A/N: Written as a Tumblr Prompt: A regina and snow brotp at christmas' eve dinner where snow accidentally calls regina 'mom'.
It turned out, much to Emma's surprise, that Christmas was actually a thing in the Enchanted Forest. A big thing. Regina had taken great pleasure in announcing that she wasn't prepared to let anyone escape her cooking now that they weren't afraid to eat it. And the first person to make a poisoned apple joke had to cook for the next holiday. Despite the turmoil of the last few months, wicked witches and snow queens and stolen hearts all of the extended Charming-Mills family managed to make it to the holiday in one piece.
Well, all except for Gold of course, but Snow had insisted on inviting Belle to come and given the size of the gathering the only place it possibly be held was the mansion. Which suited Regina just fine as she preferred to cook in her own kitchen.
Emma had been banned from the room earlier in the day when she asked if they were going to serve the cranberry sauce that looked like a can.
They might be trapped in a town from the 1980s but the Queen had standards.
Charming turned out to be surprisingly useful. Potato and apple peeling like a man who had done those things for his family since he was younger than Henry. He even managed to rope him in to teach him the best way to leave the most flesh on the apple.
Regina approved of the shepherd's technique. In a rare display of holiday spirit she even told him.
Dinner had been something out of a Norman Rockwell painting, and Snow had even mumbled to Emma that she thought Regina might have done that on purpose. Emma was still bitter about the cranberry sauce log. She liked the log.
Story telling time came about into the fourth bottle of wine. No one was drunk, there were enough adults around the table that meant only a few glasses each. And Regina had let Henry have a very small glass. After all, they came from a wine culture where drinking ages didn't exist, and it was Christmas Eve.
Somehow they started telling stories about their mothers and holidays. Belle had started it. Her mother used to wake her up every Christmas morning by reading from one of their favorite books. David's story involved a goat and a hat and something to do with one of his mother's dresses. The laughing filled the big house on Mifflin Street for maybe the first time ever. By the time it got to Snow it was a story about a castle servant whose wife was heavily pregnant and the winter too deep for them to travel to their family. About how her mom had insisted that the couple be invited to the royal table for the holiday meal and her father had beamed at the idea of playing host.
It was a sweet story. Everyone laughed. Except Regina. She excused herself from the table and everyone looked at Snow.
"Did you have to tell a story about your mom? In this house? At this table?" Emma asked, shaking her head. Snow for her part looked mortified, but shook her head. "That... was a story about Regina."
And she ran after Regina into the kitchen. Everyone at the table remained subdued in quiet conversation until after a time they heard laughter coming from the kitchen and the two women emerged as if they'd hatched a plot.
"Who wants apple pie?"
