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"I'll never get this right!" Henry thrusted his script book onto the coffee table.
Sighing, Regina stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on her son's shoulder. "You just have to keep trying, sweetie. No one does anything perfect their first time."
"I know," he conceded. "I just don't wanna make a fool of myself in front of Violet." Regina furrowed her brows.
"Who's Violet?" Her words came out slightly panicked.
"Henry's girlfriend," a voice answered, emerging from the kitchen. It belonged to the boy's other mother, Emma, who was currently licking the leftover donut powder from her fingers.
Hunching forward, Henry whined, "Ma!"
"What? Like you wouldn't want it to happen," she teased, plopping herself onto the couch. After kicking her boots off, Emma lifted her sock-cladded feet onto the nearby table. Regina frowned at the action.
"So...this Violet," the brunette began. "You're doing this to impress her?" That would explain where his sudden interest in theatre came from, the woman mused.
At her son's small nod, Regina adorned a knowing grin.
Leaning up from the couch, Emma snatched the discarded booklet from the table. "Romeo and Juliet?" She quirked a brow. The boy was unable to hide the blush that crept up his face, causing Emma to let out an amused snort. "Kid's got guts; I'll give ya that."
Regina watched as the blonde flipped to a marked page in the book and then rose to her feet.
"If I profane with my unworthiest hand," Emma delivered one of the highlighted lines in an over-dramatic tone. "This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this..." She rounded the table before stopping in front of the pair.
"Seriously? What's it even mean?" The boy responded with a shrug before taking his mother's seat on the couch.
Rolling her eyes, Regina opened her own booklet to the page before urging the blonde to continue.
After letting out a huff of air, Emma read, "My lips-" Blood rushed to savior's face. "-two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss." Emma's gaze flashed to the other woman's mouth.
Swallowing thickly, Regina responded, "Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this. For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss."
Emma had no freakin' clue what either of them had said but all this talk of hands and kissing was stirring something deep within the blonde.
"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers, too?" Emma asked, beginning to get a sense for the unique dialect.
Taking a small step toward the blonde, Regina said, "Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer." She smirked.
Emma's pupils dilated as a smooth tongue traced over the other woman's lips. "O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do," Emma breathed out, her half-hooded gaze lifting to meet brown eyes. "They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair."
Regina let out a soft chuckle. "Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake."
"Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take." Glancing down one last time, Emma captured the woman's lips with her own, as the script had directed.
A feeling of warmth flooded through the blonde's body, combined with something unidentifiable. After breaking apart, Emma's face remained mere inches from the other woman's. With her eyes locked on the brunette's mouth, she whispered, "Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged."
When the savior's gaze rose to meet her own, Regina said, "Then have my lips the sin that they have took?"
"Sin from thy lips?" Emma raised her brows. "O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again." Emma pulled Regina's hips to her own and joined their lips, once more.
Loud applause filled both women's ears, causing them to spring apart-having been reminded of their son's presence.
"That was awesome, Moms!" Henry exclaimed, giving them a standing ovation. Regina wiped at her mouth with the back of her fingers, finding herself unwilling to meet the blonde's gaze.
"And you said no one could be perfect on their first try," the boy gushed, gesturing toward his blonde mother-whose face was now sporting a bright pink hue.
"I will admit. You did a lovely job portraying Romeo, Miss Swan," nodded Regina.
"Whoa, we're back to 'Miss Swan' now?" Emma flashed the woman a confused look. Had the two kisses meant nothing to her, Emma wondered.
Regina turned back to their son. "How about you go rehearse your lines in your room. We'll run through them again after dinner," Regina instructed. The boy hesitated, looking between both of his mothers, before heading off toward the stairs.
When Regina heard the tell-tale sound of heavy footfalls trudging up the staircase, she turned her attention back toward the savior.
"That was..." Regina drawled out, unable to find any proper words to describe her experience.
"You can say if you hated it. I can take it," Emma commented. Despite her passive expression, the waver in the blonde's voice gave away her true feelings.
"Amazing," Regina finished. The savior's eyes darted to the mayor's, scanning her gaze as if judging whether or not the woman was lying.
"Really?" Emma squeaked out.
The brunette nodded. "Now get back over here, you idiot."
This time, it had been Regina who initiated the kiss. And, surrounded by the other woman's comforting embrace, Emma finally understood what everyone meant when they'd say 'it feels like home'.