Title: Moments
Rated: T
A/N: Happy Valentine's Day! This is my Valentine's Day gift to Laura (Lala-Kate)! She asked for something tender (either between OQ or family). Laura, God, I adore you and everything you write, and the fact that I got you as my giftee both excites and scares the hell out of me! Let's see how I put this, I'm a huge fan of all of your stories, you're simply my favorite writer and well I hope you enjoy this! Also, shoutout to the girls who organized this! Especially Lisa who knew I would freak out with my giftee.
It's moments like this the ones that fill her with a warmth that, many years ago, she thought she'd never have.
These moments comfort her, make her realize that all the pain she'd constantly gone through in the past has been worth it in the end.
It's simple things. Sometimes it's just the sight of her children on the kitchen table, their corner stripped of the decor but filled with scattered papers and notebooks as two of them work on their homework and the youngest works on the next drawing they'll hang on the fridge. On those days, when she walks into the quiet house, their focus entirely on their task, she offers her husband a small smile from her spot and clears her throat to get their kids' attention, only to break into laughter as she hugs and kisses each and one of them, even her seventeen year old son.
Sometimes, it's the sight of her husband all sweaty and incredibly attractive as he fixes a broken pipe under the sink, or him all clean and put together as he walks with her hand in hand down the streets of Storybrooke for a night out.
Other times it's the intense feeling of him hovering over her. His taste, his scent and his touch igniting her entire body, his length pushing into her over and over as he kisses her senseless and pours all his love into his action; a small suck on the sensitive skin of her nipple, a deep kiss at the same time he thrusts into her. On those nights she counts her lucky stars, but also counts the times he makes her lose all sense of time and place, falling and falling and falling over the edge with a mere brush of his fingers, or a swipe of his tongue, or the guttural proclamations of his love as they both race for release.
There are times though, when he professes his love in different ways.
Sometimes it's something as simple as giving her time to herself whenever the week becomes too stressful. He gives her an hour or so that she can spend unwinding from the day's events and the stress that comes from being a mother of three, three people with three different personalities yet the same stubbornness characteristic of her.
On those days, he leaves her with a soft kiss on her lips, and a much too silent house, allowing her to catch either a much needed rest, or to curl up on the couch with a cup of coffee she can truly enjoy. Regina won't tell him though, that on those days, even though she needs the break and appreciates it, she also misses the laughter that more often than not fills their household, the shrieks and loud calls of 'Momma!' that tug at her insides every time one of her kids utters it. Yet she's grateful for the hour she gets to spend alone, and shows him just how grateful she is every time -the reason, she believes, her husband gives her these days constantly.
Other times, he shows her his appreciation by preparing her a bath, pouring all sorts of oils and salts into the warm water and even goes the extra mile by lighting a few candles. Those days, he helps rid her of her clothes and holds her hand as she lowers herself into the water. He remains put together, just stares at her from his place, always the gentleman, until she teases him with innocent eyes and a wandering hand down her body, and more often than not, he finds himself joining her for a soak and a few moments alone.
Yet nothing compares to this moment right now. To having all of her family in the same room, close to her.
Her boys have all fallen asleep around her, low unsynchronized snores filling the family room as the movie plays in the background. Her daughter had chosen Maleficent that night , a movie she finds absolutely beautiful despite the inconsistencies it has with keeping true to Mal's reality. But Rosemary loves it, loves the relationship that develops between Maleficent and this child, how the hate, brought by nothing but heartache, morphed into something so beautiful and true between them.
And it's a reminder of them, of how four years ago Regina couldn't even look at the kid now in her arms, afraid of loathing her, afraid she'd remind her of her estranged sister's wicked ways, her revenge, the heartbreak that had caused both Robin and her.
.:.
The desperate knocks against the door in the wee hours of the night alarm Regina. She sighs under the covers, wanting nothing more than to ignore whoever is at the door at this hour. Yet living in Storybrooke, a town where a new villain appears every two hours, she can't ignore the incessant knocks. So on a grumble, Regina pushes the covers off of her and gets up from the bed. But as she moves down the stairs, the knocks grow in desperation, and as she walks closer and closer to the door, the knocks are accompanied by an infant's cry and she stops mid-step, the wails sending a jolt of pain so deep that for a minute she forgets how to breathe, how to move.
But then the calls of her name travel from the other side of her door, followed by desperate fearful sobs she knows belongs to her sister.
She isn't ready for this.
It's exactly what held her back from even looking at her when she'd been born; the utter fear of having even the slightest trace of resent for this innocent child. Sure, they'd talked this through, her and Robin, she'd expressed her fears, her concerns, and he'd expressed his understanding and his love. They'd agreed, months ago, to take things slow, he'd go back to his camp and she'd stay here as they work around their issues slowly. But she needs him right now, needs him right next to her as she opens the front door, because that utter sense of dread is back, of doubts, of heartache.
She isn't ready for this, for her.
Yet when Zelena cries desperately at her from the porch, and pushes the wailing babe into her numb arms, Regina cannot help but sneak a glimpse down at the two week old baby. Zelena yells some nonsense in front of her that she can't really understand for her senses are focused entirely on the baby in her arms.
She's all blotchy, red and sweaty in her arms, small traces of, what Regina can assume is puke, on her clothes, and that, combined with the little cries that leave her much too tiny, much too warm body are enough to push Regina's fears to the back of her head, her dread, her doubts all forgotten as she focuses on helping this crying babe.
Zelena's still crying, now louder than her own daughter, lost in a whirlwind of self-pity and self-hate, begging for forgiveness, going on a rampage about how she's already ruining her daughter's life, about how she's the same as their mother. But Regina doesn't have it in her to comfort the reason why this baby succumbs into a restless sleep in her arms, instead with a wave of her hand, her porch transforms into Storybrooke's General Hospital as the traces of purple fog leave their bodies.
She's not ready for this.
But when Zelena's nowhere to be found, and Robin's on his way from the camp, she pretends she is.
Regina reaches for the small soft hand, caresses the back of it with her thumb to offer some sort of comfort as Doctor Whale brings his stethoscope to her chest. The two week old babe is restless, soft cries leaving her tiny body until Robin arrives.
She tells herself that she's not ready for this, for her, yet she feels a pang of something she's felt before with Henry and Roland the moment she moves to the side to let her lover comfort his wailing child.
She's not ready for this.
But when the child's cries abate a few hours later, and she dozes off into an exhausted sleep, Regina brings her arms around Robin's torso and comforts his battered heart and her own.
She's not ready for this.
But when Rosemary gets cleared out of the hospital, her gastroenteritis gone, Regina suggests they stay at her house.
She's not ready for this, but when the two month old yawns after finishing her bottle, her insides warm up with the love she wants, no, needs to give her, and when Regina cradles her against her chest, Rose's head searches the warmth of her breasts. And it's exactly at that moment, when she hums to the sweet little babe nestled oh so perfectly in her arms, Robin's hand softly rubbing her back, that Regina realizes she's never been more ready for something like she is for this, for her.
.:.
"Momma?" The little girl asks from her side, pulling her from her memories.
Regina looks down at her, a smile playing upon her own face as she sees the little girl snuggle closer to her side and let out a content sigh.
"What?" Regina asks, lowly, a smile upon her face.
"I love you," the four year old tells her, and Regina's heart does flip flops like it always does whenever her kids utter those words.
"Well, I love you more," she whispers to her before she leans down and drops a kiss to the top of her head, then diverts her attention to the movie again as her daughter does the same.
And to think she'd considered saying no to this life, the pain and sense of utter betrayal much too strong back then.
But if she had, she wouldn't have this, her daughter by choice, cuddling closer to her side and her own hands playing with the strands of her fiery locks.
If she had, she wouldn't get to hear her giggle at one particular snore from her father, jumping in fear at the sudden sound only to curl into her side, trying to hide her laughter.
If she had, she wouldn't have her husband cuddling to her side and dropping a kiss to her neck, only to snore dramatically to get their daughter to laugh again.
If she had, she wouldn't get to feel her daughter hug her tighter the moment true love's kiss wakes the teenager from her dead-like sleep on the movie.
If Regina had given into her fears, if she had given into her pain, she wouldn't get to have these simple moments in her life, moments that fill her with a love and warmth that, many years ago, she thought she'd never have.
