Archive of Our Own

The bell over the door to Granny’s chimed for what felt like the hundredth time since she’d agreed to…this. Emma stifled an annoyed exaggerated groan, irritable with the amount of grief she’d gotten over the whole situation. And it wasn’t even really her problem. This is where being nice got her. She was already preparing her speech to her mother about reworking their family values.

Hell, she’d seen less complaint about the original curse than the absolute town-wide travesty of having to shut Granny’s Diner for one whole hour.

One painful, long, singular hour. It had created carnage in the streets. Pandemonium in rare calm. Yes, that hour happened to be vaguely around lunchtime. And yes, there was a severe lack of other decent lunch establishments in town (the competition usually showed a healthy amount of fear at engaging in a business rivalry with a restaurant that was run by a werewolf.) Still. It was hardly Emma’s issue Ruby had agreed to a date that overlapped with Granny’s only annual day off.

“It’ll just be for a bit,” Ruby had begged, pleaded despite Emma’s unwillingness. She had fawned over the girl’s pictures on her bumble profile, looked at Emma with wide puppy eyes until her pesky saviour complex had blown over her resolve and it had folded like a house of cards. That was before she realized that this had been a bigger scheduling fuck-up than just one poorly timed date and Ruby probably arranged the date to save her own skin.

“It’ll be easy. The kitchen’s shut anyway, we’re so seriously understaffed. There must be a summer cold going around.” Ruby winked. Before Emma could resume objecting, she engulfed her a quick hug and squeal, running off with a shout of, “Just make sure no one robs us!”

So, for the better part of an hour, she’d been turning down hangry citizens left right and centre, her patience worn dangerously thin by the end of lunch. To make matters impossibly worse, the poor saviour had come to Granny's for late breakfast herself and had been left wanting and starving. Which is why, when the jingle of the bell and a rush of air that was surprisingly frigid for late summer signalled the dreaded arrival of another yet-to-be-disappointed citizen, Emma was caught behind the counter, stomach grumbling its complaint and half a croissant in her mouth.

“Sorry,” pastry muffling her half-hearted apology, “We’re closed. Come back later –“ Emma broke off. The sight of Regina shivering and rubbing her arms over her purple sweater stymying Emma’s thoughts to a grinding halt, as they had a recent habit of doing in the presence of the mayor. “Oh. It’s you.”

Regina looked just as shocked to see her, considering Emma milling around behind the counter. “Do you work here now?”

“What? Oh – no, just watching the diner while Ruby’s on a date. She's really sorry for the inconvenience. The kitchen is closed, but if you come back later I’m sure…” Emma recited her line from memory then lost her thread, preoccupied with the other woman. Regina had meant to be putting Marian’s heart back this morning and was looking considerably worse for wear.  It was extraordinary (or extraordinarily embarrassing) how Regina still put the mighty saviour so indescribably on edge. Not that Emma was afraid of her; Emma had never been afraid of Regina even at her worst and now the depths of Regina’s commitment to change had erased any lingering trepidation that she might try to send Emma out of Storybrooke in a body bag. No, what had Emma struggling for words was a new uneasiness, a fear that she had never felt when they had been all knives-at-throats. A fear that was akin to carrying something fragile and precious through a hurricane. A fear of misstepping. Again.

It showed. Overly cautious was the best way to describe how they had been handling each other since the night in Regina’s vault, since the shocked revelation of you thought we were friends? Friendship might be a stretch for whatever ramshackle truce they had been trying to build since.

But they were trying, right? Right?

Emma was unsure.

Honestly, she’d not seen much of Regina. Certainly not seen her on her own since Sydney’s betrayal and they'd gone up against Ingrid with combined magic that the mere memory of still made Emma's stomach fizz. As if now they’d started some sort of unique alliance, they didn’t know where to go next. Which was nothing short of agonizing. More so now the town had settled into relative calm than when Ingrid had been reaping chaos, keeping everyone thoroughly preoccupied. Agonizing, because Emma craved that easy camaraderie they had when they had been running cons and chasing Zelena. The night of the stakeout, of green streetlight halos through foggy car windows, of close coffee-stained breath, of shared smiles and Regina by her side, solid and reliable, was like a holy grail in Emma’s mind.

“Henry just wanted a chocolate doughnut,” Regina’s eyes slid across the counter to the display of pastries with that weird wistful look of longing that she got when it came to making Henry happy. If he wasn’t such a good-natured kid, he’d have been spoiled beyond repair. Still, that melancholy look had always had a strange stranglehold on Emma, leaving her breathless and choking with a need to do something about it.

“Chocolate frosting. Not chocolate,” Emma corrected, picking up the tongs and gently putting two chocolate frosted doughnuts into a takeaway box.

No, she wasn’t technically meant to be serving people. Surely Ruby would understand the exception, Emma convinced herself as she folded up the box with extra care. Getting on better terms with Regina had been at the crux of every conversation Emma had with... well. With pretty much everyone since the Snow Queen had been defeated. Ruby had been on the receiving end of more than one earful, always bearing a smile of sympathy and more than a few cynical mutterings of Emma needing to get her shit together.

“Oh. Right. Of course,” Regina paused, caught on the edge of a frown and Emma mentally kicked herself. Until Regina reached across the counter to take the box from her. Her fingers brushed over Emma’s, lingering, sending shivers that had Emma’s hair standing up on end. Weird, Emma thought. Genuine gratitude bloomed across Regina's face with a satiny smile. Regina spoke with a soft tilt to her voice and her head, “Thank you. I forgot.”

Emma beamed, too busy grinning and revelling in a strange bolstering pride and forgetting to speak.

Regina cocked an eyebrow. “Should I pay?”

“Shit, yeah.” Cheeks colouring, Emma went to fumble with the dated till, enduring a series of embarrassing clunks, bells, and whirring before admitting,  “So, I have no idea how to take payments on this thing.”

“I can see why Ruby asked you to cover her.” Regina taunted, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth and – hang on. Was she teasing her? “You’re very good at this.”

Narrowing her eyes, Emma poked her from across the bar. “Alright, wisecrack. I wasn’t the type of foster kid who got a summer job. I was the type of foster kid who stole shit.” An idea flashed in her mind. “Just take them. On the house, or whatever.”

Regina snorted, “Which would be a nice sentiment if it wasn’t for the fact this isn’t your house. Here, hand me that receipt book.” Not waiting for Emma, Regina reached across the counter and grabbed a ratty spiral-bound pad. It was a coffee-logged, smudged and wrinkled stack of white, pink and yellow paper, that Regina was writing on over the Granny’s Diner logo: RM: I-O-U, followed by 2x Chocolate Doughnuts.

“Regina, it's fine. I’ll just pay for them when Ruby gets back. I owe you that much at least.”

Bright eyes snapped up, the scraping of her pen stilling almost instantly, her mouth parted as she searched Emma’s face. “You owe me? What on earth for?”

Was the answer not obvious? Though, perhaps not, Emma thought looking dejected at the box of doughnuts.

Their transgressions were beyond being mended by simple tokens. Did mere pastry, no longer warm from the fryer, unevenly caked in sugar and pre-packaged chocolate have any hope of making right the first time she took Henry away? What about the second time? The third? The tenth? Or the time she took him from Regina for a whole year? Was it enough of a thank you for the absorbed death curse? Or apartment in New York with its perfect memories that Regina had ripped painfully from her own heart and handed over? No. Did it smooth over misplaced accusations like a hot knife over frosting? Was a grease-stained box, the label stuck askew, big enough to hold any forgiveness for bringing Marian back? Surely it had no chance at mollifying her own guilt at how, even before, she had watched Regina’s relationship with Robin in distrustful envy, the green-eyed monster always competing with him as their relationship grew alongside their own friendship. She had fixated on it with a rotting obsession, unease like a cold flicker in her stomach whenever Regina would talk about him and smile. Now Regina was alone again and Emma was, well, not exactly happy about that. But the relief she felt now Robin was firmly out the picture was stained with guilt… and two decidedly average chocolate frosted doughnuts couldn’t make up for that.

Emma felt silly, blushing and mumbling, “A lot, I guess. Might as well start making reparations now.”

Bemused, Regina dismissed her with a scoffing laugh, a roll of her eyes and a disbelieving, “So that's why you're working here; you've lost your mind.” She tore off the carbon copy of her handwritten invoice and impaled it on the receipt spoke. Emma forced an unsatisfactory smile, it mutilated into a frown quickly and Regina stopped, eyes wide. Regina reached across the counter, covering Emma’s hand with her own and squeezing. “Thank you for doing this. I really needed a win today – even if it is just getting Henry doughnuts.” She bit her lip, Emma still marvelling at their tangled fingers. “Maybe next time, when you don’t have your very important career to attend to,” Regina pointedly looked around the diner and a quirk of a grin, “I’ll get three and you can join us?”

Surprised, Emma looked at her, a beaming smile cresting across her face like waves of sunlight over clouds as she replied, “I’d like that.”

Regina let the moment hang between them, squeezed her hand one last time before retreating with promises of, “Next time,” and a snarky, “Get back to work, Miss Swan.”

Emma sighed, dreamily resting her head on her palm and looking out the window, gazing with stars in her eyes to the blur of white and grey and…hang on. That’s not right. It had been a blissfully sunny day, the town soaked in bright heat when she’d arrived. The disappearing click of Regina’s stilettos on the diner’s tiled floor returned. “You're going to have to return to your old employment, Sheriff. It appears we have a problem.”

Emma followed dutifully with a mutter of, “When do we not have a problem?”

The 'Problem' being that the door was frozen shut, impossibly thick ice seeping between the frame and firmly locking them inside. It was late August, and Emma had woken to a glaringly bright sun and sticky air, thick with the aroma of late summer flowers, hot asphalt, and leaves thinking about autumn. Certainly not the type of morning that signalled any sort of snow beyond Emma's mother.

“This is the last time I do anyone in this town a favour,” Emma grumbled as golden hot magic pours from her hand to the door. It fizzled out in puffs of steam. “Ugh, I’m actually going to kill Ruby when she gets back.”

“Luckily for her, I don’t think she’ll be able to get here to attend her premeditated murder,” Regina said, raising an eyebrow as she tried to look through the window. There wasn’t much to see. Beyond the glass is a snow globe, a blizzard of blinding grey haze descending in a polar vortex that swirled around Granny’s and shook the windows. “Either your sparkly blue dress friend has been busy or global warming is getting ridiculous.”

“Global warming is getting ridiculous,” Emma said, shaking the door that was petrified in place, her magic had not made a dent, "But my money is on Elsa"

“Well, hopefully, it won’t be long until she gets over whatever caused her to lose her cool.” Regina’s eyebrows pinched together, “Maybe that’s not the most appropriate turn of phrase.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Emma replied grimly, “She had an argument with her sister once and froze their whole kingdom for weeks.”

“Spectacular.” Regina looked less than impressed. “I, for one, do not fancy freezing to death in the middle of summer,” Regina huffed, calling a fireball to her palm and hurling it at the door. The ice was thick and had her flames spitting out with a pathetic wheeze. She growled, twisting her fingers and wrapping them both in a blanket of purple smoke. They bounced back, reflected like sun off a snowy slope, reappearing at the back of the diner.

“I thought that might be the case. The last time I went up against one of Elsa’s tantrums my magic was pretty much useless,” Emma considered before adding jovially, “I ended up hypothermic.”

“You what?” Regina ran over the past few weeks, coming up perfectly blank on a time when Emma had nearly caught her death. The thought wedged troubled in her chest, guilt seeping in as freezing and damning as the ice that crept through the window panes. She looked at Emma who had her back turned, trying again to thaw the door, something hidden touching the surface of her expression when she softly asked, “Where the hell was I?”

“Uh, that was pretty much right after I – uh  – brought Marian back,” Emma stumbled over her words, averting her eyes and giving an unnecessarily aggressive shove of magic to unfreeze the door.

“Oh,” Regina trailed off, looking away, apology painfully stuck on the tip of her tongue like she’d licked a frozen pole. She ripped it off, painful and raw as she spoke. “I’m sorry. There’s so much I’ve missed because of this whole ...Robin disaster.”

Emma dropped her hands immediately, magic and snowstorm forgotten instantly as she stood to grab Regina’s elbows, worry etched into her face as green eyes searched. “How’s that going? Are you okay?”

Regina floundered under the gentle touch, stuttering. “Oh. Uhm, well. Over, I suppose.”

“I’m so sorry – “

Regina shook her head, cutting her off. “I did it. This morning, as soon as I put Marian’s heart back in her chest and it felt like someone put mine back as well. Or at least put my brain back.” Regina murmured, belittling her pain with trademark self-loathing disguised as a laugh. “I’ve wasted so much time chasing something that never felt right. Never felt like how I thought soulmates would feel. I’m not even sure it was worth it…” She twisted her fingers, looking at Emma with unrestrained emotion that had a better chance of blowing Emma over than the frigid tempest outside. “It wasn't worth it. I should have been there for you.”

“Regina,” Emma tightened her grip on Regina’s arms, missing how the woman swooned in her grip, lips parted and eyes wide. “I told you your happy ending is important to me. I don’t care if you throw me by the roadside to get it.”   

“No,” Regina stood just as firm, “You promised to have my back, and I didn’t have yours. It won’t happen again,” Regina vowed. The words had come so easily, pouring from her mouth like an echo of Emma promising her a happy ending, like her declarations of their unique something special. It was how they got through to each other, grand declarations as battering rams that busted through impenetrable walls waiting for the day when they wouldn't need them.

Emma brightened instantly. Regina swallowed, a little surprised and caught unaware with her heart in her throat. It was the same brightness that shone like an endless glittering blanket of snow in the sun, the same brightness that had melted her icy edges with See? That’s a start.

--

The thought had crossed Emma’s mind more than once that they should have tried harder to leave when they still stood a chance.

Now the fluffy powder was almost two feet high, sheathed in brittle ice. Blustering wind shook the windows, their rattle only fading when the creeping ice would freeze them in place. Condensation clouded over the frozen glass. Not that it mattered, windows rendered pretty much useless. the storm creating a wall of flying flurries so thick that Emma couldn’t see as far as the road at the end of the patio. 

Nestled in a booth, Regina had burrowed deeply into a pile of work she’d had in her briefcase, frowning as the battery on her laptop sunk lower and lower. She was growing increasingly fidgety each time Emma caught her out of the corner of her eye. Glances that were becoming frequent. The sheriff had exhausted the charge on her phone speaking with Henry who was safe with his grandparents. She had done as many push-ups as she could before looking at the floor became too boring to counteract the thrill of delight she'd get at catching Regina watching with pink in her cheeks. Emma had sat on pretty much every chair in various positions, trying to settle, drumming her fingers, until she was left hanging upsidedown off the edge of one of the booths and caught something out the corner of her eye. Emma had since filled the time by hurling darts at the dartboard in an endless loop and casting sideways glances at Regina.

“Stop looking at me, Miss Swan,” Regina pulled off a pair of reading glasses, levelling an icy glare across the diner. “It’s really off-putting. Some of us are trying to accomplish something.”

“Right,” Emma sucked her teeth, rolling a dart between her fingers. “You know I’ve watched you read that contract three times now? You’ve already signed it.” Emma pointed out, rocking on the balls of her feet before throwing a shot that easily hit the bullseye. She whooped. Regina perched the glasses on the end of her nose, glaring over them at the disruption. Emma was undeterred. “Do you look annoyed so people will think you're busy and leave you alone, or have you actually got that much to do?”

“People? What people?” Regina waved her hands at the empty diner, irritable and feeling trapped.

“Exactly,” Emma grinned. The walls had closed in on them, vague grey void through the widows wiping out any remembrance of the town beyond. It was like living in a snow globe, perfectly alone in the world. With Regina. Emma sidled up to the booth, excitement hot on her tongue at the prospect., “Look, obviously this isn’t ideal – “

“Is it not?” Regina drawled back, sarcastically.

“But,” Emma interrupted before, swiftly throwing another dart and biting her lip. “Maybe it’s a good thing? I meant what I said when I said I wanted to be your friend. This is the perfect opportunity to do something about that. We could just think of this as a - I don't know -  glorified girls' night. Have some fun, drink Granny's booze, get to know each other – “

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” Regina muttered bitterly, nudging the reading glasses back up her nose with an even more indecipherable murmur, “People who know me tend to leave.” She cleaved a bitter laugh from her chest, “And who could blame them?”

“Sure it’s a good idea,” Emma responded, choosing to not acknowledge the evident self-loathing with anything more than a quick frown. “For starters, you can tell me when you started wearing those glasses.” Emma leaned against the table tapping the frames lightly and Regina shot her an intimidatory glower. “Not that I don’t think they don’t suit you. They add to the sexy scary Mayor, step-into-my office vibe.” As if to prove her point, Regina looked over the top of the tortoise-shell rim, eyes like fire. “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear them before.”

Regina took them off, dropping them to the table and rubbing her eyes and groaning. “If you really must know, they’re meant to relax my eyes. They’ve been strained since the Curse of Shattered Sight. Which leads to a lot of horrible headaches - more than one usually gets from living in this town.”

“Did the mirror cut you?” Emma asked with a frown, not having been a victim of the curse so not knowing for sure, but no one else had complained of lingering symptoms?

“Magic mirror dust doesn’t work that way. Technically, there’s nothing physical about it to cut me. I don’t need a doctor to tell me it’s psychosomatic.” Regina pressed harder on her closed eyelids, then blinked blearily through watery eyes to see Emma’s confused expression, waiting for an explanation. Regina brushed her off, “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” the blonde pushed.

Regina studied her, head tilting as she contemplated the worry lines on Emma’s face before uttering in shock, “You really want to know, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Emma replied easily as if it should be obvious, and trying on Regina’s glasses impatiently waiting for an answer receiving a half-hearted glare instead. “Why else would I have asked.”

Regina took a bracing breath, looking past Emma’s shoulder to the snowstorm outside. “Don’t think it escaped my notice that everyone else who was affected by the curse twisted into the cruellest, most vile versions of themselves, and me – “ She broke off, her laugh infected with the type of madness. A madness that was just loneliness tied up in a pretty package, the string that wrapped it up tugging on Emma's heart. “I just turned back into myself. Just another nasty reminder of who I really am.”

“Or how far you’ve come?” Regina shook her head and Emma’s features softened, offering a small smile and standing beside Regina’s booth to rub at her back. “You know…My mom and dad only had to face their worst selves for a couple of hours, and you should have been there for the agonizing couple of days afterwards. They’d burst into tears and soppy apologies around each other. It was excruciating. They couldn’t bear it.” Emma paused before adding happily, “You would have loved it.”

The tremble in Regina’s jaw twitched into a brief smile. Before she ground out an, “Oh god,” and dropped her head into her hands. Emma immediately perched on the end of the bench, smoothing over Regina’s violet sweater and marking the deep breaths that wracked the woman's lungs.

“You faced your worst self for years. You actually have fought it off, not just let someone breaking a curse fix all your problems. If anything the fact you’re so disturbed by it shows nothing but how much you’ve changed. How much you’ve punched back and decided who you want to be.” Regina peeked out from between her hands, curious at Emma’s wording. “Sure, no one else had to look in the mirror, see their darkest self and recognize them. They just get to forget. Which must be nice but on the flip side, no one else gets to be proud of just how much they’ve overcome. How much they've changed. Just you."

Sniffling out a meek, “Thank you,” Regina ducked her head, pulling a paper napkin from the holder to wipe at her eyes.

“What are friends for?” Emma asked, a stupid smile crinkling her eyes. She nudged Regina with her shoulder. “Besides, no one else shows up to a curse as well dressed as you. It would have been a shame to have missed the opportunity.”

A sticky wet laugh dethatched from her throat, and Emma felt it jump in Regina’s chest as she tightened her hold on her shoulder.

“How bad is this eye thing anyway? Does it affect your distance vision?” Emma asked, holding out a handful of darts. Regina accepted them with no resistance, not needing Emma to help her to her feet but she allowed that too. And then proceeded to wipe the floor her, hitting the centre of the board with ease. “Not bad, Mills. All that fireball throwing has real-world applications. Best two out of three?”

It was close, the game resting on Emma’s last shot. Swept up in the competition, Emma threw her dart with gusto. Regina expertly slid up behind her to lightly touch her waist, brushing her chest against Emma’s spine. Emma faltered, hands shaking and the dart askew as it hurdled into the wall and snapped. Pieces clattered to the floor and Emma stared at them, aggrieved. “I win.” Regina crooned, heading back to her mountain of work to write another I-O-U in the receipt book: 1 x Set of darts.

“Well, there goes that,” Emma slumped into the bench across from her without invitation, receiving nothing but a quirked eyebrow from Regina over the rim of her reading glasses. “We’re going to be here forever. And I didn’t even get to have lunch,” Emma sighed, overexaggerated as she dropped her head to the table. Her eyes caught the door to the kitchen, lingering with unabashed longing.

Regina followed her gaze. “Emma. no. We can’t.”

“Why not? We’re in a diner, Regina. They have food. That’s kind of their whole gig.” Regina hesitated, and Emma recognized that look – the look Regina would get when she was running a situation over and over in her head, calculating for the least evil option, determined to do the right thing. Emma caught her eye knowingly.

Sometimes, Emma caught Regina’s eye with every intention of brevity, meant for moments of passing. Then something would snag between them, her heart catching in her chest like a sweater caught on a doorknob. And the loose stitch unravels, unravels, unravels until what started as a simple passing glance had Emma falling apart at the seams. Emma was like an addict, in need of a fix of Regina without questioning any reason as to why. She craved those looks. Searching Regina out for any reason she could justify in the brief period when Zelena was at large. Playing with fire, holding her gaze until one of them would fold under the fear of being completely undone, Emma's heart racing with adrenaline she found nowhere else. Regina looked away first this time, clearing her throat.

“I just don’t want to owe anyone anything,” Regina waved the filled out I-O-U receipt, then ducked her head and murmured an ashamed, “Or at least not owe anyone anything else.”

Emma sighed in defeat, “This redemption thing isn’t going to let us starve to death, is it?” Regina didn’t answer. “Have you eaten today?”

“Not hungry,” Regina scowled, “Spending the morning putting the heart back in your supposed soulmate’s wife’s chest really does wonders for curbing your appetite.” As if on cue, Regina’s stomach grumbled. She sighed heavily, meeting Emma's begging eyes with barely concealed fondness in the creases around her eyes as she said, “Fine.”

Jubilant in victory, Emma ducked behind the bar, reappearing with one of the paper diner hats perched in a mess of golden curls. Regina’s eyes got a little wider, any tortured pain went from her face. Emma tied up her plaid button-down so it barely covered her bra, matching Ruby’s signature look, leaving her taut stomach and more cleavage than she would normally be comfortable with exposed. Emma reached into the tiny red apron she’d tied around her waist, pulling a small pencil and pad from the pocket.  “Well, ma’am,” She said, laying on a thick nasal accent, “Can I have the pleasure of taking your order?”

Regina’s hand covered her mouth, eyes dancing with silent mirth. “Oh, I don’t know…” Sparkling eyes swept over Emma. “Does that come with a matching skirt?”

“Only if you tip well,” Emma teased.

“How dare you! I’ve always been a generous tipper,” Regina replied with mock indignation. Emma leaned over to look at the couple of receipts that Regina had filled out. (And if she’s angled her shoulders so Regina could see into her shirt, well. It, of course, had absolutely nothing to do with the way Emma’s blood would boil whenever she had caught the mayor in the diner with her eyes lingering on Ruby and a smirk on her lips. Because that would be absurd. Maybe a little bit…)

Emma's eyes went wide. Each receipt had been painstakingly filled out, all with tips well over seventy-five percent. “Holy crap. No wonder Ruby wears her skirts so short. Hey, if I promise to sheriff in cut-offs and a bra will you double my salary?”

“Don’t be obscene.” Regina shoved at her shoulder, playfully. “I’ll consider it and raise it at the next committee meeting. Why don’t we start with a soup and sandwich.” Regina hesitated, then shot Emma a sideways glance. “For two?” Emma was so dazed by that when she disappeared into the kitchen. She just stared at the gleaming stainless steel and let the butterflies in her stomach whip up a tingle that spread beneath her skin. It only settled when Regina poked her head through the order window and asked, "Do you actually know what you're doing in here?"

They worked easily around each other, as Emma had suspected they would. Emma handing over utensils and dutifully stirred the pot while Regina flitted around her, preparing sandwiches and dropping spices into Granny’s pre-made chicken soup until the smell had Emma weak in the knees.

“That’s not on the menu,” Emma observed curiously, watching as Regina drizzled honey and flakes of chilli over her sandwich.

“Are you admitting to having the entire menu memorized, Miss Swan?” Emma stuttered out an indignant denial before conceding. Regina laughed, layering fancy cheese she’d taken out of the pizza prep area onto fresh baguettes. They were usually sliced and served with butter for the dinner crowd, but as the storm outside showed no signs of letting up and it was safe to assume they wouldn’t go amiss. “Besides,” she added with yet another click of her pen and a scribble on the receipt book, “I’m paying for the ingredients.”

“I’m more concerned over Granny’s reaction when she finds out you’ve been meddling with her recipes.”

“Nonsense. She knows where I am if she wants advice. Now try this,” Regina blew over a spoon of soup before lifting it to Emma’s lips, delighting in Emma’s moan of approval.

And Emma thought as they settled down in the empty diner to lunch that, maybe, this was how she could pay her back. She could settle reparations between them with gentle smiles. With time and empathy and moments of happiness to thaw away the bad ones. So then why did it feel so unsatisfactory?

--

“You have to answer the question. That’s the rules,” Emma slurred slightly.

“This game has no structure. How could it possibly claim to have rules?” Regina crossed her arms in a humph and looked out the window, alcohol and the growing cold staining her cheeks. She’d long abandoned her heels, legs stretching out to bridge across the canyon between the booths and resting in Emma’s lap. “I should never have agreed to this.”

Emma traced absent-minded tickling patterns over the delicate bone of her ankles. Friends did this right? She justified, remembering Lily and the tickling touches over each other's arms, the way it had made her heart race and her stomach wonderfully uneasy. Emma pointedly ignored the matching tingle now in her lower abdomen, or how her skin would burn when Regina would shift. Friends did this right?

“Regina…?” The mayor obstinately kept her gaze out the window. It was still coming down hard, drifts edging closer to the level of the windows, lush green leaves bowing under the weight of heavy powder. Though Emma had long since stopped being annoyed by it, content and cosy. It was still light outside as if the summer evening sunshine was only just beyond the fence that marked the property. Inside, Granny’s was still clinging to the warmth of the balmy morning, though the temperature was starting to dip. “Regina,” Emma repeated in a sing-song voice, “I’m waiting.”

“For heaven’s sake, alright!” Regina clicked her tongue in annoyance, rolled her eyes as she grabbed the shot in front of her and drank.

Emma's brain pretty much implodes and that delightful uneasiness in her stomach begins to boil. “Oh my god, you have?! Who?  No wait, let me guess. Ruby? Kathryn? No. That scary nurse you always bring flowers?”

Regina shrugged, “Nurse Ratched does me favours, I keep her in dresses - Or out of them, so to speak. Not that that pertains to the question at all. You said ‘never have I ever had a relationship with a woman.’ That is hardly a relationship.” Emma gawked, and Regina’s face gave away nothing. Emma wracked her brain and Regina chuckled, “Guess away the day dear, you hardly met her.”

Emma began to run the list of Storybrooke citizens alongside her rapidly deteriorating peace of mind.

It was true, Emma had never had a relationship with a woman. She had kissed a few. Let her thoughts be temporarily consumed by others. And had always, always, put up sharp barriers against such inclinations when it came to Regina. They were harder to ignore now, unbidden images of Regina, gasping in pleasure and entwined with a faceless woman were searing themselves into her mind’s eye with heat like a red-hot metal on skin. Emma was an unfortunate combination of turned on and jealous. Jealous of Regina’s freedom to act on such inclinations, and jealous of the mysterious faceless figure – who quite suddenly became less faceless.

“Maleficent?” Regina’s mouth opened and closed a few times, no words coming out and she instead quickly settled her gaze back outside. Emma’s jaw dropped as she let out a dismayed, “No! I killed your ex?! Damn. Remind me never to break up with you.”

“Oh, please,” Regina scoffed. Her cheeks were coloured to match her cherry lipstick, the hard line of a signature sneer twitching against a satisfied smirk.

“So, did all the Disney villains know each other like that? Did you have evil lair themed swingers parties?” Emma snickered at her own joke then stopped. Regina flushed, suddenly very interested in a non-existent loose thread in her sweater. Emma’s brain short-circuited, thoughts twisting out on a wire. “You did, didn’t you?”

Primly sticking her nose in the air, Regina cleared her throat and said, “I believe your rules were you don’t have to elaborate your answer, you just have to drink. Anyway,” Regina continued smugly, “It’s my turn to ask. Never have I ever been fucked on a boat.”

Regina watched Emma carefully, gauging her response. But Emma just shrugged, more preoccupied with hearing Regina say fucked than the question itself. “Nope. Never got that far. Hook lost interest in me when I spent all my spare time talking about -  ” Emma cut herself off. Regina. Hook had left her because every time he made an advance she would be with Regina, or chasing after Regina, or worrying about Regina, or talking about all the things she found wonderful about... Regina. Emma cringed. “I may have irrevocably screwed that up.”

 “I’m sorry.” Regina didn't sound it.

“Don’t be,” Emma waved her off and Regina let out a sigh of relief. Relief that was short-lived at the conniving grin flashed at her from across the booth. “So! Never have I ever attended a villains-only lesbian orgy,” Emma declared happily. Regina sent her a murderous glare over her shot and pouted.

“Not yet, you haven’t,” she threatened in sultry low notes before she knocked her head back, downing her drink in one. Emma looked victorious. “Does it always have to be sexual? Can’t we just ask normal questions like never have I ever seen Game of Thrones or never have I ever been bowling?”

“Hold on,” Emma regained her breath through her laughter, waving her hands and suddenly looking very serious. “You’ve never been bowling?”

Regina should have kept her mouth shut. Though how she could have seen this coming after a simple admission of how when Henry had been a younger boy she'd wished Storybrooke had a bowling alley so they could go, she didn’t know. Emma upended the whole diner in a matter of minutes, Regina sat on the bar watching with amusement as Granny’s proud establishment deteriorated to pandemonium.

“Okay, so those are the ten pins.” Emma pointed down the alley of tables, cleared to either side then tipped so their tops formed a valley of bumpers. At the end of the alley were ten hazelnut syrup bottles. Emma had taped up a piece of the red and white checker paper that usually lined food baskets, a scorecard roughly drawn on its reverse. “And this,” Emma continued, proudly holding up a large cantaloupe from the kitchen that had three holes gouged out of it, “Is the ball. You just roll it down the alley and take out as many pins as you can.”

Regina looked up from furiously filling in sheet after sheet of I-O-U receipts to make up for the mess they’d made, saying prudishly, “I’m not sticking my fingers in a rancid fruit,”

“Please,“  Emma looked delighted, “As if I’d buy that after you admitted to sleeping with an overgrown lizard and a fish. This is just a melon.”

“Maleficent and Ursula were magnificent in their prime.” Regina huffed, scribbled 1x cantaloupe, 10x bottles of coffee syrup onto the receipt book before sliding off the counter. 

"Careful - " Emma's warning came too late.

“Woah,” Regina slipped on the greased floor, Emma’s arms immediately wrapping around her waist. "Miss Swan," Regina scolded with a breathless glare. “Is the butter on the floor strictly necessary?” Regina clutched the hands on her hips, her own touch warm as they pulled Emma’s arms around her, turning in her embrace and leaning back against her.

“Absolutely," Emma swallowed thickly. "Half the fun are those stupid slippery shoes they make you wear.”

“This is outrageous,” Regina complained though she was smiling. Butter slid beneath her feet, butter melting into the net of her stockings, but Regina didn’t care. Emma’s holding her upright on the buttered tiles with a strong arm, handing her the cantaloupe with the other. “Don’t you dare let go.”

Emma struggled to breathe, heart golden and melting like the butter she smeared on the floor. Tightening her arms as Regina attempted to line up her stance, she vowed, wholly serious, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

--

Overturned shot glasses and lime wedges swam in puddles of spilt tequila on the bar, glittering in the blue and red winking neon of the signs still alight in the window. It was well and truly dark outside now, the eerie snow glows an almost black, flurries flickering through the leaking light from the window above their table. They’d returned to their booth, Regina’s mountain of receipts cascading over a good portion of the table. Two steaming mugs of hot chocolate sat amongst a sea of crumpled scribbled I-O-U’s, a red and white checker paper bowling scorecard, plates, and the remains of baskets of fries. The crossword from an outdated magazine was half done, abandoned on the wrinkled table cloth and tucked under Henry’s box of doughnuts and stacks of mayoral paperwork that had long been forgotten. A table candle that was customary for Granny’s dinner crowd had burned low into the neck of the bottle, a single flame fighting the chill, its reflection flickering in the remains of their shared bottle of wine. They’d finally pried open the cash register with a butter knife, taking all the quarters for the jukebox. It was silent now, change spent, all that remained were the empty cardboard coin rolls and a painstakingly filled out receipt for exact change.

Emma hadn’t quite seemed capable of letting Regina go after the bowling, finding every excuse to touch her as they’d set the diner to rights, drawn like a moth to a flame. She hadn’t complained when Regina had hovered behind her, fretting over her shoulder as Emma cooked steaks and skillet potatoes for dinner. Emma had felt no need to remind Regina she had lived for twenty-eight years on her own and was a perfectly good cook, just in case the woman took it as an opportunity to step out of Emma’s reach. Blaming the cold when she’d pulled the mayor into Emma’s side of the booth to eat dinner by candlelight, keeping her there and saying it would make it easier to split the tiramisu they’d taken from the fridge. Now, dinner was over and Emma’s back was pressed against frigid aluminium, her breath coming in puffs of rapidly crystalizing clouds. The thermometer on the wall had dipped low but Emma was so, so warm, Regina lolling to sleep in her lap.

“We’re not getting out of here tonight,” Emma mumbled, toying with silky brown hair and wondering if it was normal to think your friend smelt so good.

“Mmm,” Regina responded, shivering as the temperature sunk like the long set sun. She turned so she could nuzzle her icy cold nose against the rising flush in Emma’s neck. “Did you ever find the heating?”

Emma shook her head, tucking Regina’s blue coat tighter around their shoulders. “It’s on a timer. It won’t turn on in the summer. Which seems like a mistake for Maine. Really, we’re lucky we haven’t lost power.”

“Maybe the plant wasn’t hit as badly?” Regina suggested with quivering breath, pressing tighter into Emma, untucking the blonde's plaid shirt from her jeans and wriggling icicle fingers against the hot skin of her stomach. Emma shuddered, Regina practically vibrating in the chill. “It’s s-so cold. We could turn the oven back on and sit in front of it? I'll write a receipt for the gas bill - ”

“The room I stayed in when I first got here had a fireplace.” So they made their way, huddled tightly together through the door in the back of the diner to the lobby of the inn, hands intertwined until Emma had to let go to search for the key.

Regina was filling in the enormous guest book behind the counter, signing her name under the right room then dutifully filling in yet another I-O-U for the cost of the night. “What room are you in?”

“Four,” Emma answered simply, brushing past Regina to pick up as many bundles of firewood as she could carry, counting them and adding them to the bottom of Regina’s receipt.

Regina frowned, squinting her eyes at the inn’s ledger. “No. I’m in four.”

“So?” Emma asked.

Regina crossed her arms. “There’s a whole bed and breakfast full of empty rooms,” she informed her with perhaps the slightest hint of panic.

“Two words, Regina: Fire. Place."

"Fireplace is one word."

Emma's subsequent eye roll was fond and Regina found she was already a little warmer. "You wouldn’t let me freeze to death in another room? All alone? Would you? We’re friends, right? Besides,” Emma tapped the key against the page ignoring Regina’s defeated frown, “One room will cost us less than two.”

Regina looked at her, the burning orange of the old desk light exposing a devastating yearning in her eyes. Like she was looking at what she knew would surely ruin her. She wet her lips and swallowed, ducking behind her hair and slowly dragging the pen in gentle swirls over the thin frail paper of the ancient book until it read Room Four: Regina Mills and Emma Swan. Emma was too far down the hallway to see the trepidation that flashed across Regina’s face before she followed.

Regina stood as stiff as a board, taking small steps into the room and watching as Emma pulled spare blankets from the wardrobe, not moving until she wrapped one around Regina’s shoulders. Emma gently guided her to the couch in front of the fireplace, stacking logs and beaming when Regina's magic sent flames through them. As if she had not just waved her hand like she had a thousand times before and instead handed Emma the sun on a string. 

“I’m going to take a shower. I smell like the fryer,” Regina pulled at her cable knit with distaste, before quickly disappearing into the bathroom. Once the door was locked she collapsed back against it, breathing deeply.

Despite the frigid floorboards and the stinging cold in the air, Regina undressed quickly, her skin itching with craving and the ghost of Emma's too-easy touch. Tonight was like running the tips of her fingers through a candle’s flame, lingering longer each time to see how long she could touch the impossible before it burned her. Wonderful and terrifying as her long torturing feelings for Emma balanced on a razor's edge. 

Emma deserved the truth before she got in too deep and this friendship became something irreplaceable, but Regina wasn’t sure she could tell. Tell that the friendship they had enjoyed when Emma came back from New York, the same friendship Emma coveted above all else, had been messier for Regina. Could she tell her that yes, Emma’s presence was like a balm, Regina cherished it above almost all else, but there was a catch? A tricky catch that had left Regina a tangled mess of affection, desire and a looming love? She spent those stakeout nights always looking to her side where she knew Emma would be, intentionally catching Emma’s eyes more than once, searching and searching in them for some sort of signal. Some flicker of interest beyond this painful friendship that had her in its innocent, perfect clutches. There had been nothing. Nothing beyond Emma simply being Emma, and Regina getting hopelessly ensnared by feelings she had long since sworn off.

If she was being perfectly honest with herself, there had been stirrings in her heart since Emma had driven into town. Stirrings beyond resentment and base excitement. Stirrings that had turned to a devotion so consuming she’d initially pushed aside her predestined soulmate. It was only when the blasted organ had been ripped from her chest and taken by her sister that she felt she could start things with Robin. And now that it beat between her ribs once more, Robin a weight she’d shed with nothing but relief, and it belonged solely to the woman beyond the ice-cold bathroom.

Shaking off her thoughts and violently shivering, Regina stepped under the dribble of lukewarm water, pipes starting to freeze, shaking with more than just the cold. Her shower was brief and she stepped out feeling no better, no less restless, than before, Emma's touches still burning into her ice-cold skin. Just as Regina realized with a scowl she would have to put back on her dirty clothes, there was a knock on the bathroom door.

Regina opened the door, towel tight to her chest. Emma was standing on the other side, her eyes fluttering all over the place, sweeping over her make-up free face, dipping to more enticing areas before drifting off in embarrassment. Regina was torn between wrapping herself up tighter or throwing caution to the blustering wind and letting the scratchy thread-bare towel drop to the floor. Instead, she just tucked a dripping curl behind her ear. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Emma breathed back, watching water slide down the smooth skin of her neck, catching in her collar. Regina cleared her throat. “I – uh – grabbed you a toothbrush from reception and some pyjamas from the laundry. It was either Granny’s or Ruby’s so the selection is…interesting. But these are some of the better ones.”

“Thank you.” Regina smiled at her sweetly, opening the door a little wider, letting Emma awkwardly try to avoid her bare skin and negotiate the stack of laundry into her arms. It wasn’t until she had closed the door on the blushing blonde that she really saw what she’d been handed. “What the hell is this?” She asked, unfolding the shirt on top that had a cartoon bunny on it wielding a knife.

“I told you it was dire. Please tell me you'll go with the Happy Bunny?” Emma called back, entertained. “I have a question: Is it this town going to be twenty-eight years behind the fashion forever now? Like in 2028 will we be having a re-enactment of Y2K?” Regina snorted. “Hey, do you think Ruby’s ever been to Hot Topic?”

“If it has an online shop, I’d say it’s a pretty safe assumption.” Regina looked suspiciously down and the cropped pyjama top, glaring at the cartoon bunny and reading aloud, “Cute but evil? Things even out? Seriously, Emma?”

She could hear Emma giggle through the door. “I like the one on the ass that says Revenge is Fun.”

Regina's eyes swept over the variations, amused. “I’m not wearing murderous bunnies to bed.” Regina chose to ignore the muttering through the wall that sounded a lot like 'you are a murderous bunny.' 

“There are options there, Regina,” Emma reminded her and Regina had half a mind to reply with a barely. The options were thin, Ruby having a very...particular style.

“I look like a tacky valentines card,” Regina called out through the door, once she had slipped into the ruby short red satin set. Which would have been perfectly acceptable in a pinch and not too far from her own sleepwear if it wasn’t for the feathery hot-pink lining of fuzz. “Or one of those appalling pens Henry used to get at the bookfair.”

“It could be worse,” was Emma’s dry response back, and Regina opened the door out of curiosity. Her hand flew to her mouth, not quite catching back a bark of laughter. Emma looked as if she was drowning in a musty white nightgown that must have belonged to Granny. Her hands poked out from ruffled puffy sleeves, crochet collar crooked, and the layered lacey fabric sagging over her narrow frame. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up Mills. Don’t think I’ve forgotten your seventieth birthday is only a few years away, you might get one of these for Christmas.” Then Emma noticed what pyjamas Regina had chosen, her eyes lingering on the expanse of skin across her shoulders, the shape of her legs in shorts. Emma swallows, “Though you look better in those than most seventy-year-olds would.”

“Thank you, dear…I think,” Regina replied dryly, wondering when the torture would end. She scooped up Emma’s plaid button-down, shrugging it over her cold shoulders and sitting on the couch. She tucked her legs up, the shorts providing no warmth as she soaked in the fire. Picking up the receipt book, Regina wrote one out for 2x New Sets of Pyjamas.

“We’re going to give them back,” Emma said, taking it from her as she draped a blanket around the brunette's shoulders, letting Regina settle into the cushions and bask in the bubble of the fire’s warmth.

“It’s more of a suggestion,” Regina replied, watching as Emma sat beside her. Golden hair caught the firelight, a halo around Emma’s face as she stared into the crackling flames lost in thought and Regina was mesmerized.

Emma caught her staring. “You okay?”

“Mmm,” Regina hummed back, shivering and tucking her toes beneath Emma’s leg, quickly explaining the touch with, “It’s fucking freezing. You're like a furnace.”

"I run hot."

"You don't say," Regina replied with a twitch of a smirk before she caught herself and quickly looked away. 

Emma just cocooned them in the blanket, the wool scratchy but Regina’s skin so smooth it didn’t bother her. She was a picture, make-up free in the amber blaze, eyes glistening and looking only at Emma. Emma was so absorbed in her she didn’t realize until it was too late she’d pulled Regina closer than planned. Regina's shoulders, clad in Emma’s shirt red silk and hot pink fuzz, caved forward around herself as if protecting herself and creating just enough space that Emma thought she could rest her heavy head against Regina’s beating heart. It was more than a nipping chill on her skin that had her hair standing up on end, and she pulled Regina even tighter against her, nuzzling her hairline. Overcome with a rush of affection, Emma ducked down to kiss Regina on the temple, a soft moan escaping her lips as they brushed against satiny skin. She pulled back, flush an even brighter red in the glow of the fire. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

Regina rolled her lips, biting them with a confusing picture of sadness and bewitched attraction. “That’s okay.” As if to prove to herself that it was, in fact, okay, Regina gently brushed her own lips against Emma’s still flushed cheek. Emma’s mind went blissfully blank. Her heart was racing beneath her skin, pulse jumping and tumbling over itself. She managed a nervous, “What’s a kiss between friends?”

Of course, she’d had friendships before, but none of them had ever seemed this important. Had never seemed to be quite so exhilarating when they were together nor quite so devastating when they cracked. Regina leaned a little closer. Heat began to pour, overflowing from her heart and swirling to pool in her stomach. Was this the reason she’d tried not to dig too much into her feelings? Emma found herself leaning in too. And, oh god, this was terrible. Wonderfully, wonderfully terrible. Then Regina’s lips pressed to hers and it was just wonderful.

Regina kissed like an anomaly, like heat beneath the winter, golden heaven in her smile the burn of hell on her tongue. Like desperation and desperate restraint. Her fingers treading lightly on the delicate terrain of Emma’s neck, careful like skimming over the top of perfect snow and turning her skin to fire. With a groan, Regina twisted, straddling Emma’s lap. In the cold, the heat between her legs burned at Emma’s stomach like a furnace, thin stolen pyjamas offering the same amount of fight that wafer-thin ice might put to lava. Emma lifted her hips, hands all over the skin of Regina’s thighs urging her to grind down.

“Emma.” Her name danced out of Regina’s mouth. Emboldened, her hands slipped up Regina’s bare thighs and she'd never experienced a touch like it. Regina groaned, pulling back to bury her head in the crook of Emma’s neck, bracing her hands on Emma’s breasts and squeezing. She let out a shuddery laugh, hot breath like thick wind through grass lapped at Emma’s neck. “If you turn me on anymore, I’ll expect you to do something about it.”

She lifted her head, and Emma had to twist her neck to look into her eyes, bold exploring touch becoming timid as it dropped from Emma’s chest to trace at her stomach. Despite her words, Emma knew Regina was backing down, offering her an out. 

Emma didn't need one.

Regina panting in her arms felt like déjà vu. Like an unfolding of her imagination, fantasies she’d slipped away between the pages to be ignored suddenly remembered. The notion that Emma had ever craved anything less than this was suddenly absurd. She found herself shocked in that revelation. Regina worried her swollen lip between her teeth, Emma reaching up to smooth it out with her thumb before kissing her so softly that Regina was swaying in her arms when it ended.

“It would be the friendly thing to do,” Emma conceded with a cheeky smile, letting herself be pulled up and pushed back into snow-white linen sheets, Regina’s lips demanding on her own, nimble fingers already impatient at the hem of her stolen nightgown.

“Not as friendly as getting you out of that monstrosity of a dress.”

--

“I can’t believe you all!” Emma looked around the table, betrayed and way too tired to be dealing with feeling like a modern Julius Ceasar. Her peaceful morning slipped through her fingers like linen sheets in the wind. Emma had woken peacefully in Regina’s arms, limbs heavy but she had bounded out of bed with a fierce lust for life. Had met Regina’s half-awake eyes, so wrapped up in them she barely noticed the storm outside had begun to ebb away, and wondered aloud is this what soul mates feel like? Like they had found that unique, special something Emma had insisted existed. 

And now she was feeling like she had been set up.

“Because you were,” Snow said unhelpfully when Emma voiced her concern. “Not that that’s a bad thing,” She encouraged, patting Emma’s arm. “You were going to get there eventually, we just wanted to nudge things along.”

“Really,” Elsa reprimanded, primly squirming in her seat uncomfortable under the stares that Emma’s outburst was attracting. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset. You wanted to fix things with Regina, right?”

“You’ve barely shut up about it for weeks,” Ruby drawled.

“And we were just trying to give you the time to do that,” Snow encouraged, and Emma twisted to look at her, betrayed.

She turned accusatory to Elsa, “And you let them talk you into freezing the whole town so I could 'talk with Regina? '" Emma leans into the air quotes heavily, horrified. "It was cold as fuck! People could have died!”

“Not the whole town,” Snow assuaged quickly, “Just Granny’s.”

Emma blinked. Somehow that was worse. “Well...We could have died! Regina and I could have frozen to death and where were you? The beach?” Snow looked too guilty for Emma not to have just hit the nail on the head. She can't cope with that. Emma turned back to Elsa, "I can't believe you!"

“Don’t be too angry, Emma,” Elsa flinched in that calm small voice. “In my defence, I didn't think it was going to take all night. I thought you two were already together and had just broken up. Our talk in your car when we went to Regina for help made it sound like you were a well-established couple just going through a rough patch. I didn’t sign up to play matchmaker, I was just trying to help. I only realised after what Ruby showed me this morning that this was a new thing.”

Snow turned her soothing attention to Elsa, “Don’t beat yourself up.  Anyone could have made that mistake.”

“Mm-hm. Divorced lesbian mommies is pretty much their whole vibe,” Ruby added, very unhelpfully. 

“Okay, okay! I get it!” Emma had felt a headache coming since Regina had left. She rubbed at her temples for a few seconds before being hit with foreboding. She looked up at Elsa, “And what exactly did Ruby show you this morning?”

Elsa's guilt was gone in an instant, suddenly excited. “Show her what you showed me. On the what chat."

“WhatsApp,” Ruby corrected, pulling her phone out of the red apron, opening the app and handing it to Emma.

“Is this a town WhatsApp? And I’m not in it?“ Emma asked astounded and offended as she started scrolling up. It was mostly a series of pictures of her and Regina, candid shots of them talking on the sidewalk, of Emma in town meetings with eyes glued to the mayor, of them with Henry. All of them taken without Emma's knowledge and all of them burning with so much tension Emma's mouth dried up, her stomach alight with licking flames from just scrolling through them. “What...what the hell is this?”

“What does it look like?” Ruby replied with a wolfish grin, “A support group for people who are in physical pain over your unresolved sexual tension with our beloved mayor.”

She stops at a short shaky video taken from underneath a desk, a video of her back as she shouts through Regina's locked office door. Emma didn't need the volume turned up to know what she was saying. It had been the day she had pledged herself to Regina's happy ending. Underneath the video was a caption from Regina's secretary that reads, Oh my god, you guys, it's finally happening!

“You’re all crazy,” Emma sulked, defensively crossing her arms and dropping the phone as if it burned her.

“Are we?” Ruby needled, handing it back, now playing the latest video in the thread. Emma’s heart sunk. “Then what’s this?”

It had been from that morning. Black and white and grainy from the security camera in the corner, but unmistakably them. Emma had finally got the coffee machine to work, and Regina had been scribbling a receipt for two coffees and a stack of apple pancakes. The sun was just starting to peek through the swirling snow clouds, but neither of them had been paying the blizzard any attention. Emma didn’t remember the security camera. All she could remember was watching how Regina had offered her breakfast with a spellbinding smile, rolling her lips and tucking her hair behind her ear. Emma had been so preoccupied with wondering if this is what Robin had seen and squandered? Then was wholly consumed by making sure she didn’t make the same mistake.

Which had involved a lot of kissing and some more-than-compromising positions on the counter.

All in full view of the security camera.

Which Ruby had access to.

“Uhhhh – Ruby?” Emma glanced down at the phone, eyes wide as she watched the Emma in the recording lift Regina onto the counter and was suddenly very aware her mother was sitting next to her. “How uh - long is this video?”

Ruby smirked, knowingly. “Don’t worry, I stopped it before it got past PG-13. There are teenagers in this group and I don’t need to see that. I mean unless you’re okay with it. Because in that case, I’d be really curious – “

“No! God, no! ” Emma objected, embarrassment hot under her skin and ice in her stomach. She dropped her head to the table with a thunk, groaning a defeated, “Ohhh, Regina’s going to murder me.”

Elsa took the phone, unhelpfully bubbly as she declared with an Awww, “She doesn’t look like she wants to kill you in this video.”

“Please. Regina’s always looked at Emma like that. Even when she’s trying to kill her, which at this point is just hot more than threatening." Ruby said wistfully to the ceiling, then winked at Emma. "And you’ve been a useless gay for Regina since the moment you came to town. I’m still not convinced she’s not half the reason you stayed in the first place,” Ruby declared, then added to Snow’s horror, “Or at least her cleavage was.”

Now, Emma decided, was time to draw the line. “I can’t have been a useless gay for Regina this whole time. I only just realized! Like twelve hours ago. So thanks for the horrible peer pressure.” Everyone looked at her alarmed. Emma frowned. Half her headache had come from sorting through that minefield. A life of repressed feelings, of only kissing women when she was too drunk to mostly forget about it. But last night, alcohol had faded away by the time Regina’s lips had found her own.  Raptured fantasies that were so secret Emma had hidden them from herself came back unbidden from deep repression as each one was played out before her.

Snow looked at her with that maternal guilt, touching her shoulder and whispering, "Oh, Emma - "

“Look," Emma cut her off, unable to bear any pity, "If you grew up with the foster families I did… Let’s just say they were less than accepting. Homophobic bigots would be too generous a term.”

Ruby looked equal parts amused and pained. “While I’m really proud of you - and infinitely sorry for your shitty upbringing -  I’d love to know…What the hell did you think was going on between you two?!”

“I don’t know! I thought I was just a pretty dedicated friend,” Emma declares throwing her arms in the air, then covering her face, deflated by the strange looks she was receiving from all sides. “Does that make me crazy?”

“Worse than crazy, I’m afraid,” Elsa replies, primly stifling a smile behind her hand.

“What’s worse than – “ Emma froze. “No.”

“She’s in love,” Elsa swooned dreamily.

“About time,” Ruby huffed, “This was getting so agonizing I was considering paying for therapy.”

“I’m going to cry,” Snow declared with dramatics, grabbing for the napkin holder.

“Oh my god…Oh my god! Shit. No, no, no this is bad.” Emma’s voice was getting increasingly high pitched, until she was standing declaring loudly, “I didn’t want to be her friend. I want – Regina,” Emma whispered the last word in horror. Because Regina was there. Was there and had heard but not heard enough.

The mayor had stepped into the diner, returning right on cue as she’d promised Emma she would when they’d parted ways a few hours ago, all arms outstretched and fingers refusing to let go. Now she’d returned to Emma saying - Fuck.

Brown eyes went wide with betrayal, shining with the sting, her mouth parted in shock and pain before a steely grim mask smoothed it all away leaving nothing but a dull ache. 

“No. Regina, wait!” Emma knocked the table getting out of the booth as the brunette stiffly marched out, spilling the drinks and sending the decorative vase over the edge to smash on the floor. “I’ll pay for that!” she shouted over her shoulder at an angry Granny. Emma shoved through the customers that were packed in the entry after Granny’s had been out of order for twenty-four hours, slipped on the top step, stubborn ice still clinging to the concrete, and just managed to catch Regina in time for whisps of purple smoke to vaporize through her fingers.

It was like stepping back in time to a few weeks ago, Regina dodging her at every turn. Following in her own steps, she stormed straight to Town Hall, ignoring the shouts of dismay from Regina’s high-strung assistant, sending her an intimidatory glare for sending that video to the group chat, and barged into the unlocked office. The mayor’s office had only struck her as melancholy once before, even though she hadn’t been able to see it then. Only the frosted semi-darkness through the window, imagining Regina alone amongst the austere columns in the wake of Marian’s return, promises of a happy ending floating underneath the locked door. Now Emma barrelled in, intent on taking one.

Regina was as solemn and severe as the room around her, pain from the diner expertly wiped from her face. “Miss Swan,” Regina addressed her coldly, voice tight and devoid of any lingering affection, “I’m quite busy after wasting away yesterday. I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave.”

“Not until you listen to me,” Emma dug her heels in. “You've got this all wrong. I didn't mean that I’m sorry – “

“I don’t want an apology,” Regina waved her away, voice steady. “I’m not mad.”

“Really? You seem a little mad.”

“Nope,” Regina shut her Filofax with a snap, putting on her glasses. Sitting in her chair, crossing her legs and leaning forward, Regina was a picture of designed power. Emma shivered, her mouth dry. Now that she finally knew why Regina’s devious scheming had always managed to have such a stronghold on her, it seemed to be twice as dizzying. And although it was a bit of a step back for Regina to be back in the reading glasses, they did strange thing’s to the pit of Emma’s stomach. “There’s no need for platitudes. I completely understand.”

Emma’s neck was too warm, her heart suddenly pounding against her chest, and she was sure she was breathing but it wasn’t doing anything. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards, relieved and overwhelmed because Regina knew. “You – you do?” She asked, letting years of repressed emotion flood her face, hope in her eyes.

Regina smiled back, and she spoke sweetly, “Of course.” Her smile turned sour, eyes hardening as she growled menacingly, “I wouldn’t want to be my friend either.” Immobilised with shock Emma could barely manage a soft shock, huh? Regina continued, “I told you this would happen, it’s my own fault for letting you convince me otherwise.”

Regina twisted her fingers, and by the time Emma had come to terms with just what she was up against, Emma disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke, saying, “That’s not it at all. Regina!” to nothing but the forest on the edge of town. 

Well, fine. If they weren't playing fair...Bursting through the door to the loft, out of breath from running all the way from the forest. “Kid? Henry? Are you here? I need your help,” Emma begged her son as soon as she could stagger up the steps, hands on her knees from sprinting back.

Henry barely looks away from his computer screen with the audacity to say, “What do you need me to fix this time?”

Emma raised an eyebrow, about to question his attitude then remembered that she was coming to him for help. “Your mom and I had a… misunderstanding. I need you to –“

“No,” Henry said, quickly cutting her off. “Sorry, I’ve decided not to take an active role in your arguments anymore.”

Which was fair enough, but, “This is different.” Emma was not above begging, “Please. I really, really have to talk to her. It's important.”

Her son barely spared her a glance, infuriatingly unruffled by the whole affair. “Because of what’s in the security video?” Emma stymied, explanation dying in her throat. "Please tell me you two haven't messed it up already."

Emma groaned, saying with fierce denial,  “You’re not in that WhatsApp group.”

Henry laughed, menacingly, “I made that group.”

Speechless, Emma gawked for a few long moments where Henry resumed his game. She ought to have been offended, ought to have been embarrassed. But the only thought in her mind was something glimmering. “So I take it you’re okay with me potentially being completely gone on your mom.”

Henry shrugs, cheeks twitching and eyes scrunched as he held back a wide grin. “Diversity win. The parents who have been making your life insanely difficult for the past three years are gay. It’s a shame they’re the last to know.”

“Henry Mills," Emma barely mustered up the wherewithal to be appropriately scandalized, "I feel like that was maybe backhanded.”

He pauses his game, spins his chair and looks at her with a perfectly straight face. The villain side of the family sometimes shines through with alarming potency. Emma had a sudden image of him petting a cat and laughing manically. Instead, he seemed unperturbed, levelly claiming, “Sarcasm? I would never do that.”

“Ugh. Regina’s son…” Emma muttered under her breath, fond and sounding reluctantly proud when she said, “You’re going to be dangerous aren’t you?”

Batting away Emma’s hands as she ruffled his hair, Henry asked her “Going to be? Don’t flatter yourself. Who do you think suggested the romantic narrative of being snowed in to Elsa and Ruby? Who sent Mom to Granny’s when there was no one there? Who do you think had to set up the fake bumble account for Ruby’s date?”

“Okay back up. You catfished Ruby?!”

“Is it catfishing if it was her idea? Everyone here is just stuck in the past and doesn't know how these things work.”

Emma was aghast with shock, making a series of outraged whistling sounds and indignant half-sentences until she finally managed, “What the hell happened to not participating in our arguments!?”

Henry rolled his eyes, “I said actively participating.”

“Seems pretty fucking active to me,” Emma grumbled, dropping to sit on the edge of the bed with an aggrieved, “Why?”

Henry tapped the tips of his fingers together, reclining with a grin. “Let me tell you a little something about what I’ve been calling Operation Mongoose.”

--

The next morning, Emma knew Henry had delivered his side of the bargain by the sound of forceful clipped heels marching up the steps to Granny’s. A particularly aggressive dig of a stiletto into tile when Regina walked through the door made her think that perhaps they had gone about this the wrong way and sabotaging Regina’s morning coffee was going to burn more bridges than it would build. The irate mayor strode right up to the counter, not really noticing who was behind it until Emma asked, “What can I getcha?”

Regina blinked, schooling her expression and biting out a scathing, “You’re sure you don’t work here?”

“At this point, I’m not sure I don’t live here.” Emma smirked, “Want to move in with me? I’m still getting a hold of this whole lesbian thing but I've gathered the U-haul thing is pretty normal, right?”

Regina stymied, shaking her head and ignoring her, snapping out, “I’ll have a coffee. Black. One sugar.” Emma grabbed the coffee pitcher and poured a large mug full while Regina clicked open her purse, dropping a thick stack of receipts held together by a clip on the counter. “And you can make yourself useful and get Granny? I want to settle all my debts now.”

Emma pushed the receipts out of reach, handing a smaller stack back across the counter, “Not until I’ve settled mine.”

“What the hell is this?” Regina took the invoices against her better judgement, each row filled in with every crime Emma thought she had committed against her. Regina tried to keep it in but the hurt leaked out each time she flipped the page, their brutal transgressions bared before her in a cruel storybook fashioned of spiral-bound receipts. Sorrow and heartbreak marred her face as she read each line. Her voice was shaky and frail when she asked, “Is this what this has been about?”

“I wanted us to have a fresh start. A Second chance -  "

Fury built on her face as quickly as the impromptu snowstorm. “Is this why you’ve been so nice to me? Why you spent all night hanging off me? It was all just some fucking apology?” Regina chucked the wad onto the counter, incinerating the thin papers and sending ash through the air as she slammed her fist down. She pressed over the counter to push her face into Emma's space, sneering. “Thought you’d throw in a bowling lesson and few orgasms to sweeten the pot? Make up for things I’m not asking you to make up for?” Emma shook her head and Regina pinched her face against a bitter heartbroken smile. “I thought we were past this. I thought you knew I don't want reparations from you - We're not at war. Not you, of all people. And I thought – I thought we had something real, not -  not -  something that can be compared to - financial restitution! Guess I thought wrong.”

“No. No, you didn’t.” Emma took her hand and Regina was shocked and a little affronted. “You're right, I don't have to pay you back. Maybe I wanted to but not with... I really did want to be friends. I want more than that. But, hell, I’d still take friendship if – “

“If what? You spent one night with me and decide I’m not good enough for you? That paying your supposed outstanding balance doesn’t fix all your problems with me?” Regina chuckled darkly, her words twisting her tongue with a tart taste as she stared dejected at the pile of ash on the counter. “You know, you used to call me a bad person. Not worthy of love or friendship - ”

Emma’s frown deepened, her heart sinking with guilt. “I didn’t know you then. I shouldn’t have – “

Holding up a hand, Regina cut her off, “And I’m not entirely sure which was worse: Having to hear the words come from your mouth, or that a part of me that believed them. And I believed you just as much when you said I could change. I didn't realize you were keeping count like I was a pet project to pay off your wrongdoings.” Regina’s face darkened, “Robin did the same thing. Would offer me pretty words and placations. I hated them. I knew he didn’t understand. But you,” Regina breathed with reluctant reverence. “You said so yourself: we’re different from everyone else in this town. I never really believed he cared. I believed you did. I believed you.”

“Regina, I meant every word I said. Believe me too when I said I don't want you to assuage my guilt. I just want you. So much, and I have for a while," Emma felt like she was flailing, fervently trying to prove that she had believed her own words too. "I can’t help it I only just realized why.“

Regina paused, considering her with a calculating glare before painted red lips twisted into a malicious smile “Love?” Regina paused when Emma bit her lip, not denying it. She softened, her sneer slipping away until she could regain control and attempted a snarl. It was weak and more heartbroken than truly angry. “You’re exactly the same as him. Do you know where I was when your magic was malfunctioning and I should have been with you? Falling for the same damn trick with Robin.” Regina shook off the shame before repeating, “You’re exactly the same. Telling me what I need to hear for a guilt-free conscious and a good fuck – “

“No!" Emma shouted, horrified. They were turning heads. "Regina. Look. I went too far. I get that. But I’ve lived a life not too different from yours. And no matter what I’m never going to have a 'guilt-free conscious' and I’ve stopped looking for one. And I didn’t even know I wanted a good f - that - until it was happening!” Emma grabbed her arm, eyes straining with the weight of what she’s done. "I was so confused. And all that talk of debts and paying people back wasn't helping. You have so many reasons to be angry with me -

Regina folded her arms, scoffing, "Oh and I'm a saint am I? I have nothing to apologize for?"

"I didn't say that." Emma frowned, rubbing her elbows.

Regina sighed, "Emma, I'm not trying to force something on you don't want. But after all this time, I might need a while to get over - "

"After all this time?" Emma paused, and - no it can't be. "Look at me." She said, and Regina, with a heave of defeat, meets her eyes. 

And their gaze caught, snagged and unravelling and Emma held it. Held onto that intense look that she often turns away from, pleading silently with Regina to do the same. Regina does, unravels with eyes hot and deep, past the point of no return and what she has hidden is now left exposed for Emma to see.  

"Oh," Emma breathed.

Regina finally looked away and swallowed, leaving Emma bereft. "Emma, I - "

Emma started talking, explanation needy and it fell out her mouth in a rush, “No one ever takes any responsibility in this town for the shit they pull, except for you. I thought I was doing the right thing by taking a page out of your book. No one ever does for you what you’ve done for them." Regina's guard was wearing down, sturdy as brittle thin ice cracking. "Yes, you’ve committed atrocities, or whatever, but atrocities were committed against you and no one seems to care. Me too, we're both just unwitting pawns in this fucked up game. Yet, everyone bends over backwards to make it up to me, to any other dime-a-dozen villain that wanders into town, offering redemption for nothing when you had to work so hard. I thought at least I could make right my part in it.”

 “And does it help?” Regina asked, suddenly a little softer like warming butter underfoot. “These petty consolations and apologies. Do they help?

“No,” Emma let out a tight breath, “No they don’t.”

“Then why would you think I would want such things from you?”

“I can’t begin to apologize.” Emma breathed deeply.

Regina shook her head, "I don't want apologies from you either."

“What do you want from me?”

Regina paused for a second, staring. It suddenly didn’t bother her that they were in a diner full of people. Didn’t bother her that there was so much on the line, Emma’s reflection was always a mirror of her own and she could see what she had been waiting to see there; desire and love that matched her own looking back at her. With fingers too warm to make Emma shiver as she did, Regina reached out, brushed her knuckles over Emma’s breastbone. Her touch lingered just above her heart. Their gazes snagged for a moment of perfect stillness before Regina twisted her finger in the collar of Emma’s shirt and pulled her in for a kiss.

Emma went willingly, kissing her back and pulling her lips between her teeth, leaning far over the counter so she could reach up and cup Regina’s cheek. She pulled back to whisper a quick, “I can do that.” Emma moved in for another kiss, only to be met with Regina’s fingers on her lips.

Regina asked, “No more of this?”

“Clean slate. Or as clean as it's ever gonna get in this town," Emma confirmed, leaning in again. 

“Hold on,” Regina said, then her voice dropped an octave, beckoning and delightful. “You don’t do this with all your friends, do you?” Emma smirked, biting her lip and shaking her head. “Good.” She tugged her in again, not noticing they’d knocked Regina’s coffee onto the floor.

“Hey!” Granny shouted gruffly from the kitchen. They sprung apart. “That’ll cost you!” she hollered pointing to the shattered mug.

Regina looked between its shattered remains, the thick stack of receipts on the counter, and the cash in her wallet. Regina looked up catching Emma's laughing eyes, too happy to be appropriately chagrined, gave her most winning smile as she asked, “Can I write you a check?”