Chapter Text
Regina recalls a time when Emma shared how, in her old life, she would simply stack the essentials (eggs, frozen meals, boxed mac and cheese, bread, cheese, and deli meats) on her arms just to beat the rush of office workers and moms and their children trying to shop, elbowing her way to the self-checkout line.
Before, in Emma's old life, she would sometimes go weeks without getting groceries because she wasn't home, she wasn't sticking around long enough to enjoy a home cooked meal, or her attempts at it, anyway.
Now, though. Now is a different story, all told.
Now, she gets a taste of a life she'd long ago given up, fed and filled at each meal. Dinners and breakfast and packed lunches served with love and thought and everything that Emma never afforded herself, could afford. A promise Regina vows to keep since Emma's arrival at the mansion.
Today, Emma is at the grocery store with her, her only task is to push the cart behind Regina. An arrangement that quickly came to be when Henry would gallivant off straight to the snacks aisles while Regina went through her list. Until Henry altogether started skipping out on this particular family outing. Until it was just the two of them in this routine, one they get to share with no one else but one another.
With her forearms resting on the shopping cart and her body slouched over, Emma acts as the cart driver, following the path of Regina's efficient steps. Meanwhile, Regina clicks her gel pen once or twice, her eyes scanning the handwritten list in her notebook, crossing off the items she's since placed in the cart. And Emma? Regina throws a passing glance to her side and see that Emma is simply along for the ride, her eyes watching everything around them.
They've gone through the produce section first, the only correct place to start any grocery shopping trip, and a glance down into the cart shows the color of vegetables and fresh fruits. A far cry from the frozen bags of vegetables and canned fruits Emma once told her were mainstays in her freezer and pantry, respectively, because hey, at least I tried. In a time long gone, Regina once judged Emma's methods, a cry of outrage for how badly she was treating her son. She's known better since, careful with her judgmental tongue and her piteous eyes.
Now, they're off to the cereals and granola aisle.
And dutiful as ever, Emma pushes the cart, this time sidling up beside Regina who is standing in front of two different bags of granola to add to her morning yogurt. It's definitely a trait that Henry got from her, a decidedly 'nurture' quality that she knows Emma doesn't quite understand. According to her, these things all function the same, end up all reaching the same place. But to Regina, it matters.
The details matter.
So Emma respects that.
And Regina feels warm because of it.
"Get the vanilla and almond flavor one."
Regina twists the upper half of her body and cuts her a look. Emma rolls her eyes.
"You got the cinnamon raisin one last time and you didn't love it. There's no reason to try it again."
A sculpted brow arches, a silent question she doesn't voice.
Emma catches things many people miss. Has spent years watching, even from a distance, cataloging inane things and conspicuous things and subtle things and imperceptible things and everything in between.
Regina knows this.
Yet, the idea that Emma has an internal catalog filed away of her, has Regina pulled in two directions: one, somewhat unsettled, like the gravity is just a little off and an inch off the ground is really a foot. She doesn't quite know how to handle it, not really.
The second, perhaps most baffling, is simply: fond.
Emma leaves her post behind the cart and walks over, her front just grazing Regina's side. So Regina stands still, more than fine waiting for Emma who puts a hand out and places the cinnamon raisin granola bag out of Regina's grasp and returns it on the shelf.
"The cinnamon tasted artificial to you. It did to me, too. The raisins were blech, personally, but you have better luck just putting real fruit in your yogurt than this. Which is also why you have the blueberries in the cart already."
Regina remains quiet but allows for Emma to return the bag of granola on the shelf. If Emma doesn't meet her gaze, they don't say anything about that.
"Come on, Your Majesty," she begins, returning behind the cart so as to get Regina moving again. "We still have to go get your yogurt."
Emma's hunched back over the cart handle and pushing the cart, Regina just a couple of steps behind. She catches up in a few quick strides, her heels clacking against the cement floor until they're in lockstep, their arms touching on the down swing.
After they make the full circuit around the grocery store, they head to the register, Emma taking point as she empties the cart on the conveyor belt, a switch in their positions as Regina stands behind the cart this time, watching. Studying her…housemate? The weeks have blurred into months since Emma fully moved in, their routines having settled to what they are now. Where Emma accompanies her with groceries on Thursday evenings when the store is less crowded. Where she has switched her Friday afternoon grocery trips to Thursday evenings so Emma can join her.
"Hey, Lola," Emma greets the young cashier. Regina recognizes her as one of the older students and classmate Henry has at the high school.
"Hi Sheriff Swan," the young girl greets between scanning the granola and the hunk of parmesan cheese Regina snagged at the last minute. "Mayor Mills."
She smiles at the woman just as she's opening up her purse to take her credit card out in preparation.
"How's the soccer team this year?" Emma asks, both hands resting on her hips, pushing up the edges of her red leather jacket up. Regina has the sudden urge to fix her jacket, brushing her hand down so the leather flattens against Emma's body. She's glad that there's a cart between them.
"Not too bad. I'm starting this year."
"Hell yeah!" Regina watches Emma throw a hand up for the girl to meet with a high five. With tinged red cheeks and a shy smile, Lola does. "Congrats, kid. We'll make sure to catch the first home game, won't we, Regina?"
"Of course, darling."
Emma's smile at her, validated, before turning her attention back at the girl. "Tell Henry when you see him next, alright?"
"Sure."
When Lola turns to her, Regina offers the girl a smile and an affectionate eye roll, even as Emma has shifted her attention towards packing their groceries in their reusable bags. Because they have that, too. That's part of their routine.
"How are you, dear?" she asks, just as Lola rings in the final of their groceries and tallies up the cost of their groceries.
"I'm good, Mayor Mills. How are you?"
"Oh, you know," she sighs aloud, gesturing towards Emma who's just about finished placing their items in the bag. "Busy wrangling two kids at home."
The young girl giggles just as Emma catches wind of what she'd said, her face in mock offense. She throws Lola a wink before tapping her card on the machine.
"Have a good day, Lola," she says when they're all done.
"You too, Mayor."
Emma's carrying the three bags in one hand balanced over her shoulder, like she's carrying a duffel of clothes and not the upcoming week's groceries, so that her other hand is free. Free to rest just right by the small of Regina's back as they walk side by side to the car.
She presses the button on her keys and the trunk of the Mercedes opens. In one fluid swing, Emma steps forward and places the bags dead center inside the trunk before she shuts it with a thud. In the process, the grocery bags have flipped the collar of her jacket up.
Regina ought to have already made her way towards the driver's side, but instead she's caught standing right beside Emma still.
"You good?" Emma asks, growing concern etching on her face. Her hands landing on her hips once again, pushing up the edges of her leather jacket with little regard. "Did you forget something?"
She shakes her head, instead bringing a daring hand up to fix Emma's collar.
"You mean I've been walking around like an idiot this whole time?" Emma's green eyes glint with amusement and mischief as she watches Regina watching her.
"Is that not your natural disposition?" she counters, hand lingering on the junction of Emma's nape and her shoulder. She resists the temptation for the back of her thumb to slide between the inside of the collar and her neck.
A pout attempts to mask a terribly concealed smirk on Emma's face. It is beautiful and it is playful, a rarity afforded to her in moments like this, between them. Just between them.
"You keep up this attitude, and you'll be washing the dishes tonight."
She chances it when she lifts her hand up, palm open, and gently pats Emma on the cheek.
"And you keep up this attitude, Miss Swan, and it's frozen dinners for you for the week."
Emma brings up her hand and catches Regina by her wrist, dragging their hands down to her chest where they can feel Emma's heart beating beneath their fingertips. "Don't tempt me with a good time, Regina."
Rolling her eyes then, she taps Emma's chest before gently tugging her hand out of her grasp. Not because she doesn't want the touch, not because she doesn't crave this touch—easy and freely given, but because there is a time and place for these things.
Just not here.
Just not yet.
Someday, she hopes. Soon.
"Come on, we have a hungry boy at home."
"You mean our growing garbage disposal?"
She sighs, audible and exaggerated, even as she takes in the amused grin on Emma's face after making their way inside the car and buckling their seats.
"I wonder where he gets it from?"
"Beats me, Regina. That kid's all you."
This time, Regina catches a laugh in her throat, and shakes her head. It's another noteless Thursday in a sea of Thursdays; glad for the mundanity that builds around their lives. Even so, with Emma, it somehow becomes just that little bit more remarkable.