A/N: More silly stuff. And, I bet there have been a million fics like this since, right? ...eeps.
The Parent Trap
"Please, mom?" Henry knew his voice was verging on whining, now, but he couldn't help but persist.
"Henry," Regina sighed, tone testing, as she took in his forlorn but pleading expression.
Emma stood awkwardly off to the side, barely ignoring Regina's almost accusatory glares, as if it was her fault that their son was begging her to allow Emma to stay for dinner.
"But you said we could celebrate," Henry cried.
He had entered in a short story competition during the spring term, and his had been picked out from all of the other fifth graders'. His mom had promised they would do something to celebrate that evening, pleased as she was, even if the description of the evil step mother in Henry's story was strikingly similar to herself.
"And we can," Regina said. "I thought we'd go out for dinner and get ice cream." He had never complained about their almost traditional celebratory meals before, though they'd had little to celebrate since Emma's coming to Storybrooke.
"I don't want to go out for dinner," Henry told her, however, "I want to stay in, with you and Emma."
Regina sighed, and Emma had just about bitten her bottom lip to death. "Kid, it's fine," she tried, "we can do something at weekend, or…"
She turned to face Regina, hoping for the other woman to offer her a timeslot with Henry so that she wasn't making empty promises, though she supposed Regina was hardly one to help her look like a good parent.
"Ms. Swan probably already has plans, Henry," Regina told him, ignoring Emma's stare, and trying to quell the ache in her chest that stirred from her son's puppy dog eyes.
"No, she doesn't," Henry answered for Emma, and when she attempted to cut in, continued, "can't we just stay in and make dinner?" When he thought he almost had his mom in the palm of his hands, he tilted his head to the side slightly and softly added, "Please?"
Regina cracked.
Swallowing her pride, while simultaneously cursing her apparently not-as-cold-as-ice heart, she turned to Emma and asked, "How would you like to join us for dinner, Ms. Swan?"
Emma gaped at her but, with a look down at Henry's smug expression, replied, "Sure… What are having?" She couldn't help but feel a little cautious.
Regina wrung her hands and looked down to Henry expectantly, allowing him to choose. "Hm…lasagne," he supplied, grinning, and Regina couldn't help the slight strike of smugness that bubbled through her, even if the chance to show Emma just how good her cooking skills were was perhaps a little inappropriate for the situation. Raising her eyebrow a little, she silently asked Emma if lasagne was okay, who nodded with a tight smile.
"Do you want any help?" Emma asked, watching as Regina shrugged out of her jacket and moved to hang it in a closet beneath the stairs.
"I wasn't aware you could cook," she called over her shoulder.
Emma rolled her eyes. "I know how to grate a block of cheese."
Regina frowned a little. "Well, I think I can manage. Why don't you help Henry with his homework?"
Henry was only all too happy with the arrangement, and agreed by grabbing Emma's hand and showing her to the dining room table, where they could sit until dinner was served. Regina watched them go with a frown before she moved into the kitchen to wash her hands. She wasn't surprised Henry would want to spend time with his birth mother, not at all, but there was something about his sly grin - the one he thought she had missed - that set her on edge. Just what was he planning…?
Emma sat with her hand propping her head up, elbow resting on the dining room table, and watched as Henry wrote down the answer to the math problem he was working on. She could hear the distant sound of someone shuffling around in the kitchen, and a delicious aroma was beginning to fill the air. It felt surreal, sitting there helping her kid do his homework while his other mother cooked dinner, like she was part of some - highly dysfunctional - family.
When dinner was ready to be served, Henry gladly stuffed his completed homework back in his school bag and returned to the table. "No, Emma, you sit here," he said, pulling out a chair. Emma raised her eyebrows in amusement and took the seat without protest. Henry was quick to sit beside her, his legs swinging happily as he kicked them beneath his chair.
Regina looked up as she entered the room, surprised to see Emma sitting in the seat beside the one she occupied almost every meal time out of familiarity. She placed a plate down in front of Henry without saying anything, and the other in front of Emma, before returning for her own and taking her seat.
"Mom, can we have candles?" Henry asked, his excitable grin enough to catch Regina's suspicions.
"Why would you want candles, Henry?" she asked with a frown.
"It makes it more exciting," Henry pleaded, and how could Regina tell him no when he was looking at her like she had the key to his happiness in the palm of her hand?
With a sigh, she shifted from her seat, all the while feeling Emma's eyes going between her and their son, and returned to the table once she had located a tall candle in an elaborate candlestick holder and a pack of matches. Henry also shot up from his seat, dimming the lights a little so that the candle's lame flicker could make more of an impact. It barely made a difference to the table, but he seemed pleased with it, and so neither Regina nor Emma commented on the table's centrepiece.
"I can get some wine for you both?" Henry then offered, just as Regina and Emma made to cut into their lasagne.
Emma almost wanted to cry out that her stomach would succumb to eating itself if she didn't start soon, but Regina merely told him, "Bring the opened bottle of red, dear."
Henry grinned and left the table, doing as he was told.
Once the wine bottle had been brought over, and poured into two large glasses, Emma asked, "Can we start now?" She shot Henry an amused look, and he beamed back at her.
"Yup!" he practically sang, digging into his food. If he was aware of the two curious sets of eyes watching him, he did not let it affect his appetite any.
# # # #
"Oh, my god, that was the best lasagne I've ever tasted," Emma sighed, almost wanting to unbutton her jeans and ask for an extra serving.
Regina grinned at her with pride, and quietly replied, "Thank you."
Dinner had been surprisingly easy to get through, what with Henry taking it upon himself to fill each and every awkward silence, and in turn include both women in his discussions until they felt comfortable enough to talk amongst themselves without his prodding and poking.
Smiling at the two of them, Henry suddenly cleared his throat and stated, "I'm not feeling so good."
Their eyes instantly found his, and Regina stated softly, as if he shouldn't be feeling anything other than perfectly fine, "You've been well all day." She frowned a little, and suddenly worried it was her cooking, but that seed of doubt was swiftly dug out. Of course it wasn't her cooking.
"I know," Henry stated, his voice strangely croaky, "it's just come on now… I think I'm gonna go lie down."
"Do you want some water?" Regina asked, already making to stand.
"No," Henry shook his head with a smile, which he swiftly swiped from his lips before continuing. "I'll be fine. You two have dessert without me." And, with that, he was gone, his mothers staring after him with a frown of confusion and concern.
With a sigh, Regina finally stood from her seat and made to clear the plates, dismissing Emma's offer of help. She left the room with all three plates, planning on returning for the candle later. Sitting alone, Emma slumped over the table onto her elbows and ran her tongue over her bottom lip. The lasagne really had been great.
When Regina returned, she took her seat and leaned back, taking up her glass of wine and delicately sipping from it. Emma couldn't help but watch her, and felt the stirrings of desire shift inside her chest as Regina's glass caught the candlelight and her entire face seemed to glow beautifully. And then-
"Oh… that sneaky little…" She trailed off with a slight laugh, wondering how Henry had managed to lead them this far without either one picking up on his little plot.
Frowning, Regina brought the glass down from her lips and asked, "What's wrong?"
Emma's smirk soon lifted and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair as she tried to explain. "Did you wonder why Henry asked me round here?" Regina's face remained blank. "C'mon… dinner, with a candle, and now he's just conveniently feeling sick and has left us together… alone."
Regina's eyes flashed with understanding, a small frown threatening her brow. "He's setting us up?"
Emma couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. She nodded in response to Regina's question and chewed on her bottom lip in thought, wondering why Henry would think there could ever be anything between her and his mom other than an often voiced dislike.
Mulling the situation over in her mind, frown easing, Regina reached for the bottle of wine and refilled her glass. Almost without thinking, she moved to top up Emma's glass, but paused with the bottle hovering in mid-air, holding Emma's gaze with wide eyes. A question settled between them, in which Emma held Regina and the wine bottle in a tense gaze, wondering which direction the evening was about to take.
Tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip, Regina hesitantly dipped the wine bottle and refilled the second glass. The room was silent but for the sound of the wine bottle being placed back on the table, and the rhythmic ticking of a distant clock.
Emma watched Regina curiously, wondering if this meant that she was okay with their son's plotting, and nervously brought the wine glass up to her lips. She took a large gulp, if only to alleviate her now increasingly dry mouth. Amidst her nervousness and confusion, however, Emma could not ignore the spark of excitement that shocked her spine at the prospect of a date with the illustrious mayor of Storybrooke – even if said mayor had been all but threatening her to leave, mere months before. What had changed? she wondered, feeling the wine slip down her throat like a flame.
With a small smile, Regina tilted her head to one side and, appearing to mull her words over before speaking, said, "I'll go fetch dessert."
She waited a moment, half expecting to be stopped, before she was sure that Emma was not going to object, and then stood from her seat to retrieve the freshly baked apple pie waiting in her fridge.
From his place behind the dining room door, Henry peeked inside the candlelit room and grinned victoriously at the scene unfolding before his very eyes. His mothers were sharing the apple pie, and their muffled conversation hung heavy in the air. It had been a little touch-and-go at one point, but seeing their coy smiles, and the way they were leaning perhaps just a little closer than appropriate to each other, reassured Henry that his efforts had not been in vain.
Silently backing away from the room, he old decided that his help was no longer needed, and scurried to his bedroom, hoping that even if something went wrong in his plan and the two women downstairs ended up coming to blows that night, they'd at least save him a slice of apple pie for morning…