The Chicken Debacle

Regina becomes exasperated with Emma’s lack of concentration when it comes to learning to control her magic and refuses to teach the idiot savior any longer. Emma doesn’t take rejection well. Unapologetic stupidity ensues.
A lightly edited old story from the bygone years of ff.net

Notes:

Silly. Plotless. Pointless. The trigger was stopped and then Neverland never happened. Lots of OOCness for comedic purposes. You probably won't laugh out loud but maybe sometimes you'll exhale through your nose in amusement.
Poop jokes are the pinnacle of humor, right?

Chapter Text

"This is clearly pointless. Either you’re simply refusing to cooperate or you're just as hopeless as I'd first feared. Honestly, it would be ridiculous to continue on any longer. You're a lost cause."

Emma spends her morning staring at a mug of hot coffee. Black, steaming, and in one of Mary Margaret's fanciest cups. The lavender one with the hand-painted hibiscus designs poking up from the base.

She has fifteen minutes before she has to drop Henry off at school--because it's totally Not Cool to be seen going in with your teacher even if she is your grandmother and a princess and Snow White--and head to the station. She refuses to waste them. Even if her stomach is growling and her mother just pulled actual cinnamon buns out of the oven.

Today is the day Regina takes her back on as a student. No exceptions or excuses. She's going to take Emma back, and Emma is going to learn super cool magic tricks like it's nobody's business.

Emma stares and stares and stares, brow furrowed, eyes hard, cheeks pink, and bottom lip pulled between her teeth.

The cup even looks like it might be moving a little, right? It's sorta faded, maybe. Like it's almost on its way.

This is happening. She can do this.

"Do you have to poop?" Henry sidles up on the stool next to her at the island counter, all sweet sympathy.

Emma blinks, concentration shattered. "What? No."

"It's okay," he soothes her outrage, "you don't have to be embarrassed." Snow White slides a cinnamon roll in front of him and he eagerly tucks in. "Everybody does it."

"I don't have to poop," Emma snaps. "I'm making magic. I'm concentrating ."

He shrugs and, in a display of deplorable manners Regina would never let him get away with under her roof, speaks around a mouthful of hot dough, "Looked like a poop-face to me."

Emma flushes while Snow actually snickers into her own cup of coffee. At least David is in the bathroom. He has a really loud laugh that cuts to the core.

"Well, it's not poop-face. It's magic-face." Emma straightens and huffs, does her best to clear her mind. Focuses on one clear goal, just as Regina has been attempting to teach her. "And I need to concentrate so keep your opinions to yourself, please and thank you."

Henry's too busy consuming his treat to respond and Snow at least has the good grace to turn away and put her attention on getting her bag together for the day. Emma refocuses her gaze on the mug in front of her and pours all of her energy and intent into the task.

Make it as simple in your mind as possible, Regina always says. Point A to point B. Over and done.

The mug shudders, shakes, and then vanishes.

For a moment, Emma stares at the empty space it leaves behind, dumbfounded. And then the reality of the situation hits her and she lets out a whoop as she slams her hand on the counter. "Did you see that? I totally magicked the shit outta that cup."

"Emma," Snow scolds, eyes flicking to Henry, who is grinning up at his mother.

"Sorry, Kid. I magicked the, uh," she winces, scratches at her nose, "poop out of it."

He giggles and returns to his food. Eleven-year-olds are into poop jokes. Go figure.

Whatever, nothing matters because Emma did it. She's proven Regina wrong. Right now, at that very moment, there is a steaming mug of coffee on Regina's kitchen counter. Irrefutable evidence that Emma is, in fact, far from Hopeless, or Ridiculous, or a Lost Cause. She is an official Practitioner of Magic.

And any moment now Regina is going to contact her, desperate to teach Emma all she knows in the way of sorcery because Emma is clearly Star Pupil material.

Emma's phone vibrates in her pocket.

Speak of the devil. She fishes out the device and does her best to hold back the preening until after she's read the praise.

I love waking up to hot coffee splattered across my kitchen in the morning, don't you?

Fuck.

There's really no way to recover. Regina clearly knows who is at fault. No doubt the room is filled with Emma's "magical scent" or some other weird bullshit that she's still half convinced Regina makes up as she goes. No hiding it was her doing.

Whelp, there's nothing for it. Emma focuses with all of her might on the roll of paper towels hanging from the rack beside her mother at the sink. In a matter of seconds, it vanishes.

Her phone vibrates.

Very cute.

She smirks and sends back a cheeky, I try , before she eventually relents and says a genuine, sorry.

Regina never responds.

Not ideal but, well, there's always tomorrow. At least she has the act of transporting in general down. Now she just needs to work on finesse and use her new skills to do something incredible that Regina can't ignore. The woman will have to take her back.

Emma totally has this in the bag.

"Well?" Snow turns and stares at her daughter, imposing even in her small stature with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

"Well, what?" Emma blinks dumbly.

"Is she going to send my mug back?"

Emma winces. "Uh-"

"You smashed it, didn't you?"

David jogs around the corner into the kitchen half-dressed, hair still damp from the shower. "Smashed? What mug got smashed? Which one?" There's a wild sort of urgency in his eyes.

"It was an accident," Emma whines. "I'm still learning."

Henry snickers beside her when David's eyes narrow and he strides close.

"Which one, Emma?" he breathes.

"Just the purple one, you know," she coughs, casual, eyes averted, "with the flowers?"

"But that's the best one," David whispers, heartbroken.

Henry is full-on laughing then. "Not anymore," he cackles. "No dishware is safe from the savior."

Emma gives him a light shove while her parents whimper and pout over the blatant murder of their favorite mug.

"Yeah, yeah, kid. Eat your sugar-dough."

She doesn't wait long to try again.

The next day, Emma decides she's going to buy Regina lunch. This isn't going to be a simple delivery though, oh no. This is going to be diner-to-office desk service, sponsored by light magic, free of charge.

No way will Regina be able to resist. Emma is going to be a fire-wielding witch in no time.

She gets Granny's most expensive salad. The one with all the bells and whistles. We're talking cucumbers and croutons and bacon bits. It's the sort of salad even Emma would consider eating (if every other option on the menu had spontaneously combusted in a tragic cooking accident, of course).

And then right there at the counter in the diner--because when she reveals her plan Ruby snorts and says "yeah, right. Sure. Whatever you say."--Emma magically transports it to Regina's office just in time for her lunch break.

At least, she thinks she does. That is the goal, except Emma waits a good fifteen minutes and there's no reply from the mayor. No recognition at all. Ruby, at first impressed with the display of magic, loses interest in the silence that follows and wanders off to take care of other customers with a sympathetic, "It was a good try, Em," thrown over her shoulder.

Emma stares at her phone and pouts, waiting for something-- anything --to come through. Nothing does and she reluctantly acknowledges that there are two possibilities. Either Regina is still being a brat over yesterday's accident and is ignoring her, or the salad did not wind up on her desk.

Unfortunately, both are viable options.

It's eleven at night when Emma finds out what happened.

She's tucked under her fluffiest comforter--the light blue one with the happy clouds that's exclusively utilized for Disappointing Days--when her phone vibrates on the bedside table.

You wouldn't happen to have any idea as to why there is lettuce smeared across my bedspread, would you?

Oddly, Emma's first thought is that Regina stays up later than she would have guessed on a work night.

Her second thought is shit .

It's times like these she wishes one could sense tone through a text. As it is, she has no idea if Regina is in her pajamas shaking her head in fond amusement over Emma's latest wacky shenanigans or if she's fuming in her bedroom, fire in her hands.

Though she doesn't consider herself much of an optimist, Emma banks on the former and shoots back, Those damn kids are at it again? I'll catch them soon, Madame Mayor, don't you worry. Those hooligans will think twice about breaking into unsuspecting people's homes and leaving vegetables in their beds after the sheriff gets through with them, mark my words.

The pause is lengthy enough that Emma starts to sweat a bit. It was probably the second thing, wasn't it? Regina is always so grumpy she should have known.

Her phone vibrates.

Let it go, Swan.

No yelling via Caps Lock or cursing, so that's a plus, no?

Emma feels bold. Daring.

Are you ready to help again?

A much shorter pause.

Even before these ridiculous stunts you've proven you're beyond help. Stop before someone gets hurt.

Emma can't help but roll her eyes, fingers dancing quickly over her phone in her building frustration.

I'll admit I've made some messes (ones that i'm really sorry about btw) but I'm not actually doing anything dangerous. I won't hurt anyone. Especially not if I have a SUPER AWESOME teacher showing me the ropes.

Regina's response is instantaneous. Maybe I wasn't referring to YOU hurting someone. I've been known to have a short temper, if you recall. A very short temper.

Oop, and there's Storybrooke's resident Drama Queen coming out to play. A chuckle escapes Emma.

Yikes! :o

Go to bed.

So that's a 'yes' to the restart on the lessons then?

Enough

See ya tomorrow, teach ;)

No response.

Whelp, Emma decides with a sigh, she'll just have to do better next time

Chapter 2 Chapter Text

The following days are peppered with attempts.

Emma stays in the station and tries to send her reports to the mayor's desk without standing. A time and energy saver. Genius. Just the sort of efficiency her soon-to-be mentor would approve of.

Except her reports apparently wind up scattered all over Regina's office like a wild tornado of paperwork.

Fueled by determination and, okay, maybe a little of the idiocy Regina is always harping on about, Emma next sends her a muffin for breakfast. She gets a picture message on her phone just seconds later of blueberry splattered across the inside of Regina's car.

Whoops.

Henry's bookbag, forgotten during his transition to Regina's for the week, ends up on the roof.

A vanilla milkshake, whipped cream and a cherry on top, is dumped in Regina's purse.

It's all very disheartening and, to top it all off, Regina is ignoring her.

Sure, Emma hears from her every day. But it's only brief texts to inform her about how her spell has gone awry this time. No more lunch meet-ups. No more midnight chats about Henry over wine.

And, obviously, no more underground, creepy vault magic lessons.

Madame Mayor doesn't even swoop into the station anymore to scold her sheriff. It's preposterous. Regina gets off on scolding people. Emma especially. Now suddenly she's not into it just because Emma can't get the hang of magic?

"Why so glum, chum?" Ruby slides a steaming piece of apple pie Emma didn't order across the diner's counter. "You look like you just woke up one day to find out your boyfriend was dead and then when you followed the trail of the creature who devoured him you realized it was actually you and that you were an uncontrollable demon wolf monster and then like a day after that you discovered your long lost mother and, directly after forming a bond with her like you always wanted the entirety of your young life, you had to brutally murder her to save your best friend."

Emma blinks, brow furrowed. "What?"

"Oh wait, no, those are actual problems. You're just pouting like a child because you're on a down-swing with your grouchy girlfriend." Ruby rocks back on her heels, arms crossed, lips pulled into a smirk. "Your magical flirting techniques aren't working out too well, huh?"

"W-what?" Emma splutters again. "I'm not- I don't even- that's not flirting, it's practicing and- First of all, I don't have a girlfriend- I barely even know any girls and- See, I'm supposed to be learning because-"

"Eat your pie, Emma," Ruby cuts in before whisking off to take care of another customer.

Emma huffs behind crimson cheeks and shovels the treat into her mouth until she's near choking. It's decent enough, especially for a free slice, but she has revenge on the mind.

"Regina's is better," she calls over her shoulder.

From the other side of the diner Ruby barks out a deep, dirty laugh. "I'll bet."

"That's not what I-"

"Two ninety-seven," Ruby interrupts again, and Emma's gaze falls to what she thought had been offered as a gift from a caring friend.

"Rubes, what the fuck?"

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

Emma slumps farther into the soft cushion of the couch, arms crossed, pout on her face. "Ruby gave me a piece of pie out of nowhere and didn't tell me I had to pay until after it was already in my mouth."

"That is how she makes most of their sales," Mary Margaret muses from the kitchen. She's pounding chicken for cutlets and the noise is starting to get to Emma.

Thud Thud Thud

It's grating, and the smell of the breaded ones David is already frying isn't helping any either. It's just making her think of the family dinners on Mifflin that she apparently isn't invited to anymore.

Regina hasn't asked her over in weeks now.

Her stomach gurgles. She wants chicken florentine. Regina's really good at chicken florentine.

Thud Thud Thud

Ugh. Emma jumps up from the couch and jogs upstairs to the relative silence of her room to collapse on the bed face first.

There's nothing to do.

Her parents had declined her offer of aid with the cooking. They have been ever since the whole Spaghetti Incident. Which, to be fair, is probably a good call. Sometimes Emma still finds sauce in the oddest places.

Henry is at the mansion for the week, probably scrambling to finish his homework before dinner. Ruby is working. And now Regina won't hang out anymore.

She hasn't even been calling to relay the insults that Emma is ninety percent certain she stays up late inventing. Regina always sounds too proud of herself for them to be spur-of-the-moment creations.

Either way, she hasn't had her intelligence insulted in days.

Emma rolls onto her back and wrestles her phone from the tight pocket of her jeans. She's not going to just sit back and take this abuse--or, well, not abuse, really. With sure, determined motions she types in Regina's number.

Regina answers on the third ring, just when Emma is losing heart.

"No."

One word and Emma's already beaming. It's a blessing Ruby is nowhere in sight. "Hello to you too. You know, that's a really unprofessional way to answer the phone, Madame Mayor. What would the public think?"

"I'd file a claim for harassment if you weren't our only law enforcement." Regina's frown is clear even through the phone. "Actually, I should probably do something about that," she trails off.

"Nah, It's all good. I'm probably not corrupt."

"I have noticed a bit of the budget every month mysteriously disappearing. I did a bit of digging and found it coming out in increments of six eighty-seven a couple times a week. Which I found quite amusing as that just so happens to be the same price as a grilled cheese meal plus tax at Granny's."

"Weird. I'll have to keep an eye on that. Being a not-corrupt cop, it is my duty after all." Emma coughs and rolls into her pillow. "Did you know Ruby just gives people food and then makes them buy it?"

Regina hums. "Three days ago I got a cup of coffee for being 'the finest mayor in Maine'. At the end of my meal it was added to the check."

"That little thief." Emma listens to the clattering of pots and pans through the phone. "So whatcha doing? Making dinner?" She goes for innocence and pure friendly curiosity and keeps any sort of prompting out of her voice.

"Yes."

A long pause with more clattering.

Emma buries her face into the pillow and fiddles with a loose thread on her baby blanket. "Whatcha making?"

Regina huffs. "Is there a reason you called?"

"The melodious sound of your voice?"

"Try again." Regina sounds less than amused, but there's like a ninety percent chance she's standing in her kitchen, fighting back a smile. "Or, better yet, leave me alone."

Okay, like a sixty percent chance.

"No," Emma whines. "Teach me things."

"We're not going over this again. I refuse to have this conversation with you any more."

Fifty percent?

"I'll be good this time. You'll see," Emma insists. "Just give me one more chance. I'll blow you away."

"That's what you said a week ago," Regina reminds her. "And about a week before that. And around two months ago. And again around three months ago-"

"All right," Emma snaps. "We get it, I suck."

"Your words," Regina sing-songs and it sounds like she's setting the oven timer.

"Well I'm never gonna learn if we just stop ." Emma's glad there's no one around to see her pout. "I'm sure you had trouble too in the beginning."

"Yes," Regina agrees, and Emma can hear the distraction in her voice. Wonder Mom is probably putting in a roast and making the bed and folding the laundry all at the same time. "In the beginning, I certainly did. Three months in, however-"

"Everyone learns at different speeds." Emma drags her blanket over her head to hide the color in her cheeks, even with no audience about to witness the event. Regina's right, of course.

Like always.

Emma is supposed to be learning how to transport herself. Regina started her off with transporting other objects first to get a feel of the process. She was supposed to start off with small items, then larger ones, then a small animal, and then, finally, herself.

She still hasn't passed step one. The object moves, sure, gets close to the right vicinity, but it's always just a little off. The smallest imprecision and then bam . A cup is smashed or a milkshake is spilled or a muffin explodes.

"I'm trying my best," Emma murmurs, defeat lacing the edges of her tone.

Regina doesn't reply for a time. She's quiet, only her soft breathing comes through the phone. But then, at last, she says, "Well I guess that's just not good enough," and hangs up.

And Emma would be mad if it didn't sound so much like Regina didn't quite mean it. She flops onto her back and decides then that this is workable. Regina can crack. Will crack.

Emma just needs to prove herself and then, well, family dinners are hers once again.

Chicken florentine, here comes Emma Swan.

She's gonna wow Regina Mills.

Chapter 3 Chapter Text

The thing about Regina is that she scoffs at grand gestures. She rolls her eyes at production, unless of course she's the one doing the producing. The queen is hypocritical like that.

Anyways, to catch her eye--or, er, catch her as a teacher-person-thing--Emma is gonna have to go for something intricate and refined. Which happens to not be her strong suit.

She goes to Henry for help.

"Practice makes perfect," he says. "She appreciates the details. You gotta get a hang of the finer points."

He loans her his old action figures and sits with her on the couch at the loft, barking out orders. It's almost like having Regina in the flesh.

"Send Raiden to the counter next to the sink."

The toy winds up in the laundry basket.

"Put Scorpion on top of the fridge."

That one ends up in the toilet, though that's not what has Henry's feathers all ruffled.

"Ma, that was Sub-Zero."

"What?" She frowns. "That was totally Scorpion."

"That was Sub-Zero." He rolls his eyes and holds up a near identical figure. " This is Scorpion."

She wrinkles her nose. "I thought that was Reptile."

"It's not, it's Scorpion." He huffs. "This one's Reptile."

"Wait. Wait. Then who's Rain-" Her gaze falls on a particular form buried in the pile in front of her son and she cackles in delight before fishing it out. " Woah check out this chick. What's her story?"

"That's Sheeva." Henry doesn't seem to share her enthusiasm for the wild design. "She's okay, I guess."

"I bet she's real into this guy." Emma snickers and digs out another character. "They'd have a hot date."

"Ew. No. Goro doesn't date. None of them date. They fight."

"Well I think Goro could show Sheeva a good time. Seems like they have a lot in common." She presses the toys together in a sweet kiss and Henry's just distraught because apparently Mortal Kombat is a game of missed connections and Emma's going to explain all the details why.

They don't get much done, but after Henry has eaten and showered and is safely tucked in for the night, Emma practices and practices until her head is pounding and her nose is running and she's just about ready to pass out on Snow White's couch.

When Henry wakes up in the morning he finds Raiden on the counter by the sink and Scorpion posing on the very top of the fridge. He beams at the sight until he notices Sheeva and Goro on the kitchen table wrapped in a--clunky and stiff--eight-armed embrace.

Emma's on a fucking roll.

While he's eating lunch, a baggy of Chips Ahoy cookies appear in Henry's lunchbox.

David finds a hot thermos of coffee in the cruiser cup holder while he's out on patrol.

A cupcake appears on Mary Margaret's desk just after her final period of the day.

How does it look? Emma texts her mother from the station as soon as the goodie is sent.

Oh was that you? Thank you so much, sweetheart! After a long day I must say I really appreciate the gesture. It was so good of you to think of me.

Emma rolls her eyes. Sure. Just tell me is it perfect or wonky?

Oh, sweetheart. Of course it's perfect. It's from you!

Oh my god. No, like look at it. Is it in perfect Muffet's Bakery, fresh off the shelves condition? Or is it all wonky? Frosting still there? How about the wrapper?

It's perfect, darling.

Send me a picture.

There's a rather lengthy pause. Emma frowns at the silence and caves pretty quickly.

Mom? Pls?

The reply comes fast. Is this magic practice?

Can I please just have a picture? I want to make sure it isn't all wonky.

She gets the photo in the end, but when Snow comes home that night she's grouchy and bitter and she mutters to herself all throughout dinner. Emma pretends not to notice. Instead, she stares at the perfect cupcake on the screen of her phone, hunting for any sort of flaw

There are none to be found.

She's ready.

Here's the thing, It's the week before her birthday. Her birthday also just so happens to fall on her week to have the kid. To Emma, it seems like the perfect time to strike. Her gesture will be unexpected, because Regina will assume that Emma will be too wrapped up in birthday festivities to plot. She'll also be more receptive because she'll be all brooding and pouty without Henry around. Emma figures she just needs to come up with an impressive, yet simple, magic trick.

The problem is, when she hits up Henry for ideas he frowns and shakes his head.

"Leave her alone, Ma," is all he says. "It's just not a great time."

"It's the best time though," she presses, but he just keeps warning her off all through the week.

"Just wait. Maybe don't try again until November."

That gets her really curious. She follows him around the loft before dinner and badgers him in the car when she drives him to school until finally, the morning before her birthday, he snaps.

"It's your birthday," he hisses, one foot out of the car, backpack in a firm grip. His eyes flash like she's the biggest idiot he's ever had the misfortune of dealing with and she's hit with a sudden pang of longing for days long gone when she'd really been able to get in the mayor's face.

Of course, as soon as that initial pang fades she finds herself frowning. "She still hates me that much? Just the thought of my birthday pisses her off?" She sniffs and says, "Jeez," like the idea is laughable and not actually heart-constricting.

"Ma, what does your birthday coincide with?"

Bullshit her eleven-year-old just correctly used that word while shooting her his haughty I-know-that-fairy-tales-are-real-and-you-don't look.

"Spooky Halloween fun? Pumpkin carving? Big sweaters? Oh, hot chocolate after dinner. Candy corn." Her stomach gurgles. She should totally pick up some candy corn before work.

Henry rolls his eyes and then pulls open his pack. She watches as he rummages through for a bit before wriggling out that goddamn book.

"Do you still carry this around with you, you nerd?"

"Just maybe do some reading on your break." Henry slides out of his seat and drops the book in his place, then bends down to glare at her through the open window. "It's just not a good time."

She's not stupid, despite what Regina would have everyone within earshot at any given moment believe. Emma knows her birthday marks the day the curse was cast. She just doesn't know why that's such a big deal.

Like okay, obvious sore spot between them, yeah. But Regina's been very vocal with Emma about how she'll never regret the magic and everything that followed because it had brought her Henry. And Emma had agreed. It was worth it in the end just for the kid alone. Everything was.

That's what their truce was built upon. Henry had made forgiveness possible.

Emma reads. She doesn't have to wait for any sort of break. Frankly, when there's no super villain running about the streets most of her day is a break. She sits at her desk and reads about her journey through a tree trunk.

She reads about her parents.

She reads about fairies and ogres.

She reads about dwarves.

She reads about Regina pulling her father's heart out of his chest and crushing it to dust.

Oh.

That would be the one then.

It's seven thirty and Emma finds herself on the eve of her birthday sitting cross-legged on the couch in her mother's apartment, glaring at an ice cream sundae. Henry's been saying to drop it because he thinks she might mess up. Make a problem for Regina to deal with while she's feeling so down. But Emma won't mess up. Not this time.

She refuses.

Henry sighs. "I don't like this."

"How do you have such little faith in me?" She furrows her brow and pouts.

He just raises his eyebrows. "Uh, remember? The Spaghetti Incident?"

She clears her throat, cheeks flushed. "The what? Hmm?"

"Ma, there's not a person in town who doesn't remember it."

"This is different," she whines. "I can do this. I know I can."

He shakes his head and then stalks off. "Whatever happens, I wasn't involved."

Emma rolls her shoulders to shake off his doubts. This will work. This will impress Regina.

Simple, but intricate. Perfect. Detailed.

And, hopefully, it's going to make her smile.

Regina's got a super good smile. A-fucking-plus.

Emma raises her hands towards the bowl of ice cream and concentrates like she's never concentrated before.

It disappears.

Mere seconds pass before Emma's phone vibrates. She fishes it from her pocket.

Must you? Regina's sent.

Emma beams. Step one complete. She texts back a quick, Wait for it…

Concentration. Deep breathing. Emotion.

Focus on what you want to do and why.

Her magic springs to life once more and hopefully all the way at Regina's on the other side of town a cherry has just appeared, nestled perfectly atop the sundae's generous mound of whipped cream.

This time Emma doesn't wait for a response. She's all in. She only takes the time to send, Wait for it even longer …

And then--body clenched, face screwed up tight--she magics over the final piece. Stabbed right into the impossibly small target of the cherry--hopefully--a little toothpick with a post-it note flag that says Hail to the Queen.

Emma waits.

No response.

She waits a little more.

Nothing.

Fuck. Why didn't she listen to Henry? The kid is always right.

Did everything at least land on the same table?

No response.

Same room?

No response.

Same house?

No response.

Fuck . She's an asshole.

"Hen," she cries, her desperate voice echoing about the apartment.

"Nope," he shouts back. "Not involved."

Emma lets out a pitiful whimper and slumps back onto the couch. This is worse than the Spaghetti Incident.

She stills for a moment, then shudders as the memory of murderous, sentient marinara sauce overtakes her.

Oh god.

No. The Spaghetti Incident is worse.

The Spaghetti Incident is always worse.

Emma sinks into the cushions and sighs. "At least come downstairs and watch a sad old movie with your sad old mom before she gets even sadder and older tomorrow."

Henry eventually returns after a little nagging, but he's very stern and a little too haughty for Emma's liking. That's all Regina. "If you made things worse for Mom I'm not sneaking you out leftovers for the next month."

"Good." Emma grabs one of Snow's numerous songbird embroidered throw pillows and shoves it over her face. "I deserve it."

Henry nods in solemn agreement and they watch 101 Dalmatians because they both get a kick out of Sergeant Tibbs and it's just about the only Disney film they can still watch without having to think about the Storybrooke versions' real lives. Pongo is just like any other dog so far.

God help Emma if, like, Cruella shows up in town or something. She'll be out of childhood classics. Good thing that seems about as likely as Ursula popping out of the harbor.

Henry's nodding off and "the badduns" are just settling down to watch "What's My Crime?" when an empty bowl suddenly appears atop the coffee table right next to Emma's crossed legs. She leaps to her feet in an explosive rush of joy and the only thing that keeps her from letting out a triumphant whoop is Henry, sprawled out and snoring.

Instead of waking him, she whips out her phone, fingers flying. Okay now you gotta take me back. I'm like a goddamn prodigy that was some precise shit.

The reply comes in seconds. Yes, after three months you are transporting cherries like a professional. I don't know if there is anything more I can teach you.

Not even Regina's assholery can bring Emma down. If anything her smile only grows. Fresh.

They didn't call me evil for nothing.

A-Hyuck. You gonna take me under your imperious wing again or not?

Why do you even care so much? You're far more persistent than you ever were before.

That sobers Emma a bit. She'd expected Regina to act sour about it, sure, but she'd assumed she'd be back in no question. Jokes aside, the sundae wasn't an easy feat, and Regina should know that.

Regina does know that.

What gives?

Well I'd like to actually be of some use the next time a Big Bad rolls into town. Can't leave the mayor to handle everything. There. Go for reason. Regina loves sensible things.

She could.

Emma chuckles. Nah, she's too small.

We're basically the same height.

That is true. You are the same height as the mayor. Very good, Regina.

I hate you. Leave me alone.

Scathing.

Shut up.

Emma huffs in defeat. This isn't fair. She can't keep pressuring Regina, not tonight. At least she has some hard evidence of her potential now. She can leave Regina to grieve and give her some space before hounding her again.

I'll leave you alone for tonight, teach, but I'll get you soon. I'll be your star pupil yet.

Or you could just leave me be and allow me to go about living my life in peace?

Nah.

Goodnight.

Emma grins at the firm dismissal. Night.

It looks like Regina's taken it upon herself to wash everything up so Emma sets about putting the dishware away. As soon as the movie is shut down and Henry has been dragged upstairs, Emma falls into bed.

Her parents return from their date night not too long after, and even through her door she can hear their whispers and giggles as they, both a little tipsy, attempt to get some last minute wrapping done for her. It sounds like a clumsy effort, but the fact that an effort is being made at all for Emma's birthday warms her.

She rolls over and tugs her comforter up to her chin and does her best to fall asleep. The sooner she sleeps, the sooner she wakes.

Waking means presents and snacks and more presents and cake.

Emma tosses. She turns. She twists. She kicks. She tosses some more.

After a good hour she lets out a huff and throws off her blankets. It'd be easy to blame birthday excitement, but Emma's very acutely aware that instead of snacks and cake and presents, all she can think about is the fact that Regina is alone in a house that's way too big and thinking about her dead father.

And her dead mother.

And her dead boyfriend.

And her dead jackbutt "husband".

And, well, probably everything bad that's ever happened to her.

Which is, you know, a whole fucking lot.

Shit.

Emma scrambles for her phone on the bedside table and highlights Regina's contact. She's on the cusp of calling, but talks herself out of it. She's pushed too hard tonight already. The best thing would be to give Regina the courtesy of not having to answer. Play it cool.

A deep breath, and Emma types out a simple, Hey.

There, if Regina wants she can go ahead and say she slept through the alert.

Surprisingly, Emma's phone vibrates within seconds.

I'm sleeping.

That liar. Emma chuckles. Wow ur a really good sleep-texter. Very coherent. 10/10

What do you want, Swan?

Just wanted to say I'm around. U know. For whatever. I'm here.

There's a long pause, long enough that Emma thinks maybe she's overstepped, and then: I know.

A smile tugs at Emma's lips. She falls back into bed and stares at the two words. It's incredible, really, how far they've come. That they can do this, share these-

You never shut up. How could I forget?

Emma lets out a heavy sigh. Two steps forward, three steps back.

Rude.

Goodnight.

Night.

It takes more than two hours for Emma to finally drift off to sleep, and the last thing she remembers is wondering if she'd managed to make any sort of difference for Regina at all.

Chapter 4 Chapter Text

Emma is groggy and exhausted in the morning. In fact, she'd be pretty confident saying she's more tired than when she went to bed. Damn Regina and the way she's always, like, hanging out in Emma's head. Being all important and overwhelming and basically pitching a tent in the Sentimental Lobe or whatever the heck part of the brain she's currently commandeering.

God, Emma is clearly way too emotionally repressed for an arch nemesis turned bff.

She groans and pulls a pillow over her head. The scent of bacon wafts under her door and fills the room but for just about the first time in her life, Emma is not ready to hop out of bed and follow her nose to the source.

What's Regina doing right now? Is she upset? Lonely? Henry should be with her. Emma was selfish to keep him, even if it is her birthday. Regina shouldn't be alone.

A light woosh fills the room and Emma jolts upright at a familiar tingle in the air. She just catches the lingering remains of purple smoke before it dissipates and she stares wide-eyed at the neatly wrapped present in her lap.

Her heart leaps into her throat. It did work. Regina isn't upset with her. She is- well, Emma can't be sure exactly without a face to face meeting, but at the very least they are on good enough terms for a b-day gift. That's something, right?

Emma studies the relatively large box. She should save it, probably. Open it with the rest of her gifts later tonight.

But what if it's something personal? Something private?

They're closer now. Closer than they've ever been, and they'd had something like a moment last night, before Regina had gotten snippy again.

This could be something meaningful.

Something just theirs.

Emma swallows, chest tight as she carefully tugs at the neat purple bow that just screams Regina. For the first time in her life she takes care with the wrapping paper instead of blindly ripping it apart. Somehow, she just knows this is going to be something-

Something important.

Something special.

A moment to be savored.

With trembling fingers, Emma pries open the lid.

Inside the box she finds a roll of paper towels and a deep mug. It's lavender with hand painted hibiscus designs poking up from the base. Her parent's mug. Perfectly reformed by magic.

Regina, what the fuck ?

Emma skips right past embarrassment and on to anger. Just when she thinks they're getting somewhere Regina goes and-

No, Emma's not having an inner monologue. That infuriating woman is going to hear every fucking word. She's going to hear it face to-

There's a swell of, well, everything , and Emma finds her vision clouded by a bright blinding light. She blinks, and then she's standing in Regina's kitchen, still clutching the box in a tight grip.

"Son of a-" Regina squeals, fumbling with a full mug of coffee that sloshes over the sides. She's in a bathrobe, hair a little mussed, and Emma is fairly certain that it's the first time she's ever seen her barefoot.

Which is probably a weird first thought after unintentionally teleporting yourself across town.

Her second thought is that she wishes she hadn't kicked off her pj pants when she'd gotten hot last night because Regina is glaring at her as she shakes coffee off her fingers and when Regina glares at you you usually want to be wearing pants. It boosts confidence.

Her third thought is, ah ha! Regina is exactly where she wants her, and goddamnit is she going to listen to this inner--soon to be outer--monologue.

"What the fuck, Regina?" A good strong start. Honest. Fierce. Even if a little repetitive. "Every time I think we take a step forward it's like we take ten back. I've been trying really hard and maybe I'm not as good as you were when you were learning, but everything you've been doing is really shitty." She shakes the box in her hands and the mug rattles about. "I'm doing the best I can. Maybe it's not up to your standards or Gold's but this is all I've got. You ignoring me and trying to cut me out isn't exactly helping. I could also do without the constant mockery.

"God, it's like we were getting on so well and then suddenly a switch flicked and you were like, you know what? Fuck Emma. Forget that bitch. Which is really-" she fumbles and then says, "shitty," again because monologues are a lot harder than she would have thought.

"Now I can't even come to Friday dinners and- and I just really want chicken florentine, all right? Is that a crime? And I thought we were supposed to watch E.T. Did you guys end up doing that without me? We had plans, was I just kicked out? You know that's my favorite ."

Is she rambling? It feels like she's rambling.

"We're supposed to have dinner and watch movies and do magic. That's our thing. You can't just quit ." Emma huffs. She rolls her eyes. "I mean you can. You did. It's just...that's...that's...dumb…"

Huh, maybe inner monologues are inner monologues for a reason. You know, because they're not super coherent when voiced aloud.

Who woulda thunk it?

Regina raises her eyebrows and then a smug sort of smile spreads across her lips. The insufferable kind that's all, ooh haha you thought I was stealing money? It was all a secret forest playground for the children. You must feel pretty stupid right now. I'm glad the whole town is here to witness this humiliation.

Emma doesn't know why just yet, but she's fairly certain she's about to feel like an even bigger ass than usual. Damn her pantslessness.

"Okay." Regina places her coffee on the counter and nods in a very businesslike manner, as though she'd just closed an important deal. "You're welcome. On to the next lesson." She claps her hands together. "Obviously performing the spell once is far from mastery. Besides, if you'll recall, I explained to you before that bringing yourself towards a person you know and latching onto them, so to speak, is much easier than appearing at a destination on your own. If you-"

"Wait, wait," Emma cries, "what? I'm welcome ?" She splutters. "I just did all of this on my own. You didn't do anything. You ditched me. I had to practice over and over all on my own and I transported myself here through sheer willpower." Huh, in all of her righteous fury Emma hadn't stopped to celebrate the fact that she'd done it.

She had really done it. Like, for real.

Pride surges through her.

"Of course." Regina offers an indulgent smile. "I guess you just needed the proper motivation."

Her light, teasing tone has Emma bristling as, quite suddenly, everything about the past few weeks slides into place.

"You manipulated me," she breathes, aghast.

"You believe that, what, I was so frustrated with your lack of concentration and your need to pepper every single one of my carefully crafted lessons with moronic jokes that I hatched a wildly elaborate scheme where I suddenly cut you out of my life so that your abandonment issues would kick in and you would be so desperate to get back into my good graces that you'd practice relentlessly to try to win me over and eventually hone your skills to the point that you'd be able to perform the required magic with ease?" Regina scoffs. "Don't be ridiculous."

Emma stares, dumbfounded. "You wily bitch."

"Put some pants on, Emma."

"Hit me up?" Emma needles with a hopeful smile. "You do owe me an actual present."

Regina rolls her eyes but obliges with a wave of her hand. A puff of smoke and Emma finds herself wearing a pair of fluffy pajama pants. They're hot pink and have cartoonish prints of platefuls of spaghetti and meatballs.

"We agreed to never speak of it," Emma whines, but Regina appears unmoved so she settles for muttering, "The colors clash."

"I think they suit you," Regina says. "Now get out of my home. We'll resume our old schedule, which means I don't have to be bothered with you until Tuesday." She waves Emma away as though swatting a fly. "Go on."

"I don't have my car."

Regina raises her eyebrows. "You have magic," she says as though she's speaking to a small child.

Emma swallows, cheeks pink. "Right. Uh, right. I'll just-" She clears her throat, closes her eyes, screws her features up tight, and imagines her warm bed back at the loft.

Of course midway through her stomach growls and for a split second she thinks of a steaming plate of Granny's banana pancakes, but that will hardly make a diff-

"Ooh la la."

Emma opens her eyes and finds herself standing in Granny's Diner. It's not open yet, thank god, but Ruby and Granny are there to get the day started and both look overjoyed at the sight of Emma, barefoot and messy haired and in rumpled pink spaghetti themed pajamas.

"Neat trick, kiddo," Ruby cheers approvingly, and Emma sighs.

"Still working some of the kinks out. I was aiming for bed."

"Wouldn't have guessed. Looking good, hot stuff." Granny's head appears in the kitchen window and she flashes a thumbs up that Emma sheepishly returns.

She holds out her hands, deciding to take it all in stride. "Pretty fancy, huh?" She'd once had to take a hungover Ruby to the hospital after she'd toppled off the toilet. There's nothing to be embarrassed about here. She's in good company. "And soon, that won't be all. Gonna be a prodigy, me."

Ruby puts her hands on her hips, impressed. "She took you back, huh? Just in time for your birthday, too."

"Few can resist these magical charms." Emma gives a little mock bow.

"I'll bet," Ruby chuckles. "So, when's the wedding?"

"Ugh," Emma's shoulders sag. "Don't make it weird."

"I'm not making anything weird," Ruby defends as she moves behind the counter to wake up the coffee machine. "I'm just dropping some truth bombs."

"God's truth," Granny shouts from the kitchen.

"Didn't ask for the input, thanks," Emma calls back. She flops onto a barstool. "Look, I get we have a teasing dynamic here, me and you, but cool it with the Regina stuff before the wrong person overhears and can't take a joke and-"

"Realizes that you have an undying love for the mother of your son?"

"No," Emma breathes, fighting for patience. "No, that-"

"That you fall asleep to sweet heavenly visions of her beautiful face and when you awake every morning her name escapes in the first breath that passes your lips?"

"Dude, stop. For real, it's just-"

"The torch you bear burns with such intensity the sheer magnitude of your love threatens to scald your very own skin?"

"I DON'T HAVE FEELINGS FOR REGINA," Emma explodes.

Pots clatter loudly in the back before Granny's harsh cackle fills the entirety of the empty restaurant. Ruby leans over the counter, a smug smile on her lips as the sound echoes around them.

"I don't," Emma whines towards the kitchen window.

Granny only laughs harder.

In desperation, Emma turns towards Ruby. "I'm serious. We've gotten way closer, sure. And, yeah, it's a big change from all the fighting. But that's it. I mean, I consider us friends. Good friends, even. But there's nothing romantic going on."

Ruby looks less than convinced and Emma rolls her eyes.

"I mean, is she great? Yeah. Of course. She's incredible. Is she beautiful? Obviously. I'm sure most people think so. Does she understand me better than most other people? Yeah, goes with the co-parenting territory. It's whatever.

"That doesn't mean anything. That doesn't mean I'm in love with her. Like, sure, I care about her and spend most of my time thinking about her but, you know- and, like, obviously she's pretty much most of my focus a lot of the time and, well- like, okay, yeah I having loving feelings towards her and about her and around her and that's just- I mean- friends just do that, you know? It's perfectly normal. Love like that is normal.

"Platonic love, I mean. Like Friend Love. Friend Love where there's no kissing and- or, you know, touching . Nobody wants that. Or thinks about that. You know? It's just pure, platonic Friend Love. And everybody is happy and nobody wants it to change."

Ruby sighs. "Okay," she needles, "I just thought-"

"Like, okay," Emma snaps, "obviously it's been thought about. I'm only human. And when you have strong Friend Love feelings sometimes things get a little hazy and you're like, would I be mad if this magic lesson turned into a make-out session? No. But that doesn't turn Friend Love into love love. That's ridiculous."

"Clearly," Ruby mutters.

"Just because I only feel whole and complete when she's in the immediate vicinity doesn't mean anything besides the fact that Friend Love is super rad and honestly, Ruby, I think maybe you're just a little jealous that our Friend Love isn't quite as intense."

"That must be it," she agrees, stone-faced.

"Good," Emma nods and pushes to her feet. "Glad that's settled." She nods again. "I'm just gonna head off and enjoy my birthday breakfast. And nobody is ever gonna bring up ever again how I'm in love with Regina."

"Right," Ruby's wearing that stupid huge wolf smile again. "Course not. Not one word about how much you love her."

“Yes.” For a third time, Emma nods as she backs towards the door. "Okay, so I'm just gonna-"

Halfway through unlocking the door, she freezes. She turns slowly towards a still grinning Ruby, eyes wide and mouth open in horror.

"Rubes," she whispers, soft and slow, "I think I might be in love with Regina."

Ruby rears back on her heels with a dramatic gasp.

"Say what!?"

Chapter 5 Chapter Text

"What do I do?" Emma is back on her stool, face buried in her arms atop the counter.

Ruby gives the top of her head a sympathetic pat. "You'll be all right," she soothes.

"Nothing will ever be all right again."

"Melodramatic," Granny shouts from the back and Emma manages to lift her head to shoot a glare through the window to the kitchen.

"It's really fine, Em." Ruby's smile is a bit less haha-you-idiot and way more aw-my-little-bumbling-goddaughter now. "I say go for it."

"What?" Emma squeals. "No. What? Rubes, she'd laugh in my face, or-" The memory of this morning and the unveiling of Regina's wicked scheme washes over her. Emma's eyes go wide. "Oh god, this was her master plan all along."

"Em, I don't think-"

"No, think about it. Nobody's that perfect by accident. That's not natural. This is what she wanted all along." Emma nods along to her own theories as she works it out. "I don't know what her end goal is, but she has one."

Ruby pins her with a hard stare. "Dude. Chill."

Emma's fingers tangle in her wild hair. "How can I be chill when I'm going to die ?"

Ruby chuckles. "It's gonna be fine, I promise. Trust me." She taps her nose. "I know what's up. This will all work out just right for everyone. God knows you both need to get laid."

"Preach," Granny calls.

Emma juts an accusing finger towards the kitchen. "Granny, either fully commit to the conversation or butt out."

"I'm too old to be making commitments."

With a defeated sigh, Emma collapses onto the counter and moans. Whelp, this is how she dies. She eventually cracks and blurts out her feelings and Regina laughs in her face and then she melts into the ground and then BAM!

Insta-death.

Eternal Shame.

Dishonor to the family.

"Here," Ruby slides a mug of coffee right under Emma's nose, "first cup of the day." She flashes a sickly sweet smile. "On the house."

"Oh sure, like I'll fall for that again."

Eventually Emma manages to wander home and choke down breakfast with her parents under cheerful cries of "Happy birthday". They question her a bit on her whereabouts--and attire--but she fends off their curiosity with tired grunts and warning growls. Henry at least seems to get a kick out of it.

Despite the urge to return to bed, Emma forces a plastic smile on her face and engages with the family. They take her for a walk down by the docks, then they stop by the little snack stand that overlooks the harbor for hot chocolates, go to Storybrooke's sole rundown theater to catch a show, and then wind up back at the loft for an early dinner and gifts.

Emma totally doesn't think about Regina.

Not even once.

Not then.

Or before she falls asleep.

Or when she wakes up.

Or when she's showering.

Or when she goes to work.

Or when she's at work.

Or when she's collapsed on top of her desk in her office curled up thinking about how Regina looks and smells and talks and just her general presence.

Nope. Emma doesn't think about Regina at all. Not even then.

"Yup, I guess I'll just be dead here now, forever."

"I should hope not, I'd hate to go through the hassle of another election."

Fuck . Emma jolts up in her chair to find Regina looming over her desk, brow furrowed in her curiosity.

"Wh-uh, hi. Uh, I-I'm doing work and working and also being good at my job thanks for stopping by I'll see you later."

"Convincing," Regina drawls. "Why are you being weird? Did you do something bad? Are we about to have another Spaghetti Incident?"

Emma leans back and rolls her eyes. You set one meatball monster loose on the town and they never let you live it down...

Okay, fine.

Five.

Five meatball monsters.

"No, I-"

"Because honestly, Emma, I'd rather you tell me now than be surprised later. I won't yell at you, I just want to have enough time to change my shoes."

"There's no Spaghetti Incident," Emma snaps.

"Well, that's something, at least." Regina sniffs and--oh, come fucking-on--she moves to perch herself on the edge of Emma's desk.

Like, really ? Is that totally necessary? She's facing away from Emma, there's a good foot between them, and it's not an entirely new position for either of them, but still.

Emma scooches her chair back a bit, desperate for even more distance.

"Then what's the problem?" Regina doesn't seem particularly impressed. "You're not holding a grudge are you?"

Emma blinks. "Grudge?"

"Over my-" Regina falters, huffs, " teaching methods. "

It takes a moment for Emma to follow. She shifts in her seat. "No, uh," she licks her lips and keeps her gaze firmly away, "no grudge, trust me."

"Good."

"Yeah."

Regina doesn't let the uncomfortable silence linger for long. She'd never been very good at that in Emma's experience.

"Well?"

Emma shuffles with the papers in front of her and hopes Regina doesn't catch that more than half are take-out menus. "Well, what?" She gathers the menus in a stack and taps them importantly on the desk to straighten them out. Cops do that a lot on TV.

They also carry around a lot of folders. Maybe Emma should invest in a few...

"If it's not a grudge, then what?" Regina is clearly going for disinterested and casual, but the fact she showed up at the station at all speaks volumes. Did someone let something slip?

Did-- oh god-- did Ruby say something?

Emma floods with heat and shoots out of her seat, knees jostling the desk. "I have to use the bathroom."

She flees before Regina can utter a word and doesn't return for a good half hour to ensure her guest will be gone. The plan works, which is actually quite rare for Emma these days, but there's a little yellow post-it note on top of her menu stack when she reenters the office.

I recommend more fiber.

Emma is a totally cool super smooth swan. She's all Casual, and Normal, and ''Yes, my dear friend Regina and I enjoy having magic lessons and movie nights together and nothing more and I am 100% okay with that". It's a talent really, her acting ability. She's so good not even her own mother can tell anything is amiss.

"Emma, sweetie, you've been acting very strangely these past couple of days, is something bothering you?

Fuck.

Emma sniffs and does her best to ignore Snow's curious gaze. "Nope, I'm good."

Henry is at the tiny kitchen table working on his homework. He beams at her and waggles his eyebrows. "I know what it iiiiiis ," he sings.

Emma scrambles up on the couch. "What? No you don't."

"Uh-huh. It's obvious."

"No way." Her cheeks are flushed and her heart is thundering in her chest. "You don't know anything."

"I know more than you."

"What does that even mean?" Emma hops over the back of the couch. Snow makes a disgruntled sound of protest but it goes unnoticed. "Did Ruby say something to you?"

Henry's eyes widen. "You told Ruby? I didn't even think you knew."

"Sorry, who knows what now?" Snow tries, tone a little pleading.

Eyes narrow, Emma studies her son. "What do you think you know that I don't know?"

He matches her hard gaze, undaunted. "I know I know what you probably just learned. And I think Ruby might too."

"Well I know what you think you know is something that Ruby thinks we both know even though there's no point in knowing it because it's not even true so all this knowing and thinking needs to end."

Henry's nose wrinkles. "What?"

She shoots him a sneer. "Forget it and stop."

"Hi," Snow peeps, "I still don't know anything."

"Good," Both Henry and Emma chorus.

She huffs and starts preparing dinner with a lot more smash and bang than usual. Emma rolls her eyes at the dramatics while Henry refocuses on his notes.

"So," he murmurs, too casual for innocence, "you gonna do something about it or just make everything weird for everybody for the rest of our lives?"

"Dude," Emma hisses, eyes darting towards her mother, who seems to be taking her frustrations out on an unfortunate roast, "be cool."

"I'm always cool." He grins at her. "I could help, you know. I'm pretty good at operations. It's kind of my thing. Plus, in this case I'm an expert source. Nobody knows more than me. I've got eleven years of experience."

Emma recoils from his pointed look. "I don't know what-"

"Can we skip the denial part, please? It's annoying." Henry pushes aside his social studies binder and reveals a small pocket notebook underneath. "Look," he pulls open the cover to flip through the pages, "I've got a lot of ideas."

"You what? " Emma squeaks.

The pages are brimming with Henry's tight scrawl, interspersed with drawings and diagrams. The book is nearly full and she takes it from him with trembling hands.

"When did you even find the time?"

He shrugs. "People don't really sit with me at lunch. I've got two witch moms and an evil demon grandpa. Hey, how do you think Mom would feel about another adoption? I did some research on good agencies. That's more towards the back of the book. I tried to keep it all in order."

"A-adoption?" Emma splutters, flipping frantically for the last few pages.

"Well, yeah. Why not?"

She falters in her near deranged page-turning as one particular diagram catches her eye. It's a...seating chart?

"Are these wedding plans?" She stares at her son as though he's some sort of alien being.

"I'd thought I'd help, you know, streamline. You guys are taking so long to even just get started if I didn't do most of the planning for you it would take, like, forever . I don't wanna be a forty-year-old first time big brother."

"I-"

"Oh, we're sharing wedding ideas," Snow squeals in delight from over Emma's shoulder. "Why didn't you just say so?"

Emma jolts in surprise and her knees slam into the table. She grunts in pain while her mother cheerfully glides to the bookshelf.

"That's not-" Emma attempts to protest, but Snow is already back with a thick binder that's got all sorts of ribbons and ruffles peeking out from under the brim.

"I have so many ideas." She begins flipping through the laminated sleeves in earnest. "Now, I have to say I was never sure, do you think you would both wear dresses or-?" She looks to her daughter, eyes wide and ecstatic and prompting.

"Uh-"

"Whatever you chose is fine, of course, I threw in a range of options for both of you."

"But-"

"Hey, gang," David's booming voice echoes through the small apartment as he heads in from a long day at the station. "Sounds like it's going to get real cold this weekend so I thought we should-" He freezes in the middle of closing the front door, eyes glued to the binder on the table. "Snow," he breathes, looking utterly heartbroken, "you promised we'd do it together."

"Oh, honey, I know," she whines, "it just came up and I got too excited. Everything happened so fast."

"Did I miss the proposal?" He rushes the table, eyes bright. "Who did it? Were there tears? How long do we have to plan until the ceremony?"

Emma shoots out of her seat and slams her palms upon the table. "Nobody is getting married."

Her shout rattles the walls and her family stands around her, wide eyed and silent until Snow lets out a dramatic gasp, hands to her mouth.

"Of course, how insensitive of us. After her last experience I'm not surprised Regina wouldn't want to go throu-"

"No. No. I mean," Emma flounders, "uh, yeah, that could very well be a valid point but not in relation to me. We-we're not getting married. Ever."

"Never say never, sweetheart."

"We're not even dating. What the hell is wrong with you people?"

"Come now, I understand that both of you feel wary but," Snow trails off, looks to her husband for aid.

He grins, wide and warm. "You've given us more than enough time to get used to the idea. You don't have to worry about our acceptance. We don't need to be coddled. We're just happy you're happy. Both of you."

Emma's outrage softens. She can't help it, not when being faced down with those damn doe eyes. Alone, both David and Snow are formidable, but together? Emma doesn't stand a chance.

"I- That's sweet, David, really. Thank you, but we're just- We're not , you know?"

David scoffs and Snow rolls her eyes.

"Emma," her mother presses, "it's okay. I'm not an idiot."

"Actually," Henry pipes up, "she's telling the truth, Grandma. Emma didn't even realize she likes Mom until, like, last week."

David's features twist. "Really?"

"But then what have you been doing all this time?" Snow looks like the entirety of her world has been shaken to its core. As though Henry had just pointed to the clear blue sky outside and insisted it was purple.

"Doing when?" Emma asks, perplexed.

"You know," Snow shifts on her feet and glances at Henry before leaning forward to continue in a whisper, "Tuesdays and Thursdays." She lifts her hands for air quotes. "Magic lessons."

Emma's entire being floods with heat. "I- we-" she splutters, " magic lessons . We're doing magic lessons. It's not a euphemism."

Her mother blinks. "Seriously?"

" Yes . Is that what you both thought this whole time?"

"Well," David rubs at the back of his neck, cheeks pink, "you never seem to be all that much better when you come home."

"Hey," Emma whines, "it's really hard."

"Hmm," Snow tilts her head, hands on her hips, "seems like someone needs to pay more attention in her classes."

"Ugh." Emma rubs at her forehead. "Please, I hear it enough from Regina already."

"So," David needles, "you're really not, you know, together and just hiding your relationship to protect our feelings?"

"No. We're really not."

"They will be though," Henry announces. He's on his feet, tiny notebook in hand. "I have a lot of ideas. Ma, you just gotta pick one and then-"

"Hen, even if-" Emma falters. She feels sticky and hot and like she'd rather be anywhere else in the world. "Look, it's just not like that, okay?" Even if she ever gathered the courage, Regina would laugh her right out of town.

"It is though," he presses. "You just have to be the one to step up and say something. Mom never will."

"Oh, I don't know," Snow muses, arms crossed. "Regina's never exactly been shy. At least not for many years now."

"No," David shakes his head, "I'm with Henry on this one. She's not shy, but she's not confident either. Not in the ways that would matter here. She'll be too caught up in the past to consider Emma would ever want a future with someone with her history."

"Ah, that's true." Snow nods her agreement. "See, I was getting too hung up on Emma's commitment issues."

"Those won't come into play until things get much more serious. Regina will be great at handling that though."

"Oh, of course. Of course." Snow waves the matter off. "No question."

Emma stares, open mouthed. "Please stop analyzing us like we're characters on your favorite soap opera."

Snow frowns. "It's a small town, sweetheart. There's not much for entertainment."

Hands tangled in her hair, Emma rocks back on her heels. "I can't believe this is happening."

"I'd start believing," Snow urges. "Don't drag your heels on this, Emma. The longer you wait the more the town as a whole accepts her."

"How is that a bad thing?" Emma asks, features scrunched up in confusion.

"Well," David drawls, "when she's not on a murderous rampage born from wrath and vengeance she's not unattractive."

"You gotta jump on that before someone else does," Snow agrees. "You don't want to be kicking yourself a month or two down the road when she's suddenly unavailable. Besides, you really shouldn't be turning your nose up at potential prospects."

"Storybrooke isn't exactly a wide pool," David says.

"Exactly. And after, well-"

"Don't say the Spaghetti Incident," Emma mutters through her teeth.

"It was a tragedy, Emma," Snow protests. "Honestly, half those people still can't even look you in the eye when they pass you on the street."

" It was an accident."

"You summoned the soul of an ancient evil warlord from the Enchanted Forest instead of boiling a pot of spaghetti."

"The sauce was burning and I panicked. It could happen to anyone."

"There were giant meatballs, Emma. Giant meatballs flying through the sky as his undead army attacked."

"Don't pretend there was any real threat, their swords were garlic bread."

"Those were pretty good," Henry chirps. "Like, better than Mom's even." He stiffens and his face pales. "Don't tell her I said that though."

"Okay," David soothes, hands up, "let's relax. I think what your mother is trying to say, Emma, is that Regina doesn't seem bothered by your, erm, magical, uh, mishaps . Not beyond general annoyance anyhow, but, well, that's her normal state of being so, you know, we believe it's a perfect fit."

"I second that," Henry cheers, hand raised as though they're taking a vote. "Or, uh, third that, I guess."

They all stare at Emma as though waiting for her to pull a ring out of her ass, ready to propose on the spot.

Why is her life like this?

Hasn't she suffered enough?

"Whelp, I'm gonna head out and look for the highest point in Storybrooke so I can throw myself off it."

"Don't be so dramatic," Snow scolds, but Emma is already out the door.

Everyone seems to be forgetting that Emma's feelings aren't the only thing at play here, and Regina hasn't even shown the slightest inkling that she might consider her in a romantic capacity. They don't mean it, she knows, but all her family is doing is making her feel worse about the whole damn thing.

God, things were so much easier when she and Regina communicated by throwing punches.

She misses those days.

Chapter 6 Chapter Text

Emma Swan is tight and hot and itchy and also she thinks she's probably going to die.

"Ruby," she whispers over the counter as her eyes never waver from the booth in the back corner where Storybrooke's beautiful and amazingly talented mayor sits with... him , "who is that gross ugly man and why is he talking to Regina?"

"Gross?" Ruby scrunches up her features. "Em, it's like common knowledge Robert is the hottest bachelor in town."

Ugh. Okay fine, yes. Maybe he's like, the tiniest bit attractive. But only in a boring, conventional sort of way. "What are they talking about?"

"Dunno."

" Rubes ," Emma whines, "activate your super hearing."

"I'm a werewolf, not Kara Danvers." Ruby marches off in a huff to the complete opposite side of the dinner, laden down with a heavy tray for a family of four and apparently all too happy to abandon Emma in her time of need.

What the hell is going on? Regina comes into the diner to read the paper over coffee just about every workday and, yes, Emma comes and gets breakfast at the bar and maybe sometimes sort of looks over at the other woman every so often (it's not stalking, Ruby, shut up), but there have never been Hot Bachelors involved before.

A tiny Mary Margaret slithers into her brain and sets up camp. "You gotta jump on that before someone else does," her very sweet yet horribly smug voice echoes as she pitches a bright pink tent.

Emma rolls her eyes at her fictional mother. Nothing is going to happen between her and Regina. Nothing can happen. Still-

Rupert leans forward over the table and Regina offers a kind smile at whatever nonsense he spews.

Nope. No thanks.

She stands.

Rodger needs to go now.

Without even registering how, she finds herself looming over Regina's table. "Hi. We need to talk right now please."

If Regina's offended by the admittedly rude interruption, she doesn't show it. "Is there an emergency?"

Emma blinks. "Uh, yes?"

"You seem unsure about that."

"Uh-"

"This is Emma Swan." Regina gestures to her, absent and idle with her main focus back on him . "Emma, Robert Phillip."

Ralph beams this super dumb smile and offers a big sweaty gross hand. "Nice to meet you."

She takes it because Regina would probably be disappointed in her if she didn't. For an ex-evil murderer Regina is certainly a stickler for manners.

Emma tries her best to return the greeting. "You have two first names," she says instead.

His smile falters and he drops her hand. "I suppose I do in a way, yes."

Regina's giving her a funny look so Emma, hot and itchy for very different reasons now, panics and sits down beside her friend. Her best friend. Who she knows Super Well. Like, way better than Rocky knows her.

"That wasn't exactly an invitation," Regina murmurs.

"I think we should make more of an effort to, uh, eat together." Emma scoots closer to Regina in the booth. "Co-parents are supposed to do that. Dr. Phil says it builds trust."

"I told you to stop watching that sensationalist quack." Regina scoots away. "If you have no pressing matters, Miss Swan, we were in the middle of a discussion."

Uh oh. She got Miss Swan-ed.

"Don't mind me." She holds up her hands. "Please, continue. I won't make a sound until the waitress asks for an order."

Woah. Oh boy. Regina is not happy. At least she can't make a scene in front of their guest though. Old Roland has turned into her saving grace it seems.

"Very well," Regina says, sickeningly sweet to let Emma know she'll be getting an earful later, "carry on, Mr. Phillip."

"Right," he drawls, eyes darting between them, "as I was saying, I'd like to set up a meeting with you in a more official capacity."

Emma snorts loudly.

Both Regina and Ramon look at her.

She raises her fist and coughs into it twice, eyes glued to the menu she has long since memorized. Can they really blame her? Dude just flat out asked for a date in the most pretentious way possible like a total asshole. Especially considering Regina is way out of his league.

Get real, Randolph. As if Regina would ever-

"I'll have to go through my schedule but I'm sure we'll find something that works for both of us."

What the fuck ? Way to settle, Regina. Besides, Raphael is way too put together to be a good person. Never trust a Hot Bachelor in a suit. Gosh, does she have to save Regina's butt from everything ?

"You're busy," Emma blurts out.

All eyes are on her.

"Excuse me?" Regina's rage is barely contained, and Emma can only flush and flounder under the heat of her glare.

"I just- You know, just reminding you, you're busy. We're doing dinner with Henry tonight, then we've got lessons tomorrow and then- uh-" Emma just about shrivels up inside. She doesn't have anything for Regina to do Friday night. Oh god. Friday night is like prime Date Night. Everyone knows that. Fuck, fuck, fuck- her eyes dart about the diner in a panic and they settle on Ruby with a tray full of steaming plates and mugs and bowls and-

"Pottery," Emma just about explodes. "Friday is our pottery class."

What follows is the longest thirty seconds of Emma's life.

Then, finally-

"I don't take a pottery class."

"Well," Emma says smoothly, easing into the lie, "come Friday night, you're gonna. Snow's dragging me. I'm dragging you."

"No," Regina states quite simply and turns back to Remus. "I apologize for the startlingly detailed glimpse into my social calendar. As I was saying, once I find the time I'll have my secretary contact you to work something out."

Emma deflates at the clear dismissal. That's what she gets for trying to be a Good Friend and save Regina from Gross and Smarmy Hot Bachelors. God, being the savior sure is frustrating when your save-ees(?) refuse to be saved.

She must not be paying very much attention because suddenly Regis and Regina are shaking hands and then he stands, ready to depart. Emma hadn't paid attention to why, but her insides rejoice as the man bids her farewell and takes his leave.

"Bye, Randell," She calls after him, waving dramatically with a huge grin. When she turns back towards Regina she finds the woman's face inches away. "Thank god we got rid of that guy, huh?"

Lips pursed, eyes blazing, Regina only glares.

"Someone's uh," Emma lets out a titter and shifts away, "grumpy before coffee…"

"I'm sorry, are you having a stroke? Or did you forget how humans interact?"

"N-neither?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"I don't know."

"Oh my god," Regina hisses. She juts her finger towards the other side of the table. "Move."

Emma stumbles gracelessly out of the booth in her hurry to take over Remi's vacated seat. It's all gross and warm from Hot Man Butt.

"I don't know what you're trying to pull right now but whatever it is, I'm not interested."

"I was just trying to give you an out so you don't have to spend what little free time you have with smarmy assholes, so, you know, you're welcome." Emma sniffs and raises her chin. "That's what good friends do. I'm supposed to have your back."

Regina seems to contemplate that for a moment, which is a whole lot better than yelling or, well, fire so Emma thinks she might be safe.

"Hmm," Regina hums, "well, despite the fact I was planning to meet Robert during work hours as we are discussing town matters," and then she pins Emma with a pointed stare that has her cheeks flushing, "I'll keep that in mind should I have any legitimate personal trouble with," she falters, rolls her eyes, "smarmy assholes, as you say."

Emma brightens and sits a bit taller. Work hours. Town matters. No outward and immediate negative reaction to the notion of friendship. All Good Things.

"Although next time, perhaps you might want your intervention to appear a little more natural ."

"I'll keep that in mind." Emma bounces a bit in the booth. "So, pancakes? I know you hate the good Doc Phil but I figure if you talk as much as that man you're bound to spill some truth every once in a while." She pretends to read the menu in the hopes of appearing nonchalant.

Regina is quiet for a time and then at last relents with a soft, "Perhaps a bit of toast."

It's the best breakfast Emma's had in a good long while. Even if Ruby makes kissy faces over Regina’s head every chance she gets.

"Henry," Emma declares with a sweeping gesture as soon as the kid takes his seat in the car after school, "gimme your creepy little stalker book. We're wooing your mother."

"Awesome," Henry cheers before faltering. "Also, please don't word it like that. It sounds messed up."

"Noted." Emma pulls out of the pick up lane and turns onto the street, headed towards Mifflin. She's dropping Henry off today because Regina is meeting with Smarmy McSmarmFace to talk about him getting permits to open some sort of business or something stupid like that. What an asshole.

"So why the sudden change of heart? I thought you were convinced Mom was going to laugh at you and then you were going to fall over and die."

"That's true, and also what is probably going to happen. But then I realized if I don't say anything and she goes out with someone else I'm going to fall over and die anyways so, you know," she shrugs, "why not die on my own terms, right?"

"Morbid, but if it motivates you I'm not going to complain." Henry unzips his backpack and begins rooting through it. "It's going to be a lot easier once I don't have to split my time between home and the apartment anymore. No offense to Gram and Gramps but they're kinda," he wrinkles his nose, "you know."

"Woah," Emma chuckles out, cheeks warm, "don't go picking out china patterns. I mean, even if she agreed to a date it could still not work out, bud. I don't want you getting over invested in-"

"Ma, I have a one hundred and fifty page notebook detailing what our day to day family life is going to look like after you and Mom finally get together." He pulls it out onto his lap and flips through it absently. "I'm invested."

Emma sighs heavily as she pulls into Regina's driveway. "Okay, well, just try not to be too sad when she laughs at me and then I cry and die, okay? Don't blame yourself when it happens."

He rolls his eyes as he pushes the door open. "You won't die from it."

"It would have been a lot more reassuring if you'd said she won't laugh," Emma calls to his retreating form as he heads for the house. She lets out a strangled little chuckle and then drops her head to the steering wheel and whispers, "please don't laugh."

Chapter 7 Chapter Text

"Okay, we gotta go fast because I need my full eight hours if I'm going to perform to the best of my ability in school tomorrow."

Nerd.

It's just past nine and Henry is up in his room after informing Regina he wanted to get a head start on an essay, apparently. Emma is near one hundred percent certain she shouldn't be encouraging his sneaky tendencies but she's a little too desperate to care. If Regina laughs, she dies.

She's too young to die.

"Lay it on me, kid," she murmurs, phone pressed tight to her ear. She imagines his eyes gleaming as he sits on his bed back on Mifflin, flipping through that damn notebook.

"So Mom appreciates details, right?"

Emma collapses on her own bed. "We covered that, yeah."

"But she doesn't like big gestures. Not in front of people, at least. She's private." He hesitates for a moment, the line going silent. "I guess, unless maybe if it was in front of Grandma, she might want to rub it in."

That is probably very true, and also nothing Emma wants to even think about getting involved in. "Let's stick with the private thing, huh?"

"Yeah. Anyways, simple is the way to go."

"I dunno, kid," Emma muses, "The book shows pictures of your Mom back in the Enchanted Forest. She was pretty flashy. Still is, sometimes. I think it's just sorta less socially acceptable here so she's toned it down a notch, or, like twenty notches because wow, she was pretty out there, huh?"

"Only she's allowed to be over the top, Ma," Henry whines. "She gets annoyed when other people do it."

Again, true. "Okay, yeah." She falls back onto her bed and sighs heavily through the phone. "Simple it is. That's more my speed anyhow."

"Right, so, she's always complaining about what a big baby you are."

"Hey," Emma shouts.

"What? She says it to your face too."

"She did call me a second child the other day," Emma allows with a heavy sigh. Who is she kidding? This is never going to work. Regina's not out of her league. Regina's, like, otherworldly. So far above Emma's fumbling reach she can't even see her, let alone skim the very tips of her toes.

"So prove to her your adultness," Henry says, rather matter of factly. As though it's all so easy.

Emma scrunches her nose up. "Adultness?"

"Yeah. She started teaching you again when you proved you could magic yourself, right? Well, I think you should start adulting."

"Adulting?"

"Hard."

She's pretty sure she doesn't like the sound of this. "And this entails?"

"No more grilled cheese breakfasts."

"What?" Emma squawks. "No way."

"You have to wear the uniform at the station. Try and look professional."

"But it's itchy, " Emma whines.

"Pay attention during staff meetings at town hall."

"Lame."

"Make sure I finish my homework and have dinner before you take me to see 'R' rated movies and fill me up with Milk Duds."

"There wasn't any nudity. It was just blood and gore and stuff."

"Ma, I threw up."

"Yeah, but that was from the Milk Dud dinner, not the movie."

"I'd say it was a combination. Anyways, maybe next time we try PG13? We can even invite Mom."

"You are literally the most boring child I've ever met. Rebel. Tag something. Play hooky."

"Okay, wow, it's like you're actively trying to make Mom mad at you."

Emma groans and rolls over and buries her face into her pillow.

"I'm rooting for you, Ma, and I'll try my best but I can't make miracles."

"Are you looking to be grounded?"

"No, I'm looking for you to work with me." Henry hums in thought and then his voice raises. "Oh, I almost forgot. I think you should start looking around at apartments."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'll help you. Look, you don't want to have a good date and then have to take her back to your parent's place, do you? Very unsmooth."

"You're five," Emma deadpans.

"Eleven. And my teachers all say I'm very mature for my age."

"They must not spend enough time with you." She flops onto her back. "Okay, so, hypothetically I snag a new bachelor pad and I start eating adult things for breakfast. Things like," she shudders, "whole wheat toast and sugar free bran flakes." The words sit like poison on her tongue. God, Regina better appreciate these unholy sacrifices. "You really think that'll be enough?"

"Well," Henry hesitates, seems a little uncertain, and Emma remembers with a deep pooling of shame in her belly that she is coercing her preteen son into helping her date his mom.

Admittedly it's no weirder than any of the other crap that happens to them in this shitty town but still .

"Yeah. I mean you already have all the groundwork down. You just gotta give it that last big push. I'd keep it low pressure though," he hurries out. "No grand declarations. Maybe even start asking her out as friends? Like just to hang out and feel it out and stuff. Read the vibes."

"Who are you?"

"Ha ha," Henry drawls, mirthless. "Look, you're probably gonna be really nervous and ramble-y and mess it up like usual."

"Hey," Emma protests.

"But for whatever reason, Mom seems to like you so, just be yourself."

"You literally just spent the last ten minutes telling me all the ways I need to change."

"No, Ma," Henry lets out a frustrated groan, "be yourself, just a little more mature. That's not changing yourself. That's responsibility. That's growing up. That's being a parent, right? Mom and I are a package deal." He sounds a little snooty at that and Emma is glad she can't see his smug face. "You gotta prove you're mom material, you know?"

"But I'm already your mom."

"Pretend you're not. You're just trying to date a woman with a kid and you need to impress."

"Her or the kid?"

"Both."

"Hmm," she hums, "this sounds suspiciously like a ploy from a boy sniffing for bribery gifts."

"Hey, am I gonna decline a Majora's Mask edition 3DS if it's given to me? No. Will I demand one? No. Course not. Because I'm a sweet, helpful boy who loves his mothers very much and constantly does his best to enrich their lives. I bring nothing but happiness and spread joy to my parents wherever I go. Filling their hearts with pride. Do I do it for gifts? No. I do it for love. Although-"

"Barking up the wrong tree, Rhoda."

"That sounds like an old people reference."

"Your face is an old people reference."

"Good one, Ma," Henry says dryly, and he sounds a little bit like he's regretting all of his life choices. "I think maybe I'm gonna take another look at the notebook. Lengthen the timeline a little. Stretch it out."

She loves that kid, honest, but Regina really raised one heck of a brat.

Emma Swan is a super mature adult.

She wears her uniform for work, ironed and everything. She buys fresh vegetables at the farmers market. She gets Henry to school on time every single day she's responsible for him. And, she's even started apartment hunting.

There's not much in a place like Storybrooke. Given the fact that nearly everyone is trapped in an eternal small town hellscape the turnover rate isn't high. What's left is either a bit below living standards when one has a child, even part time like her, or super far away from the station and Regina's place. Storybrooke is low density, but fairly large. Spread out across miles, with the buildings on the outskirts having long stretches of land.

She doesn't want to become the old farmer spinster on the edge of town. No shame to those who do, but something tells her that won't catch Regina's eye. Something, of course, Emma is putting her full commitment into trying to do.

Which is why she's currently sitting at Regina's meeting, tall and alert and actually jotting down notes like a scholarly fucking stud.

Okay, she's mostly doodling Regina's Disney cartoon counterpart in the margins but still . Usually she's snoring in the back of the conference room so- baby steps, right?

She is adding some shine-lines to the queen's crown when she notices everyone starting to shift, light chatter rising up between the town's employees as they gather their belongings and head for the exit. Whoops.

Emma quickly collects her stuff into an awkward bundle against her chest.

"I'm impressed."

She jolts as she finds Regina in front of her, a wry smile on her face.

"You managed to stay awake for a full forty-five minutes."

Emma's mouth is very, very dry. "I-" She sounds like she hasn't spoken in ten years. Emma clears her throat. "Just trying to do my part for the town."

Regina's brow furrows, though her smile quirks with amusement. "Glad to hear it, Sheriff."

"This morning I ate multi-grain toast that was heart healthy," she blurts out before Regina can leave.

The other woman studies her, smile wavering. "That's," she seems to falter in her hunt for a response, "nice?"

"It was very dry." Emma's mouth is in control now. She doesn't even know if she's in her actual body anymore. "Bland."

"I'm sorry?" Regina offers.

Emma just stares at her, mortified. Why is this happening? She's never been smooth by any means, but she's pretty sure at one point in her life she'd known how to communicate like a human.

Henry's advice swims through her mind and she latches onto a tip at random, desperate and floundering.

"I've been looking for my own place." And at Regina's confused look she clarifies, "like, an apartment."

"Oh," Regina brightens at that, "well, I'd be happy to help ask around for you."

Emma laughs too loud and long. "Yeah. Thanks. Storybrooke's not the easiest place to find an empty, uh," she fumbles, "place."

"I imagine not." There's an odd blend in Regina's gaze. A mixture of laughter and concern. "Emma, are you feeling all right?"

"Uh," Emma starts to deny it but then she just sighs, gives up, shoulders sagging in defeat, "not really, no."

"What's wrong?" Oh, there she goes. Being all thoughtful and worried and super hot.

God, Emma is so totally screwed. "I think I'm just overtired."

"Well, you did just miss out on your nap."

"Cute," Emma drawls, rolling her eyes.

Regina hums. "Would you like me to keep Henry tonight? Do you need some time to yourself?"

"No, that's all right. My parents are going out so I promised the kid we'd cook."

"No take out?" Regina sounds surprised, which Emma should probably be offended over.

"Nah, he found this chicken recipe online. Wants to give it a go. We're going to try out being a bit healthier."

"Well," Regina chuckles, "I wholeheartedly approve." She gathers up her folders and swings her purse over her shoulder. "Feel free to call if you need any tips."

"Thanks," Emma shoves her hands in her pockets and shifts between her feet, "but I think we can handle it."

Roughly four and a half hours later finds Emma calling Regina.

"Hey, so remember the Spaghetti Incident that one time?"

"Oh, Emma," Regina sighs out tiredly, and then there's a great deal of shuffling through the line. "Hold on, let me change my shoes."

Chapter 8 Chapter Text

Emma Swan is an adult who can take responsibility for her own actions. She owns up to her mistakes.

The door to the loft slams against the wall as it's flung open and Regina storms inside in a flurry of frustration and feathers. "What the hell is going on out there, Swan?"

She looks like she's just about ready to explode so all Emma can think to do is point to her son and blurt out, "Henry did it."

"Hey," He whines, affronted. "What the heck, Ma?"

He can't blame her. Mad Regina is scary. And not just normal authority figure scary. She's scary scary. Like, shake-in-your-boots-a-little scary.

"Our son can't do magic," Regina seethes. "And what I just witnessed out there was certainly born from magic."

"Okay," Emma allows, hands up, "okay, I had a little trouble simmering and-"

"Swan, I just waded through a town full of squabbling chickens," Regina barks. A striking white feather sticks out of her hair. Henry shuffles over to untangle it. "Thank you, dear."

"You said you wouldn't get mad," Emma accuses, jabbing a finger towards the other woman in desperation.

"That's just what she says to get you to tell the truth," Henry laughs. He twirls the downy fluff between his fingers.

"And," Regina adds, running a hand through her hair with a huff, "that was before I saw Main Street."

Emma sniffs and flashes a sheepish smile. "We all make mistakes?"

" We do, yes," Regina agrees, nodding. "You make natural disasters."

Henry laughs harder then and Emma shoots him a scowl. Cooking is hard and anxiety inducing and she's still getting the hang of reigning in her magic during high stress situations. It's not her fault. Not really.

"Did you come to help?" She mutters bitterly, cheeks flushed. "Or just to make fun of me?"

Regina releases a heavy sigh and straightens with importance. "Come on then, let's go wrangle some poultry." She turns and marches out of the apartment, leaving her companions to follow.

Well, fuck. Classic Emma, making an ass of herself. She lets out a sad little breath and Henry moves to her side to pat her shoulder.

"Don't worry, Ma. I'll make it work."

"It's a lost cause, kid." She shrugs off the contact and heads to collect her coat. "I knew it was silly anyhow." She focuses intently on zipping up her jacket so she has an excuse to avoid his gaze.

When she's eventually forced to look up, he beams at her, bright and cocky.

"You just haven't seen me in action yet."

He's out the door before she can question him, and Emma is left standing in the empty apartment, dread pooling in her gut.

There are literally thousands. Thousands.

Thousands of chickens flooding the streets. Tall and proud roosters, their bright crowns bold as they strut about. Hens clicking around the sidewalks, stopping here and there to peck at the grass poking between the cracks. Chicks, small and round, following their mothers in neat lines.

And the problem isn't removing them, no. Regina can vanish dozens at a time with a wave of her hand (though where she's banishing them to Emma doesn't know).

No, the problem comes when Regina is nearly a third of the way into her task and in the form of a group of young teens. They're decked out in beanies and scarves and sunglasses even though it's about an hour or so after dusk. They've got crude signs on old plywood and they circle the Swan-Mills gang, closing them in as they angrily shout.

"Free the fowl!"

"Save the chicks!"

"Compassion is true magic!"

"Oh for the love of-" Regina snarls. "All of you clear out this instant. Return to your homes at once."

The crowd is only growing though, and they're getting swarmed. There's a body everywhere you look. If not a protester then a rubbernecker, if not a rubbernecker, a chicken.

"Look," Emma shouts over the roar of the small crowd, hands up, "this is just a big mistake. These chickens aren't real. I was making dinner and things got a, uh, well," she winces, "they got a little out of hand."

There's a bark of laughter from somewhere in the crowd and Emma is willing to bet everything she owns it's Ruby.

"They're real now," someone cries.

"Yeah!" the crowd agrees as one mass.

"This is awesome," Emma hears Henry murmur in awe, even as he shuffles behind Regina, who looks about seconds away from igniting a fireball.

"Listen," the crowd shoves a bit and Emma shoves back, "I accidentally created them and now we're just trying to clear them out before anything else happens."

"You can't give something sentience and then just rip it away on a whim!"

Wait a minute. That voice is familiar. Emma knows that voice quite well. She scans the crowd until-

"Mom?"

Snow White is standing in the depths of the growing crowd, a picket sign tight in her grasp that reads, No Matter How Small with a tiny picture of a cartoon chick beneath the bold letting.

Jesus christ.

"How did you even find the time?" Emma shouts, exasperated. "You must have had about five minutes to pull this together."

"Crafts are my passion," Snow calls back.

"That's it." And it happens, a fire erupts in the palm of Regina's hand and she holds it aloft. "Anyone who doesn't want a trip to Storybrooke General should back off right this minute."

"Regina," Emma breathes in warning, a hand on her arm.

But the crowd doesn't shrink away from their once queen in fear, instead, they only seem emboldened.

"She's gonna burn the chickens!" they gasp. "How inhumane! What a monster!"

"Are you serious right now?" Regina snaps.

Emma lets out a strained chuckle. "Well, at least it can't be any worse, huh?"

There's a rumble. A shudder deep in the earth like a tiny earthquake. One. And then another. And then another. And then another.

Emma sees the tall crest of the rooster poking out from over the clock tower before it rounds the corner. And once it does, they're all face to face with a thirty foot tall chicken. It throws its head back and crows.

The crowd erupts into horrified screams and scatter. Signs clattering to the street and smaller hens are knocked about as everyone scrambles to save their own skins.

"Kill it! Kill it with the fire!"

Regina glares at her, both hands now alight as Henry snickers by her side.

"You were saying, Swan?"

It's a long and bloody battle before the beast is vanquished.

Regina is exhausted before the end, and Henry takes her pale face and heavy breathing as the perfect opportunity to sidle on in with a mischievous smile.

"Mom," he says, eyes wide and innocent, "you and Emma should hold hands so you can use her magic to give yours an extra boost. That way you won't feel so tired."

And it's a valid suggestion that totally works but Emma shoots him glares behind Regina's back the whole time anyways. Even as she keeps a firm grip on Regina's hand, heart singing.

When the rooster finally crashes to the ground, feathers exploding in a fluttery storm that rains down upon Main Street, Regina is quick to send the body away with a shimmer of magic.

She gives Emma's hand a little squeeze then draws upon their shared pool of magic to finish the job on the rest of the stragglers before the protesters have a chance to return.

When it's over, Regina lets out a tried sigh and slumps a bit against Emma.

"You okay?"

"I just need a moment," Regina murmurs, eyes fluttering shut as she sways on her feet.

Emma supports her, solemn and steadfast as Henry wanders a bit in the empty street. The silence is eerie now, after all that clucking.

"What did you do with them all, Mom?" Henry calls as he makes a slow return.

"They never really existed in the first place." Regina straightens and pulls away from Emma to stand on her own. She tugs at her jacket. "Much like the meatballs in the Spaghetti Incident, they were manifestations of Emma's magic. I merely had to break apart their form."

"I made every single one of those guys without trying?"

Regina turns to study her, and her expression is unreadable. "I've told you time and again, you have no idea how powerful your magic is. Perhaps now you'll believe me when I say it is imperative we get it under your complete control as quickly as possible."

But before Emma can respond Henry squeezes in between them, that look in his eyes. "So," he prompts his mother, sneaky and sly, "we never had dinner."

And it's Regina so of course she immediately whisks them home to feed them and Emma is torn between rolling her eyes at the little shit or suffocating him with a great big hug.

Chapter 9 Chapter Text

They eat in Regina's stuffy, overly serious dining room. The food is delicious, of course, but Emma's enjoyment is muted by Regina's clear disapproval with her. She's not angry like she can get, all spitting venom and harsh fire. But there's a coldness about her again that Emma had just spent a good while overcoming--fake as it had been--and she's not keen for them to slip back into old routines.

Especially not since they are supposed to be in the middle of falling in love according to the entirety of their nosy family.

Emma sighs sadly as she pokes through her stuffing. She leans over the table, chin in hand, and separates the little cubes of carrots from- well, from whatever stuffing is. Breadcrumbs? Maybe she should look that up.

Henry nudges her with a knobby elbow from the seat beside her. After a pointed look he clears his throat for a grand declaration.

"That chicken sure freaked me out."

Regina glances up to study him while Emma just blankly stares.

"I wouldn't be surprised if I have nightmares tonight," he plows forward. And then, as if noticing that his audience appears more confused than sympathetic he adds, "Really bad ones."

It's all Emma can do to keep from slapping a palm to her forehead. She's not entirely sure where this is going but she can sure as hell say it's an embarrassment. You'd think between her, Neal, and Regina in the mix the kid would be more adept at the art of the con.

"I think we should all stay here together tonight." Henry is doing his best to come off as timid and shy, but his eyes are way too bright. He's betraying everything. "That would make me feel better."

Don't murder him, Emma. He's a kid. Your kid. He doesn't know any better. You love him.

"Well," Regina's gaze flickers between them and she doesn't seem to quite know what to do with the request, "I suppose if your mother doesn't mind, there's no reason she can't use the guest roo-"

"Great," Henry exclaims, and then shoots Emma a smug grin of see-how-easy-this-is before tucking back into his green beans.

And it's so wildly obvious that Emma can't even bring herself to meet Regina's gaze. All she can do is groan and drag a hand over her face and sink low in her chair, wishing with all of her might to melt away into a puddle of nothing once and for all.

She knows it's coming. As soon as the dishes are cleared away and the kid is tucked safely in bed. Regina closes his door softly and then glides down the stairs into the living room and - oh god - Emma knows what's coming. She sinks into the plush cushions on the couch and pretends to be scrolling through a very interesting adult article on her cell about taxes or mortgage or whatever adults read about.

"What's my son planning?" Regina doesn't sit beside her. She stands and hovers and glares and Emma has to fight not to use her new magic trick and poof away.

"Planning?"

Regina's eyes narrow. "Scheming."

"I dunno, maybe you should ask him? I didn't notice anything strange." Emma swallows and stares at her phone, praying that will be the end of it.

"You're in on it too," Regina announces. At the very least she sits.

Emma shifts away. "Wha-no. I'm not- There's nothing to be in on. Henry told you, he's just a little freaked out about what happened today."

"My son isn't afraid of chickens, Miss Swan," Regina drawls. "Colossal or otherwise."

"We all have irrational fears." Emma at last abandons her ruse and tosses her phone onto the coffee table. "You freaked out at that moth that got trapped in your vault."

"That was disgusting."

"It was harmless. And yet we had to evacuate because you lost your cool and there was danger of dying from smoke inhalation." Emma shoots her a smug grin, arms crossed. "Don't pretend you're above it."

"Be that as it may," Regina clears her throat, "I know my son and, unfortunately, I know you. The two of you are up to something."

Flushing, Emma sniffs. "Well, we're not, so I guess you don't know us as well as you'd like to think." Her phone vibrates harshly against the wood of the table. She scoops it up and holds it close to her chest before Regina can lean in to snoop.

Ma, you're so bad at this .

Emma does her best to casually stretch, craning her neck and glancing through the open archway to the main hall at the staircase. She thinks she sees a flash of tiny bare feet at the top. Her cheeks are beyond burning by this point.

Go. To. Bed. She stabs back, frustration commandeering her fingers.

Compliment dinner. Tell her she looks nice. Ask if you can take her out as a thank you for the Chicken Debacle.

Emma lets out a groan. Please don't give this one an official title.

Too late. Ask.

"Who is that?"

Emma glances up to find Regina at the other end of the couch, studying her intently.

"You don't appear pleased."

"Uh," Emma flounders, phone in a tight grip as she blurts out the first name that comes to mind, "Archie?"

Regina blinks. "Oh, I would have assumed it would be you parents making sure both you and Henry survived the Chicken Debacle."

"Y-yeah that, uh," Emma squeezes her eyes shut and pinches the bridge of her nose, "that would have made a lot more sense." Then she drops her hand, frowns. "Wait, Chicken Debacle? How is this already spreading? Stop it."

Regina shrugs. "You wanted us to stop bringing up the Spaghetti Incident."

"Not like this," Emma whines, slumping back in defeat. "How come nobody ever wants to talk about the Curse Shattering or-or the Dragon Slaying or- remember that time I polished off Granny's Super Grand Supreme Breakfast Sampler with a side of hash browns in under twenty-five minutes?" She holds out her hands with a frustrated huff. "Like, hello, impossible feat meet the unstoppable swan."

"I wouldn't brag about that last one," Regina says with a hum, but there's a twitch in the very corner of her lips that makes Emma think she might be saying the right thing for the first time the entire night.

She grins. "Don't be jealous. You were sitting across from me for emotional support. It was as much your victory as mine."

Regina rolls her eyes and scoffs.

Emma's phone vibrates again.

Ask!

Emma shifts a bit and sniffs. Okay, fine, she can do this. She can ask her friend to a thank you dinner. People do that literally all the time.

Like, probably not while harboring an all consuming love for them but, whatever. Nobody's perfect.

"Uh," Emma starts, but Regina locks their gazes and Emma forgets what the rest of that sentence was going to be. And also what she does for a living. And also her name.

And also, apparently, that it's weird to get somebody's attention and then proceed to stare silently at them in wide eyed horror.

Regina shifts a bit on her cushion, looking rather uncomfortable.

"Yes?" she prompts.

Oh my god , Henry texts, This is literally the most embarrassing thing I've ever seen

"Emma?" Regina tries again, pulling her attention away from her cell. "Are you sure you're all right? You've been acting very strange lately." She smirks. "Moreso than usual."

That air of sarcasm that always lingers about Regina is present, but beneath it all she's soft and sweet and the way she is smiling at Emma just makes her blurt out, "Would you like to have dinner with me?"

Silence.

Regina's smile drops and she leans back - away. Her eyes are wide and confused and Emma's chest constricts painfully at the sight. She's raw and humiliated and when Regina at last opens her mouth to obviously - obviously - reject her Emma frantically spits out whatever she can to save face.

"And Henry," she stammers out. "And my parents. Snow, she- that's who texted." She winces. "After Archie. He was the, uh, the first one. Anyways she wants to have dinner. All of us. Together. So, yeah, you, uh, you wanna?"

"Oh." Regina straightens, scratches at her collarbone. "Here? Or-"

MA NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

"At the loft, I'm sure," Emma says. "No solid details yet. She just wanted me to bring it up to you."

Funny we fought a monster rooster today and yet you're the biggest chicken I've ever seen.

"Well, that would be fine, I'm sure." Regina stands, rather abruptly. Clears her throat. "Well, I'm quite exhausted after using so much magic so-"

"Right," Emma allows, heart aching at the way the other woman absolutely refuses to meet her eye.

"The bed in the guestroom is all made up, but if you need anything else don't hesitate."

"Thanks." Emma offers up a would-be smile that takes on the form of a grimace. "I'm sure I'll be fine. Have a good night."

Regina nods, stiff and quiet before sweeping from the room in that way she has. The one that makes it feel like she's wearing a billowing cape when she's simply moving through her home in a pair of pajamas.

As soon as she's out of sight, Emma starts furiously texting.

You've got to knock it off. You're lucky I didn't tell on you.

Henry's reply takes a minute. She imagines he'd had to dart back to his bedroom and snuggle under his Batman comforter before Regina had caught him on the stairs.

Wow, a coward and a tattletale.

Emma huffs. I gave birth to you. Aren't you supposed to respect me or something?

You have to earn it. Savior-up and ask out your True Love.

"Woah," she breathes. Shit.

Nobody said anything about True Love. Kid, I told you not to get your hopes up about anything like that. This is a very clear lost cause. I'm sorry, but it's not happening.

Henry doesn't respond.

Kid?

Nothing.

Dudewho'sabouttolosehiscomputerprivilages says what?

I'm sleeping, is all he returns.

Emma wrinkles her nose, heart sinking to the very depths of her gut. This, of course, is why normal people don't usually involve their children in their love lives. People get hurt.

So great, another fuck up. Yay.

Ten points to Emma Swan.

She flops over on the couch and buries her scream in Regina's fancy throw pillows. In the end, teleportation by magic hadn't been all that difficult once she got the hang of it. Maybe she can learn how to make herself disappear completely.

Preferably forever.

Chapter 10 Chapter Text

When Emma wakes up it smells like she might be in heaven. Sticky syrup and crisp bacon and hot coffee and-

"Jesus!" Emma yelps and thumps off the couch onto the hard wood of the floor. Henry is standing over her, arms crossed, lips pulled into a deep frown.

"Couldn't even make it to the guest room like a normal person," he sighs tiredly, shaking his head.

Emma scowls as she rubs at her neck. It's tight and cramped after spending the night contorted on the too-small sofa. "I dozed off."

"Well, Mom probably thinks you're a total weirdo for sure now so good job."

"Hen," Emma sighs, "look, I'm sorry you're disappointed. And I'm sorry I made it worse by getting your hopes up the other day, but cut me some slack, all right? Things are good now, aren't they? We're all getting along. Nobody is trying to murder anyone. Why rock the boat?"

"I don't want a boat." He's whining, but there's a mischief in his eyes that betrays the fact she's already forgiven. "I want a yacht."

Emma rolls her eyes. "Well, you brat, deal with your boat because that's all you're getting. And it's more than a lot of other kids have." She pokes him in the stomach and he giggles as he scampers out of reach.

"Mom said to get you up before your breakfast gets cold."

"Ah, see? That's the only time it's ever okay to wake me early."

"What about an emergency, like a fire?"

"Not even then," she returns, so serious he cracks up into a fit of giggles all over again.

"Did you get lost on the way upstairs?" Regina drawls once they're reunited in the kitchen. She's a bit bleary eyed considering the spread she'd just prepared.

Emma does her best to look offended. "I was doing you a favor. Now you don't have to change the sheets."

"How considerate."

It's Saturday, so Henry claims they obviously need to partake in a family outing. Just the three of them. Alone. Together. As a family. He waggles his eyebrows at Emma and she sags her shoulders in resignation. This is going to be the rest of her life, isn't it?

Surprisingly, Regina doesn't seem all that put out about having to suffer Emma's company while she takes her son to the arcade. It's a rundown repurposed warehouse, but Storybrooke being as light on entertainment as it is, the place is fairly crowded.

Kids race this way and that, tokens jingling, tickets clenched in their sweaty palms. Most of the parents linger at the little attached cafe, chatting or reading, a fair few sipping coffee while diligently typing away at their laptops. Regina surprises Emma yet again by sticking close to Henry, who tugs her by the hand towards the skee ball tables as soon as they've changed their money into tokens.

"Come on, Mom" Henry urges as he pulls her in front of an empty ramp.

Regina shifts on her feet a bit, cheeks a dusty pink. "Why don't you play today, sweetheart? I'll cheer you on with Emma."

"What?" Henry balks at the notion. "But you're the best." He leans in towards Emma for a conspiratorial whisper. "Once she even got a perfect score."

Face close to red by this point, Regina releases a nervous titter.

And Emma knows why. That 'once' means pre-Emma. Means the curse had still protected them. Had left the townsfolk passive and indifferent towards Regina and her son. But now they are back to being painfully aware of the Evil Queen and that being a skee ball champion isn't exactly what she wants for her image.

Emma gets it, really, she does. But she's also a piece of shit so she grins and tucks her thumbs into her belt and says, "Oh, by cheating?"

Regina shoots her a glare. "By skill," she mutters.

"Yeah, okay," Emma drawls out with a laugh. "I totally believe that."

"It's true," Henry pipes up, brow furrowed. "I saw it."

"Huh," Emma clucks her tongue, "I dunno-"

"Why would I put effort into cheating at something so juvenile?" Regina pushes, and she's getting a little defensive it seems.

Emma does her best to swallow her laughter. "I don't know. Good question."

"Fine, you know what?" Regina snarls. She grabs some tokens from Henry and shoves them into the machine. It buzzes and whirs and then drops a handful of balls down the chute. Regina snatches one up.

"This should be good," Emma murmurs, if only to watch her bristle.

"Ma," Henry admonishes quietly and Emma shoots him a wink.

The shrill music is playing and the lights are flashing but Regina seems reluctant to actually commit to a roll, so Emma nudges her shoulder and says, "I've sat next to you while you mouthed along to A New Hope. I already know you're a loser, you don't have to worry about your street cred."

"It's a classic," Regina snaps and then she jerks her arm back and lets the ball fly and - holy shit - it rolls right on up the ramp, arcs perfectly, and lands directly in the back right corner hole.

One hundred points.

"Awesome," Henry cheers, bouncing up on his toes in his excitement.

"What do you think," Regina drawls, awarding Emma with a smug grin, "did I cheat?"

Emma wastes a mere moment gaping before she shakes the shock off. "A fluke," she declares, and reaches out to press another ball into Regina's palm.

Regina sighs like this is all a great waste of her Very Important time, but there's a gleam in her eye like she might be sort of enjoying herself so Emma eggs her on. "Go on then, if you're so talented."

Another perfect toss, and the ball rolls right up into the one hundred point hole, this time in the left corner.

Emma blinks stupidly while Henry crows out a very smug, "Told ya so, Ma."

Clearing her throat, Emma rocks back on her heels. "No, you said she got a perfect score. I never said I didn't think she could make a few hundred points."

Henry rolls his eyes but Regina seems intrigued. "That sounds like the beginnings of a challenge."

"It might be."

Regina raises an eyebrow. "What's my incentive?"

"Bragging rights?" Emma tries.

Regina lets out a low, smooth laugh. "I have enough to brag about, thanks."

"Wow," Emma chuckles, "cocky."

"Confident," Regina amends, smirking. She hums for a moment, running her tongue along her lips as she thinks and it's all Emma can do to keep from passing out. At last, she brightens. "I get a perfect score," she steps up to Emma, way into her personal space, "and you owe me."

Emma's entire being is on fire. What the hell is going on? "Owe-uh, owe you what?" she flounders.

Regina tilts her head, eyes gleaming with wicked intent. "Dare to find out?"

"Uh," Emma feels like she hasn't taken a drink in a couple dozen years. "Yeah." She nods, a little frantic, doing her best to regain her bearings. "Yeah, you're on."

"Well, all right then," Regina says, silky and smooth and then she turns back towards the ramp and Emma can finally breathe again.

Henry sidles on up to her, features twisted up in sheer disgust. "I changed my mind about everything," he whispers, "you and Mom aren't allowed to talk to each other anymore."

She shoves him when he pretends to gag, which he returns, and by the time they're done roughhousing Regina has earned another three hundred points. Emma's starting to sweat a bit. Knowing Regina she'll probably wind up a humble servant for the day. Cleaning gutters and pruning the apple tree. Weeding her garden. Folding laundry.

Emma shudders.

Yeah, no thanks.

She waits until Regina pulls back her arm and then lets out a very loud - very fake - sneeze. Regina jolts a bit, but follows through and the ball rolls right on up into that winning circle. Turning slowly, Regina pins her with a hard glare, already onto Emma's tactics.

"Excuse me," Emma says with a wide smile, wiping at her nose.

The next time Regina is about to roll Emma erupts into a violent coughing fit. Still, the ball hits its mark, though this time it clips the edge of the hole sloppily before it falls in.

"Are you okay, Ma?" Henry asks, concerned while Emma dramatically clutches at her throat.

"She's just fine," Regina assures him. "Who is cheating now, Emma?"

Emma lets out one last cough, pounding on her chest with a closed fist. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she rasps.

"Three more, Mom," Henry cheers. "You can do it."

Regina stands a little taller as Emma glowers at her child. "Why are you on her side?"

"She makes dirt cake," he returns, rather matter of fact.

Oh, dirt cake. Well, Emma can't fault him for that. Her stomach rumbles its agreement.

"Regina, if you lose we get dirt cake," Emma calls.

"Enjoy not having dessert tonight," she returns while throwing another perfect toss.

Damn, Emma needs to step up her game.

She casually shuffles to Regina's side as she winds up another throw. Closer. Closer. Closer-

"Ma, no pushing," Henry cries, jabbing an accusing finger in her direction.

Regina turns, just then noticing how Emma is creeping up on her. "Miss Swan," she dramatically gasps. "How dare you?"

"Yeah, yeah," Emma shuts down her affronted southern belle routine. "Just throw the ball and put me out of my misery."

Regina beams that blinding smile of hers and Emma forgets to dread whatever is about to befall her. All she can think about is the fact that Regina is smiling at her - her - for some reason when she totally doesn't have to even give Emma the time of day. Like, what? How is this even-

Bells explode in shrill ringing and lights around the ramp flicker as the machine starts pumping out tickets. PERFECT GAME the scoreboard over the table flashes. Henry lets out a whoop of delight and falls to his knees, neatly folding the tickets into tight bundles.

"Mom, you got so many." He sounds a bit breathless and, for once, actually his age.

"Hmm," Regina's smirk is just plain malicious as she drags her eyes over Emma, "it would appear I did. Fancy that."

"Gloating is very unattractive," Emma tells her even though on Regina Mills it certainly is very, very not. Though to be fair most things Regina does are inherently attractive so- well, you know. She sighs. "What's my punishment?"

"You'll find out when I'm ready for you to know," Regina says.

Emma blinks. "W-what?" Oh god. "No, no, no, you can't do that. Don't leave me in suspense all day, come on. That's cruel."

"Well, I was known as the Just and Fair Queen."

"Please don't do this," Emma whines, dropping her shoulders. "Have mercy."

"Patience," Regina returns smoothly, and then actually starts walking away.

Oh god, it's probably going to be bad. Like really bad. So bad Emma can't even imagine it.

What if Regina has her do paper work !? Not even Regina could ever be so heartless, could she?

Emma trails after her, desperate. "Please, it was just a friendly game. I'll buy you a- I'll buy you a coffee, come on." Emma grabs her wrist and tugs her towards the attached cafe.

Regina hums. "That would be nice."

She waits until she already has the steaming Styrofoam cup in her hands before saying, "Now about your payment-"

"I literally just bought you coffee."

Regina raises her eyebrows. "You didn't clarify what for."

"Son of a-" Emma growls and Regina laughs, delighted.

"This is fun. We should have Saturday outings more often." Her eyes are shining with mirth and even then, when she's beyond frustrated, Emma can't help but appreciate how beautiful she looks. How content. How happy.

Fine, she'll do the fucking paperwork. God . Since when has Emma gotten this weak?

"Did anyone ever tell you you're kind of a jerk?" She mutters.

Regina lets out a low laugh, and Emma thinks this might end up being the best day she's had in a good long while.

Chapter 11 Chapter Text

After a full morning at the arcade, Henry winds up with a good few hundred tickets. Emma had helped him out at the mini basketball hoop and Henry had some fantastic luck on the casino styled games. Plus, it helps when your mom is loaded, she assumes. He'd spent an awful lot of time at the token machine, stuffing in Regina's hard earned dollars with abandon.

Regina didn't seem to mind though. She sat happily in the cafe with Emma, sipping at her coffee and making idle chat. Funny, the kid really had gotten them on a pseudo date after all. Not that it matters any more. Emma is determined to put the silliness behind her and start being Regina's friend again. It's better for her blood pressure, and this way she won't have to eat whole wheat bread anymore.

They head back to the mansion for lunch. Grilled tuna sandwiches instead of chicken. Nobody is ready yet, not after yesterday's horrors. Emma refuses to call it a debacle, though she'd already heard a dozen or so people whispering about it as she'd passed them while they were out today.

Well, as Regina had said, at least nobody is talking about the Spaghetti Incident anymore. There's always a silver lining.

They split up a bit after lunch. Henry upstairs to play his old - not Majora's Mask themed, Ma - gameboy , flopped across his bed. Emma chooses to chill out in front of an afternoon soap opera. And Regina curls up in the armchair across from her with a couple of folders from the office.

She's got her glasses on, which is already bad enough thank you very much, and as if to deliberately torture Emma she keeps bringing her pen up to the corner of her mouth to chew on the end while she reads.

"So, have you thought of my punishment yet?" Emma asks, if only to get her to stop.

Regina glances up at her and smirks. "I have a few ideas. I'm merely considering my options."

"Well consider faster," Emma grouses.

"You never said there was a time limit." Oh god, now she's pouting. "That's rather unfair of you."

"Aren't you supposed to be reforming?"

Regina chuckles. "I'm still allowed to have a little fun, no?"

Emma just huffs and turns up the volume on her show.

Twenty minutes later and Regina falls asleep on top of her folders. She snoring a little and her glasses are askew and goddammit if it isn't the cutest thing Emma has ever suffered through witnessing.

Regina has seemed a little subdued today. A little softer. A little tired. Now that Emma thinks about it, she'd been downright groggy before breakfast. Perhaps she hadn't slept well last night.

Emma stands and grabs the decorative knit blanket off the back of the couch. She tosses Regina's work onto the coffee table, then tucks the small quilt around her before heading upstairs. Henry grins up at her before she even settles at the end of his bed.

"Have fun today?"

She rolls her eyes. "Cool it, kiddo."

"What?" He's the picture of angelic innocence. "I was just enjoying a nice morning out with my two loving moms. Is that a crime?"

Emma skitters her fingers across his tummy and he pulls away with a shriek of delight. "It is when you're a little sneak about it."

He giggles, eyes bright. "I had fun."

"Good. Can't believe you're one of those losers who hoards tickets though." Seriously. Emma is still in shock that he had the willpower to walk away from the prize counter without so much as a second glance.

"Bigger payoff in the end," he insists.

Totally Regina's nerd son. Emma takes no blame for this. She's all about the instant gratification.

"So," he smirks, again, all Regina and Emma's heart aches a little, "you learn your punishment yet?"

"No," Emma grumbles, "she's being a giant jerk about it. Letting it hang over my head."

Henry shrugs against his pillow, attention drifting back to his game. "It probably won't be that big of a deal."

"I know, she just wants the anticipation to eat away at me." Emma huffs. "It's working."

"Good." They both glance up to find Regina lingering in the doorway. She looks a bit perkier, Emma thinks. The nap had done it's job. "Sounds like everything's going according to plan."

Emma shoots her a half hearted scowl. "You're a little too good at sneaking up on people."

Regina beams. "Yet another of my many talents." She raises her eyebrows. "Should I be planning a dinner for three?"

"Uh," Emma blinks blankly at her.

Like, fuck yeah. But also she doesn't want to impose and she doesn't really have an excuse like last night. Not to mention she's feeling a little grungy. Regina had magicked her up some clothes from the apartment before they left that morning but she still hasn't showered.

Besides, does Regina just feel obligated to invite her? Or is this a subtle, passive aggressive hint for her to take off? Hey, I'm thinking about dinner soon so get the fuck out please.

"Yeah," Henry answers for her, saving Emma from her internal distress.

Regina just nods and retreats back to the hall.

"You really have to work on talking when she pays attention to you," Henry says as soon as she's gone. "It's embarrassing."

"I'm doing just fine, thanks."

"Whatever you say, Ma."

It's long after dinner. Henry is - supposedly - asleep upstairs. Regina is in her pajamas, comfortably curled up on the left side of the couch with a thick book, a blanket tucked around her. And Emma - long past due to politely give her thanks and head home - is on the right side. Leaning back comfortably, socked feet up on the coffee table even though she knows it drives Regina mad.

"I think he's gonna do it. He's been eyeing her up for half an hour now." The television is muted and playing a show she doesn't recognize, but that's not about to stop Emma from dissecting character motivations. "Just watch. Five minutes to go and he'll pounce."

"She can do better," Regina murmurs without sparing so much as a glance towards the screen.

"Probably," Emma agrees. She shifts. "Whatcha reading?"

There's a faint pull at Regina's lips. "A book. Have you ever heard of one?"

Emma rolls her eyes, huffs. "Rude." So she likes watching things more than reading about them. So what? She pouts a little and tries to come up with a way to get Regina's attention without having to actually flat out ask for it.

"One of my few flaws, I'm afraid." Regina turns the page, and Emma has no idea how she does that. Focuses on two completely different things at once.

"Wow, I didn't know you were capable of admitting you had any."

Regina really does smile then. "I said few ."

"Humble." Emma sits up a bit, reaches for the remote. She switches the TV off before she stands and stretches with a loud yawn. "Whelp, I should head out." Regina glances up at her and Emma raises her brow. "You'll let me know if Henry has any chicken inspired nightmares you can't soothe?"

Regina lets out a rather undignified snort. "Just try not to set any more poultry loose in my town on your way back."

"Better or worse than the meatballs? Be honest."

Regina wrinkles her nose, considers the question with surprising sincerity. "More annoying," she settles on, "though less dangerous."

"I dunno. Birdzilla looked like he could do some nice property damage if we let him." She snags her coat off the back of the couch and shrugs it on. "Sleep on it, and then give me your final answer in the morning."

"I'm sure you'll wait by the phone with baited breath."

Emma flashes her a cheeky grin. "Always. See ya Tuesday, Teach."

She attempts to make a run for it before Regina can start to grouse about the title, but she's snagged by the wrist as she passes.

Regina's hold is light, but steady. "Let me know about dinner as soon as possible," she says. "I don't want to have to move anything around because you decide to let me know an hour beforehand."

Emma just stares down at her, blinking dumbly.

"With your parents, Emma," Regina sighs out. "Goodness, I swear sometimes I worry about you."

"D-dinner," Emma splutters, insides cold. "Right. Yeah. That dinner Snow wanted you to come to. The one that's definitely happening. For real."

She awkwardly jerks out of Regina's grip and stumbles towards the front hall.

"Whelp. Bye. See you at that totally real dinner we're all gonna have."

Emma accosts her mother as soon as she wakes up on Sunday. "You have to host a dinner party, like, tomorrow."

It's a demanding, shitty, involved, last minute request but, luckily, Emma Swan's mother is Snow-Fucking-White. And so, instead of planting her hands on her hips and giving her daughter a stern talking to about respect and consideration and boundaries, Snow gasps in delight, hands over her mouth, and whispers, "that sounds wonderful ," in hushed awe. "What's the theme?"

"No theme. And it's small. Just you and David. Then me, Henry, and Regina."

"Oh," Snow squeaks in delight. "Family Coming Together. That's my favorite theme."

"No-" Emma groans, pinches the bridge of her nose, "no theme. I said no-"

Except Snow is already off, bustling about the kitchen and taking stock of everything. She's throwing open cupboards and poking her head in the fridge and straining onto her tiptoes to fish the good china from the cabinet over the oven.

She freezes, suddenly, whirls around, eyes wide. "Is this-" she breathes, and then beams. Looks a bit like she's about to burst from the sheer force of her joy. "Is this a Coming Out dinner party?"

Emma balks, cheeks warm. "No. Not a- a- No. This is a Emma Doesn't Want to Get Caught in a Lie dinner party. This is a Please do This For Your Only Daughter so She Doesn't Look Like an Ass dinner party."

Snow frowns. "But-"

"I told you. There is nothing going on, please," Emma whines. "This is just a friendly night in. Nothing more."

" Oh ," Snow nods sagely, winks, "I gotcha. Sorry, I didn't mean to ruin the surprise."

Oh god. "There's no surprise. You didn't ruin anything, it's just a normal-"

"Say no more." Snow raises her hands. "I promise I'll act just as I would have had I heard the news for the very first time."

"Snow, please -"

"Now, now, shoo." Snow ushers her towards the coat rack. "I'll get everything all set up. Oh," she coos with a sigh as she helps - forces - Emma into a jacket, "your father is going to just be over the moon. I'm so glad he's working today or I'd likely just blurt it out."

"But-"

"Off you go now. Tell Regina I expect her at seven sharp this evening."

"I-"

Except Emma finds herself alone in the third floor hall of their apartment building, blinking at a closed door.

Oh boy.

"So," Emma chuckles out, "is tonight at seven too last minute?"

Regina sighs through the phone. "It would be if I didn't know you so well." A pause. "Very well, tell your mother I'll be there. And also that I don't understand why we need to use her daughter as a go between."

Emma ducks her head as she wanders aimlessly about the docks, kicking a pebble across the cracked sidewalks. "Who can say? You're always such a delight."

"I would think you'd be sucking up to me, Swan. I still hold a fair bit of power over you, after all."

Fucking Skee ball.

"You're not gonna make me do paperwork, right?" Emma needles. "Please don't make me do paperwork."

"Emma," Regina sighs out, though it sounds like she might be laughing, just a little, "that's your job ."

"So you keep saying. I'm not quite convinced."

She can just about hear Regina's eyeroll. "Though I'm having second thoughts now, my plans for you don't involve paperwork."

"So you do have a plan then? You've worked it out?" Emma hopes she doesn't sound quite as desperate as she thinks. "Tell me."

"I'm still finalizing. Just a bit longer. You understand, I'm sure."

Emma releases a groan, sagging as she walks. "You're kidding me. Come on. This is ridiculous. The tiniest bit of power and you're completely gone."

"I never said I could wield it with grace."

"You're lucky I've gotten so fond of you," Emma teases before she can stop herself.

Wow. What an idiot. Way to play it cool. Really. Great, Swan. Amazing.

Regina hums over the line. "Aren't I just?" she says, soft and playful and sweet and then she just fucking hangs up as though she hasn't messed up Emma's head for the rest of the day.

What a bitch.

Chapter 12 Chapter Text

Admittedly, showing up at six fifty-eight is stupid.

See, at the time Emma had looked at it as putting herself through as little misery as possible. Show up right on time, leave her parents no extra wiggle room for embarrassing comments and expectant smiles before Regina shows up.

Except she realizes the very moment she enters the loft that - holy shit - she should have come home hours ago because apparently her mother doesn't understand the meaning of 'no theme'. Emma doesn't know if Mary Margaret Blanchard or Snow White is the one to blame for the explosion of embarrassment splattered in front of her. She just knows that she's absolutely, one hundred percent, without a doubt, going to die tonight.

It's completely sickening.

There are rainbow streamers swooping about the room, hanging from the ceiling and draping over just about everything in sight. Helium balloons sway about, tethered to furniture, and what have to be dozens of colorful ones without helium litter the floor, rolling about and getting under everyone's feet. Tiny little heart decals are stuck over just about every available surface. Pink and lavender and blue and impossible to miss.

David is grinning at her, neat and tall in a pressed suit and Snow is actually wearing a fucking tiara, rhinestones glittering and eyes a little tearful.

"Please kill me," Emma whispers, not quite sure who she's even asking at this point.

Even Henry - someone who is almost uncomfortably romantic for a kid his age - stands next to her with his nose wrinkled. "Isn't Valentine's day in February?"

Snow looks pleasantly confused. "Yes. Why?"

Henry blinks. "Uh, no reason." And then he flashes Emma a bemused sort of half smile before ducking under some pink streamers and heading upstairs to change.

"S-snow," Emma splutters, and there are tears in her eyes for entirely different reasons, " why? "

"I know you were aiming for a surprise but I-"

David clears his throat.

" we ," Snow amends with a sheepish smile, "just thought that since the jig is already up we might as well go all out to give you the perfect set up. After all, you only officially come out to your parents once. Put that together with the engagement announcement and this is a very important night for both of you."

"We want this to be a festive, safe space," David adds, beaming. "A place where you both know you have our full support in everything." Impossibly, his smile grows. "I made a rainbow cake."

Emma's eyes widen as she at last registers her mother's outfit. Well, the top more specifically. She's wearing a beautiful, flowing skirt that matches nicely with the vibes of her father's formal attire, but she's also wearing a printed T-shirt.

"Is that the bi pride flag?"

"Oh," Snow lets out a little squeak, beaming down at her shirt as though she'd forgotten. "Yes, well, we weren't quite sure so we thought we'd cover our bases."

And that's when David undoes the buttons on his blazer to reveal his own shirt with the rainbow flag printed on it.

Snow beams. "We weren't sure if you'd always known you were bi or if Neal was just a compulsive heteronormative phase and you were coming out of the closet as a full-on gay."

Emma slaps her hand over her face. "Please don't use the term full-on gay."

With a sharp, horrified gasp, Snow brings her hands to her mouth. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Was that offensive?" She looks like she's about to break down into hysterics. "I'm a homophobe."

"Now, now," David soothes, moving to rub her back with a gentle hand. "Remember what the online forums said. There's a learning curve. You can't be so hard on yourself whenever you make an honest mistake. Just remember the steps. The three 'L's"

He coaches Snow through some deep calming breaths and together in unison they chant, "Listen. Learn. Love. Listen. Learn. Love."

It's a miracle Emma doesn't throw up.

Actually, maybe she might.

She darts to the nearest window and flings it open, gulping down great, greedy breaths of fresh air. The cold night manages to calm her, gentle wind against her cheeks. And when she's relaxed a bit she cranes her neck and stares up at the dark sky above. Towards God or the Blue Fairy or whoever the fuck else is supposed to be up there listening.

"Look," she snaps, "I know I had a rough start what with the running away and the car theft and the teen pregnancy, but have I really been this bad of a person? I mean, come on. This is getting ridiculous now."

Above her, the brightest star in the night sky twinkles, shimmering as though it's laughing somehow.

Emma scowls. "Well fuck you too then."

There is a flash of light along the road, and Emma watches in horror as what is unmistakably Regina Mills' car pulls up and parks along the curb.

Holy shit.

Emma frantically scrambles back into the apartment, only pausing for a moment to let out a strangled OOMPFH when her head bashes against the window frame. She skids about the loft, ripping down everything in arm's length despite Snow's startled protests.

"Emma, what are you doing!?"

"Help me," Emma spits out, tripping over balloons as she leaps about, attempting to yank down every last streamer. Her eyes widen as they fall onto the decal slapped up just behind the head seat of the table. "No. NO! Naked Baby Cupid is coming down!"

"Emma, no! He supports all forms of love!"

"He can support it from the trashcan!" Emma cries, tripping and stumbling over the streamers that have managed to tangle themselves around her.

The oven timer starts blaring.

"My rainbow cake!" David gasps and dashes off to the kitchen.

"You stay away from Naked Baby Cupid!"

"Guys, what's all the yelling abou-" Henry trips over a bunch of balloons peppered about the stairs and plummets, only saved by the fact an even bigger pile rests at the bottom. A handful pop, but the sheer overwhelming amount of them is still enough to cradle him safely.

"My cake didn't rise," David screeches in horror from the other room.

"Emma," Snow sobs, "you're ruining your own Engagement Day!"

" You're about to ruin my entire life !"

"Don't be so dramatic!"

"I don't understand. I followed the instructions to the letter!"

" You did this!"

"Guys, I think I broke mostly everything in my body."

The door opens.

Everyone freezes.

And that's how Regina finds them.

David, standing in the center of the room in big pink oven mitts, distraught as he stares down at a deformed rainbow cake. Snow White, standing in front of a pin up of a naked baby, hands splayed out protectively over it, defending the picture from defilement. Henry, sprawled out on the floor, suffocating under purple and blue balloons. And Emma, contorted and bound in a bright, flamboyant knot of rainbow streamers.

"My," Regina drawls, bemused gaze sweeping across the scene, "I can't tell if I'm early or I'm late."

Regina, at least, seems to be enjoying dinner. She appears utterly delighted by the tense atmosphere and is having far too much fun pretending as though she doesn't register anything out of the ordinary going on despite the fact the table is shrouded in rainbow confetti and they all have to keep swatting balloons away every few bites.

Snow is glowering from the head of the table, defiantly sat right in front of her Naked Baby. David frowns throughout the meal, surely lamenting the fate of his dessert. And Emma spends her time caught between anger and embarrassment, willing all of them to just disappear.

Henry and Regina offer a little conversation, but mostly it's all just forks against plates and strained sips of wine - apple juice for Henry.

"This is nice," Regina says sweetly in the unbearable silence, "we should really do this more often."

And Snow, who is apparently immune to her sarcasm by now - or just has trouble grasping the concept - actually softens. "I'm sorry, Regina. This isn't your fault. It's obvious you're here trying to do the right thing. We're not upset with you."

"Oh," Regina chirps, smirking, "you know, that might be the first time I've ever heard those words in my life."

Henry snickers while Emma rolls her eyes.

"Whelp," Emma seethes, shooting her mother a dirty look, "this time there's only one person to blame."

"Yes," Snow grits back, "someone who is being rather unappreciative of the lengths other people have gone to for her."

"Listen. Learn. Love," David murmurs under his breath.

Snow winces a bit.

"Well, some people," Emma adds, fighting for her voice to remain even, "took it upon themselves to add a theme to what was stated - multiple times, remember - to be a completely themeless party."

Snow bristles. "Well, some people seem determined to ruin what should be a beautiful important night to be looked back upon fondly by the whole family for years to come."

"Listen. Learn. Love," David mutters more frantically, cheeks pink. "Listen. Learn. Love."

Emma slams her palms on the table, rattling the dishware. "A 'beautiful important night' that you completely invented in your own head."

Regina just leans back in her chair, sipping daintily at her wine while watching them go back and forth like a tennis match. "Maybe we could make it a weekly thing. That could be fun, hmm?" Her eyes are bright as she soaks in the drama.

Henry just sighs and drops his head into his hands. "I wonder what normal families are doing right now?"

"What will it take for you to understand you have nothing to hide from us, Emma?" Snow desperately cries. "How else can we prove that we support you? We support the both of you."

"I'm not fighting your support!"

"You are if you insist on lying about this to us! You don't have to be scared. You don't have to hide!" She juts a finger towards Regina. "How do you think this is making her feel, huh? Sneaking around. Twisting the truth. You're acting like you're ashamed to be with her."

Emma goes rigid while Regina splutters in her glass.

"Regina deserves better than that," Snow scolds her.

"I deserve better than what now?" Regina squeaks.

Snow blinks at her, utterly perplexed. "You weren't-?"

"Whelp," Emma's chair screeches as she forces it back, "thanks for that." And she doesn't even dare chance a peek at Regina before fleeing - very maturely - into the bathroom.

It's farther away but, all things considered, Emma refuses to lock herself in the closet.

Snow would have a field day.

Chapter 13 Chapter Text

About a good fifteen minutes pass before anyone even tries the handle, and when she does, Regina is at least good enough to knock twice and wait for a bit before giving up and magicking herself inside the bathroom. Emma remains seated on the toilet seat as violet smoke curls around her, she can't even bring herself to look up.

"You don't have to hang around for a heart to heart," she grumbles. "I'd actually love it if you would just leave and then we can pretend none of this happened."

"Well," Regina moves to lean against the wall opposite her, "we can once I get to hear from you what exactly is going on. Your parents have been supremely unhelpful. Snow has always been incomprehensible once she starts in on the blubbering."

"I don't want to do this, Regina," Emma sighs out. "Don't play dumb. You know what's going on, and yes, I look like an ass like usual, and yes, it's all been very good for your ego. Go preen somewhere else."

Regina tilts her head, studies Emma with a sharp gaze. "Why have you been acting so strangely?"

"Can we just not?" Emma drops her head in her palms. "I know , okay? I get it. And I get why. You don't have to say any of it out loud or explain anything. Everything can just stay the same. I won't make you uncomfortable by pushing. I just- I got it. You can head back. I'll be out in a few minutes."

"You've got what exactly?"

Emma sighs again, gestures from Regina to herself. "You know."

Silence.

Wow, Regina's really not giving her an inch on this, huh? It's like she wants to humiliate Emma as much as possible which, when she thinks about it, really isn't out of character.

Fine then. Fuck it. If Regina wants to force it out into the open Emma will just have to suck it up and bite the bullet.

"You know, that I-" she winces, even in her irritation still unable to muster up much confidence. "I'm in love with you or whatever." She peeks up through her fingers.

Regina blinks down at her owlishly. "You're what?"

"Don't make a big deal out of it," Emma whines. She waves Regina off. "Just go back out and-"

"No you're not."

Emma stills, frowns. She furrows her brow. "Yes I am."

Regina wrinkles her nose. "You can't be."

"Uh, yeah? I can?" Emma stands, meets her toe to toe, crosses her arms. "I'm not saying you're obligated to have feelings for me too, but that doesn't mean you get to dictate how I feel. I love you."

"No you don't," Regina insists.

Emma bristles. "Stop saying that."

"No."

"I obviously love you. Everybody in this fucking town knows it. Apparently it's all they think about." Emma ticks off the names on her fingers. "My parents, Ruby, Granny, Henry. They all know it and talk about it all the time. It's awful. True though. So," Emma sizes her up, stands tall, "deal with."

"No."

" Yes ."

"Are you stupid?" Regina snaps at her.

"Uh," Emma drawls, "I dunno, I don't seem to be the one with the comprehension problem right now."

"I poisoned you."

"Cursed," Emma defends, a little affronted. And a moment later doesn't know why because that really doesn't make it better.

"You lost your entire childhood with your parents because of my actions."

Emma snorts. "After tonight I think I'm starting to consider that a blessing."

Regina raises her brow in disbelief and Emma holds up her hands in defense.

"You realize they are literally outside this door sobbing right now because I'm not being as gay as their internet research told them I'd be. That is something that's happening right now in real life."

Instead of laughing or rolling her eyes, Regina crosses her arms and actually looks something close to annoyed. "I punched you," she says.

She's reaching now, but her tone is snotty enough it still gets to Emma.

"I punched you harder."

Regina looks a little offended. "Debatable."

Emma shrugs. "I'm not the one who wound up splayed against the crypt."

For a moment Regina looks a little lost, but then she visibly brightens and opens her mouth. "I-"

"Oh my god," Emma whines. "Are we really gonna do this? Please don't make me stand here while you list every bad thing you've ever done, you're such an asshole on the daily it's gonna take forever ."

Regina glowers. "I hate you," she mutters.

"See," Emma nods along, "there's an actual reason." She winces. "I mean, I'd hope that's not true but if it is that's the first valid reason for us not to, you know," Emma trails off, scratches at her nose and averts her gaze, cheeks warm.

Even focused on Snow's finely embroidered hand towel, she can feel the intensity of Regina's stare. Emma clears her throat, desperate to put an end to the horror that is this night.

"So, uh, now you know what's up and we can just-" she gestures vaguely, waggling her fingers, "and go about our lives and pretend this ne-"

"Hush." Regina's fingers are on Emma's chin, feather light, and she smoothly directs Emma's attention away from the towels and back onto her. Their gazes lock and she holds still for a moment, keeps them there, just like that. Studying. Contemplating.

And then she leans forward and presses their lips together. Soft at first, impossibly so, and then firm. With pressure. Intent. And all the air is stolen from Emma's lungs as she stands, stock still, frozen in her shock, body absolutely thrumming with-

With-

It's Regina pulling back, tilting her head in question, mocking shining in her gaze, that shakes Emma out of her stupor.

"Wait," she bursts, breathing heavy and a little desperate. "Wait, no, I can do this better." Her gaze darts about the room, as though just realizing they're in her mother's tiny bathroom. "This- this can be better."

Regina chuckles, fingers tracing along the hard line of Emma's cheek. "I think we're doing all right."

"Yeah?" Emma breathes, her hands tentatively coming to find Regina's waist. So what if she sounds like a dazed, dopey idiot?

She's fairly certain that's how Regina sees her most of the time anyways and yet this is apparently happening so-

"Yeah," Regina agrees, and she's got this wide, genuine smile.

She's so-

So-

Bright.

Bright and beautiful and pressing close to Emma and-

Emma shakes her head, pulls back a little, resolute. "No. This is gonna be better." She nods to herself. "I can do this. I'll do it right, medieval fairy tale style. The whole deal." She looks Regina up and down with sudden confidence. "Prepare to be wooed right outta your finest pantsuit."

Regina raises her eyebrows. "Presumptuous."

And then they walk out of the bathroom hand in hand.

Snow's tears are at last dry, but she's standing in the center of her balloons and clutching the baby Cupid print against her chest with this big trembling lip like she could be set off at any second. David looks exhausted and rather defeated where he still sits, staring down at his deflated cake.

Henry is glaring at them all from the couch, looking like he's beyond ready to go home.

"So, uh," Emma coughs and does her best to muster up a grin, "I guess this was a coming out themed dinner party after all, huh?"

She's met with crickets.

Regina clears her throat and tugs on her hand a bit at their blank stares. "Maybe we should head out and give them some time to unwind a bit after the pressure of hosting." She holds her free hand out towards their son. "Come along, Henry."

It takes him a few minutes to wade through the decor to his mothers.

"Right," Emma agrees when he finally stumbles over to them. She flashes her parents a sheepish smile. "Well, uh, thanks for dinner and about before-" she shrugs, "I dunno yet about the bi versus gay thing. This is all new and I haven't had a chance to think about it too deeply what with everything going on. But, well, you'll be the first to know when I do." Snow visibly brightens at that, softening immediately at the idea of having an Official Cause to support. "And it's nice to see you're cool with either so, yeah, thanks I guess."

Regina squeezes her hand and when Emma looks at her she finds a proud smile on the woman's lips. "That was very sweet, Emma," she says and then turns towards Snow and David. "And I would just like to say that there is a startling lack of pan representation in this room and you should both be ashamed of yourselves."

Snow releases a dramatic gasp and falls onto her knees, swallowed by balloons. "I am a homophobe."

"Probably," Regina agrees.

Emma just rolls her eyes and tugs her out the door, leaving David to whisper the three 'L's to her mother.

Regina Mills is just slipping on her heels when she gets the phone call, nearly ready to head out the door. As soon as she sees Emma's name on the caller ID though, she knows there's no longer any point.

"What happened now?" She sighs out sadly by way of greeting.

Emma chuckles nervously over the line. "Hey, so remember how I said I was going all out tonight? Well, I set up this whole outdoor thing. Nice and toasty. I got some big heaters from Leroy. Put up these little twinkle lights. Borrowed some of the outdoor furniture from Granny's. The good stuff. Not the cheap patio set she's got out front. Anyways, it was great. Very nice. Very romantic. One hundred percent guaranteed to woo Regina Mills even at her most critical."

"Emma, get to the point. What did you do?"

"Who says it's my fault?"

Regina huffs, rolls her eyes as she steps out of her heels and retreats back to her bedroom to slip out of her dress. Something tells her she isn't getting a date night. "Emma, please ."

Emma whines a bit through the phone. "I just wanted it to be nice."

"And?"

She heaves a great, heavy breath and then admits, very quietly, "And there's a giant anthropomorphic pork chop bashing against town hall."

"Oh, I love pork."

"I know," Emma lets out in a sad sigh. "That was the point."

Regina just shakes her head. "Oh all right then, give me a moment. I'll need to put on some sensible shoes."

- An Epilogue That's So Short it Doesn't Get its Own Chapter -

Emma Swan kneels on the floor, hands clasped and eyes pleading. "Please, Regina," she begs, tears in her eyes and all sense of pride lost to desperation. "Please, just tell me. Have some pity. An ounce of compassion."

Regina hums a bit, head cocked to the side. She opens her mouth, closes it, then clucks her tongue.

"No," she says, "I think I'd like for you to wait some more," and then she turns to leave the room, abandoning Emma to her misery because reformed or not she's still a horrible fucking person.

"It's been five years," Emma shouts after her. "You're a heartless monster ."

Regina's only response is malicious laughter.

Fucking Skee Ball.

Series this work belongs to:

Part 1 of Just Some Cow's Opinion (AMooPoint Oldies) Next Work →

Actions

Kudos

Geagun, ProfGayton, jadedrose, My_Queen_Regina, Enginerdthebard, JINXPILLED, CosmicWolf_2006, Wrathofdementer, Carlet, OneWhoSeeks, insanity101, HaleyBriA, moonlightmilfs, ljsheart, EvilRegalPanda, virmire, FletcherD, srlee012, violetsodamakesmedrunk, quixotic_lovve, 1100a1050, SasakiZero, manoele, feikong, Agathaallalonguser, Val3ncia_22, Eden_of_Kovir, Blastthegay, dilinisipcl, uselessbimyself, MrsReginaMills, living_deadgirl777, Kjsr_stan, KatieDoo1, miisaraiva, lanadelg4y, Avangelion, adriannam926, hetkala, Aetherfried, woolflanelle, misterdude100, DuckingKween, queer_as_a_scottish_fiver, HeroineJunkie, astanphill, wolvekt, One8501, Natasanes_357, Stoner_Turtle, and 291 more users as well as 314 guests left kudos on this work!

Comments

Pages Navigation

TJosey on Chapter 1 Thu 02 Sep 2021 03:41AM UTC

YES The Chicken Debacle 😭 I'm so happy thank you so much now I get to re enjoy this amazingly hilarious story all over again

Last Edited Thu 02 Sep 2021 03:54AM UTC

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
loubie on Chapter 1 Fri 03 Sep 2021 04:11PM UTC

i think i'm into poop jokes too oh my god

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
OceanAndARock on Chapter 2 Thu 25 Nov 2021 07:43AM UTC

I'm enjoying this

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
miliamin on Chapter 2 Sun 30 Apr 2023 12:24PM UTC

Ruby scene here is just perfect and delightful and i laughed so hard at the problem argument and the pie scam you wont even believe
I love this

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
THEofficeghey on Chapter 3 Thu 02 Sep 2021 02:16AM UTC

This is supposed to be fun crack but that last sentence HURTS. You did Emma!!!
I am reading this through so no comments even tho I have many and they are all good!! That ice cream sundae was very impressive. But I really want to know why this is called rhe chicken debacle cause like....who is turning into a chicken. Emma pls don't try to magic yourself yet. Or regina...

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
TJosey on Chapter 3 Sun 12 Sep 2021 06:32AM UTC

Lol the Spaghetti incident never fails to put a smile on my face

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
OceanAndARock on Chapter 3 Thu 25 Nov 2021 07:51AM UTC

Aw, cute!

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
loubie on Chapter 3 Wed 01 Jun 2022 07:36PM UTC

aww emma's efforts tho 🥺🥺

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
Coalyfingers on Chapter 3 Tue 13 Dec 2022 10:18PM UTC

Lol not the sentient, murderous marinara!

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
THEofficeghey on Chapter 4 Thu 02 Sep 2021 02:28AM UTC

Lmao I love ruby. Perfect timing with that last line. And Emma is such a dork. "We're just friends getting friend married!!!! That's totally a thing" what a nerd!
Omg tho when Emma was going through her speech I actually felt that and damn regina that is cold. You are so lucky it worked!! Im here tearing up and regina is smirking. I'm like DUDE! Then I convinced myself Emma was a chicken squawking about and that must be why regina isn't hugging her right now. But no Regina is a "wily bitch!" Man tho I wish we could see her real reaction to the gifts though!! Because that hail to the queen one was GOOD

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
cheshire6845 on Chapter 4 Thu 02 Sep 2021 01:22PM UTC

OMG I love Ruby and Granny.
And dang Regina's sneaky!

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
OceanAndARock on Chapter 4 Thu 25 Nov 2021 07:58AM UTC

Emma's an adorable idiot

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
loubie on Chapter 4 Wed 01 Jun 2022 08:04PM UTC

LMFAO EMMA 💀💀💀

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
Eden_of_Kovir on Chapter 4 Mon 09 Jun 2025 04:18PM UTC

No way! Love Ruby!

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
cheshire6845 on Chapter 5 Thu 02 Sep 2021 02:32PM UTC

"It's a talent really, her acting ability. She's so good not even her own mother can tell anything is amiss.
"Emma, sweetie, you've been acting very strangely these past couple of days, is something bothering you?
Fuck."
That had me laughing out loud for reals

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
Gingerwhiskeyice on Chapter 5 Thu 02 Sep 2021 09:00PM UTC

I laughed out loud at least four times in this chapter!!!! My kid just asked me what was so funny!! Love this so much

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
OceanAndARock on Chapter 5 Thu 25 Nov 2021 01:36PM UTC

I'm enjoying learning about the spaghetti incident!

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
THEofficeghey on Chapter 6 Thu 02 Sep 2021 02:47AM UTC

First of all "who is that gross ugly man and why is he talking to Regina?" This is the best description ever omg I died
Secondly!!! This is supposed to be fun crack but then you hit me with feels. That last line hurt. I mean she's not going to laugh probably but emma is so devastated by the thought. Ouch!!

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
Gingerwhiskeyice on Chapter 6 Thu 02 Sep 2021 09:11PM UTC

Ok now I’m wheezing with the laughter. Amazing chapter!

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread
OceanAndARock on Chapter 6 Thu 25 Nov 2021 01:40PM UTC

Emma is ridiculous, I love her!

Comment Actions
- Reply
- Thread

Actions

Work Header