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The bar was warm in that low-lit, golden way that made everything feel a little softer than it really was. Emma Swan sat hunched slightly over her drink, turning the glass idly between her fingers. Ruby had promised her this would be worth it—“Trust me, Em, you’ll love her”—and yet here she was, alone, thirty minutes in, with nothing but a watered-down cocktail and mild regret for company.
“Great setup,” Emma muttered under her breath, knocking back the rest of her drink.
Across the room, Regina Mills noticed.
She hadn’t meant to stare. At least, that’s what she told herself as her eyes drifted back—again—to the blonde at the bar. There was something achingly familiar about her posture, the way she leaned forward like she was bracing against the world, the faint crease between her brows.
“Regina.”
Zelena’s voice cut cleanly through her thoughts.
Regina didn’t look away. “What?”
“You’ve been staring at that woman for the past ten minutes.”
“I have not.”
“You absolutely have,” Mal added, smirking into her drink. “It’s actually a little embarrassing.”
Regina finally dragged her gaze back to the table, smoothing an invisible wrinkle on her sleeve. “I was merely… observing.”
Zelena leaned in, eyes glinting with mischief. “Observing your former student?”
That made Regina pause.
Slowly, carefully, she looked back at the bar.
Blonde hair. Leather jacket. That same stubborn tilt of the chin.
“Emma Swan,” Regina murmured.
“Well, well,” Zelena grinned. “This just got interesting.”
Regina’s lips pressed into a thin line. “She’s not my student anymore.”
“No,” Mal said lightly. “But you’re still not talking to her.”
“I’m not going to just walk over there,” Regina snapped, though her voice lacked real heat.
“Why not?” Zelena asked innocently. “You’re both adults. She’s clearly been stood up. You’re clearly incapable of looking anywhere else.”
“I don’t believe in fate.”
“Fine,” Zelena shrugged. “Call it unresolved tension.”
Regina shot her a look—but it faltered quickly.
Because, truthfully—
Emma Swan had always been impossible not to notice.
The quiet intensity. The way she watched Regina like she was trying to solve her. The questions that lingered just a second too long. The smiles just a bit too bright.
And the crush—God, it had been obvious.
Regina had done the only thing she could do: nothing.
Professional. Distant. Careful.
It had been the right choice.
It was the right choice.
But now—
“Well?” Zelena nudged her. “Are you going to sit here all night?”
Regina hesitated.
Then, with a slow exhale, she stood.
“Don’t make a big deal out of this.”
Zelena and Mal exchanged identical, delighted looks.
“Oh, we absolutely will.”
—
Emma was halfway through ordering another drink when a voice—low, smooth, and entirely unfair—spoke beside her.
“Ms. Swan.”
Emma froze.
Then she turned.
And there she was.
Regina Mills.
Still devastating. Still composed. Still looking at Emma like she saw more than she should.
Emma let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “Okay… either I’ve had more to drink than I thought, or—”
“It’s really me,” Regina said, one brow arching.
Emma smiled, slow and helpless. “Yeah. I figured.”
A beat of charged silence.
Then Regina gestured lightly toward the empty stool. “May I?”
Emma straightened immediately. “Yeah—of course.”
Regina sat, every movement precise.
“So,” she said, glancing at Emma’s glass. “Bad date?”
Emma snorted. “No date. My friend set me up. Forgot to make sure the other person showed up.”
“Unfortunate.”
“Yeah.” Emma tilted her head. “What about you? Didn’t take you for the bar-with-colleagues type.”
“I contain multitudes.”
That pulls a real smile from Emma—and something in Regina’s chest shifts.
God.
That smile.
It had been a problem then, too.
“You look… good,” Emma says, casual, but warm in a way that isn’t entirely innocent.
Regina’s gaze sharpens. “So do you.”
Emma leans her elbow on the bar, chin in hand. “You always say that to former students?”
“No,” Regina replies smoothly. “Only the memorable ones.”
Emma’s smile widens. “Good. I’d hate to think I wasn’t special.”
Regina holds her gaze.
There it is—that same spark. Older now. Sharper.
And Regina is no longer bound by the same rules.
“How have you been?” she asks, softer.
Emma shrugs, not looking away. “Better now.”
It’s subtle. Deliberate.
Regina feels it land anyway.
“Is that so?”
Emma lifts her glass slightly. “Funny how that works.”
Across the room, Zelena is practically vibrating.
At the bar, Regina doesn’t look away.
And when Emma smiles—
Regina smiles back.
—
Emma should look away.
She knows she should.
There’s history here—complicated, carefully ignored—but instead she leans in.
“Funny,” she says, tracing her glass again. “I always thought if I ran into you again, it’d be somewhere… more official.”
“Disappointed?”
Emma shakes her head. “No. This is better.”
Regina’s gaze lingers. “Is it?”
“Well,” Emma huffs, “I’m not being graded.”
“You were an excellent student.”
Emma raises a brow. “Yeah? That what you told everyone?”
“No. Just you.”
Something warm settles under Emma’s ribs.
“Careful,” she murmurs. “I might think I was your favorite.”
Regina tilts her head. “Would that be so terrible?”
Emma meets her eyes. “Depends on what kind.”
Across the room—
“Oh, this is criminally entertaining,” Zelena whispers.
—
Regina exhales, composure tightening.
Emma notices immediately.
“You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“That thing where you pretend you’re completely unaffected.”
Regina stiffens slightly. “I assure you—”
“You used to do it in class,” Emma says, softer now. “Whenever something actually interested you.”
Regina stills.
Emma leans closer.
“You’d get this look,” she says. “Like you wanted to say more.”
“That’s… quite an observation.”
“I paid attention.”
“I noticed.”
The words slip out.
Emma’s expression shifts—surprise, then something warmer.
“Yeah?”
Regina holds her gaze.
Dangerous.
“Yes.”
No deflection.
Emma exhales slowly. “Good.”
The silence that follows is heavier.
Closer.
Emma shifts—her knee brushing Regina’s.
Neither of them moves.
“Your friend,” Regina says quietly. “The one who arranged this.”
“Ruby.”
“Should I be thanking her?”
Emma smiles, a little wicked. “You planning to?”
Regina doesn’t answer.
Because she doesn’t know.
—
“Another drink?” Regina asks instead.
Emma studies her. “Only if you’re staying.”
“I am.”
Emma’s smile softens. “Then yeah.”
Regina orders without asking.
Emma notices.
“You remember what I drink.”
“I remember a great many things.”
Emma leans in. “Like what?”
Regina meets her gaze.
“Like how you never did your reading,” she says quietly, “but always knew the answer.”
Emma grins. “I skimmed.”
“You improvised.”
“Worked, didn’t it?”
Regina’s gaze flicks to her mouth.
“Yes.”
Emma inhales sharply.
Across the room—
“This is obscene,” Zelena whispers.
—
The drinks arrive.
Neither touches them.
Emma turns fully toward her, knees pressing together without pretense.
“Be honest,” she says softly. “Why did you come over?”
Regina stills.
Because that’s the real question.
She could lie.
But Emma is looking at her like she always used to.
So—
“You looked lonely.”
Emma blinks.
“That’s not what I expected.”
“I don’t like seeing you that way.”
Something shifts in Emma’s expression.
“Good thing you came over, then.”
“Yes.”
A beat.
Then Emma’s fingers slide against Regina’s.
Light.
Deliberate.
Not accidental.
Regina doesn’t move.
“Still think this was a bad setup?” she asks.
Emma smiles—soft, certain.
“No.”
—
“You always this brave?” Regina murmurs.
Emma’s thumb brushes her knuckle.
“Only when it counts.”
“You’re aware,” Regina says quietly, “this would have been inappropriate a few years ago.”
“Good thing it’s not.”
“That doesn’t make it uncomplicated.”
Emma leans back just enough to look at her. “Did you want uncomplicated?”
Regina hesitates.
Emma softens. “Yeah. Didn’t think so.”
—
Regina’s composure is slipping now.
Her gaze keeps dropping.
Emma’s mouth.
Her hand.
“You’re different,” Regina says.
“Better or worse?”
“More certain.”
Emma smiles faintly. “Had time to figure things out.”
“And have you?”
Emma leans closer.
“Yeah.”
“And what did you figure out?”
Emma glances at Regina’s lips.
“You first.”
Regina exhales.
“You were very difficult to ignore.”
Emma smiles, knowing. “Yeah. I got that impression.”
“You never looked at anyone else the way you looked at me,” Emma adds softly.
Regina stills.
“You were my student.”
“Not anymore.”
That lands.
Final.
“If you don’t want this,” Emma murmurs, close enough now to share breath, “tell me.”
Regina turns her hand, fingers curling around Emma’s.
“That’s not the problem.”
Emma smiles slightly. “Yeah.”
Another inch.
That’s all it takes.
Regina lifts her hand, brushing Emma’s jaw.
Emma goes still.
Letting her decide.
So Regina does.
She closes the distance.
The kiss is soft at first—careful, almost testing.
Emma exhales against her.
Then leans in.
Just enough.
It deepens—not rushed, just intentional.
Like something long denied finally allowed.
When they part, it’s slow.
Neither goes far.
Emma lets out a quiet breath. “Okay… yeah. Worth getting stood up.”
Regina’s lips curve. “I should hope so.”
Emma studies her. “You’re not gonna disappear after this, are you?”
“No,” Regina says.
And she means it.
Emma nods. “Good.”
Across the room—
“Finally,” Zelena groans.
—
Emma’s hand is still in hers.
“So,” Emma says, smiling, “you staying?”
Regina looks at her—open, certain—and makes one more reckless decision.
“Yes.”
Emma’s smile widens.
“Good.”
And this time—
There’s nothing restrained about it at all.
—————
The air outside is cooler than Emma expects.
Not cold—just enough to make her aware of it, to make everything feel a little sharper, a little more real after the warmth of the bar.
She lingers just outside the door, hands shoved into her jacket pockets, rocking slightly on her heels.
Regina steps out a moment later.
Composed, as always.
But not entirely.
Emma notices the small things—the way her hair isn’t quite as perfectly in place, the faint flush still lingering across her cheekbones.
It does something unfair to Emma’s chest.
“So,” Emma says, glancing over. “You always follow your former students out into the night, or—?”
Regina arches a brow. “Only the memorable ones.”
Emma huffs a quiet laugh, looking down for a second before meeting her gaze again.
“Good,” she says. “Wouldn’t want to lose my spot.”
Regina’s lips curve.
There’s a pause—not awkward, not uncertain. Just… new.
Emma shifts her weight, then gestures vaguely down the street. “I was thinking of walking. Clear my head a little.”
A beat.
Then, casual—but not really—
“You could join me.”
Regina considers her.
Not the offer.
Emma.
The way she’s standing there—open, a little hopeful, but still trying to play it off like it doesn’t matter either way.
It matters.
Regina steps closer.
“I think,” she says, smooth but softer than before, “that would be a very good idea.”
Emma smiles.
Not the teasing one.
Not the bold one.
Something quieter.
They fall into step easily.
Like they’ve done this before.
Like they could have, if things had been different.
For a while, neither of them speaks.
Their shoulders brush once.
Then again.
Neither apologizes.
Emma glances sideways. “So… you gonna admit it?”
“Admit what?”
“You wanted to kiss me back then.”
Regina lets out a soft, incredulous breath. “Ms. Swan—”
“Emma,” she corrects automatically.
Regina’s gaze flicks to her.
“Emma,” she repeats, quieter.
It lingers.
Then—
“No,” Regina says, entirely too smooth.
Emma grins. “Liar.”
Regina doesn’t deny it.
Instead, she says, “You were very aware of yourself, even then.”
Emma shrugs. “I had a good teacher.”
Regina huffs softly.
There’s a beat.
Then Emma nudges her—light, easy. “Your turn.”
“My turn for what?”
“Admitting things.”
Regina goes quiet.
The streetlights cast soft gold across the pavement, catching in her eyes when she finally looks over.
“I wondered,” she says slowly, “what would happen if I didn’t ignore it.”
Emma’s steps falter—just slightly.
“And?” she asks.
Regina stops walking.
Emma does too.
They’re closer now than they were a moment ago.
Close enough that it feels intentional.
“I think,” Regina says, her voice low and steady, “I’m finding out.”
Emma’s breath catches—soft, quiet, real.
“Yeah?” she murmurs.
Regina’s hand lifts, almost absentmindedly, brushing against Emma’s sleeve before settling at her wrist.
“Is that a problem?”
Emma shakes her head immediately. “No.”
A beat.
Then, softer—
“Definitely not.”
Regina studies her for a moment longer.
Like she’s committing it to memory.
Then she closes the distance again.
This kiss isn’t careful.
Not like the first.
It’s still controlled—because Regina is Regina—but there’s less hesitation, less testing.
More certainty.
Emma leans into it instantly, one hand coming up to rest at Regina’s side, steadying herself like she needs the contact.
Or just wants it.
When they part this time, it’s only because they have to.
Emma lets out a quiet laugh, a little breathless. “Okay… yeah. This is—this is definitely better than the date I was supposed to have.”
Regina’s lips curve. “I should hope so.”
Emma looks at her, really looks.
And whatever she finds there makes her smile soften again.
“So,” she says, nudging their hands together this time instead of waiting. “What happens now?”
Regina doesn’t pull away.
Doesn’t hesitate.
“We continue walking,” she says.
Emma raises a brow. “That’s it?”
Regina glances at her, something warm flickering beneath her usual composure.
“For now.”
Emma considers that.
Then smiles.
“Yeah,” she says. “I can work with that.”
Their fingers lace together—easy this time, natural.
And as they start walking again, slower now, closer—
Neither of them lets go.