A/N: This didn't make it up yesterday, but I'm hoping it will be worth it. I had it written yesterday, but I didn't like it. The ending was far too angsty. So, I rewrote the entire chapter, and you get this long-ass thing instead. Personally, I'm much happier with this. Let me know what you think!
Regina is not panicking. She isn't. She isn't panicking over the lasagna that refuses to finish cooking in the oven. She isn't panicking over the garlic bread that got a little burnt on the edges. She isn't panicking over the mess in the kitchen or the wine glass she'd dropped in the dining room and shattered on the hardwoods. She isn't panicking.
Except that she is. She really fucking is. She has been panicking since she woke up that morning. Nothing has gone right all day long. Nothing. Her hair, usually so cooperative, refused to straighten, so it's curly. Curly like it naturally is. Curly like she hates it. Her makeup could be better. She spilled tomato sauce on the first outfit she picked out-the perfect one-and now she is wearing simple jeans and a button-up until she finds the time to run upstairs and pick something else out. Literally everything that could've gone wrong in preparation for that evening has, and she just wants to know what on earth she has done to deserve this.
Even with all that, though, she knows that she isn't entirely panicking over the dinner itself. If everything had gone smoothly and perfectly, she would still be messy bundle of nerves. No, it isn't about the dinner. It's about what the dinner represents. It's about what the dinner could lead to. It's about the two people coming to dinner, and the strangely important roles they've assumed in her lives. First came Henry strolling right into her heart as if he had every right to. He had filled a gaping chasm in her chest that had been there for so long, she'd learned to cope and live with the agony. Somehow, he became something that she had wanted for most of her life yet had resigned herself to believing she'd never have. And he isn't even hers. She's nothing more to him than his teacher-his favorite teacher, as he himself told her, but still just a teacher. That is what hurts. That leaves her wounded and bleeding. Knowing that she will never mean to him what he means to her. And that is what this dinner is about. She's never had a student or parent in her home before. She's never invited them over. She has never felt the need to. But now she does. Now, she wants more than anything in the world for that little boy not to move on after the end of the semester and forget she was ever apart of her life, as every other student she's ever had has done. She wants him to remember her. She wants him to love her. And, damn it, she doesn't want to let him go in four months.
And then there is his mother. In some ways, Regina wants to convince herself that the reason she wants to impress Emma Swan so much is solely because she is Henry's mother. She needs to be on good terms with her to be more involved in his life. She tries to tell herself that he is the only reason she should want Emma to like her. But she needs to be honest with herself, and she knows that isn't the case. From the moment she set eyes on Emma, there was something there. Of course, it was just sexual tension and desire at first. Pure lust. But then... was it? What had Regina felt when her eyes connected with those pale green ones? That hadn't simply been physical longing, had it? No. She can't diminish it just into that-she won't. She just wanted a chance in that moment. A chance to find what lie behind those eyes. A chance to learn the story behind this painfully beautiful creature. A chance to know and understand her. Because there is something there that Regina recognizes. Something there that she sees in her own reflection in the mirror. A toughness. A seed of hardness planted by someone a long time ago. She knows what it is. It's a scar that is left when you give your heart to someone who doesn't see its worth. To someone who is careless with it. To someone who, with their clumsy, thoughtless hands, breaks it. And judging by what little she knows of Emma Swan, Regina can assume that it didn't come from a single offense. She saw it when Whale had made the vulgar pass at her. She saw it when any man looked her up and down like meat. Emma had long ago given up. She doesn't expect anything more now. She has been so misused, so abused that she now believes that is all she deserves. Unfortunately, Emma knows more of pain and hurt in life than joy. Something Regina herself is no stranger to. And all Regina finds herself wanting to do is change both their minds.
Her mother always did say she wants more than she can ever have, and Regina supposes that's probably true. She's had her hopes dashed enough times in the past that she should believe those cruel, twisted words that "love is weakness," but she's nothing if not resilient. And she'd rather set herself up for heartbreak than stop hoping for anything at all. A life of pain, she can handle. But of despair? Of hopelessness? That she knows she wouldn't survive.
This is why she runs in a frenzy around her kitchen, cursing the still not-baked lasagna and willing her stove to cook faster. This is why she stands over her recently finished, famous apple tart, sprinkling a calculated and precise amount of cinnamon over the top. This is why she agonizes for over ten minutes over what kind of wine to serve. Even if all its preparation has gone wrong, the dinner just has to be perfect.
But then, as she is removing the finally-finished lasagna from the oven, the doorbell rings, and oh God. This can't be happening. Nothing's perfect. Everything's terrible. She's not even been able to change yet. Oh God, no. It's just not possible to have this much bad luck.
Only it is, and she's got to deal with it now. So, she rushes to the door and pauses to smooth away any wrinkles from her shirt. Then, she takes a deep breath to calm herself-though it doesn't really help-and slowly opens the front door.
Henry is all grins and dimples, and it just melts her on the spot. "Hi, Ms. Mills!"
"Hello, Henry," she greets him, and her heart eases when his arms wrap around her waist. Henry's hugs feel so very much like a home to her, and she cherishes it as long as she can before pulling away and letting him and his mother in. "Hello, Miss Swan. I'm glad you could come."
"Well, we were invited," Emma says, and she garnishes the statement with a polite smile. It's cordial, but it's still suspicious. Regina sees it in the narrowing of her eyes. She doesn't fully trust Regina, and she isn't sure what to think of this dinner. Regina can't begrudge her skepticism. After how she treated her initially and her apparent 180 degree change in their most recent interactions, she imagines the blonde is thoroughly confused about her feelings towards her. She hopes she can communicate her wants and her intentions better tonight than she has before. "Thanks for opening your home up to us. This place is-" she looks around at the enormous, elegant home with wide eyes-"amazing."
"Thank you. It's a pleasure to have you, dear."
They stand in the foyer with their eyes skittering up and down each other. Emma is dressed in a pair of tight (of course-she apparently owns no other kind), black dress slacks, a silk, dark teal blouse tucked-in neatly, and, black ankle boots. Her hair falls down in its perfect, satin-like waves, and there is a subtle hint of eye makeup that somehow makes those eyes even more captivating.
She looks perfect, like she truly put a lot of effort into herself for this evening. Like it matters to her enough to try. And here stands Regina with her curly hair, jeans, blue button-up, and flats. A lot of effort she seems to have into herself for this evening-she's looked more well put-together for work than she does now. God, it's awful. This is not the way she wanted this night to go.
Her internal self-loathing is interrupted, though, when Emma speaks. "Your hair-it's curly." Regina sucks in a sharp breath and nods hesitantly. Then, the blonde gives her a disarming smile that sends her heart into pitter-pattering chaos. "I like it that way." She looks Regina over again, and the smile doesn't falter, to Regina's surprise. In fact, it widens. "You look really beautiful this evening, Regina."
It takes several seconds for Regina to find her voice after that, and she stutters over her complete and utter shock. "T-Thank you." She manages a smile back at the woman, pulling at her fingers subconsciously. "So do you, Miss Swan." From beside them, Henry clears his throat, and Regina blinks to shake herself out of her own head. "Dinner's ready now, if you'd like to eat."
"That sounds great," Emma nods. "Henry's gone on a hunger strike all day in preparation for tonight. He's very excited to be eating dinner with his favorite teacher."
Henry's cheeks burn bright red. "Ma! Why do you find it so fun to embarrass me?"
Chuckling, she throws an arm around his shoulders. "Well, kid, I brought you into this world, so I figure I've earned the right." He grumbles under his breath but doesn't stop a smile when Emma ruffles his hair.
Regina smiles at the two, grateful for the warm moment that has broken the previous tension and allowed her to salvage her confidence. "If you two will go to the dining room, I'll bring the food in and set the table."
"We can help," Emma volunteers, and Henry nods emphatically. "I mean, you did do all the cooking. Least we can do is help set the table."
"Oh, that's not necessary, dears. I-"
"We insist!" Henry pipes up and skips for the kitchen.
Emma laughs after him, passing by Regina with an apologetic shrug. "He's very eager, what can I say?"
Regina smirks back at her, feeling a comfortable banter develop between them. "And you, Miss Swan? Are you eager?"
Emma gives her an inquiring look, and she worries that she's pushed the envelope with the admittedly loaded question. But then the blonde grins back at her. "Extremely eager, Ms. Mills."
And if the question was a loaded gun, the answer is a fucking cannon, and it shakes the ground beneath Regina. All she can do is stare with a small, dazed smile as Emma enters the kitchen behind Henry.
Well, this is due to be one hell of a dinner, isn't it?
After the table has been set, the three of them sit together. Henry insists upon sitting beside Regina while Emma takes the seat across from her. Regina thinks that this arrangement leaves Emma quite lonely on her side of the table, and she worries that she will feel isolated. However, Emma doesn't seem bothered even in the slightest, smiling at the two as they practically fawn over each other. And there's something like pride in those eyes. Something like joy. Regina almost thinks it is pointed to her as much as it is Henry, but that is a foolish notion.
When they begin eating, Henry compliments Regina on her lasagna after his first bite, which Regina thanks him for. Neither are prepared for the loud, outright, honest-to-God moan that comes from across the table, and they look forward with wide eyes. Emma is chewing with her eyes closed, head tilted backwards. It isn't until she swallows that she opens her eyes and frowns at the surprised looks aimed at her.
"What?" she says and then her face falls. "Oh-did I do that out loud? I thought it was a mental thing." Henry cackles at her blush while Regina admires the pinkish hue that covers her face and neck. It's a lovely shade she wouldn't mind seeing elsewhere on that beautiful body. "Sorry about that. The lasagna's amazing, Regina. Like, honestly, it's probably the best thing I've ever tasted. Don't tell Granny, though."
Regina smiles at her. "Thank you, Miss Swan. It means a lot to know that my cooking surpasses that of the legendary Eugenia Lucas."
Dinner is filled with conversation provided almost exclusively by Henry. Emma appears to busy herself with her food and keeping her alarmingly-sexual sounds of approval to herself. Regina struggles to keep up with Henry's enthusiastic chatter and discreetly watch his mother at the same time. Maybe it's creepy for Regina to watch her while she eats, but she can't help it. The woman is so extremely fascinating. So beautiful. Adorable, actually. And she's even more so when she thinks no one is watching. Like when she would take a bite of the lasagna, and her eyes would roll back in her head. Or when she accidentally spilled some wine on the table cloth and wiped it away quickly on her sleeve when she thought no one was watching. Or when she unwittingly had a dot of tomato sauce on the corner of her mouth. Regina's favorite, though, was when she realized that said tomato sauce was there on her face. Her eyes widened, and her cheeks turned that delectable pink hue as she dabbed it away quickly with her napkin.
She is the most precious human being Regina has ever seen, barring her son. But Henry shares her blood and DNA-all of the cute traits he possesses come from Emma. Hers, however, are cute in a whole different way. Henry's cute like a puppy. Emma's cute like Cate Blanchett. The kind of cute you want to fuck as well as cuddle.
"Hey, kid," Emma says as Henry talks about... something that he's been talking about for the past forty-five minutes. He looks at her, wide-eyed and red-cheeked. "Not to bust your bubble here, but take it easy. You're going to talk her ear off. And your face is all red from oxygen deprivation. Breathe between monologues, kid. Deep breath, let's see it." He inhales deeply. "And let it out." He can't stop a giggle as he releases the breath, and Regina smiles between the mother and son. "There you go. Now, you don't look like a beet. Give me some." They reached across the table and high-fived.
"So, Miss Swan, tell me something about yourself," Regina suggests. "I feel like I know so little about you."
Emma shrugs. "Most people don't know very much about me." She squirms a little in her chair. "Uh, what do you want to know?"
Regina sees her discomfort and chooses something she considers a simple question. "Well, where did you grow up?"
By the uncertain look on Emma's face, she assumes it's not as simple a question for her as she thought it would be. "Um... a lot of places, I guess. I moved around a lot. Minnesota was where I spent most of my time as a kid."
"Military parents?" Regina asks.
Henry stiffens in his chair beside her while Emma drops her eyes to the table. Regina notices her hands clench into fists above the table. Her voice comes out low and hollow when she finally speaks. "No. Not quite."
The room is taut with tension, and everyone can feel it. Regina can tell Emma is done talking by how she seems to fold into herself. Her head drops, cloudy eyes shrouded in shadows, and her arms wind around her own abdomen protectively as if to cover a wound. As if in self-preservation. Regina glances down at Henry, who shakes his head sadly.
They have dessert, and Henry once again fills the awkward air with cheery conversation. Regina tries to focus on him, but she can't stop her attention drifting across the table to the closed-off blonde. She eats her dessert, but she is decidedly quiet about it. The expressions that had crossed so effortlessly over her face before are now shut off completely. Regina realizes then that was an unguarded Emma Swan. The Emma Swan she had yet to see but had wanted to so badly. That was an open and inviting Emma Swan. The Emma Swan when no one was looking. The real Emma Swan.
Now, she is locked behind barriers and defense mechanisms. Regina can practically see the walls around her now, and she curses herself for bringing up a topic that brought them up. Who really wants to discuss their past anyway? When had Regina ever been very forthcoming about her own? It was a stupid question, and she could kick herself for ever asking it.
After dessert, Regina begins to collect the dishes to deposit in the dishwasher. Henry and Emma immediately jump to help, dismissing her claims that they needn't do so as her guests.
"Ma always says manners matter," Henry declares as they carry the dishes into the kitchen and put them in the washer. "Especially when you're at someone's house. Right, Ma?"
"Right-o, kid," she nods. "No one likes rude people."
Regina jumps at the opportunity at another chance at conversation with the blonde. "Henry tells me he and you have something of a book club between the two of you."
Emma smiles at him. "Yeah, you could say that. We're just a couple of book-loving nerds. We read whatever we can get our hands on."
Regina eyes brighten. "In that case, I'd like to show you both something, if you'll follow me." They do as she says, shadowing her out of the kitchen and down the hall to her study. As she holds the door open for them, she pays close attention to their expressions as they enter. Upon seeing the massive book cases, all filled to the brim, they both light up like Christmas trees.
"Whoa!" Henry exclaims and wastes no time racing inside to check out each and every book. "This is awesome! I've only ever seen this many books at the library before."
"I try to expand my collection as much as possible," Regina says. She looks back to Emma, who steps inside the study fully while biting her lower lip. Regina can tell she wants nothing more than to run inside as Henry did and start perusing the titles, but she doesn't want to appear like a child. So, as she only barely holds herself back, she glances over to Regina as if for permission. The brunette nods her head encouragingly, and Emma rushes ahead to begin browsing.
"You've got every genre imaginable in here," she muses.
"Look, Ma!" Henry says, pointing to one of them. "Your favorite!" Emma smiles fondly at the dark green spine with Oliver Twist printed in fine, gold letters.
"It is," she nods her head.
"Pick one out if you'd like," Regina tells them, propping herself against her desk. "There's so many of them, and they all deserve to be read. I can't possibly get to them all on my own."
"Cool!" Henry says, and Regina watches the two of them pouring over the books together with awe. For the first time, she sees the uncanny resemblance between them. It isn't in the physical things-it's in the light in their eyes. The childlike wonder that comes over both their expressions. They're identical then, and it makes Regina's heart swell until her ribs ache.
"Oh, I love this one." Henry pulls a book out, careful not to disturb the others around it, and shows it to his mother and teacher.
"The Secret Garden," Emma says approvingly. "Nice pick, kid."
"I'm going to start reading it now," he declares.
"You're welcome to the den, dear," Regina tells him. "It's quiet in there, and the sofa is a prime spot for reading."
"Okay!"
"What do you say, Henry?" Emma quizzes him as he heads for the door.
He stops and faces Regina. "Thank you, Ms. Mills."
She smiles at him. "You're very welcome, Henry."
He looks back at his mother inquiringly, and she gives him a thumb's up. "Good job."
He beams at her. "Manners matter." Then, he prances out of the study to curl up in the den and start reading the book he'd read a hundred times over but never grew tired of.
"That kid," Emma chuckles, shaking her head. "He is something else."
"He is," Regina agrees. "You've done an excellent job with him, Miss Swan."
"Well, I can't take credit for all of it," Emma shrugs. "He was born a little gentleman. Now, the mischievous little troublemaker in him-that's all me." They laugh, and then it goes awkwardly quiet. Emma rubs the back of her neck uncertainly. "Look, um, Regina. I want to apologize for going dark on you guys in there before."
"No, it was my fault entirely," Regina steps in. "I shouldn't have pried."
Emma shakes her head. "You didn't pry. You didn't say anything wrong. It's just... my past, my parents are a touchy subject."
Regina knows she shouldn't, but she can't stop herself asking the question. "You don't get along with them?"
"I'm sure I wouldn't if I knew them," Emma says, and Regina frowns. "They gave me up when I was a baby. I was found on the side of the highway when I was a newborn." The brunette's jaw falls open in shock. Out of everything she might have imagined, this surpasses them all. "I grew up in the foster system, home to home, family to family. Never got adopted, so I just aged out of the system."
"Oh," Regina chokes out. "I... I'm sorry. If I had known, I wouldn't have asked."
"Of course you wouldn't have," Emma says with a kind smile. "But you can't know without asking. So, yeah, that's me. Little Orphan Emma." She rubs her palms together. "But, y'know, it doesn't matter now. I didn't have a family when I was a kid, but I do now." Her smile softens. "Henry is... he's everything. Everything I always wanted."
"He is a fantastic little boy," Regina nods. "You two are so close-it's nice to see."
"Yeah, well, we're all each other's ever had." Emma's fingers dance absently over the books beside her. "I made the decision the day Henry was born that nothing or no one would ever come before him in my life. From the very second I heard that little cry, I knew things would never be the same. I was sold. And then I saw him, and... he was just perfect." She laughs softly. "I still don't know how I made something so perfect."
"I can see how," Regina says quietly, and Emma looks at her in surprise. Regina feels her cheeks burn, and she dips her chin to hide her embarrassment. "Well, I can."
Emma smiles at her. "Yeah, well, he's lucky. He seems to have gotten all the better traits from me and his father."
"His father?" Regina repeats, and Emma's face darkens. Quickly, she scrambles to back pedal out of fear the blonde will shut down again-this time, for good. "We don't have to talk about him. I-I was just..."
"Curious," Emma finishes for her, and Regina is relieved to find that she doesn't look completely closed-off as she did before. At least she is still talking. "I understand. I'm the one who mentioned him, and you haven't seen or heard of him before. I can imagine you'd be curious about him. I just... I don't like talking about him. There's bad blood there. Even more than with my parents." She shrugs. "Henry's father is not, has never been, and will never be present in his or my life. Let's just leave it at that for now."
"Of course," Regina nods and tries to think of a way to change the subject. "So, um, Oliver Twist is your favorite book?"
Emma grins at her. "One of my favorites, yeah. I love a good story where the orphan comes out on top. Gives me hope." Regina smiles back. "I'm pretty partial to Matilda, too, though. My third grade teacher read it to my class, and I thought it was the greatest book in the world. Matilda and I had a lot in common. Bookworms with crummy home lives. I used to pretend that I had powers like her." She chuckles. "At this one group home, there was this really awful boy, Jason Towers. He was a few years older than me and bigger, and he loved to pick on me. Nobody else, really. Just me. I've still got no idea why, but he made it his goal to torment me. One time, he stole this baby blanket I had-the only thing I ever had that was mine, really-and threatened to rip it. I was so scared and mad. I tried to go all Matilda mind powers and throw him out the window, but, obviously, it didn't happen. He started laughing at me and calling me names, and I just got angrier. That's when I punched him in the face." Regina lets out a bark of surprised laughter. "Dropped him straight to the floor. I figured Matilda had her mind powers, and I had some magic of my own for getting rid of bullies. I grabbed my baby blanket and stayed outside the rest of the day." Her face falls slightly. "But then the foster mom of the week heard about it, and she had to deal with me." Her hands come up to rub her arms. "A few days later, I was moved to a different group home."
Regina looks at her, and she sees the little girl in her. She can practically see the girl with tangled blonde hair and scraped knees sitting in the back of a social worker's car with her one suitcase as she is carted off to a new home in a new city. She sees the scars there. The pain buried beneath a mountain of self-defense. And it is enough to make her want to cry.
"Sorry," Emma says weakly, snapping Regina out of her thoughts. "I'm not exactly being great company, am I? I'm sure you don't want to hear about my childhood trauma, and I'd rather not go into it, either." She smiles, and it's only barely noticeable how forced it is. "So, how about we switch topics? You've got all these books, Regina-which is your favorite?"
The brunette blinks uncertainly. "Well, that's a difficult question. There are so many possibilities, but... I suppose, if I had to choose one as my favorite, I would have to say One Hundred Years of Solitude." Emma smiles widely. "Have you read it?"
She nods. "'It's enough for me to be sure that you and I exist at this moment.' I love Gabriel Garcia Marquez. He's a beautiful writer."
"Yes, he is," Regina nods. "So, have you always been such a reader?"
"Since I was kid, yeah. I couldn't afford to go to the movies, but there was always a library no matter where I lived. Books were free to borrow, and they transported me. When I read, I was no longer just some sad orphan girl. I wasn't in a crummy foster home. I was... wherever the book wanted me to be. Sometimes, that place was better, sometimes it was worse. But it always had a happy ending, and that's something that isn't guaranteed in real life."
Regina tilts her head. "You don't think you'll get a happy ending?"
"I don't know," Emma shrugs. "I mean, do any of us?"
"I like to think that we have the power to give ourselves a happy ending," Regina says. "I think if you can look back on your life without regret and know that you've lived and loved, that is as happy an ending you can hope for."
Emma smiles. "You make it sound awfully simple."
"Well, you know what Mr. Marquez would say," Regina says with a smile and a sparkle in her eyes. "'What matters in life is not what happens to you but what you remember and how you remember it.'"
"Wow," Emma laughs. "I came here for dinner, and you've given me a life lesson. No wonder Henry loves you so much."
Regina's breath catches. "H-He does?"
"Oh, absolutely. Every day, he comes home from school, and he's like 'Ma, guess what we did in Ms. Mills' class today? Ma, you'll never believe what Ms. Mills said! Ma, can you even believe how great Ms. Mills is?'" They both laugh. "Honestly, I think he says your name more than he says mine. I'm really glad that you're in his life now, though. He needs more adult role models. He's got me, but, y'know, it takes a village. I know that I'm not always enough for him."
"Enough?" Regina repeats. "You're more than enough. He loves you so much, and he looks up to you. You're his hero." Reaching out, she touches Emma's arm gently. "You're more than enough. He knows that, and everyone else can see it."
And there's a moment there. There's something growing between them. Something in their small smiles and glimmering eyes. It isn't much yet, but it has potential.
"Ma, this book is better than I remembered!" Henry's voice from the next room over sends them an arms' length apart in shock. Looking awkwardly between each other, they start to laugh softly.
"We should probably get going," Emma says. "I've got work early tomorrow morning. Thank you again for having us over, Regina. We've both enjoyed it."
"So have I," she nods. "Perhaps we can do it again, Miss Swan."
Emma grins at her. "Only if you agree to stop calling me that. My name is Emma, and I think we're friends enough now that you can call me that."
Regina smiles back warmly. "Alright then, Emma. I've had a wonderful time tonight with you and Henry. I hope we get the chance to have dinner again."
"Maybe next time Henry and I can host," Emma nods. "Speaking of the kid, I'd better get him. It won't be easy wrestling him away from that book."
"He can take it home," Regina assures her. "I haven't even looked at it in ages, and it isn't as if I won't see you both again soon."
"You're right," Emma concedes with a crooked grin. "We will see you again soon."
Henry and Emma say their goodbyes, and Regina watches them head down her walkway to an old, beat-up, bright yellow Bug from the picture window in the den. She smiles to herself. Of course, that is Emma Swan's car. The two wave to her from the car, and she returns it kindly. She doesn't move until the taillights of the Bug disappear down the streets, and then she sighs to herself and practically collapses onto the sofa with a mile-wide grin on her face. Well, the dinner had went off to a bumpy start, but that night had ended... well, perfectly.
