Chapter Text
Emma Swan hates coffee in a deep-seated way. It’s much too bitter at its core, then becomes too saccharine if sugar cubes are added, and too bland if milk is added. It’s an opinion most people scoff at every time she turns down the beverage and ends up having to explain why.
“You just haven’t found your flavor yet ,” is what most respond with, and she usually laughs it off even though her dislike for coffee should never be minimized in such a way.
So, it’s an ironic plot twist when her parole officer slips her a pamphlet for a trauma and grief support group and she meets a young Asian woman with a lot of sadness in her heart and the bright idea to open a coffee shop.
“People love coffee and I love money,” is what Fa Mulan said to Emma as they leaned against the brick wall of the community center and watched other members of the group trot toward their cars with their Starbucks cups in their hands. The meaningful look sent her way told Emma she was about to be roped into something that could be great or a total disaster.
And that’s how she ended up as the co-owner of Storybook Brews—a cozy coffee shop right across from the Boston city hall.
It took her entire life savings, which was mostly apology money from her ex-boyfriend Neal. He hid it under the passenger seat of the yellow Bug they stole together months before her imprisonment. Truthfully, she should’ve given more thought about funneling that money to a woman she barely knew for a business that could have easily failed, but Emma was already screwed. She was a parolee with no high school degree or job prospects.
Gambles usually didn’t work out well for her, but this gamble? Well, it somehow paid off. That’s a fact Mulan loves to throw back in her face whenever Emma doubts a decision.
“Coffee-infused bagels? Really?”
“Hey, Emma, who came up with this whole successful business plan again?”
They’ve been up and running for about six months now and it’s a hit, especially with the politicians and their aids that work right across the street. They get a lot of foot traffic because of their prime location too. There are town hall meetings with citizens, guests that make the trek over to propose legislature, the press that film for C-SPAN and other networks, and the men and women that live in the neighborhood. Mulan wasn’t kidding when she said this location would be worth the hefty rent.
She still hates coffee, but she’s damn glad others are obsessed with it.
“Marian, hey! You’re—You look awesome! Or beautiful, not awesome. Not that you don’t look—“
Speaking of obsessed...
“Hey, Fa,” Marian blushes as she reaches the cash register, smiling at Mulan shyly and chuckling through their awkwardness. Emma watches them from the small table near the bathrooms as she munches on her breakfast sandwich. Marian is the chief of staff to the Mayor of Boston. She’s beautiful and awesome, and Mulan has the biggest crush on her. Thankfully for her, it’s seemingly mutual. “The boss wants—“
“Coffee, black, no sugar and no milk. I know. She’s kind of a creature of habit, that one.” Mulan smiles and fiddles with the name tag pinned to her black apron before grabbing her order pad and a black gel pen, “But you like to experiment—“ Mulan squeaks and freezes after the words tumble from her mouth and Emma has to bite her lip to keep from laughing at their stupidly stunned expressions.
It’s nice to see her so thrown off considering how much of a smug asshole she is with Emma. Lucky for Mulan, the shop is empty at this time of the morning since the breakfast rush is over and everyone is headed to work, so no one but Emma is watching her stumble through flirting.
Marian tips her chin down and hides another blush behind a curtain of dark brown hair, but a puff of laughter fills up the room. Mulan softens at the sound. Idiots . Love and romance? It’s just an avenue where all exits lead to pain. She thinks of Neal and her hearts hardens even more.
“You’re adorable, Fa. Lucky for you, I love to experiment,” Marian grins and shoots the Asian woman a meaningful look. Okay, Emma can admit she hopes they never require an exit, even if she stopped believing in happy endings a long time ago. “I’ll have the same as my boss, but I want to try one of those infused bagels.”
Mulan perks up, “You’re going to love them! Most people doubt the idea, but it adds a nice deep richness to the dough.”
Marian watches as the store owner starts putting her order together and Emma can tell she’s weighing a decision. Her back is ramrod straight, shoulders tense, and her lips are pursed, like she’s gearing up to talk. When Mulan turns back toward the register with a small brown bag and cup holder housing the two black coffees, Marian finally speaks up.
“So, there’s this new bakery a few blocks down and I’ve been wanting to try it out for weeks. I was wondering if you’d like to, I don’t know, join me for some lunch? No pressure or anything, I just—“
“Hey, breathe,” Mulan soothes the other woman and stops her from rambling. “I’d love to, but I can’t. I pretty much work all day, every day, but maybe this weekend?”
“Oh, I have... I have Roland this weekend.”
“Your son?” Mulan asks. Marian nods. “Well, what about next weekend?”
When Marian’s shoulders droop in disappointment, Emma sighs. She shoves the rest of the bacon and egg sandwich into her mouth and chews methodically as she stands from her table and wipes down the top with a napkin. Her friend is stammering through a response about her availability and how Emma covers the night shift only when she slides in next to her and interrupts. “I’ll cover you for lunch.”
Mulan is clearly not expecting the offer if her wide-eyed incredulous stare is anything to go by. Emma has insomnia and usually spends mornings and most of the afternoon in the back office, working on the books and inventory in between fits of disturbed sleep on the office couch, and then takes over around four and works the counter until closing time.
“Emma, that wouldn’t be fair. You’re exhausted.” Mulan says, but her eyes are hopeful, and Marian is watching them both eagerly.
“You take the morning shift, I’ll take over from eleven to three, and then you take most of my night shift. I’ll still help you close and prepare for tomorrow. Fair trade off.” Emma throws the two women a smile and teases, “Besides, helping two sickeningly sweet love birds will totally score me some good karma points.”
“We’re just—“
“We’re not—“
“Sure!” Emma puffs out a disbelieving laugh. “So, switch shifts?”
Both women stare at one another nervously for a few seconds before Mulan nods with a small, grateful smile and Emma pats her friend on the shoulder before making her way into the back of the shop. She turns on the light in the back office and lets out a weary sigh. The paperwork is waiting for her and the computer is ready to power up and pull up the excel sheet, but the worn-out blue couch off to the side is calling to her.
Her sleep the night before was restless and she’s exhausted, and now that she’s taking Mulan’s shift, she’ll definitely need to rest. Without a second thought, she shimmies out of her jacket, plops down on the couch, and snuggles into the cushions, ready to catch up on sleep before her first ever lunch shift.
“Henry, please lower the volume on that infernal game!”
Regina ignores the massive eye roll she gets in response, mostly because the pops of gunfire emanating from the large television in the lounge of her office drops just enough. She loves her son and she’s glad he’s able to relax and enjoy his time off from elementary school but setting up a PlayStation console in her Mayor’s office was a terrible decision.
She’s making do, however. As a single mother with parents that have passed and a sister that decided to move to London to chase after a man named Chad , for god’s sake, she had limited options for childcare. Henry refused to go to camp, didn’t have many friends to spend time with, and Regina simply couldn’t afford to hire a babysitter for nine hours a day, six days a week. Technically, she can hire that babysitter considering her massive family’s wealth, but she won’t. Her relationship with her son has been turbulent enough. She couldn’t bear him attaching to some random teenager and leaving her behind. Perhaps it was selfish to force him to come with her bright and early to the office, but it was the best option for her.
She’s just about to turn back to her massive pile of proposals when Henry sighs and drops his game controller on the couch with a thud. The television is displaying a baby blue box with bright yellow font spelling out “ Victory Royale ” and she’s fairly sure that means he won something, so his displeasure holds her attention.
“What’s the matter, Henry?”
“Bored, that’s all,” He replies with a huff that usually would incur irritation, but she’s feeling quite guilty for sequestering him in her office during his summer break. He‘s ten, edging slowly toward those dreaded teenage years, and they both want him to have much more interaction with people his own age. He’s a lonely boy. It worries her beyond belief.
“Why don’t you reconsider going to summer camp, sweetheart? You used to enjoy it—“
“No, I told you I don’t want to!” Henry’s voice is just loud enough to make Regina nervously check her door. Her secretary, a young girl named Ashley, has loose lips and once told Sidney Glass, the local beat reporter, about her troubles with her son. Their private affairs were subject to public scrutiny, which only made the situation with Henry all the more precarious. The only reason the girl still has a job is her best friend and chief of staff, Marian, who pleaded on the girls' behalf and appealing to Regina’s mothering side.
“The girl just had a baby, Regina. She’s a single mom, no high school diploma, no prospects. She didn’t know who Sidney was. Now, she does and knows better.” She’d said in that tone that simultaneously made her soften and grow irritated. In the end, Regina’s pity kept Ashley behind the front desk. Still, it doesn’t mean she trusts her.
She doesn’t bother acknowledging his tantrum. It’s what all of those psychology books she’s been reading tell her to do to change his behavior. Deep down, she knows he doesn’t have a behavioral problem. He’s just processing. It doesn’t make it hurt any less when he yells, or shrugs off her touches, or tells her he hates her, but it gives her hope that things will get better.
The awkward silence between them is severed the moment her office door flings open and a blushing Marian whips toward them with a wide smile and a coffee tray balanced in her open palm and a brown take out bag scrunched between her fingers. Regina’s mouth practically salivates at the thought of breakfast. She and Henry ran out of the mansion this morning to beat the early traffic rush and missed the most important meal of the day.
“You won’t believe it!” Marian squeals loud enough for Ashley to peek around the office doorway. A scalding glare from the Mayor has the blonde secretary scrambling back to her desk.
“Marian, would you quiet down? This is a place of—“
“I asked her out!” Marian exclaims as she places the coffee tray down on Regina’s desk and sits down on the visitor’s chair. Regina sighs. Professionalism was evicted the day she decided to hire her cheery best friend as her chief of staff.
She reaches from the take out bag and pulls out her apple cinnamon muffin then tosses the bag to Henry, who catches it easily and digs around for his breakfast sandwich. She takes a quick bite of her food. “Who—?”
“Fa. The coffee girl.” Marian gives her a knowing glance when Regina simply looks confused. “I’ve been talking about her for months, Regina.”
Guilt floods the mayor, but she simply sighs heavily and puts down her muffin. The least she could do is give Marian some of her attention after ignoring her school girl crush for months. Marian isn’t offended though, Regina knows. She knows the Mayor has had too much on her plate recently. Besides, she’s fully aware that her best friend has seen love as a weakness since they met.
Regina’s tanned hands shake slightly as she thinks about their ex, Robin.
“So, what happened, Tia ?” Henry’s expression is exuberant for the first time in weeks and Regina’s just so relieved to see him smile that she smothers the part of her that’s envious that Marian pulled it from him and not her.
Marian turns to him and returns his smile enthusiastically. “Well, I managed to work up the nerve to ask her on a date and it almost didn’t happen, but Fa’s coworker is going to take over her shift—“
“When is this date?” Regina asks her, eyes narrowed and suspicious. “Tonight’s Town Hall is extremely important, especially if we want to win re-election this November.”
“It’s March , Regina, and you always poll strongly. Besides, there’ll be several more Town Halls before election night—“
Regina sighs, “That does not mean we can slack off, Marian. I understand that you have feelings for this coffee shop woman , but—“
“Mom,” Henry’s pleading voice freezes her. He hasn’t called her that in months, not since that insipid elementary school teacher ruined everything. He doesn’t say anything more, but he doesn’t have to. She knows that he’s trying to plead on his godmother’s behalf, to tell her that not everyone is as dismissive and cynical about love as she is.
Her eyes slip shut, tight and slightly painful, as self-loathing washes over her. She minimized her best friends’ excitement and put a damper on the joyous mood that had befallen them with Marian’s entrance. Perhaps Henry was right. Maybe she does snuff the light from everyone around her. Maybe—
“Regina,” Marian’s soft, knowing voice breaks up her thoughts and her gentle hand grabs Regina’s, entwining their fingers together and squeezing reassuringly. Because Marian knows and understands. “The date is today, during lunch, so I’ll be back in time to help you prep for the Town Hall.” Marian’s kind smile turns teasing as she adds, “Think you can manage getting your own lunch?”
“I’m not a child,” Regina huffs, glaring at the other woman petulantly. Marian laughs it off. The nerve.
“I never said you are, but you’re kind of a workaholic and refuse to put your work down for the ten minutes it would take you to walk to a bistro.” Marian leans back, dragging her hands away from Regina as the atmosphere loosens and placing them on her lap, smoothing out the denim of her black jeans. “It’ll take you less than ten minutes if you go to the coffee shop across the street. They make those panini’s you like.”
“The coffee shop across the street?” Regina screws up her nose, “ The Coffee Cavern was shut down due to Mister Jones’ negligence.” She frowns, “And he was a connoisseur of hot garbage. I told you to never get me food or coffee from that shop.”
Marian’s grin tightens and Henry’s watching them knowingly. “Fa bought the place and cleaned it up before opening her coffee shop there a few months back. You’ve been having their food since I first saw her through the front window because I’ve been making excuses to talk to her. Any of this ringing a bell?”
Vaguely . Regina tended to tune Marian out whenever she began gushing over the woman she was attracted to.
“Right,” Regina mumbles before clearing her throat and avoids Marian’s slight glare by turning to her computer and clicking on a completely irrelevant file folder to look preoccupied. Dismissively, she adds, “I’ll pick up lunch so you can enjoy your date.”
“Thank you.” Marian’s glare softens into a small smile and knowing eyes. “And I promise I’ll be back afterward to help you prepare. I could also take Henry home after we’re done and just hang out with him at the manor while you do your thing.”
And, well, at least this entire date debacle wouldn’t interfere with more important matters. With that thought in mind, Regina nods, settling the tension in the room. Henry smiles at her from the couch and Regina’s chest doesn’t feel so tight anymore.
By the time the clock strikes eleven, Marian is halfway to her Honda Odyssey and Henry is building some type of fortress in the creative mode of his game while Regina debates sending Ashley to get them lunch. The decision is made for her when Ashley ambles in and explains that her babysitter called. Her son has a fever that’s reached a hundred and two and she needs to be home with him.
She sees the desperation on the young girl’s face and simply nods, giving her permission to take the rest of the day. She remembers being a new mom, newly elected to the Mayor’s office, and struggling to not worry about every cough, cry, and sneeze. She’s served nearly three terms in office since then and it hasn’t gotten any easier. As her son ages, she becomes afraid of much more than a cold, and for good reason.
“Henry?” She calls out to her son as she rises from her desk chair and slips into her light jacket. The quick clicks of his controller pause. “I’m going to get us some lunch. Do you want to come with me? Perhaps some fresh air would be nice.”
He clearly ponders it but turns back to his game with a quiet decline and Regina bites down on her lip to quell the sudden need to sob. He’s been this way, distant and cold, for nearly six months, but it hasn’t gotten easier to handle.
She locks the office door behind her, just as a precaution because Ashley is absent, then strolls out of the building. The coffee shop Marian mentioned is easy to spot. The facade is white brick, making it stand out against the neighboring businesses—a boutique and a small office building rented out by various psychologists, psychiatrists, and licensed clinical social workers. She’d been reading works by one of the therapists, Archibald Hopper, stationed in that building and contemplating having Henry meet with him.
But the two buildings faded to white noise against the decorative design of the coffee shop. Storybook Brews. The words are carved in bold text and painted white across dark aged wood. Intricate vines twist around the words before slowly morphing into steam as they reach the top of the sign. It‘s creative, bold, and certainly eye-catching, which makes Regina wince at her own ignorance.
She drives past the shop on a daily basis on her way to the town hall parking garage and managed to be too wound up and trapped in thought to notice a new small business. That certainly wouldn’t due. One of her main political platforms was supporting small business and creating a city that promoted local business ownership. She’s known for being extremely effective but aloof. She hardly interacted with the citizenry outside of town hall events and it was a sore spot for her campaign. Still, she always won the office by a landslide.
With sudden determination, she crosses the street and enters the coffee shop confidently. The first thing she notices is the woman standing behind the counter, her hip bent against it and her hand pressing a landline phone to her ear. She’s whispering under her breath, something about yeast, and Regina takes the moment to drag her eyes across the woman’s obviously fit body and glowing skin. The womans’ dark t-shirt, jeans, and combat boots give her an air of casual power. The apron draped across her is ridiculously tight and hasn’t stopped some flour from coating the black t-shirt underneath. She’s insanely attractive and Regina can feel a bolt of lust zip through her before she can control it. It’s been a long time since someone touched her intimately, and much longer since a woman was the one to do so.
Being a single mother with a full-time job made life complicated. As did her issues with commitment, but that was neither here nor there.
The second thing she notices is the intricate interior decor. The left wall is lined with dark mahogany bookshelves. One shelf seems to be filled with storybooks. Some of the books have titles she easily recognizes, like Snow White and The Seven Dwarfs and Cinderella , but there’s what looks to be original, modern works. She wonders if the store promotes local writers. The other bookshelves are home to a variety of stories that range of classics to obscure. The walls are a warm red, which matches perfectly with the dark wood of the shelves, floor, tables, benches, chairs, and the counter. The walls are lined with iconic fairy tale imagery in sleek modern frames.
It’s a stark change from the previous coffee shop stationed here. It was owned by a retired Navy officer that lost his hand during a drunken fight with a fellow officer. His shop was all dark, dark blues and dark wood, with an abundance of alcohol, drunkards, and cigar smoke. It was known for its toxic environment, especially toward women, and a location where illegal gambling, solicitation of prostitution, and distribution of drugs occurred. It was a sore spot in Boston and the city health inspector agreed. The shop was shut down a year after its grand opening.
The third thing she notices is that the shop is empty. She checks her watch. It’s not yet noon. Perhaps employees hadn’t been released for lunch yet. She smiles. All the better for her.
It’s then, as she takes a step forward, that the blonde notices her presence and startles slightly before becoming frozen, mouth agape and cheeks pink. It makes Regina stutter step slightly. They stare at one another for far too long to be appropriate, their eyes connected in a way that would usually make Regina cringe. A blaring car horn springs the blonde into action.
She smiles at Regina and starts walking toward the cash register. The barista opens her mouth to say something, but the landline phone cord grows taut and snaps the blonde back, sending her flying across the back of the counter to the floor, out of sight. The impact shakes the room and there’s a clatter of plates intermingled with colorful curse words.
“Shit. Fuck. Not now, Ruby!” The blonde yelps from behind the counter and Regina has to bite her lip to keep from laughing. The laughs spasm against her ribs, becoming unbearable as the blonde tries to grab the edge of the counter to steady her ascent, only to accidentally grab onto the tip jar and send her body back to the floor with a two handfuls of change raining down on her.
And Regina loses all of her decorum. The mirth spills from her heartily, echoing around the room and bringing tears to her eyes. She can’t remember the last time she allowed herself to laugh so freely and unrestrained. The blonde fumbles for the counter again and manages to get a grip to pull herself up onto her knees and rest her chin on the dark wooden slat. The barista’s green eyes are latched onto Regina’s mirthful brown ones and she’s clearly embarrassed, but underneath that, there’s something warm. It draws her in, and she finds her legs moving forward.
The blonde grits her teeth, her embarrassment becoming more prominent as Regina gets closer and is able to see the absolute chaos behind the counter. There’s coins and scattered plates, some shattered, everywhere. Regina looks at her name tag. Emma . So, the klutz of a barista is Emma, she thinks with too much warmth toward a stranger.
“So, uh, how’s it going?” Emma says from below.
Regina chuckles lightly. “I think it’s safe to say it’s going much more smoothly for me than it is for you, dear.”
“Well, that’s a low bar.” Emma teases, trying to make light of her misfortune. It’s endearing . The thought makes Regina tense. The beautiful blonde rises to her feet, steadily this time, and wipes her hands against her black apron. “What can I get you?”
Regina swallows her residual mirth and arousal, and says, “A grilled chicken salad, grilled cheese, tomato soup, and two bottled waters.”
The blonde grins and quirks an eyebrow. “Would you like to try our new bear claws?”
Regina smiles back, though she knows it lacks that carefree quality it had earlier. She’s closing off, putting her walls back in place. “A bear claw?”
The blonde points toward the back wall, where neat trays displayed the freshly baked goods. “They’re a pastry with icing. We have claws filled with milk chocolate spread, hazelnut spread, or the classic almond paste. No raisins on any of them.”
Regina spots the trays labeled as bear claws and notices how sugary the claw-shaped pastry seems to be with the abundance of icing glistening on top. She hesitates because of her need to watch her figure and keep Henry healthy, but the blonde must see it, because she adds, “One can’t hurt, right? We gotta treat ourselves to good stuff every once in a while.”
Regina wants to balk at this woman’s audacity, but she somehow feels charmed, and she hates it. Yet, she doesn’t reject the sweet pastry when the blonde shoves it into her hand and tells her it’s on her tab. She’s ready to throw it on the counter and berate the woman, but the blonde smiles, wide and endearing, and her eyes are sad, brimming with hidden pain.
She stares at the woman, then the pastry. A second passes.
She takes a bite.