After Christmas, we were spilling into January, where Hope was persistent with pursuing the art of walking at ten months. She is the daughter of the Queen and the Savior so determination swims constantly through her veins. In a blink of an eye we were in the middle of February, with a perfectly capable walking eleven month old who spent most of her days trying to mimic the words that Emma and I spoke. Her attempts were still mostly babbles, but that didn't stop her.
Emma and I are not ones to gush over anniversaries or fancy holiday's to celebrate our love, but for this one occasion, I decided to surrender to society and plan a nice evening for Valentine's Day. Emma was shocked when I enlightened her on my plans, by the dumbfounded slack-jawed expression, but I ignored her knowing this was a step forward in our relationship.
"Don't make me tell momma," Emma's whispers resonate from the kitchen as I stroll into the room, finishing up with my earring.
Emma is flying a fork with a piece of broccoli attached through the air while her lips produce airplane noises, or what I assume is suppose to portray a plane.
"Em, have you seen my burgundy heels that match this dress?" I question as I pad across the tile and run my fingers through Hope's silky strands.
My girlfriend sighs, obviously exasperated in the moment and sets the fork back down. "I haven't. Maybe your daughter should be interrogated."
"My daughter?" I muse, skimming my fingertips down Hope's cheek and gently cupping her chin. "Why did mommy just disown you?" I softly ask, prompting big brown eyes to blink innocently up at me, just pleading for me to melt at her every whim.
"She refuses to eat," Emma scoffs, falling recklessly back against her seat and folding her arms. "And I know she likes chicken and broccoli," Emma accuses, narrowing her eyes at the puppy dog eyes peering back at her.
I hum to myself because Emma is right, our daughter loves this meal and she is never picky. I slowly pick up the fork, flying the broccoli through the air toward Hope's pouty lips that are all her other mother. My stubborn daughter grunts, nuh-uh, as she turns her cheek and slams her eyes shut, like maybe if she closes her eyes the broccoli might disappear and then it does. Vanishes from the fork in a blink of an eye, startling Emma and I into nearly a heart attack.
"What the f-"
"Emma!"
"Sorry, but Jesus! Did she just poof away the broccoli?"
This catches our daughter's attention, persuading just one eye to peek open so she can inspect the fork. She smiles in triumph when she notices the vegetable missing, inspiring her to open both eyes wide. She signs for the phrase, all done, flicking her wrists back and forth with excitement while attempting to speak the phrase as well.
"No, no!" Emma scolds immediately. "Not all done!"
"Hope," I slowly say her name in a low tone so she understands that she is in trouble. "What did you do?"
"Bubye," she proudly states with that glint of mischief sparkling in her eye, just like Emma when she took a chainsaw to my poor tree.
"No bubye," Emma bellows and I can't really tell if my girlfriend is on the verge of tears or holding back her laughter. "You need to eat your dinner little one!"
Hope's bottom lip puckers out in the most dramatic and pathetic pout imaginable. Those sad eye blink rapidly as she flicks her attention between Emma and I and for a brief moment I want to cave and scoop her in my arms. Subconsciously, I nibble on my bottom lip as I try to determine what would be appropriate in this moment.
"Regina, she's eleven months! What the hell are we going to do? She's just going to start poofing things away when she doesn't feel like listening to us? Oh god, what if she starts poofing us away-or herself when she doesn't get her way?" Emma frantically rambles as her mind trips over the notion of our daughter using magic.
"Emma, calm down," I strictly command.
"I can't calm down, our baby just made her broccoli disappear!"
"I know that, but yelling and becoming this upset isn't going to solve anything." I gently rest my hand upon Emma's shoulder to help ease her troubles. "We've discussed this before, we knew it was inevitable and only a matter of time before she figured out her skill."
Emma groans, scrubbing her hands down her face as she attempts to accept our daughter's fate. "I just- ugh, I thought we had more time. She's too little, she's not going to understand what's okay and what's not."
"Well, we will do our best to explain when it's appropriate and when it's not. We have to teach her."
"Can we revisit the option of the cuff?" She timidly questions, persuading my eyes to narrow in disapproval. "Just hear me out," she pleads, straightening her posture to regain authority. "We just have her wear it until she's four and completely understands everything we say. We can take it off whenever we want and practice with her when both of us are present, but this way we know she will be safe."
"Emma, I think we need to embrace her magic. We should teach her how to control it so she doesn't fear it. She may fear the magic after we place that stupid cuff on her. She needs to feel the magic everyday so she becomes accustomed to the sensation. I rather have her feel like it's apart of her than her feeling confused and growing up to resent it."
"Compromise?"
"I'm listening." I nod, encouraging her to proceed with her bargaining.
"I will try without the cuff, but the moment she vanishes in front of us, you have to promise we use the cuff," she firmly negotiates.
"Fine," I reluctantly agree, even though I don't believe in that anti-magic cuff, but if things become too drastic with our daughter's safety then I suppose I must bend my beliefs a little.
I flick my wrist, creating a thick purple smoke to whirl in front of Hope, inspiring her eyes to triple in size. Her little fingers reach out in astonishment as she tries to capture this new fog. However, when her chubby fingertips slice through the smoke, she is left with a piece of broccoli in her hand and a deep scowl upon her face.
"Two can play at that game Hope, remember that. Now, eat your broccoli," I strictly order.
Hope's nose scrunches in distaste as her eyes flick over to her blonde mother for help. "Take a bite," Emma softly commands, but her eyes are hard leaving no room for argument.
Hope's frown deepens and it's actually frightening how much she resembles Emma in this moment. Much to her dismay, she takes a small bite, her gaze drifting to her plate to express her anger toward us and that she will not be engaging with us any longer.
"Good job, baby girl ," I praise as my hand runs over the back of her head. "Now, for my heels."
"I know this little monster was digging in our closet this earlier," Emma accuses with a playful smirk tugging around her mouth.
"She was?" I hum, but Hope seems awfully invested in her food now, ignoring her mothers altogether.
"Maybe check under the bed, I pulled her out from under there after I was done getting dressed."
I smile, my eyes greedily roaming down my girlfriend's enticing body to truly appreciate her attire for tonight. A very formfitting black leather dress starts at the base of her neck and encases her tiny frame down just below her bottom. It's awfully short, but she is wearing jet black tights beneath. Her arms are beautifully exposed, showing off her toned arms that might just be on my top five favorite things about Emma Swan. Then my eyes travel toward the shiny, full, bouncing curls that she styled so perfectly this evening.
I smile to myself and lean forward, noticing the necklace resting upon her chest with our children's names engraved on the back. "You look absolutely stunning tonight," I compliment just before I brush my lips ever so delicately against hers to ensure that I drive her a little mad and wanting so much more.
Her eyes drift closed, but then I'm sliding back and watching with great interest as a pout appears from my disappearance. "You look good enough to eat," she taunts, quickly cupping my neck and forcing my mouth back to hers.
"Eat!" Hope cheers, breaking apart our kiss in a split second.
"Yes Hope, eat," Emma states, her eyes trailing toward the food on our daughter's plate.
"You really need to start watching your mouth. She's copying everything you say now," I exasperate, untangling myself from her firm grasp.
"I didn't say anything wrong," she hastily defends. "Eat is a good word for her to copy."
I hum to myself, sashaying with purpose out of the room. "We both know that's not what you meant though," I toss over my shoulder as I exit the kitchen to locate my missing heels.
XXXXXXXXX
Snow and David offered to take Hope this evening so Emma and I could enjoy our evening out, and we agreed to take Neal tomorrow night so they could have their own date night. After we dropped off our daughter, we drove out of Storybrooke for our dinner reservations. The trip is a good hour drive, but we are both so sick of the limited restaurants in town that we were both willing to make the journey.
I chose a very elegant Italian restaurant, knowing how much Emma loves her carbs. We were seated right away, both of us ordering wine and Emma jumping on the opportunity of an appetizer. Of course the beginning of our conversation was revisiting the topic of Hope and the cuff once more, because Emma is really uneasy about magic to begin with.
Soon, we ordered our meals, our topic of conversation traveling more toward the funny mishaps we've had with our wild child as of lately. It wasn't long before the waiter came by to refill our glasses of wine and retrieve our dirty plates. Emma practically leaped at the idea of dessert, ordering a brownie sundae like a small child, while I rolled my eyes like I was annoyed, but in reality I was thinking about how much I love this corky woman.
As soon as the waiter placed the chocolatey mess covered in ice cream and whipped cream in front of us, my nerves began to buzz viciously beneath my skin. It's close to the end of the night and I have yet to mention what I truly had in mind and the purpose of this evening.
"Oh my god," Emma moans shamelessly around a spoonful of sweets that makes her eyes roll in the back of her head. "Don't act like you are not a sweet tooth junkie," she demands, forcing her spoon back into the heap of ingredients. "Try this," she commands, driving the spoon straight toward my mouth as if I am our daughter.
"Em-" I don't even have the chance to finish her name, because she shoves the spoon into my mouth with a satisfied smile stretching into her cheeks, creating the adorable dimple I am madly in love with. I shake my head and quickly chew and swallow my bite, practically melting into my seat from the explosion of flavor against my tongue. "Really, Emma? I can feed myself," I bark out once, I compose myself.
She shrugs, chuckling under her breath as she admires another bite for herself. "I like shutting you up," she smugly replies. "You now what else I would like..." she slowly says, stretching out her words in a low and seductive tone and that only renders me speechless. "I would actually love if this whipped cream was all over your naked body," she suggests, her finger dipping into the fluffy cream, insinuating exactly what she has in mind as she licks her fingertip clean.
I lean forward, my heart slamming against the edge of the table as my temperature rises from the image flashing in my head. "Well, I believe that can be arranged," I tease right back, provoking those bright green eyes to flick toward mine curiously. "Maybe it will be your reward if you agree to my terms," I taunt, dipping my finger into the whipped cream as well and sucking the treat clean.
She swallows. She swallows so hard that I can see her tendons and muscles working painfully to accomplish the simple action. I smirk to myself and fold my arms over the table, knowing I have her undivided attention. My heart is pounding so hard that I swear Emma can hear the beat drum from across the table. My palms are sweating and I'm not entirely sure why I'm so nervous. I know in my heart there's no doubt on what her answer will be.
"Emma."
"Yeah," she croaks out, quickly setting down her spoon and meeting my gaze, sensing that there is a moment clouding over our table.
"I brought you here this evening because I thought you deserved a nice evening out," she nods slowly, her curious eyes almost burning a hole right through my own eyes. "But also, because I would like to take our relationship to the next level."
She doesn't say a word and her face is completely blank causing the panic to rise within. If we weren't in a land without magic I would assume someone immobilized her on the spot. There might as well be a damn tumbleweed rolling passed our table. I swallow thickly and busy myself with adjusting the unused silverware because suddenly I'm very aware of my hands and I don't know where to place them.
"Emma, I would like you and Hope to officially move into my house."
"Oh god Regina, I thought you were proposing," she blurts out through a nervous laugh.
My face falls, an immense amount of stifling heat burns my cheeks and even my ears because now I'm even more self-conscious. Should I have proposed? The idea makes my stomach double over because it's just far too soon for something like that.
"I-" I have absolutely no words. Stringing together letters to form a word seems foreign in this moment. Not to mention, how inflated my tongue feels at the moment inside my mouth, leaving no room for clean oxygen.
"Regina, I love you a lot, but we've only been dating for a few months. I don't think we should be getting engaged just yet," she laughs in relief as she scoops up her spoon and digs right back into her dessert. "But I agree, I think we should live together," she concludes, flashing me her most shit eating grin which is like a fire hose to my burning body. I sigh in relief and lift my spoon as well, joining her in our dessert. "But why your house?"
I freeze momentarily, because I never even considered moving into her home. I clear my throat from the moment of bewilderment and slice through the dessert.
"Truthfully, the thought of moving into your home, never crossed my mind," I simply confess and continue biting into the layers of brownie and ice cream.
"Alright," she mumbles mostly to herself and fiddles with her spoon. "My house is very important to me, you know that."
"I do, but my house is where our family began with Henry and I."
"And my house is where our family continued when Hope entered the world," she counters, effectively shutting us both up while we try to come up with better excuses. "Look, it's the first home I ever owned, the first place that actually felt like home to me," she softly explains, even though I already know all of this.
"It's also the home that you created for you and Hook when we came back from Camelot," I defend, pointing my spoon in her direction like maybe that will persuade her.
Her mouth pops open to argue some more, but then it snaps shut and what I believe is realization and guilt washes over her face. She offers me a weak smile and shrugs nervously.
"I-I didn't think about it like that," she whispers, picking at the treat before her.
"I just wouldn't feel comfortable knowing you planned a life in that home with Hook."
"I know," her big puppy eyes trail back up to meet my gaze. "We can move into your home."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, of course I'm sure. All that matters is that we are under one roof, right?" She smiles just a little brighter and it does help soothe the anxiety I'm feeling about this entire situation.
Honestly, I've never lived with anyone before. Leopold does not count since I was forced into that predicament. Robin and I were close to the step, but he was either forced away by Marian or he would end up staying in the woods because for some strange reason that man thought the forest was the safest place for him and Roland. I've never been at this point in a relationship and it's a very scary leap. Sharing my personal space with someone will take some getting used to, but I know in my heart that I wouldn't make this jump with anyone other than Emma.
"Hey, maybe Henry will want to move into my house. His family is living in Mary Margret's old apartment, I'm sure they would love the space and a backyard for Lucy," Emma suggests, still shoveling more of that dessert into her mouth.
"I think that would be a lovely offer," I agree, smiling happily at my one true love like some lovesick teenager in heat.
"Alright, well I'll ask him and I can start packing my things this week."
A watery smile slides into place, without my permission and soon I find my hand reaching across the table for hers. "I do love you, Emma."
She flashes me the cheesiest cheeky grin and hums. "I love you too, Regina." She slithers her fingers in between mine, her thumb sweeping across the back of my hand to express the sincerity in her words.
There's a moment of silence where I watch her finish off her heart attack disguised as a brownie. She licks her lips and I just sit back and admire how comfortable she is in her own skin and that's definitely one trait that I absolutely love with all my heart.
"So, should we stop at the store on the way home?" She inquires with one eyebrow raised and a hungry glint shimmering in her eyes.
"I beg your pardon?" I curiously question because I'm not entirely sure what she's asking.
"I said yes to your proposition. My reward, you naked, whipped cream," she casually informs me like it's the most obvious explanation in the world.
A salacious smirk creeps across my mouth at the image of her velvety tongue lapping up the sticky treat decorating my flesh.
"Go pull the car around."