Summary: Sequel to my fic "What Are You Doing Under My Bed" (this is the dinner between Regina, Emma and Henry) with added Thanksgiving fluffy feels. One-shot. Complete.
Dinner
"Emma?" Henry's call froze Emma's hand just in front of the knocker at 108 Mifflin.
"Yes, Henry?" She glanced over her shoulder as her son joined her on the front step of the imposing mansion.
"Why are you nervous?"
"What makes you think I'm nervous?" He just rolled his eyes at her. Weird, she thought, just like his mom. "OK. So I'm nervous."
"Why? You think she's gonna poison you?" Emma shook her head. "Cast a spell on you?" he asked.
You mean beyond the one she seems to have cast already? Emma thought. She'd gone to bed after seeing Regina leave, but her sleep had been restless, filling with dreams of a guinea pig transforming in her hands to naked Regina in her bed. Bewitched, she thought, was a very apropos term for how she currently felt.
Emma grasped the knocker and gave the cool metal a quick slap against the door. Henry shook his head and Emma straightened her shoulders, twitching her jacket into a smoother line.
The white door swung inward. Regina Mills stood just inside the threshold. Her smile for Henry stayed in place as her brown gaze swiveled to Emma's face. "Henry. Miss Swan." Emma's breath caught as the gaze between them lingered. "Come in," Regina added. She took a step back, gesturing with a tiny wave of her hand.
Emma caught the way the brunette's hands briefly went back to clutching the door edge before she closed it. She offered the flowers in her hand.
"Something for the table," she said.
The flowers were orange and yellow mums and marigolds. The arrangement was accented with wicker cornucopias on dowels and tan and brown cat o'nine tails.
"The rest of the country is celebrating Thanksgiving," Emma explained.
"I may have to start," Regina said, taking the flowers. Tingles shot through Emma's fingers when Regina's brushed them.
Henry took off his coat and held out his hand toward Emma. "I'll hang these," he said. "You need to help in the kitchen."
Emma looked at Regina when she realized that hadn't been a question. "Two hands," she suggested, holding them up as if for inspection.
"I do have a few things," Regina said, hesitating only slightly before walking toward the kitchen. Emma followed.
Once alone in the space, Regina turned. "You don't –"
"Our son seems to think you need help. Who am I to tell him no?" Emma took the flowers and felt Regina's hands shaking; good to know she wasn't the only one being affected. "A vase for these?" she asked.
Brown eyes blinked away moisture. "On that shelf there." She pointed to a shelf above the lattice wine rack in the corner by the kitchen door.
Emma retrieved a vase and, keeping her back to Regina, arranged the flowers until she was satisfied her own hands had stopped shaking. She glanced over her shoulder to see Regina fumbling with the ties to an apron. The neck strap had the bottom of Regina's hair trapped. Emma didn't think beyond freeing the hair. She caught Regina's hands on her low back after the motion. The slacks were black, the blouse white, the silk fall of hair on her fingers... And Emma's dream was reformed.
"Miss Swan," Regina said.
"What else can I do?" Emma breathed against Regina's nape.
"Emma," Regina braced her hands on the counter top. Holding the strings of the apron, Emma's hands went to either side of Regina's hips against the counter, too.
Their bodies pressed flush together; Emma felt every breath Regina took in. Her own breathing was harsh in her ears.
The sounds of running thumps on the second floor above their heads finally broke the mutual spell.
"Henry," Regina breathed. She turned; Emma backed up quickly, not trusting herself not to kiss Regina until they were both swimming in desire.
Regina's scrutiny of her face as she nibbled her lip wasn't helping Emma's resolve. She only dimly registered instructions from the deeply red lips. "Take the flowers to the table."
Emma swept the vase into her hands and stumbled to the dining room where she placed them in the center of the table already set with sparkling white dishes and silver service.
The aromas drew her attention and she leaned over, removing lids, inspecting and inhaling the many mouth-watering scents.
Regina exhaled as Emma strode from the kitchen, even as her gaze unwillingly dropped to the motion of jean-clad hips and the silhouetted outline of muscles beneath the tapered fit of a sky blue Oxford shirt. It was too easy to recall naked skin; Regina's mouth went dry and she reached quickly for the cider she had been sipping to calm her nerves as the time of Henry and Emma's arrival had drawn nerve-wrackingly closer. She took a quick draught, mildly settled by the familiar flavor.
She started for the entry separating the dining room from the kitchen but stopped when she heard Henry's voice speaking with Emma.
"Everything in my room is just the way I left it," he said.
"Didja think it wouldn't be?"
"I don't know. You said she's changed."
"She'll always be your mom, Henry."
"You're my mom."
"We both are." Emma's tone revealed stress. On Regina's behalf. Regina was moved.
"I guess you're right." Regina heard the sound of a chair moving on the floor. "You sit there," Henry directed.
Regina entered the dining room to see Henry had directed Emma to a chair on Regina's left while taking his usual seat on Regina's right. The familiarity sent a warm feeling through her chest.
Emma hesitated upon seeing Regina reach for the back of her chair. She looked toward the opposite, and more distant, fourth chair.
"Henry is correct, Miss Swan. Have a seat." She met Emma's hazel green gaze and nodded to her to sit. "Please."
Emma still waited until both Regina and Henry were settled before she sat, tucking the cloth napkin at her place on her lap. When Regina picked up the nearest platter and inserted a serving spoon, Emma asked, "May I?"
"Miss Swan?"
"Well, it's a special occasion." There was something puckish in Emma's voice that made Regina smirk and lean back.
"By all means, Miss Swan. Proceed."
"A lot's changed in a year. Certainly was not in a mood to be thankful this time last year. Now I've got a family –"
"Miss Swan, I really don't want to hear about –"
"Henry and you, Regina," Emma interrupted with a faint smile. "I'm thankful Henry brought me here."
"Miss Swan –"
"So, what are you thankful for, Henry?" To Regina's relief, Emma's gaze turned to their son.
"I'm thankful the curse is broken because –" Regina cringed as Henry's gaze found her, and he continued, "I got my mom back."
He didn't even look once at Emma, his brown eyes meeting Regina's steadily. He meant her. He really meant her.
"I... I'm thankful for that, too." Her voice broke on the last few syllables and she pushed back from the table, tossed her napkin in her plate and ran from the room.
Behind her she heard Emma tell Henry, "Stay here." Then she heard rapid footfalls close the distance into the foyer.
"Regina." Emma's voice caught her at the small table before the hall mirror. She met Emma's gaze in it before she dropped her head, unable to maintain the connection, too intimate, too emotional, too... everything. "I know," Emma went on, "we – you and I – don't do the whole emotions on our sleeve thing. We're too used to people kicking us in the teeth."
"So what was the purpose of that … just now?" Regina felt Emma's warmth near her back.
"Because Henry wanted it. He wanted a way to recognize how much has happened – to both of you."
Emma's hands slid over Regina's shoulders. "And, you know, I have the hardest time denying that kid anything."
Regina eased from the touch even though she didn't want to, but she had worn her distance, worn her cloak for so long, she was colder without it. "As long as we understand each other," Regina said. "For Henry's sake." She brushed her fingers through her hair pulling herself together.
"Given a hundred years, Regina Mills, I don't think I'll ever fully understand you. But I'm certainly going to enjoy trying." Emma tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. She followed Regina back toward the dining room.
"We'll see," Regina said just under her breath, just before Henry launched himself at her, hugging her waist. She brushed his hair from his face and caressed his cheek. "Shall we eat?"
Emma, Regina and Henry resumed their seats. Regina once again passed the first dish to Emma who, this time, took it without another word.