"Kid, dunnint Happy not open the arcade until 10?"
"Mmhmm!" came the cheerful, if muffled, response from the tiny body cuddled between them.
"Well, waddaya wanna do 'til then?" Regina shook her head with a soft smile at Emma's morning voice, her own eyes closed lightly in contentment.
"This," Henry murmured, sounding so much like his adopted mother when he sighed, scooting himself up to nestle under Regina's chin while wrapping Emma's arm more securely around him.
The three didn't move, each dozing lightly, contentedly, reflecting on their feelings of safety and - could it be? - happiness, until Henry's stomach growled loudly. Emma's joined his, though she claimed it was Henry's. Even Regina's stomach, it seemed, had more dignity than her two loves', as the trio reluctantly disentangled from each other and emerged from their warm bed, Henry and Emma eager for a warm breakfast and Regina ready for a warm shower.
Henry bounced on his toes in anticipation as he and Emma waited for Regina to emerge from the bedroom. Emma was a night showerer - I need coffee, not a load of water all over the place, to wake me up, she would explain - so after Henry's rushed shower, the two indulged in a delightful mixture of sugary cereals that Henry knew Regina kept stashed away in a high cabinet. Emma thoughtfully made Regina apple-spice oatmeal - one the the breakfasts she managed not to burn - while Regina showered and dressed and while Henry jabbered away about how excited he was to go to the arcade with both of his moms, regaling Emma with stories about the last time Regina and Henry went together.
Emma dropped the spoon she had been using to ladle Regina's oatmeal into a bowl as the older woman stepped into the kitchen, one hand on her hip as a slim-fitting v-neck outlined every curve and stopped, perfectly positioned low on her waistline, where her jeans tapered in heavenly fashion down her flawless ass and legs, finishing with black heels poking out from the bottoms. Emma absently dropped to her knees to clean the spilt oatmeal, but her eyes didn't leave Regina's body. Having only moved in a few weeks ago, the younger woman was still quite unused to the sight - the vision, she sighed dreamily in her head - of Regina Mills wearing jeans and shirts that weren't business-wear and made of silk.
Regina cocked an eyebrow at the blond, trying and failing to conceal the immense joy she drew from Emma's reaction. She had sworn off clothing that could even remotely resemble boy's clothes to a sexist observer when Daniel died, swearing that he was the only one who would ever find her worth their time in such attire. Raising Henry had necessitated her having items like jeans and t-shirts around the house, but she didn't make it a habit of wearing such things outside the house. Emma's obvious delight in her dressing down, however, lit up her heart with memories of Daniel, memories of being truly loved for all she wanted to be, instead of all someone else wanted her to be.
Emma's face tinted red with a combination of delight and embarrassment and she dropped her eyes. scooping up pieces of oatmeal, muttering. All Regina and Henry could make out was "made you breakfast," "jeans," "effing heels," and "not fair." Henry glanced, bemused, at his mother, and Regina winked at him before smirking at her lover.
"When you're quite finished cleaning your mess, Ms. Swan, I'll eat whatever remains of my breakfast and we'll be off. I believe I have a game to win."
"Whoa there, lady, you said you'd beat me in a pencil skirt and mayory blouse thing. This is cheating!" Emma squeamed indignantly.
Henry giggled as Regina retorted. "I already have, dear, so indeed I can again. If you'd like to help me get out of these clothes, I'd be happy to - "
"Okaaaay, Moms, can we go soon?" Henry chimed in, having learned in the past few weeks that when one of his moms employed that tone of voice with the other, his parents would go into their room, lock the door, and be a while. Quite a while.
Emma sighed in mock angry. "You're lucky I like you in jeans, Regina," she murmured as she leaned over the brunette to toss the fallen oatmeal into the garbage, giving her bum a playful tap out of Henry's eyesight. Regina ignored it, for Henry's sake, but for a lustful flash in her eyes and a slight smirk, both only detectable to Henry, who was busy pouring them all organize juice anyway.
"Thank you for breakfast, Emma," Regina said softly, seriously, as she say down in the chair her lover had pulled out for her. "But don't think this means I'll be going easy on you today, Sheriff Swantastic."
Regina - who was laughing at one of Emma's quips moments before - hesitated tensely before starting out the door. She still wasn't accustomed to walking outside to all that open disdain, and frankly, it terrified her to be among so many people who would have killed her if not for her lover and son, who were living reminders of the horrible things she'd done. And to be going out into all of this in jeans? Her fancy, impeccable clothes had become her armor. She didn't quite know what had possessed her when she got dressed this morning, knowing they were leaving the house... Perhaps it was her instinct to dress down on Henry's Choice Saturdays...
Emma and Henry interrupted her thoughts and fears, each slipping a hand supportively into hers. "You're not doing any of this alone, Regina," Emma said sincerely, and she could feel Henry nodding on the other side of her. Regina fought back tears as she smiled her gratitude, giving both their hands a squeeze.
"Except losing," Emma added lightly.
"Alright, Swan," Regina deadpanned. "Let do this."
"You're so going down, Mills."
"We'll see about that."