For all of its faults – and there are many, Emma thinks – Maine does have some beautiful parks.

The one that they're at right now features sprawling hills, with woods that crop right up to the river. A waterfall roars in the background, and despite Emma's misgivings, she's actually enjoying herself.

It had taken a lot of convincing on Mary Margaret's part to get them all out here.

Regina had maintained that an evening with the Charmings and all of the mosquitos the summer months had to offer was the last way she'd want to spend her Saturday.

Emma, on the other hand, had quietly maintained that an evening with Regina and the sunset was the last thing she needed if she ever wanted to quash these feelings that had taken root.

They'd cropped up unexpectedly, sometime between bickering in Neverland and the year in New York, Emma thinks. Some time in between hating one another and a new life, and a return to Storybrooke to find a floundering, wavering version of the woman who had raised their son. A Regina who'd held her hand at the town line, and who'd been about as confident as wet tissue paper upon their return.

A version of Regina that had needed Emma, and let her hold her hand then, too.

Of course, that's not what Emma had told her mother. She'd mumbled the word "headache," and Mary Margaret had given her a look that had very clearly said you're full of it.

"Tough shit," She'd said, uncharacteristically cursing, and tossed Emma a bottle of advil from the drawer in the kitchen.

And, so, Emma finds herself in a park, doing her best to relax on the blanket they'd thrown over the grass.

Regina's sitting next to her, so of course, it proves impossible.

She'd meandered over about twenty minutes ago, sighing about something Mary Margaret had said, and Emma had just nodded along and pretended that she hadn't been focused on the way the golden hour sun had glinted against the warmth of Regina's eyes. It lights them gold, and that in turn lights any notion Emma had of maintaining her composure aflame. Gone. Poof. Into ash.

Henry's still splashing around in the river. He'd rushed down to the water the moment he'd finished his sandwich, and Regina had watched him go with something soft in her eyes, and Emma had watched Regina with what she'd hoped was a carefully closed off, friendly observation.

She knows that's not the case. She's never been great at subtlety, preferring instead to crash through her problems headfirst.

Regina is a problem. Emma would very much like to crash into her, because she's nothing if not consistent.

She'd also very much like to be put out of her misery, because Regina's caught her staring again. There's a flush at her cheeks and this knowing look in her eyes, and god, Emma's in for it.

Emma clears her throat and turns her attention back to their son. "He looks like he's having fun," She squeaks out, aiming for casual and landing instead somewhere near fucking awkward.

"He does," Regina agrees, the lilt of amusement evident in her words. She's not even trying to hide it. Her eyes flash as she gives Emma a once-over, and Emma pretends not to notice.

Damn.

The sun sets, and brings with it the very thing Emma had hoped to avoid: Regina, next to her, bathed in the orange light. She's aflame with it. Every plane of her face is etched out in gold, in fire, and Emma feels the lick of that heat every time Regina's skin brushes against her own. She's so close, too close for Emma's current predicament. Her hands whisper against Emma's as she leans back, and Emma feels her heart launch into her throat. She could melt, and god damn, this is ridiculous. She's a grown woman, for fuck's sake.

The little scar at Regina's upper lip is defined in this light, plain as day, and Emma finds herself wanting to run her thumb over it. Or maybe her tongue.

God.

Regina's hair is tied back – it's long enough to do that now, which just feels strange, although Emma thinks she likes it. There are little curly flyaways brushing at her cheekbones. Emma thinks idly that she's never seen Regina with anything but straight hair, and wonders if this is by design. This is some little piece of Regina's puzzle, she knows: Regina, who is constantly putting on a front. A mask. A carefully curated exterior that she presents to the world.

This is the real Regina, she thinks. This is her Regina.

Fuck.

She'll take any version of Regina that she can get, if she's honest. Even the insane one she'd met during her brief stint in the Enchanted Forest's past.

But this Regina – this Regina is so relaxed that Emma almost wants to cry. She just looks so…content.

Her face is free of makeup. Emma doesn't think she's ever seen her without any – she looks softer like this, without her brows and eyes contoured with harsh angles and her lips painted in jewel tones. She's even wearing shorts.

It's a strange thing to see her like this. She's so different from the woman who had offered her a glass of apple cider and an interrogation upon her arrival in Storybrooke.

Strange, and lovely, just the same.

A butterfly lands on Regina's leg, as if to agree with Emma. Beautiful, like a flower.

Sappy.

It's late in the day for butterflies, Emma thinks, but she decides not to question it. It's pretty. She's not used to seeing them, not after living in the city for so many years. It flutters its orange wings, and Regina smiles down at it, frozen in place so as not to disturb it.

"Looks like a monarch. A queen for a queen," Emma says. Regina's eyes flicker towards her, the tiniest acknowledgement of her comment before her attention returns to the insect, and Emma adds,"I didn't think you liked bugs."

Regina looks at her then. Really looks at her, with that same soft smile on her lips, except now it's trained on Emma, and – "I love them," She says, and returns her focus to the butterfly. Emma mourns the loss of that gaze, but then Regina's speaking again, and okay, Emma will take her voice as consolation any time. "I loved them when I was a kid, too. I used to build a mud castle for the worms in the garden every time it rained. I'd try and see how many I could find." She frowns, a hint of bitterness entering her tone as she continues, "Mother thought it was…unbecoming of a young lady, so I had to stop." Her brow's furrowed, but it relaxes when she looks back at Emma, and that smile returns. Several heartbeats pass in silence.

She's got her knees tucked up towards her chest now. The butterfly sits atop of one, and Regina curls forward, lifting her finger in front of it, mesmerized as it steps forward onto her finger. Emma's equally entranced. The sun's dipped further below the horizon now, and the soft glow lights up the pattern on the butterflies wings as much as it does Regina's flyaways.

Regina's eyes flicker from the butterfly back to Emma's. "I always thought they were beautiful."

Emma nods.

"Yeah. Me too."

Regina grins, and the butterfly takes off. She starts with the motion, watching as it flutters away. She leans back again then, propping herself up with her hands out behind her. Emma watches as her arms flex with the motion, emphasized by the dramatic shadows pulled by the time of day.

"My record was thirty-seven," Regina says, and Emma blinks, started out of her not-so-chaste observations. "Worms, I mean," She clarifies, and Emma can't help the laugh that bursts from her chest. Worms. Regina. Who would've thought.

"I'm going to get you an ant farm for your birthday," Emma teases.

Regina scoffs. "Don't be silly. Those are cruel." The grin's still there, though, and she adds, "I'd much rather be gifted a colony of terrestrial snails."

Emma laughs again, and then realizes she's serious. "Oh," She says, and Regina bites her lower lip in amusement. "Okay. I'll keep that in mind."

Regina lays back fully on the blanket then, folding her arms over her chest as she teases, "I'm going to hold you to that."

Emma falls back against the ground, too, unable to help the grin at her face. And then it's just comfortable, the two of them, laying there and watching the sky. The sun drops fully below the horizon, the sky churning a hazy gray and then a glittering dark blue as the stars begin to make their appearances. Henry trudges back up from the river as soon as the light begins to fade.

"Can't see where I'm going," He grumbles as he passes them, stinking of muck and algae, his clothing waterlogged. "The rocks are too slippery."

"Damn sun. How dare it set," Emma calls, and Henry waves her off without looking back. Regina laughs softly beside her, and Emma revels once again at being able to draw out any bit of happiness in her.

The milky way appears in all its glory before long. That's another thing about having lived in the city most of her life: there's always been so much light pollution. She'd never really seen the beauty of their galaxy before coming to Storybrooke.

"Did the sky look like this in the Enchanted Forest?" She asks, and Regina turns to look at her, startled.

"No," She answers after a few moments. "There were stars, of course. Like this. But they were different."

"Tell me about them," Emma asks.

Regina nods, and bites her lip as she turns to look at the sky. "Well," She begins, "For one, there was more yellow to them than there is here."

"Yellow?" Emma echoes, and Regina nods.

"A lot like in the drawings of children's books from this world. Here they're like a stripe, too," Regina continues, gesturing to the band of stars that crosses the sky. "Back home, it was more like a blanket, with swirls and denser patches all along. It made the sky look brighter than it does here. It never got quite as dark. More stars, I think."

Emma watches as Regina ponders, reminiscing about a home that had never quite treated her as she deserved. Her hand drops to her side after a few heartbeats, and then she turns to face Emma.

"Why do you ask?"

Emma shrugs. "Curiosity, I guess. I just…" Her voice drifts off as she contemplates whether or not she should actually voice her thoughts. Eventually she barrels forward, acting on the impulse before inhibition can fully take hold. "I like learning about you," She confesses. "I guess I just don't know a lot about your life. Or who you are, outside of Henry's mom, or the mayor." Or the queen, she thinks, and decides to keep that one to herself.

Regina's smile falls, her expression drawn inwards as she says, "You feel like you don't know me, Emma?"

Emma shakes her head. "Not enough. I understand you," She clarifies, "But I want to know more. I…I want to know everything," She breathes, and Regina's brows raise as her eyes widen a little bit. The hand at her side comes back up to meet the other at her chest, right below her heart as she regards Emma. "I guess I just really like what I've seen so far," Emma admits, and the weight of it hangs between them.

"Oh." Regina's lips purse, and she studies Emma for a long time before she reaches out and takes Emma's hand tentatively in her own. "Okay," She whispers, fragile against the quiet of the night, against the gentle flow of the waterfall and the cricket song, and Emma feels something warm swell in her chest as Regina tucks her fingers between her own.

And then they just lay there, with the stars peeking out above them one by one, and Emma's heart hammering away so hard she thinks there's no way Regina can't hear it. She holds her hand like glass, terrified that at any moment, with any twitch of her fingers, Regina will pull hers back and the moment will be gone.

It doesn't shatter, though, doesn't end, and with each passing moment, Emma allows herself to melt back into the blanket a little bit more. She even dares to pass her thumb over Regina's, a gentle, shaky motion, and Regina squeezes her hand in response. Emma's breathing comes harder, and god – she's an adult. She's a grown adult, and she's been reduced to a breathless puddle because the girl she likes is holding her hand.

God.

The temperature drops with the sun. Cool air glides over her skin with the gentle breeze, and it's not long before she feels Regina's fingers grow cold and sees her shudder. She releases Emma's hand to rub her arms, and Emma swallows as she considers.

"Come here," She says eventually, propping herself up on her elbow and holding out her arm.

Regina's eyes widen when she sees what Emma is offering, and for a brief, terrifying second, Emma is certain that she's going to be shot down. But then Regina nods, and silently shifts closer to Emma, until she's tucked comfortably against Emma's shoulder.

"Thank you," Regina murmurs, and Emma's heart thunders in her ribs. She just rubs her thumb over Regina's bare arm in lieu of a response, uncertain of her ability to form proper words.

Fireflies appear shortly after. They pop up one by one until the clearing is flooded with little yellow lights, blinking in and out. Regina smiles, gives a soft little hum as one comes particularly close, and reaches out for it much as she had the butterfly. It lands on the blanket beside Emma's leg, and she tucks her hand back by her side instead.

"I'm glad I came," Regina admits eventually.

And maybe it's just Emma's wishful thinking, but it feels like a confession, what with their current position. And maybe – just maybe – she doesn't need to destroy those feelings after all.

"So am I," Emma breathes. There's more silence, quiet for several heartbeats, until Emma sees a little streak of yellow in the sky and says, "Shooting star."

Regina laughs. "That's a firefly, Emma."

"Nuh-uh," Emma argues, sitting up on her elbow as if getting closer will somehow help her to see it more clearly. She squints at it, but then the light blinks out, appearing a few inches to the left a few moments later. "...Maybe," She amends, and Regina laughs again. Emma turns a playful glare on her, and finds her with flushed cheeks visible even in the low light, and with a grin at her lips. It's contagious, and Emma can't help but laugh too, a breathless little giggle accompanied by a smile of her own, and oh.

This is something she wants.

She's suddenly overcome with the urge to just kiss her. They're close enough, she thinks – Regina's still tucked against her arm, and the way she's looking up at her is just so warm, warmer than Emma's ever seen those dark eyes, and –

"Whatever," She says, falling back against the Earth before she can do something she'll regret. This isn't a moment that she wants to shatter.

For all she knows, Regina just enjoys cuddling with her friends. She's never seen Regina with a friend close enough to know, she realizes with a pang.

Regina sighs beside her. Emma feels her ribs swell with the motion against her side, and that does nothing for her resolve.

"Make a wish anyway," Emma says, and Regina huffs out a laugh beside her.

"It's a bug, Emma."

"And you love them, so there's something magical about them," Emma murmurs. She can feel Regina turn to look at her, but she keeps her eyes on the stars, terrified at what she will find. "They're beautiful."

Regina inhales through her nose, audibly, and then she says, "They are, aren't they?" She brings her fingers up over Emma's arm. "Alright." Emma looks down just soon enough to watch as Regina's eyes flutter closed. She tucks her chin down just a bit, towards Emma's side, and her nose bumps against Emma's ribs.

"What are you wishing for?"

The ghost of a smile pulls at Regina's lips. "I can't tell you, or it won't come true."

"It's not a real star," Emma protests, voice low. Regina opens her eyes just enough to meet Emma's as her smile grows. "So you can tell me," Emma continues as Regina sits up a little bit. She props herself up on her elbow and turns, and now she's practically hovering right over Emma, with the hair that's escaped her ponytail ticking at Emma's shoulder.

"I thought there was something magic about them," Regina teases.

The magic is you, Emma thinks, and doesn't say it. Instead, "I mean, yeah, but…" Her voice trails off as she realizes, not for the first time, just how close Regina's face is to her own. Her eyes drop to the other woman's lips and linger there, and when she finally pulls her gaze away and meets Regina's again, there's this knowing amusement shining in them, and Emma feels the words pressing at her lips. It's bold. Unnecessarily bold, she thinks. Terrifyingly so, and yet – "I'll tell you what I wished for."

It comes out in a whisper. A murmur, too petrifying to be anything but.

Regina holds her gaze for several heartbeats, and then she asks, equally soft, "What did you wish for?"

Emma brings the hand that's not wrapped around Regina up to her cheek. Tucks the stray hairs behind her ear, and shivers as they tickle over her skin. Regina tilts her head into the touch, almost imperceptibly, and Emma –

Emma's terrified. Frozen.

She's going to do this.

She's going to.

She's –

It's Regina, in the end.

Regina catches Emma's hand with her own, laces their fingers together, and leans forward just enough to brush the tip of her nose against Emma's. She hovers there for a moment, gives Emma the time to make a choice, and Emma thinks that the gesture would be sweet if it wasn't so fucking unbearable, feeling Regina's shaky breath ghost over her skin without closing that gap. When Emma doesn't pull away she takes that final step, closes that tiny little space between friendship and something more that, if Emma's honest, they've been dancing around for years.

Her lips are soft. Impossibly soft, yielding – nothing like anything Emma's imagined. Nothing like Emma's come to associate with this demanding, blazing firecracker of a woman, and that's just it, Emma thinks. Another piece of the puzzle falling into place. Another piece of that mask, chipping away.

It's everything.

Emma finally comes to her senses, finally feels her limbs unlock, and she pulls Regina into her by the waist. It unbalances her and Regina lets out a little squeal, falling forward all but on top of Emma. Regina smiles against her lips, and Emma can't help but do the same.

She's breathless by the time they break away, both from lthe kiss and from the laughter that she can't seem to stop.

Regina shifts to a better position, one with her elbow propped beneath her that allows her to kiss Emma again without falling on top of her. Emma deepens it, slips her tongue against Regina's teeth as her hand drifts towards her hips, and Regina gasps.

"Easy there," She murmurs as she pulls back. "Our family is here."

Emma groans, allowing Regina to break away and settle back down at her side. She'd…well, she'd completely forgotten about the presence of her parents and their son. For a short, sweet time, there had been nobody in this world except for herself, Regina, and the fireflies.

But that's simply not the case in reality, and she feels her cheeks grow hot. "God, I forgot," She says, and Regina laughs. "They're never going to let me live this down."

She sits up then, twisting around to peer back up the hill where she'd last seen them. With any luck, maybe they'd been facing the other direction the entire time – Emma doubts it, but. Hey. She can hope.

The hill is empty.

The blanket that her parents had been relaxing on, the picnic basket they'd packed, the little pile of towels Henry had made use of to try and fend off the worst of the river water, Mary Margaret's van – all are gone. They're alone.

"Or maybe not," Emma mumbles, and Regina turns to follow her gaze.

"Where'd they go?" Regina asks, brow furrowed, a tinge of worry making it into her words. This is Storybrooke, after all, and anything can happen. Emma feels it flare in her chest, too – her heart gives a painful squeeze as she replies, "I don't know," And reaches for her phone.

When she opens it, she's got a single text from Henry:

Poof home, losers. Enjoy your date.

"Oh, god," She laughs, turning the screen so that Regina can see too. She can feel that flush creeping over her neck once more. "There it is."

Regina gives an embarrassed puff of a laugh. "Well," She says, and shakes her head. "I'm going to have to have a discussion with him about calling his mothers losers."

"Eh, let the kid have his fun," Emma says, tucking her knees up to her chest and leaning over them as she regards Regina. Her lips are kiss-swollen, visibly pink even in the low light of the night, and more of her hair has escaped her ponytail. Stunning. "All kids make fun of their parents. I'm just glad that's the worst he's got."

Regina doesn't look entirely convinced, but she must decide to let it go, because she shakes her head and falls back against the blanket again. Emma watches as she folds her hands over her chest, letting her eyelids flutter closed.

"You know," She begins, and Regina opens one eye to peer at her, the other scrunched closed in what has to be one of the most adorably skeptical expressions Emma's ever seen on her face. "We're already here. Alone." Regina hums, and Emma finishes with a sheepish smile, "There's no reason we can't stay for a little while."

Regina laughs outright at that. But then she says, "No, I suppose there's not," And extends her hand. Emma takes it, and Regina pulls her down, this time without any objections as Emma falls right on top of her, with her elbows propped around Regina's head and her thighs straddling Regina's own.

It doesn't take long for Emma to start spending her nights at the mansion. And then it's her days, too – Mary Margaret gives her hell for this, but it's good-natured, and so she just brushes it off and allows her mother her allotted parental admonishment.

To Regina's (pretend) dismay, Emma never lets the bug thing go.

"Praying mantis," She throws out, and hugs her mug of coffee close to her chest as she sits proudly. She's got Regina with this one, she's sure.

"Hmm," Regina says. "They are quite beautiful. I suppose there are several varieties that would make good pets. An orchid, perhaps. Maybe a ghost leaf," She says, and then folds her arms over her chest as she stares into the distance, lost in thought. Emma takes the opportunity to google.

"Woah," She says, as she pulls up the image results. "That looks like the thing from Alien." Regina frowns at her and she adds, "You know, the movie?"

"I'm familiar," Regina says. "I just don't agree."

"Oh, come on," Emma insists, flipping her phone around to show her the screen. "Plus, they eat their mate's heads. That's totally badass."

Regina shakes her head and goes back to making her own coffee, muttering under her breath about the beauty of insects.

Several days later, Emma's reclining on the couch in the living room. She pops her head over the back of the sofa, feeling absolutely brilliant as she calls out, "Giant land snail!"

Henry asks, "Giant?" with a raised brow.

Regina huffs and shakes her head. "Don't be silly, Emma. They're devastating for local vegetation if they escape."

Emma raises a brow. "So? Keep it locked up well. You're such a nerd."

"Keeping them is illegal."

"So's murder?"

That – rightfully – earns her a glare. A playful glare, albeit, but it's still terrifying being pinned under that intensity, and so she ducks back out of sight with a squeak of, "Sorry!"

She hears Henry laughing under his breath.

And, well. If a certain illegal snail appears on the kitchen island as further agitation, Emma's got nothing to do with that, despite what the hazy white puff of magic might imply.

"Woah, cool!" Henry exclaims, and Emma hears Regina say, "What's c – oh!"

There's a thud as Regina drops whatever she'd been holding, and Emma snickers, safely tucked away behind the couch.

"Emma!"