Work Text:
The diner booth creaks softly as Regina shifts, her thigh pressing warm against Emma’s beneath the table. Outside, January clings to Storybrooke like a stubborn ghost—frosted windows, the occasional plow rumbling past—but inside Granny’s, the air smells of maple syrup and burnt coffee, the kind of warmth that settles deep in your bones. Regina’s fork hovers over the plate of waffles between them, half demolished, syrup bleeding into the whipped cream.
Emma grins. “Second breakfast?”
Regina arches a brow. “It’s our three-month anniversary, Sheriff. I believe gluttony is tradition.”
Her tone’s dry, but her fingers lace with Emma’s atop the sticky tablecloth, thumb brushing the scar on Emma’s knuckle. Henry slides into the booth beside Emma, cheeks pink from the cold, rolling his eyes as he steals a slice of bacon.
“You guys are so sappy.” But he’s grinning when he says it, kicking his boots against the bench.
Emma ruffles his hair, earning a squawk. “Kid, you wanted this.”
“Yeah,” he admits, softer now, watching Regina flick syrup at Emma’s nose. “I really did.”