Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Sorry I’m late!”

 Regina smiled as she heard the front door firmly close. Wiping her hands on the half-apron around her waist, she walked to the foyer and leaned on the kitchen doorway, watching her co-parent toe off her always-untied boots.

 “You’re going to trip on those!” came the admonition from above. Henry slowly walked down the stairs, heavy footfalls announcing his descent; Regina swore he’d grown a foot in the past year. With his deepening voice and stubble, he now looked like the man he was; all traces of her little boy had been lost to time.

 “Yeah, yeah. Not today, Satan. Not ever.”

 “Not yet,” he amended. “Mom’s right about this. You keep those boots untied and you’re going to land on your butt.”

 Emma agreed with a rueful chuckle and walked over to him, playfully patting his cheek. “Your mom’s right about most things. I learned that long ago.”

 “You’re both right,” Regina decreed. She pushed off the doorway and moved toward her family. It was a term that had included Emma for years — since Neverland; it felt right and squeezed her heart whenever she used it. They weren’t a traditional family and Regina had long-since acknowledged that didn’t matter. It was comfortable, loving and right. Henry stood right in front of Emma who, hands on hips, was going for a defiant look, chin tilted upward toward her nearly 6-foot-tall son.

 The 17-year-old stood, arms folded across his chest and bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to laugh at Emma’s unending bravado. “Are you shrinking, old lady? I swear you’re, like, what…4’11” now?”

 “Now, now…” Regina tugged Henry’s shoulder and maneuvered her way in front of Emma. “I’m sure your mother’s had a hard day. Give her a break.” She leaned in and slowly wrapped her arms around Emma, who hugged her solidly back; both women were in no hurry to let go. “It’s a hard job for a mature women,” Regina snarked as they parted.

 “Ha!” Henry barked. He slung an arm around this mother and squeezed gently. “That’s the first time someone’s called Ma mature. She’s old.”

 “Hey, hey! Why is it Pick-on-Emma Night?”

 “Because it’s fun.” Henry headed for the kitchen, then stopped and offered his arm. “You need a hand, Ma?”

 Emma grumbled and tagged him on the bicep with a quick jab as she passed. “You know where you can put your hand, man.”

 The family settled into dinner with a noticeable drop in Emma abuse. Each recounted their day, weaving their stories in and out of each others in a seamless, relaxed conversation. They all loved this time, which had become the rule, not the exception, as years wore on and their relationships deepened naturally. Henry had no idea why Emma maintained the farce of her own apartment as she had, over time, practically moved into the guest room, her presence such a staple the space was known as “Emma’s room.” As if that wasn’t enough, there was a dresser full of her clothes and her toothbrush in the bathroom. Regina drew the line at Emma’s “bargain-basement shampoo,” however, insisting the woman use hers: “Your hair is too lovely for anything that inferior,” she decreed, tossing Emma’s bottles in the trash.

 “What held you up today?” Regina asked, sipping her post-dinner coffee and finishing up the last slice of cake Emma insisted they share.

 “Drugs at the high school.”

 “Wait, you’re just sharing that now? Thanks for nothing, Ma. Who?”

 “I shouldn’t say. Young kid, bad decision. I called his parents. I did the old cop lecture, blah blah. He’s suspended for three weeks and his parents looked like they were going to ground him for a decade.”

 Regina raised an eyebrow.

 “He gets one pass. If he’s caught with them again, I’ll bring him in and we do the whole official juvie thing.”

 “What’d he have?”

 “Edibles. Just one packet. Nothing major.”

 “Drugs are drugs.” Regina’s tone was firm as she tilted her head.

 “I know, but it wasn’t much. Kid didn’t pass it around and he told me where he got it, so tomorrow I can start knocking heads there.”

 Regina reached for Emma’s wrist and squeezed: “I don’t like this.” Over time, Henry quickly learned that phrase meant “You’re worrying me. Please stop whatever you have planned.”

 He did his best not to react to the gesture, not that either women had eyes for anyone but the other, anyway. Swallowing a smirk, he took the last sip of his coffee and mentally retraced the evolution of the women’s collective inability to keep their hands off each other.

 Emma and Henry were the only two adults Regina hugged or allowed to hug her (except for the random sneak attacks Snow would launch, much to Emma and Henry’s delight). Neither woman was naturally tactile, but, over the past few years, when it came to each other, the rare hug morphed into the regular embrace. Hugs hello and goodbye became the norm. He used to study Emma’s face when her chin was tucked over Regina’s shoulder. After a while, he positioned himself to observe Regina. His research confirmed what he thought all along: Both women looked extremely content in each other’s arms. Over the past year, the women grew even closer and hugs evolved into random touches and other acts of physical assurance. He wondered if his impending move to college was the impetus; he first noticed it first the past summer, when the trio made a series of college visits.

 Emma held open doors and gently guided her friend now and again with a light hand on the small of her back. Regina had taken to brushing (imaginary, he swore) lint off Emma’s clothes, fixing her collars and straightening her already-straight shirt. Not to mention the fact that every admissions officer assumed the women were married, and Emma had taken to calling Regina “The Wife.” And his mother, who had rejected every other nickname Emma ever tried to throw her way, said nary a word. No snide remark. No biting retort. Just, every once in a while, a faint blush along her vibrant cheekbones. Which, to Henry, said everything he needed to know.

 “You could do worse, Mom,” Henry joked the first time he heard it. Emma had tossed it off and was out of earshot, catching up with the tour guide, asking about the food.

 Regina bit her lip and dipped her head with a small smile. “I know.”

 “I’ll be fine. It’s no big drug gang — at least, not yet. Mulan, David and I are going to talk to the guy the kid named. I swear, it’s no big deal.”

 Regina’s creased brow refused to smooth. Emma laid her hand on top of Regina’s and lightly squeezed: “I promise I won’t do anything stupid,” which caused Henry and Regina to snort in perfect unison.

 “Hey!”

 With her abundance of flannel, jeans, boots, tank tops and — are you kidding me, Ma? — even the occasional vest, as well as observing years of her behavior, he was positive Emma was at the very least bicurious. He couldn’t imagine any obstacle to her coming out except, perhaps, a petite women who favored a pixie cut and cardigans. He didn’t think Snow would be narrow-minded. Yet again, she had a knack of stepping in it from time to time with her only daughter. “Your grandmother could fuck up a free lunch, pardon my French,” she’d say — never around Regina. All he’d have to hear is “your grandmother” to know Snow did something spectacular to tick her off.

 Regina was harder to read. She lacked any of Emma’s obvious tells, yet looked at her co-parent with either complete adoration or exasperation. As he grew, he came to understand his mother’s feelings coursed thick and strong for only him and, he later saw, Emma. She loved the two of them fiercely, and those emotions could easily be transfigured to fury when either of them — or gods forbid, both of them — did something stupid. Like the time Emma took him out in a snowstorm to learn how to drive in the snow.

 “Jesus, Regina, I used the cruiser! That thing is a tank! No one was out! It couldn’t be any safer!”

 “Of course not one was out! No one was that stupid!”

 “It wasn’t bad, I—”

 “During a snowstorm? IN COASTAL MAINE? What were you thinking?” Regina wound her arms around her waist and looked away, trying to blink back tears that were threatening to roll. “Oh, right, you’re weren’t! What if you got in an accident? What if you got hurt?”

 “Henry wasn’t going to get hurt!”

 The near-man in question silently left the room and retreated upstairs. He hated to hear his mothers fight, on the very rare occasion it happened. It made him feel small, helpless and all the other emotions that whirled in his heart after he dragged Emma to an invisible spot in Maine.

 Regina looked up, lips parted, eyes red. Voice shaky, the question nearly didn’t make it out: “What if you got hurt, you idiot?”

 Emma opened her mouth to reply, but no words ushered forth. The raw emotion on the brunette’s face stunned her, and answering the overwhelming instinct to comfort the woman in front of her, she closed the space between them in a heartbeat and gathered Regina in her arms. Emma held her close and leaned her head against Regina’s, shuddered breaths shaking the petite frame.

 Once Henry began seeing it, he couldn’t stop. If and when his mom decided to come out, he envisioned her flinging the closet door open wearing a sequin rainbow dress and daring anyone to even raise an eyebrow.

 “Kid!” Henry snapped out of his reverie and saw the women eyeing him. Emma’s hand no longer sat on top of Regina’s, but was right next to it, flat on the table, pinkies touching. Subtle, Ma. “You awake?”

 “Yes, you bet.”

 “Are you feeling well?” Concerned blazed across Regina’s face, so powerful Henry chuckled. “I’m fine.” Her eyes remained narrow, causing him to laugh again. “I swear!” He checked his watch. “And on that note, I’m going out.”

 Regina opened her mouth, only to have her son cut her off with all the answers: “I’m going to the basketball game with Peter and Dave. It will end around 9. We’ll head to Granny’s for food. I may go to Dave’s to hang out after that. I will be home by midnight. I have my phone and it is fully charged.” He held up his screen as proof.

 Regina nodded. “Alright then.”

 “You’re well-trained, young man,” Emma snarked.

 He leaned over and kissed his mother on the crown of her head and gave Emma a one-armed hug around her neck. “Yeah, well, try learning that. Then Mom won’t be mad at you as much, huh?”

 Regina barked out a sharp laugh as Emma grumbled: “You’re such a smart ass, I swear. That’s all your mother.”

 The woman in question stood as if exiting a throne, grabbed her plate and winked as she moved to the sink: “You love it.”

*** 

“Gahhh, I love that movie!” Emma stretched in her spot like a cat, careful not to graze her couchmate with an errant arm or leg.

 “Obviously, we watch it enough.”

 “I feel a certain affinity with Scott Lang.”

 “Slacker-slash-bumbling-do-gooder?”

 Emma snickered and gently elbowed Regina in the side. “You’re rude.” She stood and headed for her jacket as she heard her phone beep. “More, like, awesome parent-slash-superhero.”

Regina snorted, then followed.  She was headed for the kitchen, but stopped when Emma’s phone and a small packet fell out of the jacket she was rummaging through.

 “I can’t believe we give you a gun,” she smirked, crouching to pick up the articles. “What’s this?” She held up the packet.

 “Oh, shit. Forgot I had those. Those are the edibles I pulled off that kid today.”

 “These are drugs?”

 Emma hummed in agreement as she pulled up a text from Ruby.

 “Why do you have drugs in your pocket?”

 “Because I came right here from the school. I was late as it was, didn’t have time to shoot back to the station.”

 “What about chain of evidence?”

 “We’re not exactly super-procedural here, you know,” she snorted. “Are you still watching those Law & Order reruns?” Emma grinned and held out her phone, “You’ll like this.” The screen showed a tightly swaddled infant boasting a blissful, sleepy smile.

 One of the things Emma loved best about Regina was the not-so-secret fact that she was a complete and utter sucker for children, babies especially. Even the most foul of moods could be disarmed by an infant — in person, photo, even a memory. Brown eyes softened as she examined the photo.

 “Ruby and Dorothy say thanks for the swaddling tip,” Emma read. “Baby’s sleeping much better now.” Hearing another beep she pulled the phone away and was thankful she did after she read the text, How’s date night? Forgoing a reply, she silenced her phone and tucked it back in her jacket.

 “How are these drugs? They look like candy.”

 Emma rolled her eyes. “They’re supposed to. That’s why they’re super dangerous for kids. Someone might eat a bunch thinking they’re just gummy bears and then OD.”

 “That’s awful!”

 “I know. Which is why I, super sheriff, took them away.” Emma walked back into the living room and plopped down onto the couch. She clicked around until she found a Golden Girls marathon. “However, if you’re a responsible adult interested in getting a little buzzed, it’s a simple way without having to smoke or smell like weed.”

 “You’ve had these?”

 Emma couldn’t help the laugh that escaped at Regina’s expression. The woman could either be the most knowledgeable, worldly person she knew or as innocent as a child raised in a cloister.

 “There were no drugs back in the, uh, day?” Emma shrugged; she never knew how to refer to the other realm. She refused to use “Enchanted Forest” as it sounded too asinine, even for Storybrooke.

 Regina nodded and set her lips in a tight line; she disliked even the whiff of being mocked. “Of course — people smoked herbs and would take various potions.”

 “Like Lord of the Rings?”

 “Gods, Emma, it isn’t always like Lord of the Rings.” The blonde grinned and raised an eyebrow. “But, yes, somewhat like that.”

 “Ha!”

 “You could get them from a hedge wizard or alchemist. Sometimes a witch, if you knew one.” She felt the need to reassert her knowledge in some aspect of this unexpected conversation.

 “Did you ever, you know…partake?”

 “Of course not! My mother would have killed me.” Emma bit down on a chuckle that threatened to escape, knowing what she did about Cora. “When I was married, it was out of the question. But it would have made it easier, for sure…”

 “So you’ve never?”

 “You have?” Regina imperceptibly leaned a bit closer to Emma.

 “I never sought it out, but if it was offered and I was in safe place with people I trusted, yeah. Just weed, though, no hard drugs.”

 “What was it like?”

 By now, Emma was a master of reading Regina. She had studied the woman’s face for years, it was her favorite subject; she could well translate every move of her lips, eyes and every muscle combination therein. And tonight’s message was definitely curious. She pulled the packet out of her pocket and waved it lightly: “Wanna find out?”

 The hint of possibility widened Regina’s eyes slightly, but was quickly tamped down by a brisk shake of her head. “No, we shouldn’t.”

 “Uh, uh, uh.” Emma raised a finger and mentally prepared her case. She’d been in a lot of situations with Regina, some dangerous, some deadly,  some drunken, but not this, and the temptation was strong. “Neither of us have to work tomorrow. We are safe in your home. And we are together.”

 “What about Henry?”

 “What about him?” Emma shrugged. “He’s seen us after we’ve had too much to drink before, this won’t seem much different. Plus, he’ll just say hey and head straight to bed.” Emma grinned at her euphemism; the teen had seen them shithammered on more than one occasion. A few holidays, last Christmas especially, immediately sprung to mind, as well as the morning after Ruby and Dorothy’s wedding reception, where he found the women Regina’s bed, fully clothed and impressively hungover.

 “I don’t know…”

 “You know what? Can I stay over tonight?”

 “You know you don’t have to ask. Of course.”

 “Alright then.” Emma slapped her knees and made for the hallway. “I’m going to change, then I’m coming down and getting slightly high.”

 Emma did just that, Regina grinning at the fact her “pajamas” looked remarkably similar to her everyday wear: sweatpants, tank top under a flannel long-sleeved and low-cut white socks. “You cool with this?” Emma paused before opening the packet. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t.”

 “I’m not uncomfortable,” Regina answered. “As long as you’re safe.”

 “I’m with you,” Emma grinned as she popped one gummy bear into her mouth. “How much safer could I be?” She leaned back, laced her fingers behind her head and crossed her socked feet on the coffee table.

 “You’re just having one?” Regina scooted even closer.

 “I’m not trying to push, but you seem very interested.”

 “I’ll just watch you for a while.” Regina settled back, tucking her legs underneath her.

 Emma smirked. “You do that.”

 A half-hour later, there was a lot to watch. The THC had kicked in, leaving Emma in a grinning, blissful state. Luckily for Regina, just as Emma was a happy drunk, she was an equally happy stoner.  Her pupils were large and her movements extremely careful. “What’s it like?” Regina asked.

 “You picked a bad time for a description,” Emma giggled. That was the statement she thought she made, she hoped she actually stated it. As usual in this circumstance, it felt like the words in her head got lost on the way to her mouth; she tried to carefully articulate them, for fear everything was coming out in a jumble.

 “I feel spaced out, but in a good way. Like I’m in slow motion. And everything is funny. And I love being here with you.” Emma grabbed her friend’s hand and kissed her knuckles;  a blush grew on Regina’s face and she made no attempt to extract her hand. Emma looked joyful, it was attractive and Regina wanted in. The illicit thrill of doing something “wrong” — and doing it with Emma — was too tempting.

 “I want to try.”

 Emma shot up, or at least she thought she did; it probably took her a full minute to sit up straight. “Really? OK!” The request seemed to focus Emma for the moment. “Just one will do it. I forgot how potent they are.”

 Regina fished a candy out of the pack, carefully chewed it and remained bolt upright, as if she were in front of a firing squad.

 “Relax, it’s not like getting struck by a bolt of magic. It’ll roll in.” She slung her arm around Regina and tugged her into the back of the couch. “Chill out.”

 A half-hour later, high tide had arrived. Regina marveled at the sensation: she felt sleepy, but awake. Extremely relaxed, yet attentive to every sight and sound around her. She felt the firm weight of Emma at her side, yet also like she was floating. She squeezed Emma’s hand and held it. “This,” she sighed, “is fun.”

 “I know, right?” Emma grinned at her own brilliance.

 A beep grabbed Regina’s attention. It took her awhile to follow the noise and it sounded again in impatience. “That’s my phone,” she stated, for herself more than for Emma’s clarification. Releasing Emma’s hand, Regina picked the device off the coffee table and found she had missed four texts from her sister.

I need your help.

Regina, call me.

Are you asleep? It’s 9:30. That’s sad, even for you.

WHERE ARE YOU?!?

She did her best to type a reply, but fine motor skills were not her forte at the moment. It felt like she was trying to type through mittens, and hitting the correct letters on the screen was nearly impossible.

 Am phone um art hone

 What on earth?

 Regina saw her sister’s reply and giggled at what was sure was moderate annoyance. It was fun taking the piss out of Zelena. She passed the phone to Emma, who barked out a sharp laugh: “Wait, I got it.”

 Emma stared at the screen so intently, Regina was shocked it didn’t catch fire. She watched her friend squint and carefully press her fingers on the screen, the tip of her tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth. “There,” Emma announced proudly and showed the reply she sent:

 Hrenf jijiwal Enadj!

 In a flash, Zelena appeared in the living room, Robyn in her left arm, her phone in the right. Regina and Emma sat stock still for a second like two guilty children, then promptly burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. Clutching her stomach, Emma curled into Regina’s lap. The brunette reared back, mouth wide, eyes closed, laughter-induced tears streaming down her face. Robyn looked on with a wide smile and began to clap.

 “Sweet Oz, what the hell is going on here?”

 The women tried to compose themselves, but failed. The look of shock on the usually nonchalant redhead’s face was too funny. “I think….I think I pulled a muscle,” Regina announced. She sat up holding her stomach, trying to wipe the smile off her face and failing completely. Her attempt to affect a sober, regal posture and visage was a unforgettable failure. She was busted and she knew it. And she didn’t care.

 “We’re just enjoying our Friday night,” Emma explained. The words felt too big for her mouth and a look at Zelena’s pursed lips only confirmed the fact her statement didn’t exit smoothly.

 “Are you drunk?” she spat indignantly. She walked closer to examine the pair. The combination of their large pupils and delayed reaction times gave them away. “Have you taken poppies?” She reached out with her senses and scanned for any traces of magic, finding none. At least these two dolts hadn’t been cursed.

 Robyn reached out for Regina and the woman stretched to meet her, but Zelena swung her hip away, the child out of the brunette’s reach. “Not high as a broom, you don’t.”

 “Marijuana,” Regina mumbled. “Just a bit. It’s packing quite a punch, though.”

 “Where’s Henry?”

 “Out with friends,” Emma supplied, still lying on Regina’s lap. Or, tried. The syllables became one and Zelena rolled her eyes.

 “Hells bells, I don’t know what she just muttered.” She turned to Regina, lighting tapping her on the cheek to emphasize each word: “Is. He. Safe?” Regina nodded. “Good. And I’m allegedly the loose cannon?”

 Regina wiped her eyes and did her best to focus. She stated her question three times in her head before she tried to speak: “What do you need?”

 “I was going to ask you for that teething remedy you mentioned as this sweet girl’s gums are killing her; she’s having a terrible time getting to sleep. But you’re clearly in no state to assist me,” she huffed.

 “Hey, just relax, will you?” Emma offered. Zelena rolled her eyes as another sentence of nonsense tumbled from the blonde’s mouth.

 “Has your girlfriend been enchanted to speak only gibberish or has she had a stroke?”

 “She’s fine,” Regina assured, laying her hand on Emma’s head and rubbing soothingly. She completely missed the girlfriend comment, but Emma didn’t; her eyes grew even wider.

 Zelena snickered, noticing that some of Emma’s brain cells were still functioning: “Close your mouth, you look like an idiot.” She turned to Regina: “Are you sure you want her?”

 “Hmmm?” Her eyes remained on Emma, who grinned back.

 “You can go now, Zelena,” Regina smoothly noted, still looking at Emma. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Rather, she thought it was smooth, but the message was clear: “Go…Zelena…talk…you…tomorrow.”

 “Oh, yes you will.” She stared at Regina intently. “We will be talking about this.” She wagged a finger between the two women.

 Emma raised one in return and dissolved into a fit of giggles: “Adios, Cora!”

***

Henry was half reading reddit and half watching his friend pick off a group of cattle rustlers in Red Dead Redemption 2 when a text from his aunt flashed on his screen:

NOT an emergency, but would you give me a call right now, please?

Heading to a quieter part of the room, he dialed his aunt. Zelena had grown into an adult who would provide him with context and straight talk; she had years and perspective and didn’t sanitize her unfiltered opinion on anything and everything. She didn’t treat him like a child, which endeared him to her more than anything. She was like his mom, but without the mom filter; not that he would ever tell his mother that. “You’re the smartest person in this whole godforsaken town,” Zelena would often remind him. “Aside from me.”

 “Hey, what’s up?”

 “Nothing major, darling, I just wanted to let you know I stopped by your mother’s and she and Emma are rather…indisposed.”

 A vivid image he did not welcome entered his head and he felt his heart skip a beat. “Oh, God…you didn’t…”

 “No, not that,” she drawled. “But, truly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up there sometime tonight” She paused and reconsidered her statement. “Actually. I doubt they’d have the motor skills to—”

 “Too much, Z! Too much.” He squinted and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What’s going on?”

 “Sorry, darling.” She paused and offered her lightly-edited version of the truth. Her conscience warned her not to rat the women out, feeling she would be overstepping the mother-son bond if she did. If Regina felt compelled to share the truth about their walk on the wild side with him, it was up to her; she’d bet her house Emma never would. Plus, she wasn’t sure either woman would remember her visit, anyway. “I think they were experimenting with magic, practicing probably because you know you mother is still rather hopeless, and I think they used too much. They’re kind of…high.”

 “On magic? You can do that?”

 “Accidentally, yes.”

 “Are they OK?”

 “Of course,” she assured. “They’re very giggly, which is rather nauseating; it’s like they’re drunk. Remember Christmas?”

 Henry chuckled. “Oh, yeah.” Zelena and Henry had sat in a corner snickering most of the night, waiting for one of the women to make a move on the other. Liquor made them handsy and the smug-sly combination of Zelena and Henry snarking at them made them deliciously cranky and fun to verbally jab.

 “I just wanted to let you know,” she soothed, feeling superior to Regina, a sensation she adored on the rare occasion she could claim it. “I didn’t want you to worry when you got home and think they had been cursed or something.”

 “Do they need anything? Should I do anything when I get home?”

 “No, it’s harmless. If they’re still awake, just say goodnight. They’ll sleep it off. Most likely together,” she added with a wicked cackle.

 “I’ll believe that when I see it,” he joked, then winced. “I don’t mean—”

 “I know, dear. I know. Someday they’ll figure it out. I swear, your mother is such a coward and Emma is somehow worse…”

 Henry grinned at the statement, he’d heard it countless times in the past couple of years. Everyone else tiptoed around his mothers’ unique relationship, ignoring the elephant in the room. But not Zelena, who sidled up to him not long after she blew into town and, with all the finesse of a freight train, asked: “So are your mothers together or not?” Ever since, they’d reported any developments (mostly two steps forward, one step back) to one another and speculated when the women would finally break through.

 “Thanks, Z. I adore you,” he smiled, using her preferred verb. “Love” was too trite, she argued.

 “As you should. Talk to you tomorrow, dear.”

 “Bye. Thanks again.”

 Dying to get a look at the scene Zelena described, he began putting on his coat: “Alright, guys, I’m heading out…”

Ten minutes later, Henry was through his front door, jacket hung and keys on the credenza in the foyer. “Moms?” he called, more to ensure his presence was known. For a year, he’d made a fashionably late entrance after announcing his arrival, on the suspicion that one night shirts may have to be buttoned and pants zipped. His aunt advised him of that, and as much as he didn’t want to think about that aspect of their relationship, he heeded it — because he definitely didn’t want to see it.

 Slowly walking into the living room, he saw The Golden Girls on the TV and his mothers snuggled on the couch. Emma’s arm was wrapped around the shoulders of Regina, who was tucked into the blonde’s side. They were pretending to be asleep. And poorly. He couldn’t wait to tell his aunt this one.

 He leaned in and kissed his mother on the head and gently tapped Emma on hers. “I’m home. ’Night you two.” Henry left the room, but paused at the foot of the stairs when he heard a cacophony of giggles and muffled shushing. Shaking his head, he quietly walked upstairs and hoped that whatever they did would get them where they obviously wanted to be.

***

“ ’S he gone?” Emma tried to whisper, but the question was practically a shout.

 Regina held up a finger, paused, then nodded. “Yes,” she smiled, impressed with their brilliant plan and flawless acting. “That was a good idea.”

 Emma beamed. “Of course it was.” Arm still around Regina, she gave a gentle squeeze. “Having a good time?”

 Gentle buzz still rolling, she was. It felt wonderful to be tucked in Emma’s arms, the solid weight and warmth of another pressed into her. She felt safe, loved and happy. No “what-ifs,” “buts,” or “we couldn’ts” parroting in her head.

 She snuggled in closer and wrapped an arm around Emma’s waist, head cradled on her shoulder. “I am,” she smiled. “How about you?”

 “I’m starting to come down a little, I think.”

 Unable to remember the last time she felt this perfect and carefree, a sigh of utter contentment eased out of Emma’s chest. Normally, she had to refrain from touching her friend; they had danced around the line so often, for so long, but each held back. She was nearly certain Regina felt the same way, but was loathe to ruin the amazing family they had built in case they had misread the other. In a lifetime of fucking things up, her family was the one thing Emma had done right. She never thought she could risk that. Until now.

 “I fucking love you.” It was more of a murmur than a declaration, but Emma got it out.

 A light chuckle bubbled up in response. “I love you, too.”

 Emma gently extracted her arm and placed her hands on Regina’s shoulders. Catching her gaze, she tried again: “No, I mean, I fucking love you.”

 Regina’s lips parted, her nose crinkled. “I…” She shook her head slightly as if it would help her comprehend what she just heard. “Is this because of the drugs?”

 “No!” Emma scrubbed her face with her hand, then took one of Regina’s hands in her own. “I swear. My buzz is wearing off…I….” She stopped and searched for the right words, knowing they may be the most important she ever spoke. “I love you so much. I’ve loved you since Neverland when you, like, traipsed through the jungle in a pantsuit, hell bent on saving our son.” A tiny grin tugged at the corner of her mouth as she continued. “And then we came back here and built this family. This crazy family that should never have worked but it did — for us.”

 She searched Regina’s face for a reaction and found sparkling eyes full of hope. On a roll, she pressed on, the words easier to find now. “We’re two people who never really worked on our own, but together? We’re unstoppable. We’re complete.” She gently cradled one side of Regina’s face with her hand. Her words so quiet, they were as faint as a breath. “I am never as happy as when I’m with you. I’ve known that forever, I’ve always known it. I’ve just been too scared to—”

 The remaining words were swallowed by Regina’s lips. The kiss was soft, slow and searching. Emma began to kiss back, pulling the smaller woman onto her lap. When they finally parted, Regina leaned her head on Emma’s shoulder, trying to regain her breathing. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” she husked.

 “Feel free to do that again.” Emma kissed the top of Regina’s head and slowly rubbed her hands up and down the brunette’s back. “So, you’re, like….you know, good with this?”

 Regina lifted her head and smiled tenderly. “Yes, I am. I’m very good with this.” Moving a leg, she fully straddled Emma and leaned in lasciviously. “I’m very good at this, too…”

***

Henry woke and listened. It was still in the house and the clock read 8:32. Either the women were sleeping in or had gone out. After he’d gone to bed, he’d slept like the dead, hearing nothing past their giggle fit. He reached for his phone and found three texts from Zelena in the past hour.

 What happened?

 I need news!

 Because I’m so kind, I’m not calling and letting you sleep.

 He got out of bed and left his room, passing his mother’s, whose door was shut. That wasn’t unusual. He passed Emma’s, which was open — also not unusual, but the bed was made. No way she slept in it, he surmised. She normally didn’t make the bed until right before she left — if she made it at all. Regina usually followed up with an exasperated, “How your mother doesn’t know how to make a bed…” that actually didn’t sound irritated at all.

 He padded downstairs and peeked into the living room to find it empty. Looking out the window, both women’s cars were in the driveway, so unless they walked somewhere, unlikely, they were still upstairs. In Mom’s bed. Grinning, he pulled out his phone.

 I  think they’re upstairs in Mom’s room.

 Do you hear anything?

 Ewww, no!

 I’m coming over. Start making breakfast.

 He was planning, too, anyway, but with Zelena at the table it would be even better. For a half-second, he thought about warning his mother, but couldn’t figure out how to without potentially scarring himself for life. Instead, he set off to start the coffee and think about food.

***

Emma Swan awoke, her senses more satisfied then they had ever been. In her nose was the smell of bacon, somewhere, but more specifically Regina’s shampoo, as the brunette’s head was just a few inches away. She heard the woman’s even breathing, watched the light rise and fall of her chest. Her hand slowly roamed over Regina’s side, delighting in the feel of her skin under her fingertips. That only left one thing: She leaned over and spooned her bedmate, placing a soft kiss on her temple. “Morning.”

 “Mmmmm.” Regina turned in Emma’s arms. “Good morning.” She kissed Emma’s lips gently. “How are you feeling?”

 “Good. A little foggy, but very good.” She squeezed Regina for emphasis. “You?”

 “The same.” She sat up and rested against the headboard. “‘Foggy’ is a good word. I don’t feel hungover, thank God.”

 “Think the kid is making breakfast. I smell bacon: You raised him right.”

 Regina caught her glance with a tender smile. “We did, yes.”

 “Sooooo…” She sat up to match Regina. “We’re doing this?”

 “I believe we already did it.”

 “Yes, which was amazing, but…going for it. Couple. All that?”

 Regina leaned in with a smug smile: “You were far more romantic last night, Emma Swan.”

 “You want romance?” She leaned in and nuzzled her nose against Regina’s. “Baby, just you wait.”

 Regina kissed Emma softly, thoroughly. “I want it all. With you.”

 An explosion of happiness coursed through Emma’s chest so fiercely, she thought she would burst. Her mouth stretched into the widest smile she could muster as she leaned her forehead against Regina’s. “God, that is amazing to hear.”

 Pulling away, she laced her fingers in her lap and stared at them, suddenly shy. “I’ve wanted to tell you…for so long. I’ve wanted to kiss you even longer. I thought, if I ever mustered up the courage, that it might feel weird the next day, but,” she turned and looked at Regina, “it doesn’t. It feels right.”

 One more stolen kiss and the women exited the bed and got pajama-presentable. As they headed for the door, an urgent command sing-songed up from the first floor, stopping them in their tracks: “Emma! Regina! Breakfast!”

 “Oh, shit.” Green eyes widened. “She was here last night…right? Or was she?”

 Regina nodded. “Indeed. Unless we both hallucinated her, which I doubt.”

 “More like nightmare fuel.”

 Emma exhaled forcefully and shook out her arms at her sides: “So, we’re doing this.” She felt her hand squeezed in reply.

 “We are. Follow my lead.”

 Emma squeezed back and they started down the stairs. When they reached the kitchen, they found Henry at the stove working on omelettes and Zelena nursing a cup of coffee and a shit-eating grin. Robyn sat in a high chair making random squeaks and squawks in between picking Cheerios off her tray.

 “Ah, the sleeping beauties awaken!” came the grandiose greeting, glee practically dripping off the words. Emma felt the beginnings of a headache.

 Regina held up her index finger, gave Henry a drive-by pat on the arm and picked up a mug of coffee she knew he left out for her. After a healthy sip, she kissed Robyn on the head and sat.

 “Thank you, sweetheart,” she offered to Henry. “Now, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

 “My enchanting presence, you mean?”

 Emma rolled her eyes and remained standing by Henry and the stove. She grabbed her coffee and stacked three slices of bacon on top of each other; caffeine and grease were suddenly very necessary.

 “Whatever you want to call it,” Regina sighed, “why are you here?”

 “Well, first, I love a good family breakfast. Second, as I was telling Henry…” She stopped as he set an omelette in front of her. “Thank you, darling.” Zelena slowly, theatrically arranged a napkin on her lap and picked up her utensils. “I visited last night inquiring about your teething remedy, but you two had somehow — idiotically —” she glared at Emma, “combined your magic in a way that left you both quite useless.”

 With Henry still working on omelettes, she winked at the women; Regina quickly picked up the white lie and ran with it: “Well, yes, that was an unfortunate side effect.”

 “Was it?” Zelena pressed.

 Henry turned around: “Are you OK?”

 “Yeah, kid, we’re good.”

 “How good?” Zelena drawled low.

 Anger flashed in Emma’s eyes as she saw Regina blush. She was tired and hungry, and she desperately wanted to get back into bed with Regina, a wish that seemed to be speeding further out of her reach by the minute. “Good enough, Zelena. Give it a rest.”

 “But, Regina, I simply wanted to—”

 “I said, give it a rest,” Emma demanded. She forcefully set her mug on the counter, ate the last bite of her bacon pile and stood over their guest. “Listen, you can harass me all you want, call me an idiot, knock yourself out. But I will not let you continue it in this house, in front of our son,” she jabbed her finger toward Henry, who pulled the pan off the stove and turned to watch, “and my…” Her finger hovered in the air, aimed at Regina as her mind raced toward the right word,  “…my love. You will not disrespect the love of my life in her home. Are we clear?”

 Save for Robyn’s random vocalizations, the kitchen was still. Emma, shocked at her instinctual reaction, realized she just outed them. She didn’t follow Regina’s lead, she sprinted ahead leaving a trail of ash in her wake. Zelena looked to her sister, whose eyes were beginning to water and Emma saw a broad smile break over their son’s face.

 Zelena clapped slowly. “Bravo, Savior. About damn time.”

 “You guys are together? For real?” Regina saw the happiness on her son’s face and nodded, too choked up to speak. He walked over, bent down and hugged her in her seat: “I’m so happy for you both.” Emma felt her throat tighten until Zelena spoke: “Emma, don’t you dare lay a finger on me.”

 “Yeah, no worries there, lady.” She turned toward Henry and pulled him into her with a rough, “C’mere.” After they broke, Emma finally got within arm’s reach of Regina, tucked an errant piece of hair behind her ear and lightly trailed the back of her fingers down the woman’s cheek: “Hi,” she whispered.

 Regina gazed up like Emma hung the moon. “Hi.”

 “Merciful hell, I am going to be ill.”

 Emma chuckled, then leaned in: “Hen, finish my omelette while I kiss your Mom, OK?”

The End