She was nervous.
And for what reason, Regina wondered, almost aloud, almost biting her lip in acute displeasure at her own, annoying, inexplicable nerves. Shifting a bit, she frowned. Shame on you, Regina; you fear the strangest things. It only gets in your way. Rumpelstiltskin was the coward around here, not her! This was only Emma.
And they were only out for a coffee. So why was she so anxious?
She had spent time with the other woman on and off, which made it all the more implausible … mostly inconspicuously, mostly involuntarily. It hadn't been unpleasant, of course… they were co-parenting a child together, after all… so keeping things cordial was a simple convenience of matters. A pleasant, if not always easy, thing to do. Their days of fighting over custody behind them, Emma and Regina, though both somewhat reserved in their ways, had gotten along quite well for a few years now, and meeting over a coffee was no strange ordeal, if only perhaps slightly after reviewing their initial meeting.
Ever since Henry had graduated from high school, though, things had certainly changed… they had made more of an effort to stay banded together… a tiny, mended, somewhat family… it was now a weekly affair to have lunch, or dinner, or even just a walk through downtown Storybrooke together; for Henry's sake, if anything — and perhaps their own, too. It was a big change for all of them, no matter which way one looked at it; Henry was soon to be away at college somewhere, getting girlfriends, writing theses, starting a life. Regina could hardly bear to think about it; she was terribly lonely already, and her heart sank each and every time her mind went there. But, in juxtaposition, each time Emma had come to meet up with them and they had spent their evenings together, she found it more peaceful; they were very amusing, the two of them, and it was much easier to take her mind off of the impending chasm his departure would leave.
Of course, Emma and Regina had never truly hung out by themselves, unless circumstances left it that way. They were co-parents; amicable acquaintances… not much more. Regina liked her time to herself, she reasoned. Emma was busy, Emma had the Charmings. Somewhat jealous of this notion— two families to share, while Regina had one that was being torn apart very, very soon — the Mayor had scoffed off the thought, but it hadn't changed the fact that, still, she missed the days in which they could not make their weekly rendezvous… and she was jealous.
And yet, here she was, sitting in Granny's on a Wednesday night.
Emma had called her, on this particular evening, casually and coolly over the phone asking if she might want to meet her for a coffee at Granny's? And when Regina had inquired about her son's presence, the woman had explained that Henry had a project to complete over at Violet's house, so she was alone for the night. Regina, somewhat surprised, and yet not surprised at all, had agreed to this impromptu invitation; it wasn't as if they hadn't spent time together before… and, well — what else would she have to do?
And why, oh why, was it making her so antsy?
It was a bit of a new thing, she supposed. Regina hated change; was uncomfortable, in general, with social situations, especially without the veil of Henry to guide her through interaction. She would have to find a different approach, this time, to carry her through conversation.
And yet, it was only Emma…
"Hey."
And here she was; Emma Swan had arrived, speak of the devil. She slid beside Regina at the bar, her mouth wearing a pleasant little smile, if not a bit rushed, like she had just been out of breath. She was late, notably so; she had probably hurried herself over. How very like Emma.
Regina gave her a nod in return, already a bit tired from the day's paperwork… and then, taking a second glance, she squinted, crinkling her brows as she noticed the other's outfit.
"Is that my jacket?"
"Oh," Emma breathed out, eyeing herself quickly before meeting Regina's again. "Yeah. Sorry, I — you left it over the other night after dinner. I meant to give it back to Henry for you but I forgot. It's warm." She smiled, humorously at that, and Regina raised both brows, looking away and behind the bar instead. She had had to admit, though… it didn't look half bad on her.
"Don't worry, I'll get it dry cleaned," Emma tried again, teasing. Regina shook her head, still looking away from the other.
"No need."
"You look tired," Emma said, lifting her neck a bit to grab the bartender's attention. At this time of night, Granny was likely in the back — it was Ruby managing front of the house now. "Hey — can I get a shot of Jack? One to start."
Regina, this time, tilted her neck in immediate severity, looking at Emma.
"That isn't coffee."
Emma shrugged. "You can still get some, if you want."
Regina blinked, but said nothing.
She should have known.
Ordering a coffee with a small bit of sugar and some heavy cream, she watched Emma in silence as she threw her neck back, skillfully, downing the drink with ease. When she had finished, their eyes met, and Emma caught her breath, addressing her.
"You sure you don't want one?"
"Yes, I'm quite alright," Regina answered, but found herself smiling a little, chuckling at the abrupt start to Emma's night. Surely, she wasted no time. It was amusing how very childlike the other could be sometimes. In ways, she had to admit, it reminded her of her son.
"So," Emma said, after a moment.
"… So." Regina echoed.
"Henry asked Violet to senior prom."
"Of course he did." Regina responded immediately, her tone rising with obvious vexation. Violet was not a bad girl; in fact, Regina had no real qualms with her… oh, how she wanted one, though. "She's better off staying home, what with all the Balls she's apparently been to in Camelot…"
"Oh, come on," Emma waned, her body falling into a more relaxed pose, perhaps out of exhaustion; defeat. "Violet's a good kid. She's good for Henry."
"Mm. No one is good for Henry," Regina mumbled a bit, taking a sip of her coffee. "Good enough."
"She's a good influence. At least he does his papers on time now."
"What are you implying," Regina defended, lowering her mug onto the bar, "that I wasn't sure he did that before?" Her eyes were akin to daggers, she was gripping the mug with gusto. Emma almost wanted to sink back into a shell she didn't have. "He doesn't need a girl to make sure he's responsible."
"No, no, not at all, I just… " Emma sighed with defeat, rolling her eyes. "Listen, Regina, you need a drink."
Regina considered this, and then, with a more gentle tone, she agreed, loosening her grip upon the mug.
"Yes, perhaps I do."
They shared a bottle of red Cabernet, and Regina's smile had emerged, then, laughing more easily, her face somewhat flushed, her tone more and more relaxed as it grew emptier. After their third glass, they had toasted one another, all ears and all smiles, laughing about the fact that Emma had spilt a little in the process. Henry had been the topic of most conversation, as it always was – their hopes for him, their concerns, their little, amusing stories. But eventually they found themselves discussing other small things along the way, and Regina, inhibitions lowered from the substance, found it much easier to drive conversation.
"You're absolutely impossible," She had chuckled, before taking a sip of her wine, and Emma, swallowing with a dramatic roll of her head, chimed in her agreement.
"That's why you love me," she exclaimed, and Regina, feeling a flush in her cheeks at that, folded her hands beneath her chin and smiled. "And Henry," Emma decided to throw in, last minute. "That's why you love me and Henry."
"Yes, well." Regina mused, fondly, finding Emma's tone charming, rather than irritating, for once. "You have your moments, I suppose."
It was a bold admission, and one that took even her by surprise.
"… He's gonna be alright, you know," Emma continued, in a more serious voice.
"Hm?"
"Henry." Emma clarified, and then set her glass on the bar. "He's going to be alright. You know. With college and life and… everything."
Regina felt a lump in her throat all of the sudden. Damn Emma, damn her and her sudden moment of sincerity. She didn't want to have to bear this right now.
"I… know," Regina said, softly, and then looked at the counter, doing her best to keep her eyes from watering, at least not in front of Emma. I just don't want him to leave.
Emma suddenly had her hand upon Regina's, and she sat, in silence, the electricity of the maternal understanding between them making Regina feel a sudden heat. She swallowed, heavily.
"I don't like thinking about it either," Emma admitted, and yet, Regina felt envious at how steady her voice sounded. "He's always gonna be 'kid' to me. That little kid who found me in Boston and brought me… well. Here. But he's going to be fine, and we've gotta support him through this."
"I know," Regina said again, nodding. Perhaps without the weight of loneliness, despair, empty nest and booze, she might have gotten defensive once more… Emma was repeating what she had already known and already planned on doing… but the wine had made her emotional. And, perhaps, the hand upon hers added something.
"It's gonna be okay."
Suddenly they were hugging; Emma had leaned forward, wrapped her lean, shapely arms around the mother of her son, and held her close, wanting to convey to her a comfort she knew she could never truly provide — an understanding of their situation — a confirmation that, even though Regina had never said it, she knew how much she had been hurting over this. Regina seemed to understand, for she leaned into the gesture, softly, resting her head upon Emma's shoulder, and her body had relaxed… eventually, she had even returned the hug, sliding her arms around Emma's back, palms resting against her shoulder blades.
"Thank you."
They had both hailed a cab home, though Emma had insisted that she was fine to drive. Regina had resisted; besides, she reasoned, it was raining, and it would be even harder to see without a sober driver. Reluctantly, Emma had agreed, after confirming with Ruby that her Bug would be okay there for the night. Regina, likewise, had walked, and so was perfectly content with the situation.
The ride home had been silent; both women in the backseat, side by side, parallel and tired from the night's events as the liquor wore off. Emma sat, occasionally rustling in her seat and looking at the other, while Regina, similarly, rested with her head tilted to stare out the window at the amber balls of light from the street lamps, disfigured and almost hypnotizing through the droplets on the window.
When they pulled into Mifflin Street and in front of the Mayor's house, Emma got out, first, and made her way around to the other side, opening the door for Regina. She offered a tiny, tight smile, to which Regina returned with only a simple nod.
"You didn't have to do that," Regina sniffed, awkwardly. "But thank you."
"It's nothing, don't worry about it. You're okay for the night, right?"
"I'm perfectly fine."
Emma nodded, quiet for a moment, looking toward the ground. "Oh," she suddenly remembered, and began unbuttoning the coat she was wearing. "Here, I almost—"
"Don't worry about it," Regina said, and Emma stopped, looking at her, shocked.
"What?"
"Keep it," Regina responded. "I have a million others at home." With a tired, breathy smile, she pat Emma on the arm. "It… suits you."
Emma kissed her, then, swallowing up the rest of her words.
Taken by surprise, Regina's eyes opened, wide and bewildered, and she felt hot, suddenly, despite the chill in the autumn air. Something about it felt okay, though… well, more than okay… and she found herself returning the gesture, if not reservedly, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, her lips stiff and unsure against Emma's own soft ones.
Perhaps sensing Regina's discomfort, Emma pulled away pretty quickly.
"Sorry. Was that not… okay?"
Regina cleared her throat, and then, after she was sure she could speak without it coming out completely jumbled, she responded, unable to look her in the eyes. "Wh-what… what was that… for?"
Still, it came out shaky. But she wasn't sure if it was due to the fact that she had not expected the kiss, or that she had liked the kiss.
"I thought… I just…. I don't know… I just— I had a really good time with you, you know… it was the best date I've had in a while, and I just thought… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have."
Regina tilted her head now, blinking.
"…Date?"
Emma seemed surprised at this; she tilted her head, giving Regina a side-eyed glance.
"You didn't… know this was a date?"
Regina truly hadn't. But, thinking back on it, it made sense…. more than enough, actually. Blinking, she answered, her tone still breathy with nervousness.
"I… no. I didn't."
"I'm sorry." Emma seemed truly guilt-ridden now, truly mortified; her words were hurried, and she was stumbling to start back to the car. "I should have told you. This whole thing was dumb, I shouldn't have. Let's just forget it happened."
But Regina stopped her then, gripping her hand and giving it a squeeze. Emma looked up at her, her eyes sad, like a puppy dog's, and Regina felt her heart swell with such warmness toward her in that moment. For such a brilliant woman; the student of the Dark One, the terrifying and previously villainous Queen of the Enchanted Forest… a lot of things sure went over her head… especially with Emma.
"It's alright. I mean… I'm not… angry. Emma." Regina suddenly smiled, squeezing the other's hand again. "Thank you," was all she could say, repeating herself. "For the magnificent date."
Emma kissed her again. This time, Regina kissed back, without hesitation. Instead, she melted into it, tired, soft, and content.
And for all of the dates afterward.