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Sometimes it’s easy to be oblivious to a something until you have piles of evidence staring you right in the face. And sometimes you can continue to be oblivious even with the evidence, even when it’s almost everywhere you go, surrounding you, and completely obvious to everyone else. To say that Regina felt gobsmacked was a bit of an understatement, but there the proof was, in black and white and even in color.
She closed her eyes and had a brief moment where she regretted buying Henry that camera for his birthday, but he’d been so excited, so determined to take pictures to “record the moment” and have references for his writing as well as just to have an excuse wandering all over town talking to everyone. It cost a fortune in film, but she couldn’t help but indulge him, especially when it was clear he was dedicating time to improving his skills and learning more about the art of photography and not just snapping random photos. But she hadn’t realized how much the lens of the camera would see.
And here she was, looking at a small stack of photos on her desk, and even looking around her office, seeing more examples of what she’d only just come to see herself sitting in frames where all the world could see if only they just stopped in the Mayor’s office.
They were photos of her and Emma, practically a slide show of their time together: the two of them sitting together on a park bench, talking together at Henry’s birthday, her leaning in to whisper something snide in Emma’s ear at Snow’s Thanksgiving potluck, Emma standing proudly behind her at the town hall where she’d announced the new city street project, an absolute bevy of photographs detailing one clear point.
She was in love with Emma Swan, and, based on the photographic evidence in front of her, Emma Swan was in love with her too.
She looked up in confusion at Henry, who just sat there quietly watching her as she worked through the bombshell he had just dropped on her desk. He hadn’t said anything about it, just laid the stack of pictures down on her desk and asked her to look at them, to give him her opinion of them, but she could tell now that he had seen what she was seeing and had done this deliberately.
He looked at her with calm, steady eyes. When had her little prince grown up into this wise young man? “The camera doesn’t lie, Mom.” He gave that a moment to sink in. When she said nothing, he smiled gently. “I’ve got to run, but you can tell me what you think of the composition later, alright?” And with a quick kiss pressed to her cheek, he left, leaving behind the stack of photos and Regina’s churning mind.
Oh, she had known her own feelings of course. And buried them to be avoided like the lightning rod they were. Even if she acknowledged them, what good would it have done? Emma was in love with Graham, with Neal, with Hook, with any man she could find, anyone who wasn’t female and most assuredly wasn’t Regina herself.
But here were the photos and the way Emma looked at her in them. Her breath caught in her chest just seeing that expression on Emma’s face directed at her. Like she was looking at something of great value placed just out of reach. Regina snorted and mentally corrected herself. Like she was looking at a slice of Granny’s pie being slid out of reach. Something she desperately wanted and was being denied.
But still. Regina tapped her nail against the top photo, the one of them on the park bench, both exhausted after a long day, talking and leaning against each other, and perfectly comfortable with the position and the other person, able to relax in the moment. She made a plan.
Convincing Emma to come to dinner took no convincing at all. She simply sent a text saying “Lasagna at 6?” and Emma was coming up the walk at 5:45 with a bottle of Regina’s favorite wine, one that happened to pair very well with the lasagna, her punctuality driven by more than food-based hunger, and Regina was amazed she hadn’t noticed it before.
The dinner itself was enjoyable, the food good, the wine delicious, and the company delightful. They never ran out of things to talk about, even if it was just Emma raving about the food (“This is more than just red pepper flakes, it’s got to be a form of magic”) or ranting about work (“Leash laws for cats, Regina, it’s something the town needs!”) or Regina herself talking about dealing with idiots (a daily trial) or brushing off Emma’s compliments, something she realized she did far more often than she’d noticed before.
The time passed quickly and before Regina knew it, they were seated in her study with glasses of cider, an arrangement that struck her as them coming full circle. Here they were again, only this time, instead of trying to kick Emma out of her life she was trying to invite more fully into it. But Emma would run if pressed too hard, so she began as gently as she could.
“Henry brought me some photos to look over for him today.”
“Yeah?” Emma looked interested, she enjoyed Henry’s art too. “Anything in particular? He told me he was working on a new project, but he got all cagey about it when I said I was coming to dinner tonight and told me he eating over at David and Snow’s.”
“Well, you can see for yourself if you like.” Regina reached over and pulled the stack of photos out of a nearby drawer where she’d placed them ready for this moment.
Emma went quiet as she flipped through them. Too quiet. Regina heard the moment her breathing stopped and looked over at her intently. Emma was deathly pale and looking absolutely stricken, though she tried to cover it when she saw Regina watching her. “The kid’s getting pretty good,” she managed to say, her tone lacking its usual nonchalance, and picking up speed as she went on. “I’m sure you’d say something about composition or lighting, but mostly I can tell he’s got it in focus and he’s doing that framing thing he was talking about for months. I wonder if he’s considered it as a profession or if he’s—“ She would have gone on, but Regina’s hand covering hers stopped her.
She looked up at Regina, nearly in tears and clearly scared. “Regina, I’m sorry. I know it’s pretty obvious, but I swear I wasn’t going to try anything. You don’t have to worry about me doing anything or…” she trailed off at the smile on Regina’s face. A smile that Regina made sure was one of warmth and love and clearly was NOT her laughing at Emma.
Instead of saying anything, Regina reached over and took the stack out of Emma’s hands, rifling through it quickly to find a few photos she had seen earlier. They were easy to find since she’d placed them near the top. Trust Emma to only see her own longing in the photos, but the ones Regina selected would help, and she laid them out on the coffee table in front of them. There was her helping Emma carve a roast, her watching Emma play with her baby brother, and the one of them on the park bench. In all of them, she knew the way she looked at Emma was clear enough to shine off the pictures, and she could tell by the way Emma’s breathing shifted again that Emma was finally seeing it.
“Oh.” The word was quiet but distinct in the silence. She finally looked at Regina again. “But you never said anything.”
“Neither did you.” Regina countered gently.
“Oh, right.” There was a thoughtful silence. “So what now?”
“I love you.” Regina made the statement boldly, wanting to make things plain now, get all her cards on the table and ensure there was no confusion. “I think you love me too. And if that’s the case then right this moment I’m torn between taking you in my arms and cuddling with you all night on this couch or taking you upstairs and ravishing you in my bed.”
Emma blinked at her, as if something had just short-circuited in her brain, which, Regina reflected, was possible. She had been a bit blunt. Emma blinked again. Just when Regina was beginning to worry and rethink her choices, Emma spoke slowly. “Both. Both is good.”
Regina felt her body lose all its tension in a single moment as those words sunk in and she smiled as Emma continued. “Of course, we could always cuddle after the ravishing too.”
And so it proved to be.
The pictures stayed on the coffee table, no longer needed now that they were seeing clearly.