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After the curse was broken and the purple smoke cleared, the set up in Mary Margaret's loft, truly meant for the comfort of one to two friendly individuals, was thus:
Emma still up the metal stairs in the room that hardly allowed her double bed and a dresser; Henry on a cot somehow finagled into a corner of the room, his things scattered about and beginning to mingle with his mother's; and Snow (and often Charming) in Mary Margaret's room downstairs, privatized by only part of a wall, and a large, billowy curtain. The once-spotless kitchen was generally littered with cups, mugs, plates, and napkins, so busy were the residents with the recent changes in their town. The single bathroom seemed to now always feel steamy from a recent shower, and boasting at least two damp towels. The living room had a few boxes of belongings Henry had quickly packed from Regina's house while the evil queen was out, a few of James's possessions that had made their way over from his room at Granny's, plus all of the other items a living room acquired with time and people.
And so it was that Emma descended the metal steps as quietly as possible to not wake anyone at the early hour, only to find Snow and Charming kissing quite passionately by the coffee maker, she in pajamas, he in his usual jeans and plaid shirt. Emma's eyes went wide as she thought, mortified: These are my parents.
They must have heard her reach the wood floor, for they sprung away from each other and faced her. Snow's lovely complexion was flushed; James's hair was mussed. Neither offered any excuses, knowing they were caught.
"Good morning," Emma managed. This wasn't the first time this had happened, but it was awkward nonetheless.
"Morning!" Snow greeted brightly, already rushing to the cupboard. "I was just making coffee. You're up early!"
"I need to get to the station, finish up a few things from yesterday," Emma said, inching closer to her parents. Storybrooke had become a mess since magic invaded and old lives were remembered, but it was easier to deal with everyone else's crap, fairy tale or not, than try to sort out her own.
"Do you need any help?" James asked, passing her cream for the cup of coffee Snow was pouring.
"No thanks."
The three were silent. It had only been two weeks since Emma had broken the curse – usually it felt much longer than that, but in these moments with her parents, when nobody knew the right thing to say, it felt like less. At this point she didn't even know how to address them – David, Mary Margaret, James, Snow, Charming, MomandDad… so far she'd avoided the matter entirely and given up names, not just for them but everyone in town.
They were looking at her in that way, the way she'd caught them staring countless times now since they'd remembered their true selves. It made her skin feel wrong, like she'd been living in one body for her entire life and had just learned it wasn't really hers. It made her anxious, and she wished they would look away – except whenever they finally did she immediately missed the attention. Emma knew Snow and Charming were trying their hardest to respect her space and the distance still between them all, when they wanted so much to be her parents again.
It was amazing, really, the way she held them away from her so well when they lived on top of one another. "We can't keep living like this," she declared suddenly.
Snow frowned; James spluttered on the sip of coffee he'd just taken. "What do you mean?" Snow asked.
"Four of us in this place," Emma clarified, darting forward to grab her to-go coffee container on the counter. She poured the contents of her steaming mug into it. "Don't you think it's sort of… cramped?"
James put a hand on the counter, leaning forward. "It's my fault; I've been spending too much time here, when I have a room at Granny's – I shouldn't be intruding so often –"
"No," Emma interrupted, embarrassed at his words, wishing she hadn't said anything. "You have every right to be here. This is where your – your family is," she said, fumbling over the words. She wasn't comfortable yet with the idea of letting in her long-lost parents, but she didn't want to offend anyone. "I just mean – it isn't fair for you two to be separated like this, and with Henry and I both here now – it's a lot of people, and a lot of stuff."
"Emma," Snow said, wide-eyed. "I'm so sorry if we've made you feel uncomfortable –"
"No," she said again quickly, screwing the top of her coffee container on and hoping to make a fast exit out the door and away from this painful conversation. "I'm still adjusting. We all are," she added. "I just meant that I was thinking maybe Henry and I should find our own place, at least for now."
"I hear what you're saying, but with the way things are right now, I don't like the idea of you and Henry living by yourselves somewhere," James said, protective and paternal and everything Emma had always wanted in her father, which made her even more anxious. "Regina could show up at any moment and take him away, or hurt you – I could never forgive myself."
Emma heard the desperation in his voice, could practically see him reliving the moment they'd had to give her up as a baby. This was exactly the sort of situation she wasn't ready to face, too emotional and revealing. "I just thought I'd put it out there," she said lamely, eyes on her keys.
"We'll figure it out," Snow assured, placing a soothing hand on Charming's arm. "All of us, together."
Footsteps bounded down the metal stairs and Henry appeared, hair tousled from sleep. "What's going on? Did something new happen?"
"No, kid, everything's fine," Emma said, smoothing his brown hair.
"Are you leaving?"
"I have to go to work," she told him. He didn't like to be apart from her for too long – and she felt much the same. "But Snow and James will be here."
Snow grinned at her grandson. "Want me to make some pancakes?"
"Sure!" Henry said, worry gone. He hopped up on a stool, sharing a mirror smile with James as the man winked. Emma watched the scene, standing apart from it, unable yet to commit to this family life taking shape before her. Henry already adored his grandparents, happy to be sharing this small space with them.
"Emma?" Snow asked, head turned to look at her daughter as she assembled ingredients. "Would you like breakfast before you go?"
Emma smiled but shook her head, backing up towards the door. "I really have to go."
"We'll see you soon," James said. "Let us know if you need anything."
"I will," she said, opening the door, needing to escape into the chaos of Storybrooke for a while. "Thanks."
"Be careful!" Snow called as the door shut.
Emma took a few steps down the hallway before stopping to glance back at the closed door, behind which her parents and son made pancakes and waited for her return, not caring how tight a fit it was for the four of them. They all just wanted to be in one place, together, finally, and here she was suggesting she split the whole thing up. Maybe she'd been too hasty in her earlier declaration – maybe she'd just see where things took all of them…
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