Title: A Christmas Miracle
Summary: As soon as Henry disappeared from the room, Regina allowed her disgust to show on her face. She was going to be breaking bread with Emma Swan this Christmas. How … nauseating.
Spoilers: None. Curse is still in effect.
Characters: Regina, Emma, and Henry, with a guest appearance by Mary Margaret.
Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time and its characters were created by Eddie Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. I'm borrowing their characters for a bit but I'll return them unharmed.
Author's Note: This isn't my usual Charming Family stuff, but it is the result of my very first fic request ever! Chikiko asked me to write a Regina & Emma bonding over Henry story, and I am not one to back down from a writing challenge. Chikiko, hope you like! Enjoy. :)
"Mom?"
Regina Mills shut her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose. She recognized that tone of her son's voice. It was the tone he always used when he was about to ask a question he knew she was not going to like. "Yes, Henry?"
He hemmed and hawed so long that she turned around to face him. She was just about to tell him that she didn't have all day when he finally spoke up. "Do you think maybe I could go to Miss Blanchard's for a little while on Christmas? So I can see Emma?"
Anger instantly contorted her features and she came very close to crossing her arms over her chest. "Absolutely not."
"But Mom, it's Christmas!" he cried. "I want to see Emma on Christmas."
"The fact that that woman is in town this year has no bearing on our holiday. You will be spending Christmas with me like you have spent every Christmas."
The boy pursed his lips, and Regina could almost see the wheels turning in his little head. She wanted to shut him down with a "That's final" but there was a tiny part of her that was curious to see what kind of argument he would come up with next. Call her a masochist but the curiosity won out.
After a long moment of silence, Henry wiggled his shoulders as if shoring up his courage. "It's Christmas for Emma, too, though. I don't think it would be nice to make her spend Christmas alone."
It would have been a fine argument if Regina gave a damn about Emma Swan's feelings during the holiday. "She won't be alone. She'll be with Miss Blanchard." The irony of that situation was not lost on Regina, either. Mother and grown daughter would be sharing their first Christmas together, and neither of them knew it. The fact that she was taking that first away from Snow, too, was almost enough to bring a smirk to her face.
The wheels in Henry's head had begun to turn again, and just like before, Regina waited him out. This time, she wished she hadn't. "Okay, if you don't want me to leave, do you think I could invite her over here for dinner or something?"
For a brief moment, she was speechless. He was not being serious, was he? How could he think he would be allowed to invite the sheriff over for Christmas dinner? There were no words for how much that was not going to happen. "No, Henry, she is not coming over for dinner. I will not share my holiday meal with ..."
An utterly devastated look crossed the boy's face, and she faltered for a split second. Then her rational side took back over and reminded her that she didn't care how much hearing no hurt Henry at the moment. She was not going to suffer through Christmas dinner with Emma Swan at the table. End of story.
Then his shoulders slumped and she thought she saw tears beginning to well in his eyes. He wanted this so badly but it was not something she was willing to give him. Christmas was theirs. It had always been theirs, and Emma being around for Christmas this year in no way changed that.
Then again, this Christmas wouldn't really be theirs unless she gave in, would it? Henry would resent her not letting him see Emma and would be standoffish and sullen all day. Their relationship was already strained. Regina didn't know if she could handle her son not speaking to her during a holiday ostensibly about spending time with family.
Eventually, she sighed. "I will ask Ms. Swan over for dinner."
"You will?" Henry asked, the surprise evident on his face. He squinted at her, as if trying to decipher whether she was telling him the truth. The pain that tore through her heart at that look surprised her. He genuinely didn't trust her, did he? "You're really going to ask her?"
"I'll give her a call tomorrow morning," she affirmed softly. "Now go finish your homework."
"Thanks," he replied, a little smile on his face.
As soon as he disappeared from the room, Regina allowed her disgust to show on her face. She was going to be breaking bread with Emma Swan this Christmas. How … nauseating.
Was it too much to hope that Ms. Swan would simply decline the invitation?
Emma Swan clicked the end button on her cell phone and looked around her room in complete confusion. If the call hadn't woken her up, she would have sworn she dreamed the conversation she'd just had. She could hear Mary Margaret moving around in the kitchen her so she threw the covers off her legs and headed downstairs. "I think that may have been the weirdest phone call I've ever taken," she said by way of a good morning.
Mary Margaret Blanchard looked up from the sugar cookie recipe in her cookbook at the sound of her roommate's voice. She hadn't known Emma was up yet. "What's the matter?"
Locking eyes with Mary Margaret, Emma scratched her head. She'd always thought only confused cartoon characters scratched their heads, but she couldn't think of a more appropriate physical response for her utter discombobulation. "Regina just invited me over for Christmas dinner."
All of Mary Margaret's activity on her cookie dough stopped. Her eyebrows shot to the ceiling. "Really?"
"Yeah." Emma leaned her forearms on the counter. "She said it was Henry's idea, which it had to be. I can't see her inviting me to share a holiday meal with her and our son out of the goodness of her heart." Mostly because, as far as Emma could tell, Regina didn't have any goodness of the heart.
The moment of shock passed, allowing Mary Margaret to resume her cookie-making. "What did you tell her?"
"That I had to check with you first." Mary Margaret looked up again at that, and Emma squirmed under her surprised gaze. "I mean, I don't know if you planned anything, but I don't want to leave you alone on Christmas."
A gentle smile curled on Mary Margaret's lips. As a matter of fact, she had planned a little something for the day. She hadn't told Emma about any of it yet for fear that Emma would try to talk her out of it. So far the plan included waking Emma up at some godawful time in the morning – which Emma would likely hate – to open presents, which would hopefully make up for waking her up at a godawful time in the morning. She'd also planned a meal for the two of them to share, along with more cookies and chocolate than either of them would know what to do with.
After a quick moment of thought, Mary Margaret decided she could easily shift the meal from dinner to lunch, leaving plenty of time for Emma have dinner at the Mills house. "I did have something rolling around in my head, but we'll have all day together. I don't mind if you want to go over there for dinner."
Emma smiled a thank you before heading back towards the stairs to retrieve her phone. "Okay, then. I guess it's time for the second-weirdest phone call I've ever had in my life." Halfway up the stairs, she stopped short and turned around. "Mary Margaret? Does this mean I have to get her a present?"
The teacher turned to face her roommate, a thoughtful frown wrinkling her brow. Emma and Regina, to put it mildly, could not stand each other. Any gift Emma gave to the mayor would quite obviously be a token, something she gave her just because giving gifts was the norm for this time of year. On the other hand, Regina had offered to open her home to a woman she couldn't stand for the sake of their son, which was something she most certainly did not have to do. Showing up empty-handed would be a breach of etiquette, if nothing else.
"Maybe you could bring a bottle of wine?" she suggested, deciding to split the difference and settle for telling her roommate to get Regina a hostess gift.
"Maybe," Emma murmured in thought. "God knows I'll need some sort of liquid assistance to get me through this dinner." She climbed all of one step before turning around again. "She seems to be almost unhealthily obsessed with apples. You think the store will have apple wine?"
"Mom!" Henry cried, his feet pounding against the tiled floor of the foyer as he ran to the door. "She's here!"
Regina allowed a little groan to escape her lips. Perhaps permitting him to eat that third candy cane was a mistake. He'd been bouncing off the walls ever since.
She told herself it was all the peppermint-flavored sugar and the chocolate making its way through his little body all day long and not Emma's impending visit that had made him so excited. It had been a few Christmases since she'd seen him this talkative. She hadn't really believed it, of course, but it was a nice illusion. An illusion that was now shattered.
She dried her hands on a dish towel, which she then slung over her shoulder as she joined her son in the foyer to greet her dinner guest. What she wouldn't give to have the means to offer Ms. Swan a poisoned apple cider.
Regina arrived at the open door to find that Emma hadn't even had a chance to climb out of that ugly yellow thing she called a car yet. The evening had turned chilly and a light snow had begun to fall. Because Henry was holding the door open, it was a good ten degrees cooler in the foyer than the rest of the house. "Henry, close the door." It was on the tip of her tongue to insist that she wasn't heating all of Storybrooke but she managed to stop herself before she could utter the words.
He didn't listen to her. Didn't even turn around to acknowledge she'd said anything. She was not about to do it on Christmas, but tomorrow, the two of them needed to have a serious discussion about his sudden, willful inability to mind her.
She went to close the door herself, but Henry held it open. "She's coming now, Mom," he said. This time, he did turn around briefly to look at her, and she did not mistake the sheer joy in his eyes. A pang of jealousy tore through her heart. "Hi, Emma!"
"Hey, kid," she heard Emma say in return and good gods, even the sound of her voice set Regina's teeth on edge. This was going to be the longest meal Regina had ever lived through. Considering some of the feasts she'd partaken in during her old life, that was saying something.
She set her shoulders when Emma stepped into the foyer. Funny how just the sight of the woman put her on the offensive. Though at the moment, Emma could not look less threatening, with a wrapped package in one hand, a long gift bag in the other, and thick, fluffy snowflakes clinging to her hair.
Emma shrugged off her coat – how the hell many leather jackets did one woman need? – which Henry happily took from her to hang up in the closet. When she handed him the wrapped gift, he thanked her excitedly before turning to Regina. "Can … I mean, may I go put this under the tree?"
"Yes, you may." Henry ran off with both the present and Emma's coat, leaving the two women standing in the still-chilly foyer in a rather awkward silence.
It was Emma who broke the silence as she handed the bag to Regina. "This is for you."
Regina accepted the bag while trying hard not to betray her surprise. She hadn't expected Emma to show up with a single thing for her. She had something for Emma, an ornament she'd picked up the day Emma accepted the dinner invitation. It was a token, of course, simply because one did not invite a guest to one's home on Christmas without giving the guest something to open.
She was even more surprised when she discovered that the bag contained a bottle of apple wine. If it had been anyone else giving it to her, she would have smiled. "Thank you. I'd like to open this at dinner, if you don't mind."
"I don't mind at all," Emma assured her, and she did not mistake the relief in the sheriff's eyes.
Henry chose that moment to return to the foyer, saving the women from having to make awkward small talk. "Do you want to see what I got for Christmas, Emma?"
His eyes were shining, and a wide grin lit Emma's face at his exhilaration. "I'd love to." Then she turned to Regina. "Unless … you don't need help with dinner, do you? I'm not the handiest in the cooking department, but I can set a table with the best of them."
It was all Regina could do not to roll her eyes. She should have guessed that Emma would be rather useless. Not that she had intended on putting her to work anyway. "No, thank you, Ms. Swan. I've got everything under control."
Henry latched onto Emma's hand and started tugging her towards the parlor. "Okay, but if you do need help, I don't mind," she said to Regina before refocusing her attention on their son. "Now, what's this about your Christmas haul?"
Henry started babbling about this present and that present and hey, look at this cool hand-held video game! Regina pinched the bridge of her nose before heading back to the kitchen to hurry the cooking along as much as she could. The sooner they were done, the sooner Emma would be leaving.
"This is quite possibly the best ravioli I've ever tasted," Emma said after she'd taken the first bite.
Regina had opened the wine when she brought out a tray of cheese and crackers. Both she and Emma were now well into their second glasses. The alcohol had calmed Emma just enough to take the edge off, which was nice because she was trying not to be awkward and uncomfortable for Henry's sake. She had pinched herself under the table a couple of times, though, just to remind herself that she was indeed awake and not dreaming about having salad, ravioli, and garlic breadsticks with Regina Mills on Christmas.
"Mom makes it from scratch," Henry told her. Emma thought she heard a bit of pride in his voice. "She told me she's going to teach me when I get older."
Emma's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You made these from scratch?"
"It's not all that difficult," Regina informed her. How she could make something as simple as answering a question in the affirmative sound like an insult, Emma would never understand. "Preparing the dough correctly is actually the trickiest part. More than once, I've had to change my dinner plans to spaghetti from ravioli or lasagna because the dough ended up too dry."
Emma must have looked confused because Regina gave the slightest rolls of her eyes. "If the dough's too dry, it gets holes when it's stretched out," Henry clarified when it became clear that his mother had no intention of doing so herself. "The only thing you can do at that point is cut it up into spaghetti. I used to watch her sometimes."
A pained look briefly crossed Regina's face at Henry's last sentence. Emma suddenly got the feeling that it had been a long time since the boy had watched his mother cook. "It's delicious, Regina," Emma said.
Regina looked over at her with a glare but then softened when she realized Emma was paying her an honest compliment. "Thank you."
"I like that you chose to prepare pasta for Christmas dinner," Emma continued as she speared a cut-up piece of ravioli with her fork, though she had no real idea why. Regina clearly didn't care what Emma thought of her holiday plans. "The foster family I was with when I was just a little younger than Henry had lasagna on Christmas and I remember really enjoying it. It was a nice break from all the turkeys and the hams." At that point, she felt rather than saw Regina's eyes on her and promptly shut her mouth.
"We've been having pasta for a couple of years now," Henry spoke up, seemingly oblivious to the awkwardness between the adults. He met Emma's gaze and smiled. "I like it, too."
She returned the smile before taking another, much needed sip of wine.
Thank goodness for Henry, who, bless his little heart, kept the conversation at the table going. He asked Emma what she and Miss Blanchard had done for Christmas. When she mentioned that Mary Margaret had woken her up at six that morning to open presents, Henry laughed. He asked Regina what she had made for dessert before they were even halfway done with the main course. In turn, she told him it was a surprise and that he had to wait to find out.
Emma really wanted to go in for thirds but she managed to restrain herself. Regina Mills may have had plenty of faults but her knack for homemade pasta was not one of them. Speaking of … "Where did you learn how to make pasta?" Emma asked.
As if reminding Emma whom she was asking, Regina snapped, "Not all of us live on microwavable dinners when we're on our own, Ms. Swan." Her eyes shot to Henry, as if she just remembered he was there. She softened her voice for her next sentence. "The recipe was in one of my cookbooks, and I simply practiced until I got it right."
Emma gave an uncomfortable nod and dropped her gaze to her dinner plate. Luckily, Henry once again came to the rescue. "If Emma and I clear the table, will you put out dessert? Please?"
Regina heaved a sigh, though Emma swore she spied a little bit of amusement in her eyes. "You can help me clear the table," she answered her son, "and then I'll put out dessert."
"I don't mind helping," Emma spoke up.
"Guests don't clear the table," was all Regina said as she stood up from her seat. She took her own plate in one hand and Emma's in the other before heading off to the kitchen. Henry gave Emma a smile as he grabbed his own plate and the dirty silverware from the table.
Emma felt more than a little uncomfortable sitting there as the two of them worked. Then again, this whole meal had been uncomfortable. It was really weird how she would find herself relaxing sometimes, almost forgetting whose house she was in, only to have Regina suddenly remind her.
As soon as the dishes were cleared, Regina shooed Henry out of the kitchen. He reclaimed his seat at the table across from Emma. "She's got enough desserts in there to feed an army," he whispered, causing Emma to snicker in amusement.
Henry wasn't kidding, Emma discovered. Regina started bringing out dessert after dessert. She'd made mini-cupcakes, frosted sugar cookies, peanut butter cookies, fudge, and – of course – an apple pie.
Part of Emma wondered if the mayor had made all this food out of anxiousness. One of her foster mothers had been like that. The same foster mother who had prepared lasagna for Christmas dinner, now that Emma thought about it. When she was nervous or anxious, she baked, much to the kids' delight.
Emma had actually liked that house. She remembered being devastated when the family told her the husband's job was transferring him out of state and, because she was a foster, she couldn't go with them.
Henry loaded his plate with cookies. Emma decided to throw caution to the wind and try a little bit of everything. Regina placed one lonely little piece of fudge on her plate, causing Emma to wince. Was she being too much of a kid by filling a plate at dessert?
Ah, screw it, Emma thought, grabbing a second piece of fudge. Christmas only happens once a year.
"Mom?" Henry asked around a mouthful of cookie. Regina gave him a stern look, and he swallowed before continuing. "Can Emma stay for the movie?"
"I'm sure Ms. Swan has other plans tonight," Regina replied at the same time as Emma said a movie sounded like fun.
The two women stared at each other, silently trying to figure out how to handle this little conundrum. It was Emma who backed down, figuring her invitation for dinner did not include any after-dinner activities. "I just remembered, I do have something else to do tonight," she said, turning an apologetic look on her son.
Henry gave the slightest hint of pout as he slumped back in the seat. "Okay."
She cringed and shifted her gaze to her dessert plate. A moment of awkward silence passed, and then Regina said, "Ms. Swan, you're welcome to stay, if you think you might be able to rearrange your plans."
Emma looked up at her in complete surprise. Regina met her gaze and nodded her head slightly in Henry's direction, letting her know she'd once again extended the invitation for the benefit of the kid. "I think I can do that," she said, smiling a thank you. Then she nudged Henry's leg under the table with her own. "So, what movie are we watching?"
Henry and Regina had watched Mary Poppins after dinner every Christmas since Henry could talk. When Henry told her the plan, Emma had commented that the movie was a favorite of hers growing up, which surprised the hell out of Regina. She had expected scrappy Emma Swan's favorite childhood movie to be something less syrupy-sweet than Mary Poppins. Judging from the way Emma – unconsciously, Regina assumed – mouthed lines every so often, though, she had told the truth about watching it multiple times as a child.
About three-quarters of way through the movie, Emma hissed, "Regina."
Couldn't the woman just sit there and watch a movie? Did she really have to interrupt everything? Regina turned her head, a scathing remark at the ready, but the insult died in her throat when she saw why Emma had called her. Henry had fallen asleep leaning against Emma, his head resting on her upper arm. "Sugar cookie coma?" Emma whispered with an amused smile.
"Something like that," Regina replied, hiding her own smile. She reached over and gently shook Henry's knee to rouse him. He was too big for her to carry up the stairs, and she didn't want to start allowing him to spend nights on the sofa. "Henry. I think it's bedtime."
"But I'm watching the movie," he whined sleepily.
Emma bit her lip to hide her smile, and Regina did the same. "It's still bedtime. Say good night to Ms. Swan."
"G'night, Emma," he murmured, still half-asleep. Then he pushed himself off the sofa, rubbing his eyes.
"Merry Christmas, Henry," Emma replied, her voice soft. Regina had to admit to being a little surprised that Emma had even considered the tone of her voice possibly rousing him enough to make sleep upstairs impossible.
"I'll be up soon," Regina said after him as he trudged out of the room. She wanted to give him a little time to go back to sleep before she tucked him in.
As soon as they heard Henry's slow footsteps above them, Emma stood up from the sofa, clearly figuring she was overstaying her welcome. "I should get going. Thanks for letting me come over tonight."
"It was no trouble."
"Please, it had to have killed you when Henry asked if I could come over. He shouldn't have asked; I never would have thought of imposing on your Christmas. But you didn't have to say yes, so thank you."
Regina blinked. Was Emma Swan actually thanking her for something? "You're welcome. Let me walk you out."
Emma nodded as Regina walked her back out to the foyer. She found Emma's coat in the closet where Henry had hung it and handed it to her. After Emma shrugged on her coat and zipped it up, Regina opened the door for her. "Good night, Regina," Emma said as she stepped through the door.
"Good night." The snow was falling more heavily now, accumulating on the lawn and causing wet, slick streets. Regina's next statement slipped from her mouth before she could stop it. "Drive carefully. That vehicle of yours cannot possibly handle well in the snow."
Emma turned around, the shock clearly visible on her features. "Did you just … express concern over my safety?"
"Not at all," Regina replied quickly. "I have things to do tomorrow, and those things do not include taking Henry to the hospital to see you should you get into an accident."
"Uh huh," Emma said, smirking as she turned back towards her car.
Regina watched her climb into that ugly yellow car of hers and drive off before closing the front door. It was only then that it hit her that she had actually shared a meal with Emma Swan and the two of them hadn't killed each other.
Huh. Maybe Christmas miracles existed after all.