, Miss Swan!”

Emma throws up her arms in confusion. “The fool? Where do I make you the fool?” She spits out the last words, eyebrows knitted together. “If anything, I’m the fool, OK?”

Turning her head away, Regina taps her foot against the floor and refuses to meet Emma’s eyes. She’s read Emma’s tweets, she knows she’s made the fool. Emma makes her out to be some kind of horrible, bossy girlfriend and they’ve not even defined their relationship as such yet. “No,” she firmly says, shaking her head and turning back to look at Emma. “It’s clear on your tweets. The entire world can tell that I boss you around, that I don’t appreciate your efforts, that I do not find you funny.”

“Regina, they’re jokes.”

“It’s not funny.”

“Regina,” Emma slides closer on the couch, trying to reach for Regina’s hand, but she snaps it away, not wanting to touch Emma this exact moment. She’s trying to convey how she feels, and it just seems like Emma is adamant not to understand it. “Regina, it’s my job,” Emma repeats for what seems like the tenth time during this disagreement.

“So I should just accept it?” Regina seethes. She can’t explain it, but everything inside of her is against this idea of being part of Emma’s stories, of being told about online, being made into something that other people laugh of. It’s something that goes against everything she is, and she’s not sure if she can just accept it.

Emma shrugs. There’s a sheepish grin on her face, teeth jutting out to poke into her bottom lip. “I guess,” she whispers, but her face falls slightly as Regina doesn’t respond. “I can’t just change the way I make content. Everything I am in my shows and on twitter is me – those are joke about my life, mostly about myself being a complete idiot, but-” she cuts herself off, green eyes softly sweeping over Regina’s face, “-but being with me sort of entails being a part of that story sometimes. It’s impossible not to get mentioned, not to give me inspiration.”

Regina softens on her too; her shoulders sag and she loosens slightly, turning to meet Emma’s eyes. “But what if I can’t live with that for me and Henry?” she softly whispers, and it feels like her heart is turning in on itself, demolished into nothing as Emma’s face falls even more, all colour draining from her already pale skin.

She swallows audibly. “Then I don’t think we can even be together,” she murmurs.

Swallowing too, Regina blinks rapidly to chase away the tears gathering there. She refuses to cry over this, she refuses. “I-” she cuts herself off, not even sure what she wants to say, but her fingers itch to touch Emma’s cheeks once more, to run through those soft curls and caress her gently. Everything about Emma is made to draw her in, to get her closer, to let all of her worries go and just disappear into this togetherness that she’s been fighting since day one. This comfortable union that is her, Emma and Henry, something she has grown so accustomed to in a very short span of time. But no – no. She cannot accept this. Not Henry- not herself- not them. Not as jokes. “I think I need to think,” she finally whispers, and this time she doesn’t fight the tears.

Emma pulls back, breath hitching. “What do you mean?”

Regina says, “I need to think, Emma. I need to figure out if I can do this.”

Lips quivering, Emma stammers, “So what- what are you saying to me?”

“That you need to give me space,” Regina whispers and pulls herself off the couch. “Just give me some space, Emma,” she murmurs, almost begs, as she wraps her fingers around her half-empty glass of rosé and pads towards the stairwell on her sock-clad feet.

When she and Henry wake up the next morning for waffle Saturday, Emma is gone, and Regina has to answer a billion questions from her son, sent her way along with hurting looks and murmurs across the dining table.

Chapter Text

Emma grins at the audience, finally nearing the end of her story. “So you know how – when you’re, when you’re dating a new girl – there’s always this anxiety, all these thoughts about how you’re gonna fit together, if you’re gonna fit together, if the sex will be good, if she’s going to like your favourite movie etcetera etcetera,” she trails off in a chatter. “It was like that when I met Regina, too. I was so fucking nervous all the time, because on paper? On paper we weren’t such a good match – fundamentally different, very different places in our lives – but I liked her, y’know? So fucking much. I liked her.”

“Yeah you do!” someone chips in from the front row with a yell.

Laughing, Emma hums. “I sure as fuck did. But uh, the anxiety was there, yeah? The first few times we hung out I was a nervous mess about saying the wrong thing, you get what I’m saying? There’s always this moment, and it’ll be like, damn, I’ve been talking to this girl for a few weeks now, and it’s going good, it’s, it’s going well, she’s not totally put off, you know? And like, time to get out my nail clippers,” she jokes as she mimics the motion of swooping out her nail clippers and cutting her nails.

The audience laughs.

“And it’s tough, because it’s the moment where you wanna so badly sleep with this person, because she’s beautiful and sexy, and you just know the sex will be awesome. At least that’s how it was for me and Regina, we had this insane chemistry and even though I doubted if she was going to give me the time of day for real, I knew the sex would be insane, and so I did it. I did it, I went home with her, and we had amazing sex, guys. You know what I’m talking about? Amazing, orgasmic out-of-this-world crazy kinda hot sex!” She groans, recalling the night they were first together after Killian’s party. “But I also had to tell myself that if that was all it was, that if, if, if it was just going to be the sex then that would be okay too, yeah? That I’d be able to live with that, at least I would have experienced the mind-numbing orgasms first.”

Someone aws in the audience and Emma hums in agreement.

“I know, I know, poor me,” she jokes. But with a sigh, she continues, “and that’s the thing you know? You have to accept that, you have to live with that. Just like you have to live with the fact that the queer community is small as fuck, that there’s more than two genders, that being white is a privilege and that your exes will date your other exes.”

———

Henry spends the entire weekend being upset with her. She tries to explain to him why Emma had to leave and what their disagreement had been about, but it’s not sitting well with him. At all. He mopes around the house, upset that he doesn’t get to play playstation with Emma and is a pain in her butt about doing his homework.

Her reasons a good though. It’s not like she’s crazy for feeling like that, is it? It’s perfectly normal, and she tries to make Henry understand that.

“But mom,” he argues and looks at her very seriously, “it’s the internet. It’s normal. I don’t mind.”

According to Henry, Emma can make all the jokes about them that she pleases, just as long as she’s there with them.

Regina hates to admit it, but she mopes too. Perhaps just a little bit. Her and Emma and Henry were meant to have a wonderful weekend together where Emma was there when Robin and Zelena came to regular Sunday dinner. None of that amounts to anything, because Emma left when she asked her to, and Regina hates herself a little bit for it. For perhaps… pushing away something great because she cannot wrap her head around the circumstances.

But it’s not an overreaction, she keeps telling herself. It’s not. It’s perfectly normal to not want to have one’s business out there for the entire world to see.

But even if she thinks that, she still finds herself going to Emma’s twitter to see if the blonde comedian posts anything about their fight, about their relationship, or about anything. But Emma stays oddly silent. Oddly for someone who appears to regularly post five times a day.

Roland comes by for two hours of playtime Saturday afternoon, and the Husband watches sombrely from their car on the street while Marian drops him off. Regina spoils him rotten and enjoys her time with him and Henry for a few hours, almost forgetting everything about Emma Swan, that is – until Marian is back to pick Roland up, and she has to hug him farewell, hard and tight.

Henry then goes to his room, slamming the door roughly behind him.

It’s safe to say she’s not in the best mood when Zelena and Robin show up the next afternoon, Tilly in tow; Zelena as the whirlwind she’s known to be, chattering on about work and her newest Tinder-flirt while Robin and Tilly send heart eyes at each other from across the kitchen counter. Henry ventures out of his room for this occasion, but he’s not looking at Regina – determined to make her the bad guy in this – and when he challenges Zelena to a game of Mario Kart, the two of them leave the others in the kitchen to finish making their dinner.

Robin eyes her warily when they leave, taking a sip of their water and leaning slightly over the table. “What’s his deal today?”

“He appears to be mad at me,” Regina comments as she stirs the fried vegetables around in the pan, staring out of the window instead of looking at the two teenagers.

Frowning, Robin says, “What did you do? Kid never gets mad at you.”

Regina glances back at them. “I may be having some difficulties with Emma’s usage of social media. She left last night – after we got in a disagreement – and he woke up to realise she wasn’t here.” She sighs, “That didn’t please him.”

Tilly scrunches up her nose. “Emma’s use of social media? What do you mean?”

Regina drops the skillet to the table and turns down the heat on the stove, before turning around to look at them. She leans against the counter and bites her lip. “Twitter, especially.”

Robin shares a look with Tilly, before saying, “Uhm. What?”

Fidgeting with the hem of her dress shirt, Regina stalls replying.

“Aunt Regina,” Robin says, voice firm and determined; cutting through the kitchen like the knife slicing through the tomatoes they just chopped. “Stop beating around the bush.”

Tilly adds, “You can talk to us about Emma.”

“We’er here for you,” Robin agrees and wraps an arm around Tilly’s shoulders. Regina glances at them, suddenly realising how much Robin is changing before her very eyes; acceptance and love can do that to a person, and it’s clear to everyone involved that Tilly accepts Robin for everything that they are, and Regina is so glad to know this.

She let’s stir fry be stir fry and slips across the kitchen floor, sitting down in front of the two teenagers. “It’s just – Emma posts a lot about her life on social media.”

“…yeah?” Robin eyes her questioningly.

“She jokes about everything in her life,” Regina adds as she runs a finger across the table. “Her life now includes me and Henry, and I’m just not sure I’m comfortable with it.”

Tilly asks the important question, “Why not?”

Regina feels her jaw working, breathes steadily in and out. “Because,” she huffs, “because I don’t want my business out there for everyone to see.”

Taking a sip of her cup of tea, Tilly takes a good time answering. “But Emma jokes about everything,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders. “You shouldn’t worry too much. People know it’s just fun.”

“Do they?” Regina questions as she returns to the stove to finally stir the vegetables around. She glances at the pot of rice, pleased to see that they are almost done.

“Sure, Aunt Regina,” Robins bops their head. “All comedians do it. It’s just Emma’s job.”

Regina frowns and decides not to dwell too much on that. She glances at Tilly. “Did you bring your own sandwiches? I’m sorry, but I don’t have any marmalade for you, Tilly.”

Tilly scrunches up her nose, leans slightly forward and glances towards the pan on the stove. “It’s okay. I think I’d like that right there.”

Not able to hide her surprise, Regina says, “You would?”

“Tilly is trying new things,” Robin says, a proud smile marring their face as Tilly leans towards them with a content huff.

Regina glances down at the pan, and dumps the rice into the vegetables. “New things,” she murmurs as she uses the skillet to mix everything together better. “Would you look at that.”

“I’ll get the others,” Tilly offers, and she slips off the chair, while Robin moves – with familiarity and almost on instinct – towards the cupboards to get out the glasses and the plates. Regina places the pan in the middle of the table and wonders about trying new things.

——-

“Seriously sister, don’t be so daft!” Zelena tells her with a tired sigh Tuesday morning when Regina is still fretting about this entire ordeal in a way that is so uncharacteristically her. “It’s funny, don’t you think? So what if she jokes about you? Have a little self-irony and realise that it’s all in good fun.”

Regina twirls slightly in the chair, biting her lip. “It’s not funny,” she says, and honestly? Is she the only one who doesn’t see the bigger picture here?

Zelena tuts. “Robin said that Emma’s not made any jokes all weekend, so if you broke her, it’s all on you.”

Pausing, Regina freezes in the chair. “What do you mean – she hasn’t made any jokes? How?”

She can practically hear Zelena’s eye-roll across the phone. “On twitter, dear sister. Keep up, why don’t you?”

Leaning forward, Regina tucks her phone between her shoulder and ear as she puts her fingers to the keyboard and goes to twitter. She's still logged in from her last visit to the site on the office computer, and she quickly does a search for Emma’s handle. “She hasn’t been on twitter? All weekend?”

Zelena sighs with exaggeration. “No, darling sis. She has not been on twitter to make lame jokes. Do you get the picture?”

“But why would she stop making jokes?” Regina questions aloud as she finally finds Emma’s twitter page. And Zelena’s right – there's not been a single post since Friday afternoon before she came over to the house to hang out with Regina and Henry. Regina feels her heartbeat speed up at the thought; the idea of Emma not tweeting anything - because of her, perhaps? - makes her feel even fonder towards the blonde comedian. She just can’t be entirely sure if it’s because of their disagreement or if Emma’s just been really busy.

There’s a groan on the other end, and Zelena ventures on. “Are you seriously this stupid?” she questions instead.

Regina bites her lip. “You don’t think-?”

“You broke Emma Swan, darling sister, you just broke her,” Zelena mocks her with a drawl.

“Hush, hush,” Regina chastises her with a frown. Does this mean what she thinks it means?

Zelena guffaws. “Oh hey, wait a second – refresh your page, Reggie.”

“Don’t call me that,” Regina grumbles as she refreshes the page and a new tweet from Emma makes its appearance at the top. She pauses – entirely caught off guard by what she sees – and Zelena’s laugh grows louder and louder in her ear.

I am really bad at admitting when I am wrong. Too proud, I guess, which ruins most of my relationships. If you don’t hear from me, it’s because I’m dead by receiving the silent treatment of Regina, Evil Queen. #relationshipproblems

Regina freezes and stares at the last comment, there is a small smile threatening at the corner of her lips, because Emma is nothing if not funny, but why can’t she see that this sort of tweet is not nice for Regina? The entire world will view her as... as someone who’s not a very nice partner, and that’s not what she wants, it’s not. Emma very clearly compares her to the Evil Queen, and that is not how she wants the world to see her. That still infuriates her. Just when she thought Emma might have taken it up to consideration, she shoots out a tweet like that – at the same time mentioning her own shortcomings - and all Zelena can do is...

Regina pinches the bridge of her nose. “Are you quite done laughing?”

Gasping for air, Zelena stammers out, “No - no. It's, it’s, sis, it’s hilarious! The Evil Queen! What does that make me?” Zelena laughs louder, “The Wicked Witch of the West?”

Punching the red button on her phone, Regina hangs up with a groan. If Zelena is going to be like this, she’ll have to talk to Jacinda, and that’s the only thing she can do. She contemplates this for exactly one second before she pushes her chair back, grabs her phone and storms into Jacinda’s office. She doesn’t bother knocking, and when she pushes the door open, Jacinda looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Sabine, I’ll have to call you back,” she says into the phone, before she flicks a button and places it on the table. “What’s wrong?” she questions, dread filling her voice; it must be clear in Regina’s facial expressions that she’s having a minor meltdown somehow, and her best friend rolls around the desk on her office chair and pushes the spare one – usually used by authors when they come for meetings, or by Lucy when she does her homework here after school – towards Regina in a saying manner.

Regina doesn’t take the chair. “I’m freaking out, Jay,” she says and nibbles at her thumb. A nervous tick if Regina ever had one.

Jacinda furrows her brow. “Yeah, I’m gathering that, Mills. Care to elaborate?”

“Emma’s twitter,” Regina says with a sigh as she starts pacing the small office. “It’s filled with stories about me, about our dating, even a few about Henry, though those are mostly cute and lovely.” She turns around, stops behind the chair, knuckles turning white as she clutches the back. “But those about me. They’re – they’re jokes. About me.”

Humming, Jacinda nods her head. “Yeah. I thought you knew that.”

“I didn’t,” Regina says with a deep sigh as she falls onto the chair and stares seriously at her best friend. At least it felt like she didn’t, even though people had been commenting on it for a while.

Jacinda swirls on her chair, face scrunched up in thought for a second, as she thinks. “Uhm, but-” she pauses, licking her lips. “But that’s what Emma does. All her jokes are stories from her own life. Exaggerated of course, but stories from her own life.”

Regina gnaws at her thumb again, locking her eyes with Jacinda’s. “But I don’t want to be on her twitter. I don’t want to be made into a punchline or a joke.” She shakes her head, finally dropping both hands into her lap as she sags slightly in the chair. “That’s private. I’m not – I’m not just another story to her, am I?”

Jacinda laughs briefly, until she realises that Regina is being utterly serious. She leans forward, clutches Regina’s hands in hers and squeezes them tight. “Regina. No,” she shakes her head. “No, you’re not. I’ve seen the way Emma looks at you. You’re so much more than another story.”

“But then why does she write those things about me?” Regina questions with a trembling voice. She’d felt like her and Emma were more than just that; whenever they are together, it feels amazing and wonderful, and like it just might be her future, despite the fact that six months ago she was certain she was never going to take a chance on love again.

“Because she’s a comedian, Regina,” Jacinda says with a crooked smile. Her eyes shine brightly and she pulls back, letting go of Regina’s hands. “How did you think she came up with all of her stories? She draws from her own life, makes it funny, shares her stories. Everybody does that, you know?”

Regina breathes out, trying to understand what Jacinda is saying. “What do you mean?”

“The authors we have here,” Jacinda quickly says and swirls around on her chair to grab a book from her messy desk. It’s a this is my life piece by some famous internet blogger that Regina has never heard of, and Jacinda shows her the front cover, complete with cursive writing and a smiling picture of a young black woman. “How do you think most of them come up with it? They draw from their own experiences, add to it, edit it, make things up. Why should Emma’s form of sharing be so different from theirs just because it’s jokes via twitter and comedic quests to make people laugh?”

Squinting at her, Regina does try to understand what she’s saying. It make sense, somehow, in a weird kind of way. When Jacinda puts it like that, it makes it easier for her to understand it. “So do you think… do people know that Emma doesn’t really think all those things about me?”

Jacinda nods and puts the book away. Her brown eyes are serious, her lips a thin line. “Yes, man. Of course they do! I think her joking so much about you actually makes them think she cares about you even more. It’s her language, Regina. Jokes, punchlines, funny tweets. It’s what Emma does.” She nods her head, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’ve been following her twitter long before we even knew her. She’s never joked this much about anyone except her friends or her foster parents.”

Regina bites her lips and turns her head to stare out of the window. The weather is grey today, rain looming in the sky, and she wants so badly to be okay with this. She wants to accept it and have enough confidence to be fine with Emma making these sorts of jokes, but she also doesn’t want it to come between them. She doesn’t want for it to be something that gnaws away at her, threatening their relationship because the next tweet might be the one that does her in. She shakes her head to herself and lowers her chin. “I don’t know, Jay…” she whispers.

“Can I make an observation?” Jacinda softly queries and leans forward, a finger gently tucking Regina’s chin upwards.

“Please do.”

“I don’t think this has anything to do with the fact that the jokes are for the world the see,” Jacinda honestly says to her, as a matter of fact. “You couldn’t care less about these unknown people and how they view you. What I really think…” she trails off, makes a dramatic pause as she arches an eyebrow. “I think you’re more hurt by the way that Emma portrays you. You’re afraid that’s what she thinks of you. I mean – I just saw the Evil Queen tweet, hm? I know that would have hurt you.”

Tongue darting out to lick her lips, Regina takes her time answering. Perhaps there is some truth to what Jacinda is saying, perhaps those unknown fans on twitter don’t matter much. What matters is Henry, and the way he views her; what matters is her friends and family. What matters is Emma and that she’s not just making jokes, but that she’s actually there to stay, because not for one second does Regina want to imagine her life if Emma left again.

Emma’s been… a breath of fresh air. Something new and different, who never fails to make Regina smile. And they fit, they fit so wonderfully well together, even though they really shouldn’t if one looks at the facts. But what does that matter? Regina dated Marian for two years and looking at the facts – they should have worked. They should have stayed and had their happily ever after together with their two kids and the house, and the things they both wanted. Except – they didn’t work, because Marian wanted someone else. And what does it matter if all the signs point in one direction if the feelings aren’t there? As long as the feelings are there, it should work. And if Emma hasn’t shown Regina just have much she cares… about Regina. About Henry. About everything that is them.

“Regina,” Jacinda says softly, and she pulls Regina out of the rabbit hole she is going down, “why don’t you try talking to Emma? I mean – I know you tried last Friday, but try again, yeah?”

Regina nods, but doesn’t really know how she’ll be able to. She’ll just have to try. First thing first, though. “Can you take Henry with you guys after school?”

Jacinda’s eyes gleam. “You bet ya’, Mills. Go fix things.”

“Hopefully, I will,” Regina agrees, but she’s not that hopeful about it at all.

———

It occurs to her, when she stands outside of the door, that she has never been to Emma’s apartment before. She got the address from Tilly who was more than excited to hear that she was going to try to talk to Emma, and Regina suddenly finds it very weird how she’s never been there before – Emma’s only ever been to her place, in her space, to accommodate her.

The apartment is not that far from Granny’s Diner where they first met, close to the theatre as well, where Emma is going to finish her tour off in a few months with an extra show, and Regina has already talked about attending this with Jacinda, Sabine and Zelena. The tickets go online next week, and Emma’s been so successful that Jacinda said she’ll sit by the computer as soon as the sale opens.

Regina clutches the Tupperware container with her famous apple turnover in her hand and takes in a deep breath before she knocks. She’s nervous, because she knows she reacted badly last Friday, and she’s never been very good at admitting that. Although she does still believe that she has some right to be concerned about the things that Emma puts online. Perhaps that’s something they can talk about together, figure out a solution to – together.

“Coming!” Emma hollers from the other side of the door, and Regina hears bare feet padding against the floor, and the door being unlocked. It’s pulled open – and Regina forces on a smile – as Emma stares at her with wide eyes. Completely surprised. “Hi?”

“Hello,” Regina awkwardly says and pushes the Tupperware container forward. “This is for you. I was wondering if we could talk?”

Emma stares down at the plastic box, a funny look on her pale face, but she steps back anyway, to let Regina into the apartment. “Uhm. Sure? There’s a bit…” she trails off, and Regina enters, only now realising that Emma is just in one of her regular tank tops and a pair of underwear, “…messy,” the blonde finishes with an apologetic smile.

“It’s quite alright, I don’t mind,” Regina quickly rushes to assure her, and she pulls off her jacket and tentatively takes a seat on the couch. There is messy, Emma is right about that; all her books are scattered everywhere, notebooks, post-its and pencils mixed with food wrappers and pieces of clothes.

Reaching for a pair of shorts on the floor, Emma quickly slips into them, and pulls her hair into a bun on the top of her head. “Uh. Do you want uhm… some tea?”

Regina smoothens down her slacks. “Tea would be lovely, thank you.”

Emma goes into her small kitchen, and the apartment is silent while the water heats. Regina uses the time to sneakily glance down at some of the notes that Emma has made, and she finds herself grinning a few times at the jokes Emma has written there in her messy scrawl. She can hear the water boil in the kitchen and not long after, Emma comes into the living room again, balancing a cup in each hand, filled to the brims with hot water. She puts them down on the table in front of them, swoops off some scattered socks and takes a seat on the other end of the couch, a little distance between them.

“Again, sorry about the mess,” she says and there is a red tint to her cheeks, “I uhm, I wasn’t feeling, uuh, so good this weekend, so…” She trails off, lets it hang there, and Regina wonders if it’s because of her that Emma’s not been feeling well. A pang of guilt shoots through her, and she’s once more reminded why she’s there.

She’s so fond of this beautiful woman in front of her.

Regina offers her a weak smile, “Don’t worry about it.”

Emma tentatively smiles back and shifts awkwardly in her seat. “So uh… you wanted to talk to me about something?”

“Yes.” Regina nods her head, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear as she glances at Emma. “I feel really bad about how we left things last Friday, I- I don’t want to… I don’t want this to come between us.”

“But ‘this’ is my job, Regina,” Emma tiredly says as she uses air quotes to underline her point. “It’s not just a discussion about the dishes or the left side of the bed. I do this for a living. I’m not going to forever, but right now it’s what I’m good at, and it’s just not something we can compromise on in the same way we do with the movies we watch.”

Regina flinches slightly. “I know that,” she gently says, and Emma seems to relax visibly at this. “And I want to find a solution, because I don’t want to let go of what we have.”

Emma takes her cup of tea and lets it rest between her hands. “But we don’t have anything, do we? We barely even know each other really… I mean. It feels amazing with you, like – you get me. You and Henry, you both do.” She pauses as she licks her lips, refuses to meet Regina’s eyes. “But we’re not in so deep yet, are we? We can still pull the stops without anyone getting hurt.”

Regina has to stop herself from reacting too strongly to that, because she knows that, realistically, Emma is right – they are not in too deep yet, they’ve only known each other for a short while – but she doesn’t want to let go yet. She wants to get in deeper, to get to know Emma, because she’s certain that what they could become together would be beyond anything she has ever dreamed of. Because Emma gets her, too. “I’d be hurt,” she honestly whispers, wishing for Emma to raise her chin so she could look at her, “Henry would be hurt, and I think… I think you would, too.”

Emma’s voice is low when she replies. “You would?”

“Of course I would,” Regina breathes as she reaches forward, grabbing for Emma’s thigh. “Emma, you have no idea how upset I’ve been these past days. I’ve been trying and trying to figure out what made me react so poorly to your tweets about me.” She strokes Emma’s thigh gently, desperately wishing for Emma to glance away from her tea and towards her instead, “And I don’t believe it’s the fact that you tweet that’s the issue. It’s… Let me just say that your latest tweet calling me an Evil Queen made me understand things better.”

Chin jutting upwards, Emma finally meets her eyes. She does have the conscience to look ashamed of the comparison. “Really?”

Regina nods. “Yes.”

“What was it about that joke in particular?” Emma questions, green eyes darting back and forth, moving over Regina’s face with rapt attention and an urgency that Regina feels inside of herself as well.

Regina’s fingers clench around Emma’s thigh and she takes a moment to get the words out. “Is that… is that really how you see me, Em-ma?”

Some kind of understanding dawns on Emma’s face at that, and it falls, green eyes growing wider and lips turning downwards. “No!” she quickly exclaims, thrusting her cup of tea onto the table to tug at Regina’s hands. “No, not at all. It’s a joke, Regina, just a joke, yeah?”

Squeezing Emma’s fingers, Regina tries to convey all the thoughts that Jacinda made her realise earlier; tries to get the other woman to understand that this is what it’s about, not anything else. “It just hit home with me, and I realised that I couldn’t care less about all of your tweets – at least I want to be okay with them, and I will be once we agree on what’s acceptable to post about and what is not – but that I’m more concerned about is that you really see me that way. That your fans will see me that way.”

A small smile finds its way onto Emma’s face at that, and she tucks Regina’s hands to her lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Honestly, Regina – if my fans know one thing about me, it’s that the people I care most about? Those are the people I joke about.” She drops the hands again, green eyes shimmering in the afternoon glow. “I’d never make so many jokes about you if it wasn’t for that fact that I’m totally gone on you.”

Regina feels her breath hitch in her throat as the last words leave Emma’s lips, and she squeezes the blonde’s hands back as tears play in the corners of her eyes. This is Emma, stupidly, wonderful Emma, and she cares so much about her. It doesn’t matter if there’s jokes for the world to see, not when Emma looks at her like that, and cares about Henry like that, and Regina can live with it. She had to swallow the facts, but she can live with them. She presses a hand to Emma’s cheek, feels the faint wetness of tears there, and says, “And I’m gone on you as well, Em-ma.”

“Really?” Emma grins, and she turns her head to the side, pressing her lips against the palm of Regina’s hand.

“Really,” Regina confirms, thumb stroking softly against plumb lips as she smiles fondly at the beautiful woman in front of her.

Emma smiles. “I promise, I will make sure that my fans know how great you are. And if it makes you feel better, I’ll even – I’ll even fucking run my tweets by you, yeah? I’ll tone it down, not overshare and that shit. I’ll do it, I’ll do all of it, if you’ll just let me be a part of your life.”

It feels like her heart might be ready to bounce right out of her chest by Emma’s incredibly kind words. That’s why she cares for her, because she never hesitates to show just how far she’ll go. “That’s very sweet of you, but it won’t be necessary,” Regina replies, dropping her hand to Emma’s shoulder. “I trust you.”

Green eyes shimmer. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Regina confirms, and she really does if she lets herself. In fact, there’s probably not anything she wouldn’t trust Emma with, including her heart, so she leans forward and presses her lips to Emma’s in an urgent kiss; so urgent because she hasn’t tasted her since last Friday, and she’s missed her so much, and it’s Emma. Emma Swan, the comedian, who somehow stole her heart with her bad jokes and incredibly attractive arms.

Emma pulls back, nuzzling her nose to Regina’s. “Shit, I’ve missed you.”

Regina can’t help but grin. “Likewise.”

Turning her head to the side, Emma glances towards the coffee table, eyes settling on the Tupperware container. “Is that your famous apple turnovers?” she whispers excitedly, and Regina can tell that her fingers are itching to tug it closer and taste.

Reaching forward, she tucks the box open and holds it up for Emma to see. “Yes, indeed. Freshly baked and everything.” She dangles the box in front of Emma teasingly, humming softly at the wonderful scent emanating from it.

Emma moans. “You really pulled out all the stops, huh. Trying to win me over with baked goods,” she teases and sticks her tongue out. But she also reaches into the box and tears off a small piece of the pastry, popping it into her mouth with a content sigh. Crumbs linger on her lips, but she looks so cute, and Regina smiles at her, can just tell how much Emma appreciates her effort. “Damn.”

“Is it working?” Regina grins, setting the container down on the table again. She reaches a finger out to brush Emma’s chin clean of crumbs.

With a nod, Emma reaches for her cell phone on the table. “Damn straight it is,” she says as she swipes it open. “And I’ll let the world know. Just you wait.” She winks as she says the last part, bending her head to stare at her phone as she types. It takes her only a moment, and Regina pulls out her own phone in the meanwhile, opening the twitter app that she’d finally caved and downloaded yesterday.

She sees Emma’s tweet as soon as it’s posted.

Regina’s apple turnovers are so good that she’s a regular Evil Queen, because she just killed me with one. I’ve died and gone to heaven, because she’s right here in front of me.

“Emma,” Regina sighs, fond.

Emma grins. “So uh – can we like, go to your place for dinner? I’ve missed the kid.”

Regina reaches for her hand and gives it a firm squeeze. “Most certainly. But I was hoping that you might show me your bedroom beforehand.” She arches an eyebrow at the way Emma’s eyes widen. “Seeing as I’ve never actually been there before.”

“You don’t have to fucking ask,” Emma says, and she swoops Regina off the couch and into her arms, and Regina laughs loudly as she is carried into the bedroom. She has a really good view of Emma’s arms like this.

Chapter Text

Emma takes a deep breath and smiles at her audience. The lights are beaming down on her, making her slightly sweaty in her pleather jacket, and she longs to get off stage to take the damn thing off. But she basks in the attention, in her fans as they sit there, waiting for the final part of her story. She can just make out Regina, Zelena, Jacinda and Sabine in the audience, and she can tell that she’s grinning goofily, just knowing that Regina is down there – at her last show – and has heard everything.

The story of how they met. The story of Emma’s quest for true love. The story of them.

Emma brushes her hair back and leans forward. “So to kind of circle back to the beginning of this show. My girlfriend dumped me – that’s Elsa by the way, the lovely woman I told you about earlier – she dumped me, and I was seriously bumped, seriously considering not, ever, dating again, because who was I to be lucky enough to find a happily ever after?” She motions towards the words on the screen next to her, grinning in the faint light emanating from them.

“But uh, little did I know that not so far from me, Regina was considering these exact same things because her girlfriend just left her, too. And can you believe it? I’ve searched everywhere for that little thing called loved and it was here – in this town – the entire time?! What gives, man, what gives,” Emma shakes her head to herself, eyes shining. “But there she is. This perfect, absolute goddess of a woman. She defies expectations, and she came to my show, one of the very first shows I did on this tour, which is why you’re getting the extended version tonight, because damn, how did I ever get so lucky?”

Emma whistles, and there’s laughter spreading in the audience.

“But sometimes you meet someone,” Emma continues and leaves the microphone in the stand, glancing vaguely down at the seats that she knows Regina and her friends are occupying, “and you don’t understand how you got with her. This woman is amazing, guys. She’s beautiful, and sexy and hot, and you don’t understand how you landed her, y’know? But somehow you did, do you feel me?” She licks her lips. “But with Regina? With Regina it’s so much more than that. Of course she’s beautiful, and sexy and hot, but she’s also… she’s also caring and loving and so, so intelligent. She laughs of all my jokes.” Emma throws her hands out in exasperation as she makes a face, and the audience laughs, “I know, right? All my jokes. Even the bad ones. And it’s like…” She trails off, shuffling awkwardly on her feet, “she’s the sun, and I’m just- I’m just in orbit around her, imagining how everything can be in our future together.”

The audience is dead silent, and it feels like you’d be able to hear a grain of sand hit the floor. Emma breathes steadily in and out, fingers clutching at the microphone as she once more sees Regina inside of her mind; pictures everything they can possibly be together. Understands that if it wasn’t for this show that she made because her love life was disastrous and downright laughable – she’d have never met her. Or Henry. And Tilly wouldn’t have met Robin, and everything would have been so, so different right now. For all of them.

“She’s the sun,” Emma repeats, bites her lip and almost chokes, “and she’s welcomed me into this amazing family with open arms. I almost screwed it up, too. Almost did,” she reveals. She’s pained by the thought of where she would have been right now, if they hadn’t been able to meet in the middle somewhere. “Because for a kid like me? It’s not so easy, you know – to be accepted, to be appreciated. To have a home, and you know, you know,” she chokes back tears, her fingers growing white at the knuckles, “I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know how to be in it. For a second right there, I totally put everything on the line, and I’m just so thankful that we were able to work it out. Because what would my life have been.”

She can almost imagine Regina’s face, imagine the lines at the corners of her eyes crinkle as she thinks back, too, fondly at how far they’ve come since that day. Especially how far Emma has come with the way she handles things and embraces the love that she is so easily given.

“Not many people have ever given me a second chance, and the ones that have – I’ve not been able to accept so easily.” Emma sighs, fond, and continues on. “But Regina refuses to let me put up that wall, and you don’t get this, but for me? That just doesn’t happen.” She shakes her head to herself, aware that her comedy show has suddenly grown much more serious, deliberate or not. “And that feeling, that feeling I get with her? That’s my damn happily ever after. Thank you,” Emma finishes as she takes a step back and quickly raises a hand to her cheek to wipe the fallen tears away.

The audience breaks out into whistles and applause as she stands there, bowing awkwardly on the stage – for the last time at the moment, for the last time before she gets a new show going, but that’ll be a while yet – and glancing down at all of her adoring fans. They’ve supported her, too, on this quest. Sent pictures and quotes and funny stories of their own failed romances on twitter, and Emma loves them for it, just loves them so much.

The applause is thunderous and Emma basks in it for a moment, squinting against the bright lights, before she waves at her audience, blows them a kiss and leaves the stage with a happy feeling residing in her body.

She did it. She finished her show (her quest), and she’s met with hugs and kisses from Killian, August and Ruby backstage.

“Bloody hell, Swan,” Killian says and presses a kiss to her hair, “they just love you, love.”

Ruby kisses her cheek and hugs her tight. “That was so great! Please let me be your opening act again the next time!”

Emma laughs and squeezes her hand, “Don’t you think it’s about time you got your own audience instead, yeah? You’re ready, Rubes.”

Ruby grins and August wraps an arm around both their shoulders. “Granny’s to celebrate?”

“Sure thing – let me just,” Emma pauses, offers them all a happy smile, “let me just wind down in my room first, yeah? I’ll meet you suckers there.”

“Don’t be late,” Ruby orders, before she scurries towards the exit, probably already dialling Dorothy’s number.

Emma enters her dressing room and closes the door soundly, cutting off all the noise from the crew backstage and the people in the theatre leaving their seats. She falls onto the couch there, stares at the ceiling. Happiness is soaring through her body in a way that she has never felt before, and she knows it’s not just last show-jitters. It’s Regina, too. It’s the fact that she gets to go to Granny’s to celebrate with her girlfriend and their friends, that she gets to wake up tomorrow in Regina’s arms and have waffles for breakfast with Henry in their pyjamas.

Emma closes her eyes and breathes in for a long second, deeply into her stomach, as she tries to put a finger on that feeling that has settled so soundly in the pit of her stomach.

Happiness.

The sound of the door being opened, pulls Emma out of her thoughts and she blinks against the light, only to see that it’s Regina who’s there, door closed behind her and with a bouquet of roses nestled in her arms. She looks beautiful; dressed to the nines and with a bright red lipstick, just the colour of the petals resting against her chest.

Emma smiles. “Hi,” she says.

“Hi,” Regina whispers and creeps closer, placing the flowers carefully on the table. “Your show was wonderful.”

Sitting up straight, Emma thoughtfully gnaws at her lip for a second. “You sure?”

Regina sits down on the couch next to her, fingers coming out to stroke her knee. “Absolutely.”

Emma grins, not ever able to hold back when it’s Regina praising her like that. “Good.” She nods her head, awkwardly pulling off her jacket to get more comfortable. “There’s celebratory beers at Granny’s. You in?”

Regina hums. “The others already went there. I wanted to see you first, though.” Her fingers stroke higher on Emma’s leg as she bites her lip in contemplation. There’s a small furrow between her eyes, and Emma feels a shiver on her spine just by the close proximity.

“Something on your mind?” she hoarsely whispers, her own hand reaching forward to grab Regina’s spare one and tuck her slightly closer.

Brown eyes meet green. “I just-” she cuts herself off. “Did you really mean that?”

Emma whispers, “Mean what?”

“That I’m … your happily ever after?”

The question is innocent, even natural when in relation to the show Emma’s just done, but she can tell that Regina really means it. That she needs the reassurance for whatever reason, perhaps just to know if this is as serious as it has started to feel since that day in Emma’s apartment. Emma squeezes her hand. “So much,” she honestly murmurs. “There’s not a doubt in my mind. You’re it, Regina Mills.”

A small smile finds its way onto Regina’s lips and she ducks her head. “So are you, Emma Swan. You’re absolutely everything.”

“Come here,” Emma orders, and she leans forward to press her lips to Regina’s; red meeting pink as they tangle together on the couch in Emma’s dressing room.

They don’t get to Granny’s before long after that.